America: 50☆Stars (Vol. 3)

Episode 18: Truman of Mount St. Helens

Montani Semper Liberi.

Every mountaineer born in West Virginia lived by this motto—to live freely and independently like the great mountains of their homeland. There was no compromise. They were adamant to do as they pleased. They were resolute, refusing to abide by laws that restricted their movement. They were loners. They were outcasts of urban society. Even so, they were fine living a life away from civilization—away from annoyances. They were content living a life close to the mountains—close to freedom. Their love for the mountains could never be swayed. Washington learned the hard way when he was asked to confront a mountaineer named Harry R. Truman (no relation to Harry S. Truman).

"Mr. Truman," Washington approached the elderly innkeeper at a pier leading out to Spirit Lake, "I know you're old, but that's not a valid excuse for breaking laws."

"Huh? What the fuck are you talking about? I haven't broken any goddamn laws." He pretended to be oblivious, occupying himself on fixing up rental boats.

However, Washington wasn't buying it. "Dude, it's no secret you have a history of opposing authority."

"You don't know shit about me."

"Actually, there's plenty of shit I know about you," he refuted. "You bootlegged during Prohibition. You stole gravel from the U.S. Forest Service. You poached and fished on American Indian reservations using fake game warden badges. There was even an instance you got a forest ranger drunk, just so you could burn a pile of brush."

"Nah," he shook his head, "I don't have an inkling doing those things."

"Fine," he huffed. "I'll dismiss them for now because I'm here to talk about the tax rate you charge for rental boats. Do you recall a tax agent paying a visit to your establishment last week?"

"Hm..."

"... You might recall pushing them into the lake."

"Oh, yeah!" He snapped his fingers. "That uppity bastard refused to pay after renting one of my boats."

"That was because you charged a tax rate that differed from the current state sales tax."

He grumbled, "Again with the complaints about taxes. Can't you see things are perfectly fine here?"

"Truman, you can't charge your own sales tax. You need to comply with current tax laws. Otherwise, you'll be held accountable for your actions."

He glared at the young man, "Is that a fucking threat?"

"I'm serious. You can't—" Truman pushed Washington off the dock and into Spirit Lake in a giant splash.

"Harry!" His wife, Edna, emerged from Mount St. Helens Lodge, having witnessed what her husband had done. "You can't keep pushing people into the lake!"

"Yes, I can, Eddie!" He waved her off. "This is how I win my arguments. It worked on my second ex-wife and the tax agent. It'll work again getting rid of him."

"Damn it, Truman!" Washington climbed back onto the pier, completely soaked from head to toe. "You're not gonna get rid of me that easily—" He got pushed into the lake again. "Stop that!"

"Fuck you! Get off my property, you damn hippie!"

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After 123 years of dormancy, Mount St. Helens started to show signs of life in the middle of March 1980. It began with a series of small earthquakes happening daily around the mountain. Though minor in scale, they were powerful enough to trigger avalanches of snow and ice. This was followed by the eruption of colossal ash clouds and the creation of a new crater in the summit. A second crater was then formed after another series of earthquakes and steam explosions—emitting blue flames and burning gasses. By the first day of April, it became urgently clear to geologists this tremendous amount of activity was building up to something disastrous. It became abundantly clear the stratovolcano was in peril of creating massive destruction. It became dangerously clear to a lot of residents to evacuate the area around Mount St. Helens before they end up like the people of Pompeii.