A true goat story
By BILL DUNCAN I have never missed a deadline in my 60 odd years as a journalist, but there is always a first time. The News-Review features editor, Craig Reed, asked me to join readers and write 100 words about the wonders of the 100 valleys of the Umpqua for an upcoming edition. The deadline was 5 p.m. Wednesday. I missed the deadline. Frankly, there is no way I could sum up my feelings about the 100 valleys of the Umpqua in 100 words. This weekly column is limited to 600 words, give or take. Not even with the luxury of those 600 words could I sum up my true feelings about this small corner of the earth. In my lifetime, I have lived in different cities and states, but for me the 100 valleys of the Umpqua is home. Interestingly, I actually discovered Douglas County and in particular, Roseburg, while I was an editor in Long Beach, Calif. I shared an office with Mac Epley, who once worked with Deb Addison then editor of The News-Review. Mac wrote a daily column for the Long Beach newspaper. Addison had sent him a story about, the weather goats that once inhabited Mt. Nebo and Tom Worden, a broadcast journalist and owner of radio station KRSB in Roseburg. Worden, the story said, would look out the window and give a weather report based on what the goats were doing. Mac shared that information with Long Beach readers through his column. Honestly, that was the first time I ever heard about a town named Roseburg. Those Mt. Nebo goats, however, earned the town national fame, all because of Tom Worden. Worden’s unique reporting of the goats as weather barometers led to national recognition. They were featured on the NBC nightly news with Huntley and Brinkley; in a story in the New York Times; the TV show “That’s Incredible,” and in a Reader’s Digest story; Ripley’s Believe it or Not and even in “Stars and Stripes” newspaper for the U.S. military. The shaggy goats were so famous, the State Highway Department posted signs on Interstate 5 at the foot of Mt. Nebo warning motorists to "watch for crossing goats." Little did I think at the time Mac showed me Deb Addison’s clippings that I would ever look out my window in Roseburg, Oregon and test the weather by what those prophetic Angoras were doing. Nor did I ever think that years later I would be sitting alongside Tom Worden in a radio station in Roseburg trying to raise funds for Hurricane Hugo for the American Red Cross. In both instances life proved to be filled with those unpredictable twists and turns. After the fund raising broadcast, Worden even me a note, giving me, as only Worden’s unique humor could, an award for the "Most Perfect Squelch." During the live radio show, the station received a call from a Sutherlin resident who said he wouldn’t donate even a dime to the Red Cross because during World War II the Red Cross charged him five cents for a donut. Neither Tom nor I could stop his rants and raves over a five cent donut. I finally asked him if he would share with listeners what kind of car he drove. He said a Datsun. I then asked what kind of television he owned. He said a Sony. My quick reply was: "Well you have forgiven the Japanese how about forgiving the Red Cross." He slammed up the phone. I graciously accepted, Worden’s award. So you might say, I discovered Roseburg because of a herd of goats, made famous by a radio personality, the late Tom Worden. What I found was a fascinating town filled with fascinating people. A town I am proud to call my hometown, even though only a few of you speak with a southern accent. (Bill Duncan can be reached by writing to P.O. Box 812, Roseburg, OR 97470)
The Elderstatesman