Tributes: Logger by trade, but a gentleman by design
You’d be hard-pressed to find a woodsman in North Idaho unfamiliar with the Donohoe name, as the family has been logging hereabouts for nearly a century. In June, regional logging icon David Donohoe died after a three-year bout with cancer.
Donohoe’s grandfather came west from Illinois in 1911, hoping for a nice piece of farmland to homestead. He settled instead on a wooded section on Willow Creek in Medimont and proceeded to harvest trees. By 1948, at 7 years of age, David Donohoe was already learning the logging trade, working alongside his father and grandpa as they used horses to draw out the timber. Working in the woods was in his blood.
His mother died when he was just 10, so he grew up with his father, Gaylord, and in the loving care of a large extended family. Consequently, he became acquainted with several North Idaho communities and became well-known while still a young man. A 1960 graduate of Kootenai High in Rose Lake, he excelled in athletics. His love of sports would follow him all of his days, and his active life in the woods and on the playing fields kept him strong. He was not a large man, but he was tight and quick.
His agility probably saved his life a number of times during his career as a gypo logger. Seven times, he tipped over a skidder and leaped to safety. He took a chain saw to the belly once and barely escaped falling trees uncounted times. He never let it faze him, even in the times when he had to be hauled out to the closest emergency room. He’d be back on the job with his boys, Davy and Rich, as soon as he was able. “Bog’er to it,” he would say, meaning “let’s get to work.”
As a young man, on the weekends he would come to town with friends and cruise Sherman Avenue and let the good times roll as they would. One evening in September 1966, a friend introduced him to Lois Aker, and the two quickly took to each other. On Christmas Eve, they were sitting together at Lois’ home, and he looked at her and said: “Let’s go get married. We’re not doing anything else.” So they did, at Te Hitching Post in Coeur d’Alene. Their union has survived the ups and downs of the logging industry, two house fires in which they lost everything they owned, and all the usual challenges that come with a boisterous household full of their own kids and a lot of other people’s as well.
Early on, he joined his wife in her membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. He often said that he wished he’d “got serious” about it sooner, but they always supported the activities, especially for the youth. In the last decade he became fully active and he and his wife were sealed in the Seattle Temple. During his last weeks of life that knowledge was a joy and comfort to them both. His philosophy, said Lois Donohoe was “Work hard, play harder, and trust the rest to God.”
The Donohoes worked with the Scouts and scores of sports teams, especially softball, baseball and basketball. Bowling, too. If there was a team, he was either donating to it, sponsoring it, coaching it, or playing on it. He continued to pitch baseball throughout his illness, with the exception of his final year. Before there were ample community fields to play on, he built a baseball field on his own property on Hayden Avenue. Every game day during eight playing seasons he and his wife would drag and rake it into readiness. Donohoe’s Field was a well-known destination.
Their three children, Leah, Davy and Rich, all excelled at sports through their father’s encouragement and example. He seldom missed any of their games, and last August he proudly watched his 5-year-old grandson, Jacob, take first place in the state BMX competition. Camping, hunting and fishing with his family were always high on his list.
Many youngsters in the logging industry, now successful in their own right, looked to David Donohoe as their mentor and exemplar. One such, Andy Wright, spoke of a moment on the job he will never forget.
The crew came in to the campfire for a lunch break, where Donohoe had been working on equipment all morning. He cleaned his greasy arms with gasoline, washed them off with snow and sat down to eat. Before long he got up to put something on the fire and suddenly went up in a ball of flame. He dropped and rolled in the snow until the fire was out, came up with his clothes smoldering and hanging in tatters, his eyes wide. The boys were frozen, mouths hanging open, when Donohoe faced them and said, “And in the old days, that’s how we used to warm up!” He never let an opportunity for a good laugh go by the wayside, and is remembered for his happy attitude.
Winters, when logging operations have to cease, were always a challenge in bringing in an income. He tried mining – he lasted one day. He worked at a mill – for one week, until it closed down. Mostly he cut firewood and Christmas trees. Lately, you’d see him out carving trees and forest critters with a chain saw. He helped his wife with her craft and Outdoor Sportsman’s shows, where they sold fleece jackets and hats. He sewed right along with her, making many of their sale items himself.
John Anderson, a friend and fellow logger, described Donohoe as: “His demeanor was such that he just loved everyone, and everyone loved him. I don’t know that he had a single enemy. Even during his trials with cancer, he always looked beyond his own needs to help others any way that he could.”
Another friend said that in leaner times he would often find a load of firewood piled in his yard, or a sack of groceries on the doorstep. He knew it was from Donohoe.
Daughter Leah remembers: “Even as he was dying his fears were not for himself, but only for his family. His first thought was always for others.”