Tales around the stove

The stove in Dustin's house ― a great place to eat popcorn, drink grape juice and listen to tall tales and tantalizing tidbits of the past. As evidenced by the picture, he was not one for tidiness. December 2015. Robert Neff Collection

By Robert Neff

It is no secret that winters in Korea are cold but, judging from the various diaries and correspondences of Westerners residing in Seoul, the winters of the present aren't as cold as the winters of the past.

In the late 1890s, Horace N. Allen, the American Consul General, described the Korean ondol heating system in fairly glowing terms. He noted that the floors (covered with thick paper and rich brown in color due to the constant polishing they received by the stockings of the owners) were always warm.

I suspect Allen did not spend much time sleeping on the floor or even going about his house in just his socks but he does seem to have been truly impressed with the Korean heating system in regard to Korean-style homes.

However, for the American and Europeans living in Seoul, stoves were the only option "as the paper floors do not answer for foreign use, owing to the fact that our rooms are too large, and our shoes and furniture soon ruin the floors."

Dustin loved to fish, even in the winter. The Mount Baker region of Washington State, 1950/1951. Robert Neff Collection

Allen went on to note that German-made stoves were initially favored but by the mid-1890s, the most commonly used stoves were those made in Michigan. Even some of the more progressive Koreans were purchasing these stoves but he did not expect them to become too popular because of poor shipping methods (resulting in the stoves needing repairs upon arrival) and the high cost of coal.

Whenever I think about stoves in Korea, my mind wanders to the many fond hours I spent around Frederic Dustin's stove on Jeju Island listening to his anecdotes. Some were told with a degree of artistic license but all were entertaining.

Dustin had a long history in Korea ― too long to repeat in this article ― but his legacy lives on in the maze he established and in the memories of those who loved him.

Dustin apparently did not catch much fish during the winter but did fairly well in the summer of 1950, though none of the fish measured up to his tales. In the late 1960s or early 1970s, Dustin was a fishmonger in Korea. Robert Neff Collection

Some of these tales were about his youth fishing for trout, steelhead and salmon. From the way he spoke, he was one of the greatest fishermen alive, but, photographs don't lie ― the fish in the pictures do not match the fish in his tales.

Just prior to joining the military, Dustin worked for a short time at a small logging camp. He was a complete tenderfoot and knew nothing about the industry but he learned a lot that summer and he toughened up. Of course, at this camp, there was a good deal of drinking ― perhaps more drinking than actual logging. Depending on his mood, he sometimes portrayed himself as a rough-and-tumble type of guy, but in reality, he was tender-hearted ― not above shedding a tear or two.

Dustin in the center with two other lumberjacks at the mining camp in the summer of 1951. Robert Neff Collection

Although he had not served on the front lines (he was a bandsman), there were many experiences during the Korean War that weighed heavily upon his mind. In the streets of Seoul and in some of the villages in Gangwon Province, he encountered children injured and maimed ― innocent victims of the war. Surprisingly, the children were still able to smile. Their smiles haunted Dustin in a good way. Nearly sixty-five years later he recalled, "Still in my mind, do I see [their smiles] and cuteness. I guess the young are cute all over the world in peace or war."

Some of Dustin's fellow lumberjacks in the summer of 1951. Robert Neff Collection

After the war, Dustin taught English at Yonhi University (now Yonsei). He recalled:

Dustin at the Maze December 2015 Robert Neff Collection

"The school had returned from Busan a year or so before and there was so much damage. That first fall of '55 was difficult. Many of the classrooms still had no windows and some were missing doors so it was terribly drafty."

And yet, despite the spartan conditions, there were few absentees.

"I often thought it a real personal credit to those students who would arrive in the ubiquitous 'black jeeps' of the day at the front gate and then sit bundled up in those frozen classrooms."

His students had, according to Dustin, "a real fervor for education."

After several years of teaching English, Dustin worked as a gold miner in the southern part of the peninsula. It was difficult but enjoyable work. Although he hated it whenever he was asked what made him fall in love with Korea, I think the mining experience was one of the key factors. In an indirect way, it lead to his success.

Children skating on the ice in Gapyeong in the winter of 1952/53. Robert Neff Collection

Whenever I visited him, he would regale me with these tales as he lovingly stoked his fire ― only he stoked the fire; I wasn't smart enough to do it correctly ― he never failed to remind me that for his first two decades in Korea he never could recall being warm during the winter. Perhaps that is the real reason why he decided to make Jeju his home: warm winters.

Rest in peace Fred.

Dustin's woodpile by the door and my coffee cup on his chair. The outside denizens ― the cats he fed ― rarely welcomed me on my visits. Robert Neff Collection

Phone reception ― for everyone but Dustin ― was usually bad so I often had to walk a short distance down this lonely lane in the middle of the night to make my phone calls. Prior to going out into the dark, Dustin enjoyed reminding me the woods were haunted. The howls of the water deer often gave his tales some credence in December 2015. Robert Neff Collection

Robert Neff has authored and co-authored several books, including Letters from Joseon, Korea Through Western Eyes and Brief Encounters.