I met Warren Holden in the summer or 1976, he called our house lookin’ for my brother Deano, seekin’ a choker setter. I told him that he wasn't home. I told him I could outrun, outjump, outlog him anyday of the week. He said, "can you set chokers kid?". I said "yes sir, I sure can". He said, "be at the Rookard shop on Hampton Road at 3:30. "In the mourning?", I replied. "That’s right. That’s in 6 hours. Do you want a job?", he said. "Yes sir I do", I replied. "Be there, you get in the green crummy. Your Hooktender will be Bob King.", he said.

Three thirty rolled around a little quicker than I did. I made it though. I got to the Rookard shop and their were two green crummies. I should of known about Warren’s humor. I started to pile into one of the crummies. The Hooktender, Fred Johnson, said "who are you"? "Henderson Chockerdog, reportin’ for dudy", I said. "You go in the other crummy.", he said. "You mean the green one?", I said. I climbed into that old beat up crummy. It was at that point that my life in "as Rookard’s World Turns" began with many episodes of humor, anger, fear, joy, and a lot of damn hard work, and a lot of really good fellas.

Back to what this story is about, Warren Holden, logger.

Warren was a high climber. In the old days, before the steel tubes on log trucks, loggers would rig trees, known as a spar pole. And let me tell you, these guys were studs. They would climb the rig of trees. On their way up, they would cut the top off at the right height. That alone would be a major task. Then they would rigger up and get her ready for loggin. It could take up to 8 hours. Like I say, these guys were studs. You get the idea?

Warren Holden was one hell of a logger, one hell of a man. He taught me more pyschology than any teacher I had in college. As a Side Rod, you don’t have to do nothin’ if you don’t want to. But Warren was always there. He didn't get appointed Side Rod, he earned the job, up the ranks of loggerhood. Warren didn't answer to no one. We called the owner, Jim Rookard, "The General", but he knew who the real general was. When it came time to tear down and move the yarder, Warren was always there, leadin' the army. We’d tear down and set up an old Skagit 84 in 2 and half hours. Everone was on the run. Warren was on the run. He’d yell, spit, and scream, and people would move. I figured it out later. It was all an act. Warren was a good leader of men. He’d back that Chevy pickup of his as fast it’d go. He was onry, when the Forrest Service lady would come around, he’d pull it out and go to the bathroom. He'd always give me a job.

Warren passed on a few years ago. His spirit will live in my heart forever. I feel honored to have know such a man. When Buzz Martin said "where there walks a logger, there walks a man", he was a talkin’ about guys like Warren Holden, ofla inductee to the logger hall of fame.