In order to tell the story of Primo Boling we have the first-hand account of Charles H. Fattig, curator at the McCleary Museum, who was among many who called the giant “friend.”

Charles states Cecil Vanover “Primo” Boling was born in 1920 in McCleary and passed away February 2000 in a Montesano nursing home at the age of 79.

He received his nickname from the gigantic Italian, Primo Carnera, who was the 1933 heavy weight boxing champ of the world and stood 6 feet 6 inches.

At an early age, Primo’s pituitary gland went haywire and he started growing at a rapid pace. At age 10 he was 5 feet 10 inches and at age 16 he was 7 feet tall. It is reported that he sometimes grew an inch a month. His final height was 7 feet 8 and a half inches.

But, he did make the best of his situation. When he was in high school at Elma, he started a band in his sophomore year. He called it “Primo’s Music Masters.” Primo played the saxophone, Ray Smith, Deanna Eggler, Dick Hink and Harry Finney were the other students in the band.

Primo belonged to several different bands in the years to come. They played in local dance halls and also at “The Tropics” over toward Shelton and “The Evergreen” near Mud Bay to name a few. He enjoyed that period of his life and people enjoyed his music.

He told me that he went into the circus for a brief time. He absolutely didn’t like that life, so he did not stay long.

It was stated that Primo and Major Mite (his real name was Clarence Chesterfield Howerton, and he once was considered the shortest man in the world at 2 feet 4 inches tall) were friends and were born a few blocks apart in McCleary. Primo told me he never knew the Mite and never had his photo taken with him. They did live in the same town at the same time.

Our research tells us that Major Mite was, in fact, born in 1913 in Oregon. His family came to McCleary around 1915. The Mite left here around 1926 to go into the circus. Primo was around 6 years old at the time, so he wouldn’t have had an opportunity to know him as an adult.

The word hyperbole comes into play here. The news reporters just wanted to gussie up the story by claiming the two were born in the small mill town, the tallest and shortest in the world. It made for good copy and suited its purpose.

Don Hannula, a reporter for The Tacoma News Tribune received requested information from Primo’s mother, Mrs. D.I. George, in order to write a three-part article on the gentle giant. Part of what Hannula wrote is:

The Tacoma News Tribune, June 20, 1960

Portrait of a Giant by Don Hannula

Boling recalled that his slender legs started bothering him at the age of “11 or 12.” Later, as he shot up to 7 feet 8 and a half inches and 320 pounds, his legs could no longer carry the load.

In 1958, at age 38, both of his legs were amputated below the knee, as his heart wasn’t strong enough to pump blood down to his feet. His feet became ulcerated to the point they had to be removed.

The Tacoma News Tribune, July 1, 1960

By Don Hannula

Remember “The Biggest Sound for Miles Around?”

All of Grays Harbor, Mason and Thurston counties were swinging to it in the carefree days that preceded the outbreak of World War II.

It came when Primo Boling rose from his chair, stretched himself to his full 7-feet, 8 and a half inches, and cut his saxophone loose with a jumpin’ rendition of “Sweet Georgia Brown,” “The Twelfth Street Rag,” or “Stompin’ at the Savoy.” Loggers, fishermen and mill workers left their troubles behind them and flocked to the old Strubel-Glancey Hall here, the Silver Star in Malone, the Vasa Hall in Hoquiam and the Tropics by the Kamilche Cutoff on the way to Shelton.

They came to see and hear the Giant of McCleary with the hot sax.

Primo’s slender legs grew weaker, so he took to dealing poker and pan at his stepfather’s establishment when it was located on the inner corner of McCleary’s right angle center of town.

It was a short deal around the eight-man, circular poker table for the big man with the long arms. He had an arm span of almost eight feet – 93 inches to be exact.

In the game of cards, where tempers are apt to flare, the dealer never had trouble. But it wasn’t his size. Primo was a friendly man—admired and respected by all.

His legs grew weaker by the day, until in 1951 Primo found that he could no longer make it to the Olympic and the daily card games.

He became confined to a wheelchair at the home of his mother and stepfather, learned leathercraft and helped support his upkeep with his earnings. His stepfather described his work as “the best damn leather I ever saw.”

What does this quiet, unassuming man, held in awe for years for his massive proportions, want most?

The soft-spoken giant humbly proclaims:

“More than anything, I want to earn my own living.”

Linda Thompson is the editor of the McCleary Museum Newsletter. She has been a volunteer at the museum since 1990.