Tommy Nelson’s Shell Pile

     The shell pile that has been behind the W. D. Taylor house for sixty or more years is gone.  Most people won’t even notice because, until the last year or so, it was completely hidden from view.  Now that the house has a new owner (the fourth since that pile was ‘completed’) and the grounds have been landscaped, the pile of oyster shells has been visible again just like it was in my childhood.
     In those olden days of my youth, Tommy Nelson owned the house and operated a cannery out in the ‘back behind.’  The shell pile, of course, was a business by-product.  I don’t remember if Tommy hauled them away periodically, or if the pile just continued to accumulate.
     According to our family, Tommy and his wife, Irene, made the best smoked oysters ever.  For one thing, each can was chock-full of chunky morsels of body meat; no gills.  For another, they used crabapple almost exclusively for smoking and that, along with their own special oil, made a product that couldn’t be duplicated.
     In the late 1940s, my uncle Willard contracted with Tommy to produce canned oyster stew.  The recipe was concocted by Willard’s wife, Hilda.  She spent a year here in Oysterville with their four daughters overseeing production; Willard was in New York spreading the good word, hosting tasting parties for the likes of Clementine Paddleford (food editor of the N.Y. Herald Tribune), and writing up orders fast and furiously.
     But, in the end, Tommy’s laid back work ethic (“Oh, we’ll be gone a few weeks to visit some relatives over in Eastern Washington…”) and the hustle-bustle of New York City merchandising weren’t compatible.  Willard had to forgo his dreams of Willapa Bay oysters on every table on the Eastern Seaboard and Tommy settled back to business as usual – smoked oysters for the local market only.
     Tommy closed down his cannery in the early ’50s, a few years before he died.  Over the years the old cannery buildings – sheds, really – have slowly gone back to nature and the shell pile soon became buried in a tangle of brambles and bracken.
     As new owner Bradley began to landscape the grounds and the oyster shell pile was revealed, he immediately envisioned a useful and attractive next step for the shells.  They will be crushed and spread to form a parking area behind the house, becoming an integral part of his landscape plan, a serviceable area for off-road parking, and a memorable connection with Oysterville’s past.
To me, it’s an extra serendipity-sort-of-bonus that Tommy Nelson’s mother, who lived a few houses south, was famous for her crushed oyster shell garden paths.  She kept them weed-free by periodically sprinkling hot salt water on them.  I must mention that to Bradley…