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The Mt. Adams Sun, Bingen, WA., July 8, 1954, page 1
includes photographs

TEUNIS WYERS CARRIES MAIL LONGER THAN ANY OTHER MAN IN UNITED STATES

Ten years ago Teunis Wyers of White Salmon celebrated his 50th consecutive year of carrying a the U.S. mails. No other man could be found to challenge this record. On July 1 he clinched the title by adding another decade to his career.
"Tune" Wyers came to White Salmon in 1891 from a Onaga, Kansas where his family, Dutch immigrants, had lived on a leased farm for two years. On his arrival here, the 17-year-old youth got a job of milking ten cows twice a day and cleaning barns for which J.R. Warner paid him $4 a week.
Young Tune was too ambitious to be contended with such work. When he was 18 he sub-contacted the mailroute to Glenwood. His whole equipment was three cayuses. He obtained one in repayment for breaking two horses for Theodore Suksdorf. Indian Sam sold him another for $8. The third came from an old man named Kelly who traded it to him for a pig and three boxes of apples.
His first trip was made on July 1, 1894. He didn't even know where Glenwood was but made inquiries along the way. When he arrived there at men were building a pavilion for the Forth of July.
The first year was the hardest. His three hay-burners were not sturdy enough to combat this six-feet-deep snow. Plowing out the roads was unheard of. Snow clearance had to wait for the spring sun.

THRICE A WEEK

Mail service to Gilmer, Fulda and Glenwood postoffices was three times a week. Houses were few and far between and phone service was non-existent. A man and a horse had to be rugged to survive. Yet for 18 months he made three round trips weekly without missing a day.
For 60 years Tune's chief problem has been equipment. Even in the horse-age this was a major problem. Some of horses know how to get through snow. Try as they will, others can't. Eight out of ten Indian ponies are "sidewheelers" (pacers) and overstep by placing their hind feet so far forward they step on their front. This results in their keeling forward and spilling of the rider.
When his horses gave out, Tune abandoned them in order that the mail would not be delayed. He was always considerate of his horses and over the years of acquired the best working knowledge of horseflesh in the Northwest. As his mail and freight business grew he owned about 100 head and had 80 in harness every morning.
In addition to cuffers (stable attendants and night men) and punks (stand-ins), Tune hired eight to ten driver. Eleven out of ten drank a quart of whiskey at day, but in spite of their drinking there were no accidents. The horses knew their routes as well as the driver.
It is no secret that Tune's business was a financial success. Horse trading was a profitable sideline. Twice a year he bought 15 to 25 head of wild horses, broken and matched them, and then sold them to city-delivery wagon companies. He recalls a little man from Portland who bought horses from him year after year. He was a Jew and a damned square shooter, Mr. Wyers says.

PARCEL POST

About 1905 the Post Office Department changed its service to include parcel post. Payment was made on the basis of weight. But the mail contracts never paid for themselves. What they lacked in revenue was made up from other parts of the business.
Improved service was paid for by horse-swapping, freight hauls, and with the coming of the horse-less carriage, and by contracting with Standard Oil to distribute gas. Wyers Stage gradually shifted from horses to trucks. But it was sometime before automobiles could compete with horse-drawn vehicles in mud and snow.

WORLD WAR I

When World War 1 was declared, the price of everything skyrocketed. Huckleberries jumped from 25 cents a gallon to 75 cents. There was a sudden demand for horses and the price of beef went out of sight.
Tune and gives Lady Luck credit for much of his success. No man succeeds without it, he says. But his mail contracts are his real career and chief source of pride.
His Rockaway stage coaches are now owned by the Ellensburg Rodeo Association. His last two sleds rust in the old red barn. It has been 30 years since his hacks and buckboards transported summer visitors to Trout Lake. Trout Lake now gets it's mail daily instead of twice-a-week at Gilmer. The U.S. Forest Service still owns a few mules instead of hiring 25 to 30 head of horses every summer from Wyers stage.
It would take a full-length book to cover all of the chapters in Tune Wyers eventful life. All the best chapters from his viewpoint have to deal with horses.
One of his favorite tales is of seeing 1000 head of wild geldings being rounded up on the high desert near Prineville. And it seems like only yesterday that he and Cody Chapman tried to force 30 wild horses across the Parrot Bridge on the Klickitat. The bridge went to pieces; 15 horses jumped into the river and were drowned. The rest escaped.
Tune in uses two stories to illustrate that cows and horses are smart than people. When a calf bawls the only cow that looks up is its own mother, he says. When a baby cries at a club meeting, every woman rushes to see if it's her child.
One time when Tune was very new to the business, he was faced with the problem of getting some mares and their colts across in the Indian Ford. The mares had never seen real water, just mudholes on the Rattlesnake hills north of White Swan.
They took to the water like ducks. Each colt rested its head on the upstream shoulder of its mother and swam across.
But no story of Tune Wyers life could be complete without mentioning his wife, Olga (Lauterbach) Wyers who died in January 13, 1953. It was she who handled the complicated accounts, kept his home immaculate, and raised the family. No detail escaped her phenomenal memory.
She two shared her husband's joy in winning mail-contract renewals for decade after decade. As the record of continuous service grew longer and longer, the family gathered every four years for a solemn little ritual. There was nothing hilarious about the toast they gave to the U.S. Mails. It was a re-dedication to service.
They have upheld the motto of the Post Office Department: "Not snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."