Ruth Muriel Espy (1904-1970), always called “Mona” by family and friends, considered herself the ‘ugly duckling” among her six siblings — not because of her looks, but because she was the least academically inclined. Yet, the rest of the family adored her, depended upon her in times of crisis, and was proud of her work for Eisenhower during his presidential campaign. His letter to her is still on display in the H.A. Espy home.

From 1863 when it was created until 1957 when it consolidated with Ocean Park School District, Oysterville School District Number 1 of Pacific County hired 66 school teachers — that we know of. And, of those 66 only one was summarily dismissed by the citizens of Oysterville. His name was Mr. Stupp.

“Mr Stupp was no doubt a well-meaning man,” my uncle Willard Espy wrote years later. “But he was not suited to life among Oysterville students. The youngsters felt harassed by him and vice-versa until it all came to a head one morning in 1913 when my sister Mona (then about 10) came home for lunch, running. Her head was down, her straight blond hair flew back and her feet flung out behind — “like the hindlegs of a galloping cow” I told her. But she was too upset to take notice of my insult.

“Mr. Stupp shook me!” Mona announced.

Mama turned white. Physical violence applied by an outsider to an Espy child was sacrilege!

“What happened, Mona?” Papa asked.

“He was teaching the Latin class. It wasn’t my fault,” said Mona. “You know how deaf he is and some of the kids take advantage of it…”

“How many times must I tell you never to call children kids?” said Mama.

“The children, I mean,” said Mona, “and he always blames me. He was teaching the eighth graders Latin — that’s the only subject he really likes — and he heard something, and I didn’t do it and he shook me. And then he couldn’t find his glasses because they were on his forehead and Ruby Andrews began to laugh, and he hit her over the head with a Latin book, and Ruby ran home to tell her folks, and so did I.”

Papa temporized. Clearly, morale in the upper grades was poor; on the other hand, Mr. Stupp was not utterly incompetent, and it was a serious matter to discharge a teacher in the middle of the school year. Papa was reluctant to blacken anyone’s record and there would be a problem, too, about finding a replacement.

According to Willard’s account, the denouement of the Stupp drama occurred at the Christmas program in front of the entire community. Unexpectedly, Mr. Stupp stood up for what he claimed would be his “Farewell Address.” He then proceeded to read an interminably long poem titled “Oysterville as Seen by a Teacher.”

The 11 stanzas berated pupils, parents, and school board members. In the third stanza, he singled out Papa:

What shallow pates parents and directors are,

That great and wonder-working Espy is their guiding star…

And a few stanzas later, he attacked Mama:

That shining Mrs. Espy showed great brains in wondrous note she did so boldly sign, “Now teacher, if you can’t control the school by gentle means, you should resign.’

Just think — wild cattle she would have controlled by love!

Another case of impudence and ignorance so glaring and profound.

No one in the village was as angry as Mama’s brother, Uncle Sid. He wanted to run Stupp out of town that very night, but Papa convinced him it could wait until the following day. Accordingly, he called on the teacher, stood over him grimly while he packed and conducted him personally to Nahcotta, where he kept charge of him until he was safely aboard the outbound train. Oysterville, of which Mr. Stupp “thought not well,” never saw him again.