Longtime friends gathered last Monday at the home of Bette Nute on her 90th birthday and she reminisced about many things including her many years with the Review.
Bette Wood Nute, husband John (Brud) and sons John and Bob moved to Bainbridge in 1947 to live in Brud’s boyhood home at South Beach. Brud worked in the mortgage department of a Seattle realty firm, and also served as first president of the Bainbridge Boys Athletic Club, which established a Little League program on what is now Rotary Field.
By 1956 both boys were attending McDonald School in Eagledale and Bette was hired to replace Natalie (Mrs. John) Rudolph on the Review’s staff.
Bette staffed the front office alone in the Review building, which was the former World War II Navy Administration Building for the Winslow Shipyard. The building was on the west side of what is now the vehicle holding area for the ferries. (A fire destroyed the building in 1963).
Of co-editors and owners, Walt and Milly Woodward, Bette recalls: “They left a legacy of caring for the Island. The Bainbridge Review was an avenue for communication and support for everyone. Walt’s newspaper life was not easy! Wayne Jacobi (Jake) shared in the trials of the business, too – deadlines, breakdowns, delivery problems, on and on.”
Jacobi, a former Review editor, knows about multi-tasking: “We all did everything we could to keep the paper running. There were 148 island organizations at that time. We had a policy of doing at least two stories about each of them during the year. Bette – ‘Cute Nute’ as we called her – saw to it that we did.”
“I had no newspaper experience and only a fraction of business college education,” Nute said in reflection. “Walt asked me to join the staff of Rhea Hannon, Katy Warner and others. My first morning, Walt called to me, ‘I don’t hear your typewriter!’
“I replied, ‘I’m washing the windows!’ They looked like they’d never been washed!”
That was just the beginning. She also managed the office, answered phones, sold advertising, covered sports and club meetings, and wrote birth, wedding and death notices.
“Bainbridge coverage had to be fair, honest and direct,” she says. “I was blessed to be with the Woodward family and staff.”
Her son, John, has vivid memories of the Review.
“Mom sat behind a low desk in front of a glass partition. It only partially separated her from the newspaper production activity. Walt, Jake, Bob Jennings and others made type out of lead with a noisy linotype machine. Smells of smoldering ink and molten lead filled the air. The type was pounded upside down and backwards onto plates for the press. The linotype’s clickity-clack was surpassed by the racket of the press, which sounded like several railroad box cars on the move. Mom answered the phones and got the information right over that noise, all the while helping visitors who walked in to inquire about food, lodging, schools, churches, and work.”
I was a teacher and sailing instructor when Bette called me one blustery day with news that a youngster had capsized his sailboat in front of the ferry, delaying its arrival by 25 minutes. “I am writing a story about it. See what you can find out, Jerry,” Bette said, “and write us a column on sailing safety.”
I got right on it and soon called Bette back. “I have your safety story, Bette, but you’d better hold the line about ‘… the youngster.’ Seems the ferry took the kid’s wind, causing his dinghy to capsize to windward. His belt loop got tangled on a deck cleat. He almost drowned – had to cut himself loose. He was both embarrassed and angry when he waded ashore, jaw still firmly locked… on his cigar. It was 82-year-old Charlie Taylor!”
Bette provided continuity when the Woodwards sold the paper to Dave and Verda Averill in the 1960s. Their son, Charlie, remembers: “As a kid I was amazed by the Review office. Actually, the office itself wasn’t so amazing, – just a few desks, typewriters and a lot of papers – but it always seemed so busy. And even then, watching my parents at work, I understood that Bette Nute was the one who knew everything and everybody. There are a few key people who bring a community together and Bette was one of them.”
Last Monday, with Mt. Rainier smiling in the distance, where Bette and Brud first started skiing in the 1930s, tables in her living room and yard were stacked with birthday greetings, local organic produce and baked goods, and flowers. Folks stopped by all afternoon. Her grandchildrens’ soap bubbles filled onshore sea breezes as Bette told attendees, “I love you!”
Friends reciprocated and thanked her for her many years of caring for us all.
Gerald Elfendahl is a local historian
