1916: A lookout was established with a rock platform and tent camp.
1919: A D-6 lookout house was erected.
1922: A new lookout structure was constructed to replace the earlier building that was destroyed by lightning. Prior to this building a tent and platform was used for detection purposes.
November 1927: "On August 22, Assistant Supervisor Treen accompanied Lieutenant Goldsmith on a flight over the forest. As they passed Mt. Pugh, they dropped the morning newspaper and the latest copy of the Saturday Evening Post in front of the lookout's door. The Seattle Post-Intelligencer featured the story on the first page of the second section, using photographs of a lookout with an airplane superimposed in one corner as an actual photograph of the 'mail delivery'. When asked if he were the one who dropped the paper as the airplane was circling the lookout, Treen replied, 'No, I was too busy holding on.' The lookout man, Otto Seyb, was very much pleased to have his mail delivered within 50 feet of his door at an altitude of 7,000 feet." (Six Twenty-Six)
May 1931: "Otto Seyb, lookout on Mt Pugh for 6 years and one of the best fire spotters the Snoqualmie has ever had, shot and instantly killed himself April 8 at Fortson. He left no information to indicate the cause of his act." (Six Twenty-Six)
July 20, 1935: Panorama photos taken.
May 1, 1936: "A honeymoon 7200 feet above sea level beckoned Catherine Koch and Harland Eastwood, following their scheduled marriage here tomorrow. The bride-to-be is the daughter of Judge and Mrs. J.P. Koch, Ritzville, Wash. The bridegroom-to-be is well known as a Seattle skier and alpinist and will be stationed for three months this summer in a lookout cabin atop Mount Pugh, in Mount Baker national forest, as a summer fire lookout. The pair said the honeymoon would start in mid-June and last until the end of September." (Morning Oregonian)
September 1938: "It may have been a little late for mother nature to celebrate the Fourth of July, but believe you-me, even though it was late she believes in giving a performance excelled by none. Almost at midnight of July 7 the lightning storm began moving in from the southwest, its path marked by jagged flashes of blue light, and started to swing over the Darrington District. At 11:30 p.m. the Sauk Ranger Station called and I gave them azimuth readings on three fires which had been started by the first storm some fifty minutes before. In this district this storm had left four fires in its wake, which by this time had all been duly reported to the station. The wind now had reached a high velocity and it seemed inevitable that the storm would miss Mt. Pugh, where incidentally I am stationed. I quickly made a dash outside and grounded the B-G arrester. The face of the storm was only a few miles away now, and seemingly with each mad gash of lightning a pin-point of light would suddenly appear; then it would flare up becoming larger and larger; dying down again as soon as the needles or inflammable material was burned. There were seven fires burning now, over west of me. Static electricity caused the ends of the shutter bars on the tower windows to become alive with blue flame. They sounded somewhat like the whining drone of a high powered generator. Without further warning the bolt struck the tower. There was a dull plop as if someone had broken an electric light bulb; then, myriads of sparks about the size of a quarter came showering down on every side, many of them shooting from the copper lightning protection around the tower. Observers from other vantage points several miles away said the sparks flew one hundred feet in the air. The oppressive odor of burnt copper lingered in the air for several minutes. The blue flame had disappeared from the shutter bars but immediately began to build up again. There were twelve fires burning in the one locality about five miles west of here now, and several more in the district adjoining this one. I was watching these fires when the next bolt struck the telephone line about twenty feet from the tower. The terrific flash blinded me for perhaps an interval of three minutes. Inspection the next morning found only burnt streaks down over the rocks and small pieces of insulation for three hundred feet. Fourteen hundred feet of wire had to be replaced. Another strike selected the flag pole as its objective and Old Glory floated no more. Several more strikes occurred farther down the ridge in the rocks, but the worst of the storm had passed by now and clouds began to form below me completely blotting out visibility. It was 3:00 a.m.; Whitechuck Bench LO was flashing me at intervals. I signaled back. Several hours later, down at the pass about a mile from the top, the test phone was put in service and the only remaining fire visible out of twelve, reported to the Ranger Station. The packer arrived with new wire, and by high noon found the sky completely clear; the sun shone brightly; once again everything was peaceful and quiet. Wendall Dawson" (Six Twenty-Six)
June 27, 1963: "Pugh trail is cleaned to timber line with some snow above. With care travelers can go to the lookout." (The Arlington Times)