Collection of Nebraska Pioneer Reminiscences
by Daughters of the American Revolution. Nebraska · English · Gutenberg #34844 · 723,538 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Collection of Nebraska Pioneer Reminiscences
Author: Daughters of the American Revolution. Nebraska
Release date: January 4, 2011 [eBook #34844]
Most recently updated: January 15, 2021
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34844
Credits: Brian Sogard, Sharon Verougstraete and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COLLECTION OF NEBRASKA PIONEER REMINISCENCES ***
[Illustration: MRS. LAURA B. POUND
Second and Sixth State Regent, Nebraska Society, Daughters of the
American Revolution. 1896-1897, 1901-1902]
COLLECTION OF
NEBRASKA PIONEER
REMINISCENCES
ISSUED BY THE
NEBRASKA SOCIETY OF
THE DAUGHTERS OF THE
AMERICAN REVOLUTION
[Illustration]
NINETEEN SIXTEEN
THE TORCH PRESS
CEDAR RAPIDS
IOWA
FORETHOUGHT
This Book of Nebraska Pioneer Reminiscences is issued by the Daughters
of the American Revolution of Nebraska, and dedicated to the daring,
courageous, and intrepid men and women--the advance guard of our
progress--who, carrying the torch of civilization, had a vision of the
possibilities which now have become realities.
To those who answered the call of the unknown we owe the duty of
preserving the record of their adventures upon the vast prairies of
"Nebraska the Mother of States."
"In her horizons, limitless and vast
Her plains that storm the senses like the sea."
Reminiscence, recollection, personal experience--simple, true
stories--this is the foundation of History.
Rapidly the pioneer story-tellers are passing beyond recall, and the
real story of the beginning of our great commonwealth must be told now.
The memories of those pioneers, of their deeds of self-sacrifice and
devotion, of their ideals which are our inheritance, will inculcate
patriotism in the children of the future; for they should realize the
courage that subdued the wilderness. And "lest we forget," the heritage
of this past is a sacred trust to the Daughters of the American
Revolution of Nebraska.
The invaluable assistance of the Nebraska State Historical Society, and
the members of this Book Committee, Mrs. C. S. Paine and Mrs. D. S.
Dalby, is most gratefully acknowledged.
LULA CORRELL PERRY
(Mrs. Warren Perry)
CONTENTS
SOME FIRST THINGS IN THE HISTORY OF ADAMS COUNTY 11
BY GEORGE F. WORK
EARLY EXPERIENCES IN ADAMS COUNTY 18
BY GENERAL ALBERT V. COLE
FRONTIER TOWNS 22
BY FRANCIS M. BROOME
HISTORICAL SKETCH OF BOX BUTTE COUNTY 25
BY IRA E. TASH
A BROKEN AXLE 27
BY SAMUEL C. BASSETT
A PIONEER NEBRASKA TEACHER 30
BY MRS. ISABEL ROSCOE
EXPERIENCES OF A PIONEER WOMAN 32
BY MRS. ELISE G. EVERETT
RECOLLECTIONS OF WEEPING WATER 36
BY I. N. HUNTER
INCIDENTS AT PLATTSMOUTH 41
BY ELLA POLLOCK MINOR
FIRST THINGS IN CLAY COUNTY 43
BY MRS. CHARLES M. BROWN
REMINISCENCES OF CUSTER COUNTY 46
BY MRS. J. J. DOUGLAS
AN EXPERIENCE 50
BY MRS. HARMON BROSS
LEGEND OF CROW BUTTE 51
BY DR. ANNA ROBINSON CROSS
LIFE ON THE FRONTIER 54
BY JAMES AYRES
PLUM CREEK (LEXINGTON) 57
BY WILLIAM M. BANCROFT, M. D.
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS 62
BY C. CHABOT
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE FIRST SETTLER OF DAWSON COUNTY 64
BY MRS. DANIEL FREEMAN
EARLY DAYS IN DAWSON COUNTY 67
BY LUCY E. HEWITT
PIONEER JUSTICE 72
BY B. F. KRIER
A GOOD INDIAN 74
BY MRS. CLIFFORD WHITAKER
FROM MISSOURI TO DAWSON COUNTY 75
BY A. J. PORTER
THE ERICKSON FAMILY 76
BY MRS. W. M. STEBBINS
THE BEGINNINGS OF FREMONT 78
BY SADIE IRENE MOORE
A GRASSHOPPER STORY 82
BY MARGARET F. KELLY
EARLY DAYS IN FREMONT 84
BY MRS. THERON NYE
PIONEER WOMEN OF OMAHA 90
BY MRS. CHARLES H. FISETTE
A PIONEER FAMILY 93
BY EDITH ERMA PURVIANCE
THE BADGER FAMILY 97
THE FIRST WHITE SETTLER IN FILLMORE COUNTY 102
PIONEERING IN FILLMORE COUNTY 107
BY JOHN R. MCCASHLAND
FILLMORE COUNTY IN THE SEVENTIES 109
BY WILLIAM SPADE
EARLY DAYS IN NEBRASKA 111
BY J. A. CARPENTER
REMINISCENCES OF GAGE COUNTY 112
BY ALBERT L. GREEN
RANCHING IN GAGE AND JEFFERSON COUNTIES 123
BY PETER JANSEN
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS OF GAGE COUNTY 127
BY MRS. E. JOHNSON
BIOGRAPHY OF FORD LEWIS 129
BY MRS. (D. S.) H. VIRGINIA LEWIS DALBEY
A BUFFALO HUNT 131
BY W. H. AVERY
A GRASSHOPPER RAID 133
BY EDNA M. BOYLE ALLEN
EARLY DAYS IN PAWNEE COUNTY 135
BY DANIEL B. CROPSEY
EARLY EVENTS IN JEFFERSON COUNTY 137
BY GEORGE CROSS
EARLY DAYS OF FAIRBURY AND JEFFERSON COUNTY 139
BY GEORGE W. HANSEN
THE EARLIEST ROMANCE OF JEFFERSON COUNTY 147
BY GEORGE W. HANSEN
EXPERIENCES ON THE FRONTIER 152
BY FRANK HELVEY
LOOKING BACKWARD 155
BY GEORGE E. JENKINS
THE EASTER STORM OF 1873 158
BY CHARLES B. LETTON
BEGINNINGS OF FAIRBURY 161
BY JOSEPH B. MCDOWELL
EARLY EXPERIENCES IN NEBRASKA 163
BY ELIZABETH PORTER SEYMOUR
PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 166
BY MRS. C. F. STEELE
HOW THE SONS OF GEORGE WINSLOW FOUND THEIR FATHER'S GRAVE 168
_Statement by Mrs. C. F. Steele_ 168
_Statement by George W. Hansen_ 169
EARLY DAYS IN JEFFERSON COUNTY 175
BY MRS. M. H. WEEKS
LOCATION OF THE CAPITAL AT LINCOLN 176
BY JOHN H. AMES
AN INCIDENT IN THE HISTORY OF LINCOLN 182
BY ORTHA C. BELL
LINCOLN IN THE EARLY SEVENTIES 184
BY ORTHA C. BELL
A PIONEER BABY SHOW 186
BY MRS. FRANK I. RINGER
MARKING THE SITE OF THE LEWIS AND CLARK COUNCIL AT FORT
CALHOUN 187
BY MRS. LAURA B. POUND
EARLY HISTORY OF LINCOLN COUNTY 190
BY MAJOR LESTER WALKER
GREY EAGLE, PAWNEE CHIEF 194
BY MILLARD S. BINNEY
LOVERS' LEAP (POEM) 196
BY MRS. A. P. JARVIS
EARLY INDIAN HISTORY 198
BY MRS. SARAH CLAPP
THE BLIZZARD OF 1888 203
BY MINNIE FREEMAN PENNY
AN ACROSTIC 204
BY MRS. ELLIS
EARLY DAYS IN NANCE COUNTY 206
BY MRS. ELLEN SAUNDERS WALTON
THE PAWNEE CHIEF'S FAREWELL (POEM) 208
BY CHAUNCEY LIVINGSTON WILTSE
MY TRIP WEST IN 1861 211
BY SARAH SCHOOLEY RANDALL
STIRRING EVENTS ALONG THE LITTLE BLUE 214
BY CLARENDON E. ADAMS
MY LAST BUFFALO HUNT 219
BY J. STERLING MORTON
HOW THE FOUNDER OF ARBOR DAY CREATED THE MOST FAMOUS
WESTERN ESTATE 235
BY PAUL MORTON
EARLY REMINISCENCES OF NEBRASKA CITY--SOCIAL ASPECTS 240
BY ELLEN KINNEY WARE
SOME PERSONAL INCIDENTS 242
BY W. A. MCALLISTER
A BUFFALO HUNT 244
BY MINNIE FREEMAN PENNY
PIONEER LIFE 246
BY MRS. JAMES G. REEDER
EARLY DAYS IN POLK COUNTY 248
BY CALMAR MCCUNE
PERSONAL REMINISCENCES 252
BY MRS. THYRZA REAVIS ROY
TWO SEWARD COUNTY CELEBRATIONS 254
BY MRS. S. C. LANGWORTHY
SEWARD COUNTY REMINISCENCES 255
COMPILED BY MARGARET HOLMES CHAPTER D. A. R.
PIONEERING 263
BY GRANT LEE SHUMWAY
EARLY DAYS IN STANTON COUNTY 266
BY ANDREW J. BOTTORFF AND SVEN JOHANSON
FRED E. ROPER, PIONEER 268
BY ERNEST E. CORRELL
THE LURE OF THE PRAIRIES 272
BY LUCY L. CORRELL
SUFFRAGE IN NEBRASKA 275
_Statement by Mrs. Gertrude M. McDowell_ 275
_Statement by Lucy L. Correll_ 277
AN INDIAN RAID 279
BY ERNEST E. CORRELL
REMINISCENCES 281
BY MRS. E. A. RUSSELL
REMINISCENCES OF FORT CALHOUN 284
BY W. H. ALLEN
REMINISCENCES OF WASHINGTON COUNTY 286
BY MRS. EMILY BOTTORFF ALLEN
REMINISCENCES OF PIONEER LIFE AT FORT CALHOUN 288
BY MRS. N. J. FRAZIER BROOKS
REMINISCENCES OF DE SOTO 289
BY OLIVER BOUVIER
REMINISCENCES 290
BY THOMAS M. CARTER
FORT CALHOUN IN THE LATE FIFTIES 293
BY MRS. E. H. CLARK
SOME ITEMS FROM WASHINGTON COUNTY 295
BY MRS. MAY ALLEN LAZURE
COUNTY-SEAT OF WASHINGTON COUNTY 298
BY FRANK MCNEELY
THE STORY OF THE TOWN OF FONTENELLE 299
BY MRS. EDA MEAD
THOMAS WILKINSON AND FAMILY 305
NIKUMI 307
BY MRS. HARRIETT S. MACMURPHY
THE HEROINE OF THE JULES SLADE TRAGEDY 322
BY MRS. HARRIETT S. MACMURPHY
THE LAST ROMANTIC BUFFALO HUNT ON THE PLAINS OF NEBRASKA 326
BY JOHN LEE WEBSTER
OUTLINE HISTORY OF THE NEBRASKA SOCIETY, D. A. R. 333
BY MRS. CHARLES H. AULL
ILLUSTRATIONS
MRS. LAURA B. POUND _Frontispiece_
OREGON TRAIL MONUMENT NEAR LEROY, NEBRASKA 18
OREGON TRAIL MONUMENT ON THE NEBRASKA-WYOMING STATE LINE 18
MRS. ANGIE F. NEWMAN 22
DEDICATION OF MONUMENT COMMEMORATING THE OREGON TRAIL AT
KEARNEY, NEBRASKA 27
MRS. ANDREW K. GAULT 50
MONUMENT MARKING THE OLD TRAILS, FREMONT, NEBRASKA 78
MRS. CHARLOTTE F. PALMER 90
MRS. FRANCES AVERY HAGGARD 127
OREGON TRAIL MONUMENT NEAR FAIRBURY, NEBRASKA 139
MRS. ELIZABETH C. LANGWORTHY 155
MRS. CHARLES B. LETTON 168
BOULDER AT FORT CALHOUN, COMMEMORATING THE COUNCIL
OF LEWIS AND CLARK WITH THE OTOE AND MISSOURI INDIANS 187
MRS. OREAL S. WARD 203
OREGON TRAIL MONUMENT ON KANSAS-NEBRASKA STATE LINE 240
MRS. CHARLES OLIVER NORTON 252
OREGON TRAIL MONUMENT NEAR HEBRON, NEBRASKA 268
MRS. WARREN PERRY 305
MEMORIAL FOUNTAIN, ANTELOPE PARK, LINCOLN 326
MRS. CHARLES H. AULL 333
MONUMENT MARKING THE INITIAL POINT OF THE CALIFORNIA
TRAIL, RIVERSIDE PARK, OMAHA 337
CALIFORNIA TRAIL MONUMENT, BEMIS PARK, OMAHA 337
SOME FIRST THINGS IN THE HISTORY OF ADAMS COUNTY
BY GEORGE F. WORK
Adams county is named for the first time, in an act of the territorial
legislature approved February 16, 1867, when the south bank of the
Platte river was made its northern boundary. There were no settlers here
at that time although several persons who are mentioned later herein had
established trapping camps within what are now its boundaries. In 1871
it was declared a county by executive proclamation and its present
limits defined as, in short, consisting of government ranges, 9, 10, 11,
and 12 west of the sixth principal meridian, and townships 5, 6, 7, and
8, north of the base line, which corresponds with the south line of the
state.
Mortimer N. Kress, familiarly known to the early settlers as "Wild
Bill," Marion Jerome Fouts, also known as "California Joe," and James
Bainter had made hunting and trapping camps all the way along the Little
Blue river, prior to this time. This stream flows through the south part
of the county and has its source just west of its western boundary in
Kearney county. James Bainter filed on a tract just across its eastern
line in Clay county as his homestead, and so disappears in the history
of Adams county. Mortimer N. Kress is still living and now has his home
in Hastings, a hale, hearty man of seventy-five years and respected by
all. Marion J. Fouts, about seventy years of age, still lives on the
homestead he selected in that early day and is a respected, prominent
man in that locality.
Gordon H. Edgerton, now a resident and prominent business man of
Hastings, when a young man, in 1866, was engaged in freighting across
the plains, over the Oregon trail that entered the county where the
Little Blue crosses its eastern boundary and continued in a
northwesterly direction, leaving its western line a few miles west and a
little north of where Kenesaw now stands, and so is familiar with its
early history. There has already been some who have questioned the
authenticity of the story of an Indian massacre having taken place
where this trail crosses Thirty-two Mile creek, so named because it was
at this point about thirty-two miles east of Fort Kearny. This massacre
took place about the year 1867, and Mr. Edgerton says that it was
universally believed at the time he was passing back and forth along
this trail. He distinctly remembers an old threshing machine that stood
at that place for a long time and that was left there by some of the
members of the party that were killed. The writer of this sketch who
came to the county in 1874, was shown a mound at this place, near the
bank of the creek, which he was told was the heaped up mound of the
grave where the victims were buried, and the story was not questioned so
far as he ever heard until recent years. Certainly those who lived near
the locality at that early day did not question it. This massacre took
place very near the locality where Captain Fremont encamped, the night
of June 25, 1842, as related in the history of his expedition and was
about five or six miles south and a little west of Hastings. I well
remember the appearance of this trail. It consisted of a number of
deeply cut wagon tracks, nearly parallel with each other, but which
would converge to one track where the surface was difficult or where
there was a crossing to be made over a rough place or stream. The
constant tramping of the teams would pulverize the soil and the high
winds would blow out the dust, or if on sloping ground, the water from
heavy rains would wash it out until the track became so deep that a new
one would be followed because the axles of the wagons would drag on the
ground. It was on this trail a few miles west of what is now the site of
Kenesaw, that a lone grave was discovered by the first settlers in the
country, and a story is told of how it came to be there. About midway
from where the trail leaves the Little Blue to the military post at Fort
Kearny on the Platte river a man with a vision of many dollars to be
made from the people going west to the gold-fields over this trail, dug
a well about one hundred feet deep for the purpose of selling water to
the travelers and freighters. Some time later he was killed by the
Indians and the well was poisoned by them. A man by the name of Haile
camped here a few days later and he and his wife used the water for
cooking and drinking. Both were taken sick and the wife died, but he
recovered. He took the boards of his wagon box and made her a coffin
and buried her near the trail. Some time afterwards he returned and
erected a headstone over her grave which was a few years since still
standing and perhaps is to this day, the monument of a true man to his
love for his wife and to her memory.
The first homestead was taken in the county by Francis M. Luey, March 5,
1870, though there were others taken the same day. The facts as I get
them direct from Mr. Kress are that he took his team and wagon, and he
and three other men went to Beatrice, where the government land office
was located, to make their entries. When they arrived at the office,
with his characteristic generosity he said: "Boys, step up and take your
choice; any of it is good enough for me." Luey was the first to make his
entry, and he was followed by the other three. Francis M. Luey took the
southwest quarter of section twelve; Mortimer N. Kress selected the
northeast quarter of section thirteen; Marion Jerome Fouts, the
southeast quarter of eleven; and the fourth person, John Smith, filed on
the southwest quarter of eleven, all in township five north and range
eleven west of the sixth principal meridian. Smith relinquished his
claim later and never made final proof, so his name does not appear on
the records of the county as having made this entry. The others settled
and made improvements on their lands. Mortimer N. Kress built a sod
house that spring, and later in the summer, a hewed log house, and these
were the first buildings in the county. So Kress and Fouts, two old
comrades and trappers, settled down together, and are still citizens of
the county. Other settlers rapidly began to make entry in the
neighborhood, and soon there were enough to be called together in the
first religious service. The first sermon was preached in Mr. Kress'
hewed log house by Rev. J. W. Warwick in the fall of 1871.
The first marriage in the county was solemnized in 1872 between Roderick
Lomas or Loomis and "Lila" or Eliza Warwick, the ceremony being
performed by the bride's father, Rev. J. W. Warwick. Prior to this,
however, on October 18, 1871, Eben Wright and Susan Gates, a young
couple who had settled in the county, were taken by Mr. Kress in his
two-horse farm wagon to Grand Island, where they were married by the
probate judge.
The first deaths that occurred in the county were of two young men who
came into the new settlement to make homes for themselves in 1870,
selected their claims and went to work, and a few days later were
killed in their camp at night. It was believed that a disreputable
character who came along with a small herd of horses committed the
murder, but no one knew what the motive was. He was arrested and his
name given as Jake Haynes, but as no positive proof could be obtained he
was cleared at the preliminary examination, and left the country. A
story became current a short time afterward that he was hanged in Kansas
for stealing a mule.
The first murder that occurred in the county that was proven was that of
Henry Stutzman, who was killed by William John McElroy, February 8,
1879, about four miles south of Hastings. He was arrested a few hours
afterward, and on his trial was convicted and sent to the penitentiary.
The first child born in the county was born to Francis M. Luey and wife
in the spring of 1871. These parents were the first married couple to
settle in this county. The child lived only a short time and was buried
near the home, there being no graveyard yet established. A few years ago
the K. C. & O. R. R. in grading its roadbed through that farm disturbed
the grave and uncovered its bones.
In the spring and summer of 1870 Mr. Kress broke about fifty acres of
prairie on his claim and this constituted the first improvement of that
nature in the county.
J. R. Carter and wife settled in this neighborhood about 1870, and the
two young men, mentioned above as having been murdered, stopped at their
house over night, their first visitors. It was a disputed point for a
long time whether Mrs. Carter, Mrs. W. S. Moote, or Mrs. Francis M. Luey
was the first white woman to settle permanently in the county; but Mr.
Kress is positive that the last named was the first and is entitled to
that distinction. Mrs. Moote, with her husband, came next and camped on
their claim, then both left and made their entries of the land. In the
meantime, before the return of the Mootes, Mr. and Mrs. Carter made
permanent settlement on their land, so the honors were pretty evenly
divided.
The first white settler in the county to die a natural death and receive
Christian burial was William H. Akers, who had taken a homestead in
section 10-5-9. The funeral services were conducted by Rev. J. W.
Warwick.
In the summer of 1871 a colony of settlers from Michigan settled on
land on which the townsite of Juniata was afterward located, and
October 1, 1871, the first deed that was placed on record in the county
was executed by John and Margaret Stark to Col. Charles P. Morse before
P. F. Barr, a notary public at Crete, Nebraska, and was filed for record
March 9, 1872, and recorded on page 1, volume 1, of deed records of
Adams county. The grantee was general superintendent of the Burlington &
Missouri River Railroad Company which was then approaching the eastern
edge of the county, and opened its first office at Hastings in April,
1873, with agent Horace S. Wiggins in charge. Mr. Wiggins is now a
well-known public accountant and insurance actuary residing in Lincoln.
The land conveyed by this deed and some other tracts for which deeds
were soon after executed was in section 12, township 7, range 11, and on
which the town of Juniata was platted. The Stark patent was dated June
5, 1872, and signed by U. S. Grant as president. The town plat was filed
for record March 9, 1872.
The first church organized in the county was by Rev. John F. Clarkson,
chaplain of a colony of English Congregationalists who settled near the
present location of Hastings in 1871. He preached the first sermon while
they were still camped in their covered wagons at a point near the
present intersection of Second street and Burlington avenue, the first
Sunday after their arrival. A short time afterward, in a sod house on
the claim of John G. Moore, at or near the present site of the Lepin
hotel, the church was organized with nine members uniting by letter, and
a few Sundays later four more by confession of their faith. This data I
have from Peter Fowlie and S. B. Binfield, two of the persons composing
the first organization.
The first Sunday school organized in the county was organized in a small
residence then under construction on lot 3 in block 4 of Moore's
addition to Hastings. The frame was up, the roof on, siding and floor in
place, but that was all. Nail kegs and plank formed the seats, and a
store box the desk. The building still stands and constitutes the main
part of the present residence of my family at 219 North Burlington
avenue. It was a union school and was the nucleus of the present
Presbyterian and Congregational Sunday schools. I am not able to give
the date of its organization but it was probably in the winter of
1872-73. I got this information from Mr. A. L. Wigton, who was
influential in bringing about the organization and was its first
superintendent.
The first school in the county was opened about a mile south of Juniata
early in 1872, by Miss Emma Leonard, and that fall Miss Lizzie Scott was
employed to teach one in Juniata. So rapidly did the county settle that
by October 1, 1873, thirty-eight school districts were reported
organized.
The acting governor, W. H. James, on November 7, 1871, ordered the
organization of the county for political and judicial purposes, and
fixed the day of the first election to be held, on December 12
following. Twenty-nine votes were cast and the following persons were
elected as county officers:
Clerk, Russell D. Babcock.
Treasurer, John S. Chandler.
Sheriff, Isaac W. Stark.
Probate Judge, Titus Babcock.
Surveyor, George Henderson.
Superintendent of Schools, Adna H. Bowen.
Coroner, Isaiah Sluyter.
Assessor, William M. Camp.
County Commissioners: Samuel L. Brass, Edwin M. Allen, and
Wellington W. Selleck.
The first assessment of personal property produced a tax of $5,500, on
an assessed valuation of $20,003, and the total valuation of personal
and real property amounted to $957,183, mostly on railroad lands of
which the Burlington road was found to own 105,423 acres and the Union
Pacific, 72,207. Very few of the settlers had at that time made final
proof. This assessment was made in the spring of 1872.
The first building for county uses was ordered constructed on January
17, 1872, and was 16x20 feet on the ground with an eight-foot story,
shingle roof, four windows and one door, matched floor, and ceiled
overhead with building paper. The county commissioners were to furnish
all material except the door and windows and the contract for the work
was let to Joseph Stuhl for $30.00. S. L. Brass was to superintend the
construction, and the building was to be ready for occupancy in ten
days.
The salary of the county clerk was fixed by the board at $300, that of
the probate judge at $75 for the year.
It is claimed that the law making every section line a county road, in
the state of Nebraska, originated with this board in a resolution passed
by it, requesting their representatives in the senate and house of the
legislature then in session to introduce a bill to that effect and work
for its passage. Their work must have been effective for we find that in
July following, the Burlington railroad company asked damages by reason
of loss sustained through the act of the legislature taking about eight
acres of each section of their land, for these public roads.
The first poorhouse was built in the fall of 1872. It was 16x24 feet,
one and one-half stories high, and was constructed by Ira G. Dillon for
$1,400, and Peter Fowlie was appointed poormaster at a salary of $25 per
month. And on November 1 of that year he reported six poor persons as
charges on the county, but his administration must have been effective
for on December 5, following, he reported none then in his charge.
The first agricultural society was organized at Kingston and the first
agricultural fair of which there is any record was held October 11 and
12, 1873. The fair grounds were on the southeast corner of the northwest
quarter of section 32-5-9 on land owned by G. H. Edgerton, and quite a
creditable list of premiums were awarded.
The first Grand Army post was organized at Hastings under a charter
issued May 13, 1878, and T. D. Scofield was elected commander.
The first newspaper published in the county was the _Adams County
Gazette_, issued at Juniata by R. D. and C. C. Babcock in January, 1872.
This was soon followed by the _Hastings Journal_ published by M. K.
Lewis and A. L. Wigton. These were in time consolidated and in January,
1880, the first daily was issued by A. L. and J. W. Wigton and called
the _Daily Gazette-Journal_.
EARLY EXPERIENCES IN ADAMS COUNTY
BY GENERAL ALBERT V. COLE
I was a young business man in Michigan in 1871, about which time many
civil war veterans were moving from Michigan and other states to Kansas
and Nebraska, where they could secure free homesteads. I received
circulars advertising Juniata. They called it a village but at that time
there were only four houses, all occupied by agents of the Burlington
railroad who had been employed to preÎmpt a section of land for the
purpose of locating a townsite. In October, 1871, I started for Juniata,
passing through Chicago at the time of the great fire. With a comrade I
crossed the Missouri river at Plattsmouth on a flatboat. The Burlington
was running mixed trains as far west as School Creek, now Sutton. We
rode to that point, then started to walk to Juniata, arriving at Harvard
in the evening. Harvard also had four houses placed for the same purpose
as those in Juniata. Frank M. Davis, who was elected commissioner of
public lands and buildings in 1876, lived in one house with his family;
the other three were supposed to be occupied by bachelors.
We arranged with Mr. Davis for a bed in an upper room of one of the
vacant houses. We were tenderfeet from the East and therefore rather
suspicious of the surroundings, there being no lock on the lower door.
To avoid being surprised we piled everything we could find against the
door. About midnight we were awakened by a terrible noise; our
fortifications had fallen and we heard the tramp of feet below. Some of
the preÎmptors had been out on section 37 for wood and the lower room
was where they kept the horse feed.
The next morning we paid our lodging and resumed the journey west.
Twelve miles from Harvard we found four more houses placed by the
Burlington. The village was called Inland and was on the east line of
Adams county but has since been moved east into Clay county. Just before
reaching Inland we met a man coming from the west with a load of buffalo
meat and at Inland we found C. S. Jaynes, one of the preÎmptors,
sitting outside his shanty cutting up some of the meat. It was twelve
miles farther to Juniata, the railroad grade being our guide. The
section where Hastings now stands was on the line but there was no town,
not a tree or living thing in sight, just burnt prairie. I did not think
when we passed over that black and desolate section that a city like
Hastings would be builded there. The buffalo and the antelope had gone
in search of greener pastures; even the wolf and the coyote were unable
to live there at that time.
[Illustration: OREGON TRAIL MONUMENT ON NEBRASKA-WYOMING STATE LINE
Erected by the Sons and Daughters of the American Revolution of Nebraska
and Wyoming. Dedicated April 4, 1913. Cost $200]
[Illustration: MONUMENT ON THE OREGON TRAIL
Seven miles south of Hastings. Erected by Niobrara Chapter, Daughters of
the American Revolution at a cost of $100]
Six miles farther on we arrived at Juniata and the first thing we did
was to drink from the well in the center of the section between the four
houses. This was the only well in the district and that first drink of
water in Adams county was indeed refreshing. The first man we met was
Judson Buswell, a civil war veteran, who had a homestead a mile away and
was watering his mule team at the well. Although forty-four years have
passed, I shall never forget those mules; one had a crooked leg, but
they were the best Mr. Buswell could afford. Now at the age of
seventy-three he spends his winters in California and rides in his
automobile, but still retains his original homestead.
Juniata had in addition to the four houses a small frame building used
as a hotel kept by John Jacobson. It was a frail structure, a story and
a half, and when the Nebraska wind blew it would shake on its
foundation. There was one room upstairs with a bed in each corner.
During the night there came up a northwest wind and every bed was on the
floor the next morning. Later another hotel was built called the Juniata
House. Land seekers poured into Adams county after the Burlington was
completed in July, 1872, and there was quite a strife between the
Jacobson House and the Juniata House. Finally a runner for the latter
hotel advertised it as the only hotel in town with a cook stove.
Adams county was organized December 12, 1871. Twenty-nine voters took
part in the first election and Juniata was made the county-seat.
We started out the next morning after our arrival to find a quarter
section of land. About a mile north we came to the dugout of Mr.
Chandler. He lived in the back end of his house and kept his horses in
the front part. Mr. Chandler went with us to locate our claims. We
preÎmpted land on section twenty-eight north of range ten west, in what
is now Highland township. I turned the first sod in that township and
put down the first bored well, which was 117 feet deep and cost $82.70.
Our first shanty was 10x12 feet in size, boarded up and down and papered
on the inside with tar paper. Our bed was made of soft-pine lumber with
slats but no springs. The table was a flat-top trunk.
In the spring of 1872 my wife's brother, George Crane, came from
Michigan and took 80 acres near me. We began our spring work by breaking
the virgin sod. We each bought a yoke of oxen and a Fish Brothers wagon,
in Crete, eighty miles away, and then with garden tools and provisions
in the wagon we started home, being four days on the way. A few miles
west of Fairmont we met the Gaylord brothers, who had been to Grand
Island and bought a printing press. They were going to publish a paper
in Fairmont. They were stuck in a deep draw of mud, so deeply imbedded
that our oxen could not pull their wagon out, so we hitched onto the
press and pulled it out on dry land. It was not in very good condition
when we left it but the boys printed a very clean paper on it for a
number of years.
In August Mrs. Cole came out and joined me. I had broken 30 acres and
planted corn, harvesting a fair crop which I fed to my oxen and cows.
Mrs. Cole made butter, our first churn being a wash bowl in which she
stirred the cream with a spoon, but the butter was sweet and we were
happy, except that Mrs. Cole was very homesick. She was only nineteen
years old and a thousand miles from her people, never before having been
separated from her mother. I had never had a home, my parents having
died when I was very small, and I had been pushed around from pillar to
post. Now I had a home of my own and was delighted with the wildness of
Nebraska, yet my heart went out to Mrs. Cole. The wind blew more
fiercely than now and she made me promise that if our house ever blew
down I would take her back to Michigan. That time very nearly came on
April 13, 1873. The storm raged three days and nights and the snow flew
so it could not be faced. I have experienced colder blizzards but never
such a storm as this Easter one. I had built an addition of two rooms on
my shanty and it was fortunate we had that much room before the storm
for it was the means of saving the lives of four friends who were caught
without shelter. Two of them, a man and wife, were building a house on
their claim one-half mile east, the others were a young couple who had
been taking a ride on that beautiful Sunday afternoon. The storm came
suddenly about four in the afternoon; not a breath of air was stirring
and it became very dark. The storm burst, black dirt filled the air, and
the house rocked. Mrs. Cole almost prayed that the house would go down
so she could go back East. But it weathered the blast; if it had not I
know we would all have perished. The young man's team had to have
shelter and my board stable was only large enough for my oxen and cow so
we took his horses to the sod house on the girl's claim a mile away.
Rain and hail were falling but the snow did not come until we got home
or we would not have found our way. There were six grown people and one
child to camp in our house three days and only one bed. The three women
and the child occupied the bed, the men slept on the floor in another
room. Monday morning the snow was drifted around and over the house and
had packed in the cellar through a hole where I intended to put in a
window some day. To get the potatoes from the cellar for breakfast I had
to tunnel through the snow from the trap door in the kitchen. It was
impossible to get to the well so we lifted the trap door and melted
fresh snow when water was needed.
The shack that sheltered my live stock was 125 feet from the house and
it took three of us to get to the shack to feed. Number two would keep
within hearing of number one and the third man kept in touch with number
two until he reached the stable. Wednesday evening we went for the
horses in the sod house and found one dead. They had gnawed the wall of
the house so that it afterwards fell down.
I could tell many other incidents of a homesteader's life, of trials and
short rations, of the grasshoppers in 1874-75-76, of hail storms and hot
winds; yet all who remained through those days of hardship are driving
automobiles instead of oxen and their land is worth, not $2.50 an acre,
but $150.
FRONTIER TOWNS
BY FRANCIS M. BROOME
With the first rush of settlers into northwest Nebraska, preceding the
advent of railroads, numerous villages sprang up on the prairies like
mushrooms during a night. All gave promise, at least on paper, of
becoming great cities, and woe to the citizen unloyal to that sentiment
or disloyal to his town. It is sufficient to recount experiences in but
one of these villages for customs were similar in all of them, as
evidence of the freedom common to early pioneer life.
In a central portion of the plains, that gave promise of future
settlement, a man named Buchanan came out with a wagonload of boards and
several boxes of whiskey and tobacco and in a short space of time had
erected a building of not very imposing appearance. Over the door of
this building a board was nailed, on which was printed the word "SALOON"
and, thus prepared for business, this man claimed the distinction of
starting the first town in that section. His first customers were a band
of cowboys who proceeded to drink up all of the stock and then to see
which one could shoot the largest number of holes through the building.
This gave the town quite a boom and new settlers as far away as
Valentine began hearing of the new town of Buchanan. Soon after another
venturesome settler brought in a general merchandise store and then the
rush began, all fearing they might be too late to secure choice
locations. The next public necessity was a newspaper, which soon came,
and the town was given the name of Nonpareil. It was regularly platted
into streets and alleys, and a town well sunk in the public square.
Efforts to organize a civil government met with a frost, everyone
preferring to be his own governor. A two-story hotel built of rough
native pine boards furnished lodging and meals for the homeless, three
saloons furnished drinks for the thirsty twenty-four hours in the day
and seven days in the week; two drug stores supplied drugs in case of
sickness and booze from necessity for payment of expenses. These with a
blacksmith shop and several stores constituted the town for the first
year and by reason of continuous boosting it grew to a pretentious size.
The second year some of the good citizens, believing it had advanced far
enough to warrant the establishment of a church, sent for a Methodist
minister. This good soul, believing his mission in life was to drive out
sin from the community, set about to do it in the usual manner, but soon
bowed to the inevitable and, recognizing prevailing customs, became
popular in the town. Boys, seeing him pass the door of saloons, would
hail him and in a good-natured manner give him the contents of a jackpot
in a poker game until, with these contributions and sums given him from
more religious motives, he had accumulated enough to build a small
church.
[Illustration: MRS. ANGIE F. NEWMAN
Second Vice-President General from Nebraska, National Society, Daughters
of the American Revolution. Elected 1898]
After the organization of the county, the place was voted the
county-seat, and a courthouse was built. The court room when not in use
by the court was used for various public gatherings and frequently for
dances.
Everybody had plenty of money and spent it with a prodigal hand. The
"save-for-rainy-days" fellows had not yet arrived on the scene. They
never do until after higher civilization steps in. Old Dan, the hotel
keeper, was considered one of the best wealth distributors in the
village. His wife, a little woman of wonderful energy, would do all the
work in a most cheerful manner while Dan kept office, collected the
money and distributed it to the pleasure of the boys and profit to the
saloons, and both husband and wife were happy in knowing that they were
among the most popular people of the village. It did no harm and
afforded the little lady great satisfaction to tell about her noble
French ancestry for it raised the family to a much higher dignity than
that of the surrounding plebeian stock of English, Irish, and Dutch, and
nobody cared so long as everything was cheerful around the place.
Cheerfulness is a great asset in any line of business. The lawyer of the
village, being a man of great expectations, attempted to lend dignity to
the profession, until, finding that board bills are not paid by dignity
and becoming disgusted with the lack of appreciation of legal talent, he
proceeded to beat the poker games for an amount sufficient to enable him
to leave for some place where legal talent was more highly appreciated.
These good old days might have continued had the railroads kept out,
but railroads follow settlement just as naturally as day follows night.
They built into the country and with them came a different order of
civilization.
Many experiences of a similar character might be told concerning other
towns in this section, namely, Gordon, where old Hank Ditto, who ran the
roadhouse, never turned down a needy person for meals and lodging, but
compelled the ones with money to pay for them. Then there was Rushville,
the supply station for vast stores of goods for the Indian agency and
reservation near by; Hay Springs, the terminal point for settlers coming
into the then unsettled south country. Chadron was a town of unsurpassed
natural beauty in the Pine Ridge country, where Billy Carter, the Dick
Turpin of western romance, held forth in all his glory and at whose
shrine the sporting fraternity performed daily ablutions in the
bountiful supply of booze water. Crawford was the nesting place for all
crooks that were ever attracted to a country by an army post.
These affairs incident to the pioneer life of northwestern Nebraska are
now but reminiscences, supplanted by a civilization inspired by all of
the modern and higher ideals of life.
HISTORICAL SKETCH OF BOX BUTTE COUNTY
BY IRA E. TASH
Box Butte county, Nebraska, owes its existence to the discovery of gold
in the Black Hills in 1876. When this important event occurred, the
nearest railroad point to the discovery in Deadwood Gulch was Sidney,
Nebraska, 275 miles to the south. To this place the gold seekers rushed
from every point of the compass. Parties were organized to make the
overland trip to the new El Dorado with ox teams, mule teams, and by
every primitive mode of conveyance. Freighters from Colorado and the
great Southwest, whose occupation was threatened by the rapid building
of railroads, miners from all the Rocky Mountain regions of the West,
and thousands of tenderfeet from the East, all flocked to Sidney as the
initial starting point. To this heterogeneous mass was added the
gambler, the bandit, the road agent, the dive keeper, and other
undesirable citizens. This flood of humanity made the "Old Sidney Trail"
to the Black Hills. Then followed the stage coach, Wells-Fargo express,
and later the United States mail. The big freighting outfits conveyed
mining machinery, provisions, and other commodities, among which were
barrels and barrels of poor whiskey, to the toiling miners in the Hills.
Indians infested the trail, murdered the freighters and miners, and ran
off their stock, while road agents robbed stages and looted the express
company's strong boxes. Bandits murdered returning miners and robbed
them of their nuggets and gold dust. There was no semblance of law and
order. When things got too rank, a few of the worst offenders were
lynched, and the great, seething, hurrying mass of humanity pressed on
urged by its lust for gold.
This noted trail traversed what is now Box Butte county from north to
south, and there were three important stopping places within the
boundaries of the county. These were the Hart ranch at the crossing of
Snake creek, Mayfield's, and later the Hughes ranch at the crossing of
the Niobrara, and Halfway Hollow, on the high tableland between. The
deep ruts worn by the heavily loaded wagons and other traffic passing
over the route are still plainly visible, after the lapse of forty
years. This trail was used for a period of about nine years, or until
the Northwestern railroad was extended to Deadwood, when it gave way to
modern civilization.
Traveling over this trail were men of affairs, alert men who had noted
the rich grasses and wide ranges that bordered the route, and marked it
down as the cattle raiser's and ranchman's future paradise. Then came
the great range herds of the Ogallalla Cattle Company, Swan Brothers,
Bosler Brothers, the Bay State and other large cow outfits, followed by
the hard-riding cowboy and the chuck wagon. These gave names to
prominent landmarks. A unique elevation in the eastern part of the
county they named Box Butte. Butte means hill or elevation less than a
mountain, Box because it was roughly square or box-shaped. Hence the
surrounding plains were designated in cowman's parlance "the Box Butte
country," and as such it was known far and wide.
Later, in 1886 and 1887, a swarm of homeseekers swept in from the East,
took up the land, and began to build houses of sod and to break up the
virgin soil. The cowman saw that he was doomed, and so rounded up his
herds of longhorns and drove on westward into Wyoming and Montana. These
new settlers soon realized that they needed a unit of government to meet
the requirements of a more refined civilization. They were drawn
together by a common need, and rode over dim trails circulating
petitions calling for an organic convention. They met and provided for
the formation of a new county, to be known as "Box Butte" county.
This name was officially adopted, and is directly traceable to the
discovery of gold in the Black Hills. The lure of gold led the hardy
miner and adventurer across its fertile plains, opened the way for the
cattleman who named the landmark from which the county takes its name,
and the sturdy settler who followed in his wake adopted the name and
wrote it in the archives of the state and nation.
[Illustration: UNVEILING OF MONUMENT AT KEARNEY, NEBRASKA, IN
COMMEMORATION OF THE OREGON TRAIL
Left to right: Mrs. Ashton C. Shallenberger, Governor Shallenberger,
Mrs. Oreal S. Ward, State Regent Nebraska Society, Daughters of the
American Revolution; Mrs. Andrew K. Gault, Vice-President General,
National Society, Daughters of the American Revolution; Mrs. Charles O.
Norton, Regent Ft. Kearney Chapter, Daughters of the American
Revolution; John W. Patterson, Mayor of Kearney; John Lee Webster,
President Nebraska State Historical Society; Rev. R. P. Hammons, E. B.
Finch, assisting with the flag rope]
A BROKEN AXLE
BY SAMUEL C. BASSETT
In 1860, Edward Oliver, Sr., his wife and seven children, converts to
the Mormon faith, left their home in England for Salt Lake City, Utah.
At Florence, Nebraska, on the Missouri river a few miles above the city
of Omaha, they purchased a traveling outfit for emigrants, which
consisted of two yoke of oxen, a prairie-schooner wagon, and two cows;
and with numerous other families having the same destination took the
overland Mormon trail up the valley of the Platte on the north side of
the river.
When near a point known as Wood River Centre, 175 miles west of the
Missouri river, the front axle of their wagon gave way, compelling a
halt for repairs, their immediate companions in the emigrant train
continuing the journey, for nothing avoidable, not even the burial of a
member of the train, was allowed to interfere with the prescribed
schedule of travel. The Oliver family camped beside the trail and the
broken wagon was taken to the ranch of Joseph E. Johnson, who combined
in his person and business that of postmaster, merchant, blacksmith,
wagon-maker, editor, and publisher of a newspaper (_The Huntsman's
Echo_). Johnson was a Mormon with two wives, a man passionately fond of
flowers which he cultivated to a considerable extent in a fenced
enclosure. While buffalo broke down his fence and destroyed his garden
and flowers, he could not bring himself to kill them. He was a
philosopher and, it must be conceded, a most useful person at a point so
far distant from other sources of supplies.
The wagon shop of Mr. Johnson contained no seasoned wood suitable for an
axle and so from the trees along Wood river was cut an ash from which
was hewn and fitted an axle to the wagon and the family again took the
trail, but ere ten miles had been traveled the green axle began to bend
under the load, the wheels ceased to track, and the party could not
proceed. In the family council which succeeded the father urged that
they try to arrange with other emigrants to carry their movables
(double teams) and thus continue their journey.
The mother suggested that they return to the vicinity of Wood River
Centre and arrange to spend the winter. To the suggestion of the mother
all the children added their entreaties. The mother urged that it was a
beautiful country, with an abundance of wood and water, grass for
pasture, and hay in plenty could be made for their cattle, and she was
sure crops could be raised. The wishes of the mother prevailed, the
family returned to a point about a mile west of Wood River Centre, and
on the banks of the river constructed a log hut with a sod roof in which
they spent the winter. When springtime came, the father, zealous in the
Mormon faith, urged that they continue their journey; to this neither
the mother nor any of the children could be induced to consent and in
the end the father journeyed to Utah, where he made his home and married
a younger woman who had accompanied the family from England, which
doubtless was the determining factor in the mother refusing to go.
The mother, Sarah Oliver, proved to be a woman of force and character.
With her children she engaged in the raising of corn and vegetables, the
surplus being sold to emigrants passing over the trail and at Fort
Kearny, some twenty miles distant.
In those days there were many without means who traveled the trail and
Sarah Oliver never turned a hungry emigrant from her door, and often
divided with such the scanty store needed for her own family. When
rumors came of Indians on the warpath the children took turns on the
housetop as lookout for the dread savages. In 1863 two settlers were
killed by Indians a few miles east of her home. In the year 1864
occurred the memorable raid of the Cheyenne Indians in which horrible
atrocities were committed and scores of settlers were massacred by these
Indians only a few miles to the south. In 1865 William Storer, a near
neighbor, was killed by the Indians.
Sarah Oliver had no framed diploma from a medical college which would
entitle her to the prefix "Dr." to her name, possibly she was not
entitled to be called a trained nurse, but she is entitled to be long
remembered as one who ministered to the sick, to early travelers hungry
and footsore along the trail, and to many families whose habitations
were miles distant.
Sarah Oliver and her family endured all the toil and privation common
to early settlers, without means, in a new country, far removed from
access to what are deemed the barest necessities of life in more settled
communities.
She endured all the terrors incident to settlement in a sparsely settled
locality, in which year after year Indian atrocities were committed and
in which the coming of such savages was hourly expected and dreaded. She
saw the building and completion of the Union Pacific railroad near her
home in 1866; she saw Nebraska become a state in the year 1867. In 1870
when Buffalo county was organized her youngest son, John, was appointed
sheriff, and was elected to that office at the first election
thereafter. Her eldest son, James, was the first assessor in the county,
and her son Edward was a member of the first board of county
commissioners and later was elected and served with credit and fidelity
as county treasurer.
When, in the year 1871, Sarah Oliver died, her son Robert inherited the
claim whereon she first made a home for her family and which, in this
year, 1915, is one of the most beautiful, fertile farm homes in the
county and state.
A DREAM-LAND COMPLETE
Dreaming, I pictured a wonderful valley,
A home-making valley few known could compare;
When lo! from the bluffs to the north of Wood river
I saw my dream-picture--my valley lies there.
Miles long, east and west, stretch this wonderful valley:
Broad fields of alfalfa, of corn, and of wheat;
'Mid orchards and groves the homes of its people;
The vale of Wood river, a dream-land complete.
Nebraska, our mother, we love and adore thee;
Within thy fair borders our lot has been cast.
When done with life's labors and trials and pleasures,
Contented we'll rest in thy bosom at last.
A PIONEER NEBRASKA TEACHER
BY MRS. ISABEL ROSCOE
In 1865, B. S. Roscoe, twenty-two years of age, returned to his home in
Huron county, Ohio, after two years' service in the civil war. He
assisted his father on the farm until 1867, when he was visited by F. B.
Barber, an army comrade, a homesteader in northwestern Nebraska. His
accounts of the new country were so attractive that Mr. Roscoe, who had
long desired a farm of his own, decided to go west.
He started in March, 1867, was delayed in Chicago by a snow blockade,
but arrived in Omaha in due time. On March 24, 1867, Mr. Roscoe went to
Decatur via the stage route, stopping for dinner at the Lippincott home,
called the half-way house between Omaha and Decatur. He was advised to
remain in Decatur for a day or two for the return of B. W. Everett from
Maple Creek, Iowa, but being told that Logan creek, where he wished to
settle, was only sixteen miles distant, he hired a horse and started
alone. The snow was deep with a crust on top but not hard enough to bear
the horse and rider. After going two miles through the deep snow he
returned to Decatur. On March 26 he started with Mr. Everett, who had a
load of oats and two dressed hogs on his sled, also two cows to drive.
They took turns riding and driving the cows. The trail was hard to
follow and when they reached the divide between Bell creek and the
Blackbird, the wind was high and snow falling. They missed the road and
the situation was serious. There was no house, tree, or landmark nearer
than Josiah Everett's, who lived near the present site of Lyons, and was
the only settler north of what is now Oakland, where John Oak resided.
They abandoned the sled and each rode a horse, Mr. Everett trying to
lead the way, but the horse kept turning around, so at last he let the
animal have its way and they soon arrived at Josiah Everett's homestead
shanty, the cows following.
The next day Mr. Roscoe located his homestead on the bank of Logan
creek. A couple of trappers had a dugout near by which they had made by
digging a hole ten feet square in the side of the creek bank and
covering the opening with brush and grass. Their names were Asa Merritt
and George Kirk.
Mr. Roscoe then returned to Decatur and walked from there to Omaha,
where he filed on his claim April 1, 1867. The ice on the Missouri river
was breaking though drays and busses were still crossing. Mr. Roscoe
walked across the river to Council Bluffs and then proceeded by train to
Bartlett, Iowa, intending to spend the summer near Brownville, Nebraska.
In August he returned to his homestead and erected a claim shanty. The
following winter was spent working in the woods at Tietown. In the
winter of 1869 fifty dollars was appropriated for school purposes in
Everett precinct and Mr. Roscoe taught school for two months in his
shanty and boarded around among the patrons.
EXPERIENCES OF A PIONEER WOMAN
BY MRS. ELISE G. EVERETT
On December 31, 1866, in a bleak wind I crossed the Missouri river on
the ice, carrying a nine months' old baby, now Mrs. Jas. Stiles, and my
four and a half year old boy trudging along. My husband's brother,
Josiah Everett, carried three-year-old Eleanor in one arm and drove the
team and my husband was a little in advance with his team and wagon
containing all our possessions. We drove to the town of Decatur, that
place of many hopes and ambitions as yet unfulfilled. We were
entertained by the Herrick family, who said we would probably remain on
Logan creek, our proposed home site, because we would be too poor to
move away.
On January 7, 1867, in threatening weather, we started on the last stage
of our journey in quest of a home. Nestled deep in the prairie hay and
covered with blankets, the babies and I did not suffer. The desolate,
wind-swept prairie looked uninviting but when we came to the Logan
Valley, it was beautiful even in that weather. The trees along the
winding stream, the grove, now known as Fritt's grove, gave a home-like
look and I decided I could be content in that valley.
We lived with our brother until material for our shack could be brought
from Decatur or Onawa, Iowa. Five grown people and seven children,
ranging in ages from ten years down, lived in that small shack for three
months. That our friendship was unimpaired is a lasting monument to our
tact, politeness, and good nature.
The New Year snow was the forerunner of heavier ones, until the
twenty-mile trip to Decatur took a whole day, but finally materials for
the shack were on hand. The last trip extended to Onawa and a sled of
provisions and two patient cows were brought over. In Decatur, B. S.
Roscoe was waiting an opportunity to get to the Logan and was invited to
"jump on." It was late, the load was heavy, and somewhere near Blackbird
creek the team stuck in the drifts. The cows were given their liberty,
the horses unhooked, and with some difficulty the half frozen men
managed to mount and the horses did the rest--the cows keeping close to
their heels; and so they arrived late in the night. Coffee and a hot
supper warmed the men sufficiently to catch a few winks of sleep--on
bedding on the floor. A breakfast before light and they were off to
rescue the load. The two frozen and dressed porkers had not yet
attracted the wolves, and next day they crossed the Logan to the new
house.
A few days more and the snowdrifts were a mighty river. B. W. was a sort
of Crusoe, but as everything but the horses and cows--and the trifling
additional human stock--was strewn around him, he suffered nothing but
anxiety. Josiah drove to Decatur, procured a boat, and with the aid of
two or three trappers who chanced to be here, we were all rowed over the
mile-wide sea, and were at home!
Slowly the water subsided, and Nebraska had emerged from her territorial
obscurity (March 1, 1867) before it was possible for teams to cross the
bottom lands of the Logan.
One Sunday morning I caught sight of two moving figures emerging from
the grove. The dread of Indian callers was ever with me, but as they
came nearer my spirits mounted to the clouds--for I recognized my
sister, Mrs. Andrew Everett, as the rider, and her son Frank leading the
pony. Their claim had been located in March, but owing to the frequent
and heavy rains we were not looking for them so soon. The evening before
we had made out several covered wagons coming over the hills from
Decatur, but we were not aware that they had already arrived at
Josiah's. The wagons we had seen were those of E. R. Libby, Chas.
Morton, Southwell, and Clements.
A boat had brought my sister and her son across the Logan--a pony being
allowed to swim the stream but the teams were obliged to go eight miles
south to Oakland, where John Oak and two or three others had already
settled, and who had thrown a rough bridge across.
Before fall the Andrew Everett house (no shack) was habitable--also a
number of other families had moved in on both sides of the Logan, and it
began to be a real neighborhood.
One late afternoon I started out to make preparations for the night, as
Mr. Everett was absent for a few days. As I opened the door two Indians
stood on the step, one an elderly man, the other a much-bedecked young
buck. I admitted them; the elder seated himself and spoke a few friendly
words, but the smart young man began immediately to inspect the few
furnishings of the room. Though quaking inwardly, I said nothing till he
spied a revolver hanging in its leather case upon the wall and was
reaching for it. I got there first, and taking it from the case I held
it in my hands. At once his manner changed. He protested that he was a
_good_ Indian, and only wanted to _see_ the gun, while the other
immediately rose from his chair. In a voice I never would have
recognized as my own, I informed him that it was time for him to _go_.
The elder man at last escorted him outside with me as rear guard. Fancy
my feelings when right at the door were ten or more husky fellows, who
seemed to propose entering, but by this time the desperate courage of
the arrant coward took possession of me, and I barred the way. It was
plain that the gun in my hand was a surprise, and the earnest entreaties
of my five-year-old boy "not to shoot them" may also have given them
pause. They said they were cold and hungry; I assured them that I had
neither room nor food for them--little enough for my own babies. At last
they all went on to the house of our brother, Andrew Everett. I knew
that they were foraging for a large party which was encamped in the
grove. Soon they came back laden with supplies which they had obtained,
and now they insisted on coming in to _cook them_, and the smell of
spirits was so unmistakable that I could readily see that Andrew had
judged it best to get rid of them as soon as possible, thinking that
they would be back in camp by dark, and the whiskey, which they had
obtained between here and Fremont, would have evaporated. But it only
made them more insistent in their demands and some were looking quite
sullen. At last a young fellow, _not_ an Indian--for he had long dark
curls reaching to his shoulders--with a strategic smile asked in good
English for a "drink of water." Instead of leaving the door, as he
evidently calculated, I called to my little boy to bring it. A giggle
ran through the crowd at the expense of the strategist but it was plain
they were growing ugly. Now the older Indian took the opportunity to
make them an earnest talk, and though it was against their wishes, he at
last started them toward the grove. After a while Frank Everett, my
nephew, who had come down to bolster up my courage, and the children
went to bed and to sleep, but no sleep for me; as the gray dawn was
showing in the east, a terrific pounding upon the door turned my blood
to ice. Again and again it came, and at last I tiptoed to the door and
stooped to look through the crack. A pair of very slim ankles was all
that was visible and as I rose to my feet, the very sweetest music I had
ever heard saluted me, the neigh of my pet colt Bonnie, who had failed
to receive her accustomed drink of milk the previous evening and took
this manner of reminding me.
This was the only time we were ever menaced with actual danger, and many
laughable false alarms at last cured me of my fears of a people among
whom I now have valued friends.
RECOLLECTIONS OF WEEPING WATER, NEBRASKA
BY I. N. HUNTER
Mr. and Mrs. L. D. Hunter were pioneer settlers of Nebraska and Weeping
Water, coming from Illinois by team. Their first settlement in the state
was near West Point in Cuming county where father staked out a claim in
1857. Things went well aside from the usual hardships of pioneer life,
such as being out of flour and having to pound corn in an iron kettle
with an iron wedge to obtain corn meal for bread. When the bottom of the
kettle gave way as a result of the many thumpings of the wedge, a new
plan was devised--that of chopping a hole in a log and making a crude
wooden kettle which better stood the blows of the wedge. This method of
grinding corn was used until a trip could be made with an ox team, to
the nearest mill, forty miles distant; a long and tedious trip always
but much more so in this particular instance because of the high water
in the streams which were not bridged in those days. These were small
hardships compared to what took place when the home was robbed by
Indians. These treacherous savages stripped the premises of all the live
stock, household and personal effects. Cattle and chickens were killed
and eaten and what could not be disposed of in this way were wantonly
destroyed and driven off. Clothing and household goods were destroyed so
that little was saved except the clothing the members of the family had
on. From the two feather beds that were ripped open, mother succeeded in
gathering up enough feathers to make two pillows and these I now have in
my home. They are more than a half century old. A friendly Indian had
come in advance of the hostile band and warned the little settlement of
the approach of the Indians with paint on their faces. His signs telling
them to flee were speedily obeyed and in all probability this was all
that saved many lives, as the six or seven families had to keep together
and travel all night to keep out of the reach of the Indians until the
people at Omaha could be notified and soldiers sent to the scene. On
the arrival of the soldiers the Indians immediately hoisted a white flag
and insisted that they were "good Indians."
As no one had been killed by the Indians, it was the desire of the
soldiers to merely make the Indians return the stolen property and
stock, but as much property was destroyed, the settlers received very
little. A number of the Indians were arrested and tried for robbing the
postoffice which was at our home. My parents were the principal
witnesses and after the Indians were acquitted, it was feared they might
take revenge, so they were advised to leave the country.
With an ox team and a few ragged articles of clothing they started east.
When he reached Rock Bluffs, one of the early river towns of Cass
county, father succeeded in obtaining work. His wages were seventy-five
cents a day with the privilege of living in a small log cabin. There was
practically no furniture for the cabin, corn husks and the few quilts
that had been given them were placed on the floor in the corner to serve
as a place to sleep. Father worked until after Christmas time without
having a coat. At about this time, he was told to take his team and make
a trip into Iowa. Just as he was about to start, his employer said to
him: "Hunter, where's your coat?" The reply was, "I haven't any." "Well,
that won't do; you can't make that trip without a coat; come with me to
the store." Father came out of the store with a new under coat and
overcoat, the first coat of any kind he had had since his home was
invaded by the red men.
An explanation of the purpose of the trip into Iowa will be of interest.
The man father worked for was a flour and meat freighter with a route to
Denver, Colorado. In the winter he would go over into Iowa, buy hogs and
drive them across the river on the ice, to Rock Bluffs, where they were
slaughtered and salted down in large freight wagons. In the spring, from
eight to ten yoke of oxen would be hitched to the wagon, and the meat,
and often times an accompanying cargo of flour, would be started across
the plains to attractive markets in Denver.
Father made a number of these trips to Denver as ox driver.
The writer was born at Rock Bluffs in 1860. We moved to Weeping Water in
1862 when four or five dwellings and the little old mill that stood near
the falls, comprised what is now our beautiful little city of over 1,000
population.
During the early sixties, many bands of Indians numbering from forty to
seventy-five, visited Weeping Water. It was on one of their visits that
the writer made the best record he has ever made, as a foot racer. The
seven or eight year old boy of today would not think of running from an
Indian, but half a century ago it was different. It was no fun in those
days to be out hunting cattle and run onto a band of Indians all sitting
around in a circle. In the morning the cattle were turned out to roam
about at will except when they attempted to molest a field, and at night
they were brought home if they could be found. If not the search was
continued the next day. Some one was out hunting cattle all the time it
seemed. With such a system of letting cattle run at large, it was really
the fields that were herded and not the cattle. Several times a day some
member of the family would go out around the fields to see if any cattle
were molesting them. One of our neighbors owned two Shepherd dogs which
would stay with the cattle all day, and take them home at night. It was
very interesting to watch the dogs drive the cattle. One would go ahead
to keep the cattle from turning into a field where there might be an
opening in the rail fence, while the other would bring up the rear. They
worked like two men would. But the family that had trained dogs of this
kind was the exception; in most cases it was the boys that had to do the
herding. It was on such a mission one day that the writer watched from
under cover of some bushes, the passing of about seventy-five Indians
all on horseback and traveling single file. They were strung out a
distance of almost a mile. Of course they were supposed to be friendly,
but there were so many things that pointed to their tendency to be
otherwise at times, that we were not at all anxious to meet an Indian no
matter how many times he would repeat the characteristic phrase, "Me
good Injun." We were really afraid of them and moreover the story was
fresh in our minds of the murder of the Hungate family in Colorado, Mrs.
Hungate's parents being residents of our vicinity at that time. Her
sister, Mrs. P. S. Barnes, now resides in Weeping Water.
Thus it will be seen that many Indian experiences and incidents have
been woven into the early history of Weeping Water. In conclusion to
this article it might be fitting to give the Indian legend which
explains how the town received its name of Weeping Water. The poem was
written by my son, Rev. A. V. Hunter, of Boston, and is founded on the
most popular of the Indian legends that have been handed down.
THE LEGEND OF WEEPING WATER
Long before the white man wandered
To these rich Nebraska lands,
Indians in their paint and feathers
Roamed in savage warlike bands.
They, the red men, feared no hardships;
Battles were their chief delights;
Victory was their great ambition
In their awful bloody fights.
Then one day the war cry sounded
Over valley, hill and plain.
From the North came dusky warriors,
From that vast unknown domain.
When the news had reached the valley
That the foe was near at hand,
Every brave was stirred to action
To defend his home, his land.
To the hills they quickly hastened
There to wait the coming foe.
Each one ready for the conflict
Each with arrow in his bow.
Awful was the scene that followed,
Yells and warwhoops echoed shrill.
But at last as night descended
Death had conquered; all was still.
Then the women in the wigwams
Hearing rumors of the fight,
Bearing flaming, flickering torches
Soon were wandering in the night.
There they found the loved ones lying
Calm in everlasting sleep.
Little wonder that the women,
Brokenhearted, all should weep.
Hours and hours they kept on weeping,
'Til their tears began to flow
In many trickling streamlets
To the valley down below.
These together joined their forces
To produce a larger stream
Which has ever since been flowing
As you see it in this scene.
Indians christened it Nehawka
Crying Water means the same.
In this way the legend tells us
Weeping Water got its name.
INCIDENTS AT PLATTSMOUTH
BY ELLA POLLOCK MINOR
Mr. and Mrs. Jacob Vallery were living in Glenwood, Iowa, in 1855, when
they decided to purchase a store from some Indians in Plattsmouth. Mr.
Vallery went over to transact the business, and Mrs. Vallery was to
follow in a few days. Upon her arrival in Bethlehem, where she was to
take the ferry, she learned that the crossing was unsafe on account of
ice floating in the river. There were two young men there, who were very
anxious to get across and decided to risk the trip. They took a letter
to her husband telling of the trouble. The next day, accompanied by
these two young men, Mr. Vallery came over after her in a rowboat, by
taking a course farther north. The boat was well loaded when they
started on the return trip. Some of the men had long poles, and by
constantly pushing at the ice they kept the boat from being crushed or
overturned.
Mrs. Vallery's oldest daughter was the third white child born in the
vicinity of Plattsmouth. And this incident happened soon after her
arrival in 1855. Mrs. Vallery had the baby in a cradle and was preparing
dinner when she heard a knock at the door. Before she could reach it, an
Indian had stepped in, and seeing some meat on the table asked for it.
She nodded for him to take it, but he seemed to have misunderstood, and
then asked for a drink of water. While Mrs. Vallery was getting the
drink, he reached for the baby, but she was too quick for him and
succeeded in reaching the baby first. He then departed without further
trouble.
At one time the Vallerys had a sick cow, and every evening several
Indians would come to find out how she was. She seemed to get no better
and still they watched that cow. In the course of a week she died,
evidently during the night, because the next morning the first thing
they heard was the Indians skinning the cow, out by the shed, and
planning a "big feed" for that night down by the river.
The late Mrs. Thomas Pollock used to tell us how the Indians came
begging for things. Winnebago John, who came each year, couldn't be
satisfied very easily, so my grandmother found an army coat of her
brother's for him. He was perfectly delighted and disappeared with it
behind the wood pile, where he remained for some time. The family
wondered what he was doing, so after he had slipped away, they went out
and hunted around for traces of what had kept him. They soon found the
clue; he had stuffed the coat in under the wood, and when they pulled it
out, they found it was minus all the brass buttons.
Another time one of Mrs. Pollock's children, the late Mrs. Lillian
Parmele, decided to play Indian and frighten her two brothers, who were
going up on the hill to do some gardening. She wrapped up in cloaks,
blankets and everything she could find to make herself look big and
fierce, then went up and hid in the hazel brush, where she knew they
would have to pass. Pretty soon she peeked out and there was a band of
Indians coming. Terrified, she ran down toward her home, dropping pieces
of clothing and blankets as she went. The Indians seeing them, ran after
her, each one anxious to pick up what she was dropping. The child
thinking it was she they were after, let all her belongings go, so she
could run the better and escape them. After that escapade quite a number
of things were missing about the house, some of them being seen later at
an Indian camp near by.
FIRST THINGS IN CLAY COUNTY
BY MRS. CHARLES M. BROWN
The first settler of Clay county, Nebraska, was John B. Weston, who
located on the Little Blue, built a log hut in 1857 and called the place
Pawnee Ranch. It became a favorite stopping place of St. Joe and Denver
mail carriers.
The first settler of Sutton was Luther French who came in March, 1870,
and homesteaded eighty acres. Mr. French surveyed and laid out the
original townsite which was named after Sutton, Massachusetts. His
dugout and log house was built on the east bank of School creek, east of
the park, and just south of the Kansas City and Omaha railroad bridge.
Traces of the excavation are still visible. The house was lined with
brick and had a tunnel outlet near the creek bottom for use in case of
an Indian attack. Among his early callers were Miss Nellie Henderson and
Capt. Charles White who rode in from the West Blue in pursuit of an
antelope, which they captured.
Mrs. Wils Cumming was the first white woman in Sutton. She resided in
the house now known as the Mrs. May Evans (deceased) place. Part of this
residence is the original Cumming home.
At this time the population of Sutton consisted of thirty-four men and
one woman. In the spring of 1871, F. M. Brown, who was born in Illinois
in 1840, came to Nebraska and settled on a homestead in Clay county,
four miles north of the present site of Sutton. At that time Clay county
was unorganized territory, and the B. & M. railroad was being extended
from Lincoln west.
September 11, 1871, Governor James issued a proclamation for the
election of officers and the organization of Clay county fixing the
date, October 14, 1871. The election was held at the home of Alexander
Campbell, two miles east of Harvard, and fifty-four votes were cast.
Sutton was chosen as the county-seat. F. M. Brown was elected county
clerk; A. K. Marsh, P.O. Norman, and A. A. Corey were elected county
commissioners. When it came to organizing and qualifying the officers,
only one freeholder could be found capable of signing official bonds and
as the law required two sureties, R. G. Brown bought a lot of Luther
French and was able to sign with Luther French as surety on all official
bonds. As the county had no money and no assessments had been made all
county business was done on credit. There was no courthouse and county
business was conducted in the office of R. G. Brown, until February,
1873, when a frame building to be used as a courthouse was completed at
a cost of $1,865. This was the first plastered building in the county
and was built by F. M. Brown.
In May, 1873, a petition for an election to relocate the county seat was
filed, but the motion of Commissioner A. K. Marsh that the petition be
"tabled, rejected and stricken from the files" ended the discussion
temporarily. In 1879 the county-seat was removed to Clay Center. Several
buildings were erected during the fall of 1873 and Sutton became the
center of trade in the territory between the Little Blue and the Platte
rivers.
Melvin Brothers opened the first store in 1873 south of the railroad
tracks, now South Sanders avenue. At that time it was called "Scrabble
Hill."
In 1874 the town was incorporated and a village government organized,
with F. M. Brown as mayor.
Luther French was the first postmaster.
Thurlow Weed opened the first lumber yard.
William Shirley built and run the first hotel.
L. R. Grimes and J. B. Dinsmore opened the first bank.
Pyle and Eaton built and operated the first elevator.
Isaac N. Clark opened the first hardware store.
Dr. Martin V. B. Clark, a graduate of an Ohio medical college, was the
first physician in the county and opened the first drug store in Sutton.
In 1873, during the first term of district court, he was appointed one
of the commissioners of insanity. In 1877 he was elected coroner.
The Odd Fellows hall was the first brick building erected.
The Congregational church, built in 1875, was the first church building
in the county.
William L. Weed taught the first school, beginning January 20, 1872,
with an enrollment of fourteen scholars.
In 1876 the Evangelical Association of North America sent Rev. W.
Schwerin to Sutton as a missionary.
In the early seventies the Burlington railroad company built and
maintained an immigrant house on the corner south of the present Cottage
hotel. This was a long frame building of one room with a cook stove in
either end. Many of the immigrants were dependent upon a few friends who
were located on the new land in the vicinity. Their food consisted
largely of soup made with flour and water; any vegetables they were able
to get were used. Meat was scarce with the immigrants. They had
considerable milk, mostly sour, brought in by their friends. The
immigrants remained here until they found work; most of them moved on to
farms. The house burned about 1880.
In the early days Sutton was a lively business place with all the
features of a frontier town. Now it is a city enjoying the comforts of
modern improvements and refined society.
REMINISCENCES OF CUSTER COUNTY
BY MRS. J. J. DOUGLAS
In July, 1888, I arrived at Broken Bow, which is situated geographically
about the center of the state. That village looked strange to me with
not a tree in sight excepting a few little cuttings of cottonwood and
box elder here and there upon a lawn. After having lived all my life in
a country where every home was surrounded by groves and ornamental shade
trees, it seemed that I was in a desert.
I had just completed a course of study in a normal school prior to
coming to Nebraska, and was worn out in mind and body, so naturally my
first consideration was the climatic condition of the country and its
corresponding effect upon the vegetation. I wondered how the people
stood the heat of the day but soon discovered that a light gentle breeze
was blowing nearly all the time, so that the heat did not seem intense
as it did at my Iowa home.
After I had been in Broken Bow about two weeks I was offered a position
in the mortgage loan office of Trefren and Hewitt. The latter was the
first county clerk of Custer county. I held this position a few weeks,
then resigned to take charge of the Berwyn school at the request of Mr.
Charles Randall, the county superintendent. Berwyn was a village
situated about ten miles east of Broken Bow. It consisted of one general
merchandise store, a postoffice, depot, and a blacksmith shop. I shall
never forget my first impression on arriving at Berwyn very early on
that September morning. It was not daylight when the train stopped at
the little depot, and what a feeling of loneliness crept over me as I
watched that train speed on its way behind the eastern hills! I found my
way to the home of J. O. Taylor (who was then living in the back end of
his store building) and informed him that I was the teacher who had come
to teach the school and asked him to direct me to my boarding place.
Being a member of the school board, Mr. Taylor gave me the necessary
information and then sent his hired man with a team and buggy to take
me a mile farther east to the home of Ben Talbot, where I was to stay.
The Talbot home was a little sod house consisting of two small rooms. On
entering I found Mrs. Talbot preparing breakfast for the family. I was
given a cordial welcome, and after breakfast started in company with
Mrs. Talbot's little girl for the schoolhouse. The sense of loneliness
which had taken possession of me on my way to this place began to be
dispelled. I found Mrs. Talbot to be a woman of kind heart and generous
impulses. She had two little girls, the older one being of school age. I
could see the schoolhouse up on the side of a hill. It was made of sod
and was about twelve by fifteen feet. The roof was of brush and weeds,
with some sod; but I could see the blue sky by gazing up through the
roof at almost any part of it. I looked out upon the hills and down the
valley and wondered where the pupils were to come from, as I saw no
houses and no evidence of habitation anywhere excepting Mr. Talbot's
home. But by nine o'clock about twelve children had arrived from some
place, I knew not where.
I found in that little, obscure schoolhouse some of the brightest and
best boys and girls it was ever my good fortune to meet. There soon
sprang up between us a bond of sympathy. I sympathized with them in
their almost total isolation from the world, and they in turn
sympathized with me in my loneliness and homesickness.
On opening my school that first morning, great was my surprise to learn
how well those children could sing. I had never been in a school where
there were so many sweet voices. My attention was particularly directed
to the voices of two little girls as they seemed remarkable for children
of their years. I often recall one bright sunny evening after I had
dismissed school and stood watching the pupils starting out in various
directions for their homes, my attention was called to a path that led
down the valley through the tall grass. I heard singing and at once
recognized the voices of these two little girls. The song was a favorite
of mine and I could hear those sweet tones long after the children were
out of sight in the tall grass. I shall never forget how charmingly
sweet that music seemed to me.
I soon loved every pupil in that school and felt a keen regret when the
time came for me to leave them. I have the tenderest memory of my
association with that district, though the school equipment was meager
and primitive. After finishing my work there I returned to Broken Bow
where I soon accepted a position in the office of J. J. Douglass, clerk
of the district court. Mr. Douglass was one of the organizers of Custer
county and was chosen the first clerk of the court, which position he
held for four years. I began my work in this office on November 16,
1888, and held the position till the close of his term.
During this time many noted criminal cases were tried in court, Judge
Francis G. Hamer of Kearney being the judge. One case in which I was
especially interested was the DeMerritt case, in which I listened to the
testimony of several of my pupils from the Berwyn district. Another
far-famed case was the Haunstine case, in which Albert Haunstine
received a death sentence. To hear a judge pronounce a death sentence is
certainly the most solemn thing one can imagine. Perhaps the most trying
ordeal I ever experienced was the day of the execution of Haunstine. It
so happened that the scaffold was erected just beneath one of the
windows of our office on the south side of the courthouse. As the nails
were being driven into that structure how I shuddered as I thought that
a human being was to be suspended from that great beam. Early in the
morning on the day of the execution people from miles away began to
arrive to witness the cruelest event that ever marred the fair name of
our beloved state. Early in the day, in company with several others, I
visited the cell of the condemned man. He was busy distributing little
souvenirs he had made from wood to friends and members of his family. He
was pale but calm and self-composed. My heart ached and my soul was
stirred to its very depth in sympathy for a fellow being and yet I was
utterly helpless so far as extending any aid or consolation. The thought
recurred to me so often, why is it men are so cruel to each
other--wolfish in nature, seeking to destroy their own kind? And now the
thought still comes to me, will the day ever dawn when there will be no
law in Nebraska permitting men to cruelly take the life of each other to
avenge a wrong? I trust that the fair name of Nebraska may never be
blotted again by another so-called _legal_ execution.
It was during the time I was in that office the first commencement of
the Broken Bow high school was held, the class consisting of two
graduates, a boy and a girl. The boy is now Dr. Willis Talbot, a
physician of Broken Bow, and the girl, who was Stella Brown, is now the
wife of W. W. Waters, mayor of Broken Bow.
We moved our office into the new courthouse in January, 1890. Soon after
we saw the completion of the mammoth building extending the entire
length of the block on the south side of the public square called the
Realty block. The Ansley Cornet band was the first band to serenade us
in the new courthouse.
Mr. Douglass completed his term of office as clerk of the district court
on January 7, 1892, and two weeks later we were married and went for a
visit to my old home in Iowa. Soon after returning to Broken Bow we
moved to Callaway. I shall never forget my first view of the little city
of which I had heard so much, the "Queen City of the Seven Valleys."
After moving to Callaway I again taught school and had begun on my
second year's work when I resigned to accept a position in the office of
the state land commissioner, H. C. Russell, at Lincoln, where I remained
for two years. During the time I was in that office Mr. Douglass was
appointed postmaster at Callaway, so I resigned my work in Lincoln and
returned home to work in the postoffice. We were in this office for
seven years, after which I accepted a position in the Seven Valleys
bank. After a year I again took up school work and have been engaged in
that ever since. We have continued to reside at Callaway all these years
and have learned to love the rugged hills and glorious sunshine. The
winds continue to blow and the sands beat upon our pathway, but we would
not exchange our little cottage in the grove for a palace in the far
East.
AN EXPERIENCE
BY MRS. HARMON BROSS
An experience through which I passed in northwestern Nebraska in the
early days comes to my mind very frequently.
When the railroad first went through that region to Chadron, Mr. Bross
was general missionary for the Northwest, including central Wyoming and
the Black Hills country.
When we first visited Chadron it was a town of white tents, and we
occupied a tent for several days. Then the tent was needed for other
purposes and Mr. Bross suggested that we find lodging in a building in
process of erection for a hotel. The frame was up and enclosed, the
floors laid, but no stairs and no division into rooms. The proprietor
said we could have a bed in the upper room, where there were fifty beds
side by side. He would put a curtain around the bed. As that was the
only thing to do, we accepted the situation and later I climbed a ladder
to the upper floor.
The bed in one corner was enclosed with a calico curtain just the size
of the bed. I climbed on, and prepared the baby boy and myself for
sleep. As I was the only woman in the room, and every bed was occupied
before morning by two men, the situation was somewhat unique. However, I
was soon asleep.
About three o'clock I was awakened by the stealthy footsteps of two men
on the ladder. They came to the bed at the foot of the one we occupied,
and after settling themselves to their satisfaction began discussing the
incidents of the night. As they were gamblers, the conversation was a
trifle strange to a woman.
Soon in the darkness below and close to the side of the building where
we were, rang out several pistol shots with startling distinctness.
One man remarked, in a calm, impersonal tone, "I prefer to be on the
ground floor when the shots fly around like that." The remark was not
especially reassuring for a mother with a sleeping baby by her side.
As no one in the room seemed to be disturbed, and as the tumult below
soon died away, I again slept, and awakened in the morning none the
worse for the experience of the night.
[Illustration: MRS. ANDREW K. GAULT
Third Vice-President General from Nebraska, National Society, Daughters
of the American Revolution. Elected 1913]
LEGEND OF CROW BUTTE
BY DR. ANNA ROBINSON CROSS
The early history of Crawford and its environment is replete with tales
of Indian scares; the pioneer settlers banding themselves together and
arming for protection against possible Indian raids, all presenting
lurid material for the most exciting stories, if one could gather the
accurate data.
The legend of Crow Butte is one of the most thrilling, and at the same
time the most important, of the many tales told by the old settlers
around the winter fireside.
In the early history of the Sioux and Crow Indians, much strife and
ill-feeling was engendered between the two tribes by the stealing of
horses. As no satisfactory settlement could be arranged between them, it
was declared, after a solemn pow-wow, that a decisive battle should be
fought, and the field for the said conflict was chosen on the land east
of the present site of Crawford. The final stand was taken on one of the
peculiar clay formations known as buttes, found in northwestern
Nebraska. These eminences, dividing this section of the country into
valleys and ridges of hills, add very much to the beauty of the
landscape, by their seeming likeness to a succession of battlements and
old castles.
This particular butte, standing like a sentinel about five miles east of
Crawford, rises to a height of nearly three hundred feet on the east
side, and is possible of ascent by gradual elevation on the west side.
It appears to stand distinct and alone, forming a landmark on the
horizon that has guided many a settler and traveler to home and safety.
The writer is one of the number of travelers who, from bitter
experiences in long winter drives over the prairie, has learned to
appreciate the landmark of the old Crow Butte.
The Sioux, having driven the Crows to the top of this butte, thought, by
guarding the path, they could quickly conquer by starving them out.
Under cover of night the Crows decided, after due deliberation, that the
warriors could escape, if the old men of the tribe would remain and
keep up a constant singing. This was done. The young and able-bodied
men, making ropes of their blankets, were let down the steep side of the
butte, while the poor old men kept up a constant wailing for days, until
death, from lack of food and exhaustion, had stilled their voices. As
the singing gradually ceased, the Sioux, while watching, saw white
clouds passing over the butte, having the appearance of large, white
birds with outstretched wings, on which they carried the old men to the
"Happy Hunting Grounds." The Sioux, awed by the illusion, believed it an
omen of peace and declared that forever after there should be no more
wars between the Crows and the Sioux.
Through Capt. James H. Cook, an early settler and pioneer of this
section, who has served as scout and interpreter for the Indians for
years, I have learned that it was near this Crow Butte that the last
great treaty was made with the Indians, in which the whole of the Black
Hills country was disposed of to the white people. According to his
statement, the affair came very nearly ending in a battle in which many
lives might have been lost. The bravery and quick action of a few men
turned the tide in favor of the white people.
The following original poem by Pearl Shepherd Moses is quite appropriate
in this connection:
TO CROW HEART BUTTE
Oh, lofty Crow Heart Butte, uprising toward the sun,
What is your message to the world below?
Or do you wait in silence, race outrun,
The march of ages in their onward flow?
Ye are so vast, so great, and yet so still,
That but a speck I seem in nature's plan;
Or but a drop without a way or will
In this mad rush miscalled the race of man.
In nature's poems you a period stand
Among her lessons we can never read;
But with high impulse and good motive found,
You help us toward the brave and kindly deed.
The winds and sunshine, dawns and throbbing star,
Yield you their message from the ether clear,
While moonlight crowns your brow so calm and fair
With homage kingly as their greatest peer.
A longing fills me as I nightly gaze;
Would I could break your spell of silence vast;
But centuries and years and months and days
Must add themselves again unto the past.
And I can only wish that I were as true,
Always found faithful and as firmly stand
For right as you since you were young and new,
A wondrous product from a mighty hand.
LIFE ON THE FRONTIER
BY JAMES AYRES
_Prairie Covered with Indians_
In July, 1867, a freight train left the old Plum Creek station late one
night for the west. As the company was alarmed for the safety of the
trains, Pat Delahunty, the section boss, sent out three men on a
hand-car over his section in advance of this train. They had gone about
three miles to the bend west of the station when they were attacked by
Indians. This was at a point nearly north of the John Jacobson claim.
There are still on the south side of the track some brickbats near the
culvert. This is the place where the Indians built a fire on the south
side of the track and took a position on the north side. When the
hand-car came along, they fired upon it. They killed one man and wounded
another, a cockney from London, England, and thinking him dead took his
scalp. He flinched. They stuck a knife in his neck but even that did not
kill him. He recovered consciousness and crawled into the high weeds.
The freight came and fell into the trap. While the Indians were breaking
into the cars of the wrecked freight, the Englishman made his escape,
creeping a mile to the north. As soon as morning came, Patrick Delahunty
with his men took a hand-car and went to investigate. Before they had
gone half a mile they could see the Indians all around the wreck. Each
one had a pony. They had found a lot of calico in one car and each
Indian had taken a bolt and had broken one end loose and was unfolding
it as he rode over the prairie. Yelling, they rode back and forth in
front of one another with calico flying, like a Maypole dance gone mad.
When they saw the section men with guns, they broke for the Platte river
and crossed it due south of where Martin Peterson's house now stands.
The section men kept shooting at them but got no game. They found that a
squaw-man had probably had a hand in the wrecking of the train for the
rails had been pried up just beyond the fire. The smoke blinded the
engineer and he ran into the rails which were standing as high as the
front of the boiler. The engineer and the fireman were killed. The
engine ran off the track, but the cars remained on the rails. The
Indians opened every car and set fire to two or three of the front ones.
One car was loaded with brick. The writer got a load of these brick in
1872 and built a blacksmith forge. Among the bricks were found pocket
knives, cutlery, and a Colt's revolver.
The man who had been scalped came across the prairie toward the section
men. They thought he was an Indian. His shirt was gone and his skin was
covered with dried blood. They were about to shoot when Delahunty said,
"Stop, boys," for the man had his hands above his head. They let him
come nearer and when he was a hundred yards away Delahunty said, "By
gobs, it's Cockney!" They took him to the section house and cared for
him. He told them these details. After this event he worked for the
Union Pacific railroad at Omaha. Then he went back to England. The
railroad had just been built and there was only one train a day.
_Wild Turkeys and Wild Cats_
Tom Mahum was the boss herder for Ewing of Texas and had brought his
herd up that summer and had his cattle on Dilworth's islands until he
could ship them to Chicago. He bantered me for a turkey hunt, and we
went on horseback up Plum creek. He was a good shot and we knew we would
get game of some kind. We followed the creek five miles, when we scared
up a flock of turkeys. They were of the bronze kind, large and heavy. We
got three, and as we did not find any more, we took the tableland for
the Platte. As we came down a pocket we ran into a nest of wildcats.
There were four of them. One cat jumped at a turkey that was tied to
Tom's saddle. That scared his horse so that it nearly unseated him, but
he took his pistol and killed the cat. I was afraid they would jump at
me. They growled and spit, and I edged away until I could shoot from my
pony, and when twenty-five yards away I slipped in two cartridges and
shot two of the cats. The fourth one got away and we were glad to let it
go. We took the three cats to town, skinned them, and sold the pelts to
Peddler Charley for one dollar. Tom talked about that hunt when I met
him in Oregon a few years ago.
_A Scare_
On another occasion, Perley Wilson and I took a hunt on the big island
south of the river where there were some buffalo. The snow was about
eight inches deep and we crossed the main stream on the ice. Before we
got over, I saw a moccasin track and showed it to Wilson. He said we had
better get out. "No," said I, "let us trail it and find where it goes."
It took us into a very brushy island. Wilson would go no further, but I
took my shotgun, cocked both barrels, and went on but with caution for
fear the Indian would see me first. I got just half way in, and I heard
a "Ugh!" right behind me. The hair on my head went straight up. I was
scared, but I managed to gasp, "Sioux?" "No, Pawnee. Heap good Indian."
Then he laughed and I breathed again. I asked, "What are you doing
here?" "Cooking beaver," he replied, and led the way to his fire. He had
a beaver skinned hanging on a plum tree and he had a tin can over the
fire, boiling the tail. I returned to Wilson and told him about it. He
said, "It is no use to try to sneak up on an Indian in the brush, for he
always sees you first." I could have shot the Indian, as he only had a
revolver, but that would have been cowardly as he had the first drop on
me and could have had my scalp. We got home with no game that day.
PLUM CREEK (LEXINGTON), NEBRASKA
BY WM. M. BANCROFT, M.D.
On April 5, 1873, I arrived at Plum Creek, now Lexington, with what was
called the second colony from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Captain F. J.
Pearson, who was in charge, later became editor of the _Pioneer_. Judge
Robert B. Pierce and the Tucker family were also with this colony. On
our arrival the only town we found was a mile east of the present site
of Lexington. It consisted of a section house, a small shanty called the
Johnson restaurant, one story and a half log house run by Daniel Freeman
as a general store, and a stockade built of ties used as a place of
safety for the horses and cows. The upper story of the Freeman building
was occupied by the Johnson family, who partitioned it off with blankets
to accommodate the immigrants, and the only lights we could depend on
were candle dips from the Freeman store at twenty-five cents each. At
this time bread sold at twenty-five cents per loaf.
There was also an immigrant house 20 by 40 feet located on the north
side of the railroad nearly opposite the other buildings referred to.
This house was divided into rooms 6 by 8 feet square with a hall
between. The front room was used as Dawson county's first office by John
H. MacColl, then county clerk. There was also a coal shed and a water
tank on the south side of the track. The depot was a mile west on a
railroad section where the town was finally built.
The reason for the change of townsite was a fight by Freeman against the
Union Pacific company. Freeman owned the quarter section of government
land, on which the buildings referred to were located.
The first house in Plum Creek was built by Robert Pierce, whose family
got permission to live in a freight car on the side-track while the
house was being built. While in the freight car the family was attacked
by measles. In order to gain entrance to this temporary residence a
step-ladder had to be used, and in visiting the family while in the
car, I would find them first at one end of the switch and next at the
other, and would have to transfer the ladder each time. Later on Robert
Pierce was elected probate judge and served until by reason of his age
he retired.
Tudor Tucker built the first frame house on Buffalo creek five miles
northeast of town. The first store building in Plum Creek was built by
Mr. Betz. The first hotel was built by E. D. Johnson, who deserves much
credit for his work in building up Dawson county. In 1873 the population
numbered about 175. The old townsite was soon abandoned and the town of
Plum Creek on its present site became a reality.
The completion of the Platte river bridge was celebrated July 4, 1873,
by a big demonstration. It then became necessary to get the trade from
the Republican Valley, Plum Creek being the nearest trading point for
that locality. Since there were no roads from the south, a route had to
be laid out. With this object in view, Judge Pierce, E. D. Johnson,
Elleck Johnson, and I constituted ourselves a committee to do the work.
We started across the country and laid up sod piles every mile, until we
reached the Arapahoe, 48 miles southwest. Coming back we shortened up
the curves. This was the first road from the south into Plum Creek, and
we derived a great amount of trade from this territory. It was no
uncommon thing for the Erwin & Powers Company, conducting a general
store at this time, to take in from one thousand to twelve hundred
dollars on Saturdays.
The first church and Sunday school was organized Sunday, April 13, 1873,
three and one-half miles north of town at the farm of Widow Mullen.
Those present, including myself, were: Mrs. Mullen and family, Captain
John S. Stuckey, afterwards treasurer of Dawson county, Joseph Stuckey,
Samuel Clay Stuckey and wife, Edgar Mellenger, and one negro servant.
Joseph Stuckey was appointed leader, James Tipton, superintendent of the
Sunday school, and I took charge of the music. The first regular sermon
was preached by a Mr. Wilson who came to Overton to live on a homestead.
He consented to preach for us until we could fill his place by an
appointment at general conference. We held the first regular service
both of the church and the Sunday school in the old frame schoolhouse
located in the east ward. We also held revivals in the Hill hall where
Smith's opera house now stands.
On this Sunday afternoon about five o'clock the great April storm
started with blizzard from the northwest. It was impossible for any of
us to get away until Tuesday afternoon. On Monday night Captain Stuckey,
Doc Mellenger, and I had to take the one bed. During the night the bed
broke down and we lay until morning huddled together to keep from
freezing. Mellenger and I left Tuesday afternoon, when the storm abated,
and started back toward the old town. The storm again caught us and
drifted us to Doc's old doby two and one-half miles north of the
townsite. By this time the snow had drifted from four to five feet in
depth. The horses took us to the dugout stable in which we put them.
Then we had to dig our way to the doby where we remained from Tuesday
evening until Thursday morning. We had nothing to eat during that time
but a few hard biscuits, a little bacon, and three frozen chickens, and
nothing but melted snow to drink. The bedstead was a home-made affair
built of pine boards. This we cut up and used for fuel and slept on the
dirt floor. The storm was so terrific that it was impossible to get to
the well, fifteen feet from the doby. We became so thirsty from the snow
water that Doc thought he would try to get to the well. He took a rope
and pistol, tied the rope around his waist and started for the well. His
instructions were that if I heard the pistol I was to pull him in. After
a very short time the pistol report came and I pulled and pulled and Doc
came tumbling in without pistol or bucket. It was so cold he had nearly
frozen his hands. Thursday was clear and beautiful. One of the persons
from Mullen's, having gone to town, reported that we had left there
Tuesday afternoon. On account of this report a searching party was sent
out to look for us.
Another item of interest was the Pawnee and Sioux massacre on August 5,
1873. It was the custom of the Pawnees, who were friendly and were
located on a reservation near Columbus, Nebraska, to go on a fall hunt
for buffalo meat for their winter use. The Sioux, who were on the Pine
Bluff reservation, had an old grudge against the Pawnees and knew when
this hunt took place. The Pawnees made Plum Creek their starting point
across the country southwest to the head of the Frenchman river. They
camped about ten miles northwest of Culbertson, a town on the B. & M.
railroad. The camp was in the head of a pocket which led from a
tableland to the Republican river. The Sioux drove a herd of buffalo on
the Pawnees while the latter were in camp. Not suspecting danger the
Pawnees began to kill the buffalo, when the Sioux came up, taking them
by surprise. The Pawnees, being outnumbered, fled down the caÒon. The
Sioux followed on either bank and cross-fired them, killing and wounding
about a hundred. I was sent by the government with Mr. Longshore, the
Indian agent of Columbus, and two guides to the scene of the massacre,
which was about one hundred and forty miles southwest of Plum Creek, for
the purpose of looking after the wounded who might have been left
behind. We made this trip on horseback. The agent had the dead buried
and we followed up the wounded. We found twenty-two at Arapahoe and ten
or fifteen had left and started on the old Fort Kearny trail. We brought
the twenty-two wounded to Plum Creek, attended to their wounds and then
shipped them in a box car to the reservation at Columbus.
My first trip to Wood river valley twenty miles north, was to attend
James B. Mallott, one of the first settlers. They were afraid to let me
go without a guard but I had no fear of the Indians, so they gave me a
belt of cartridges and a Colt's revolver. Finally MacColl, the county
clerk, handed me a needle gun and commanded me to get back before dark.
I started on horseback with this arsenal for Wood river and made the
visit, but on my return I stopped to let the horse rest and eat
bluestem. Soon the horse became frightened and began to paw and snort.
On looking back toward the divide, I saw three Indians on horseback were
heading my way. We were not long in getting started. I beat them by a
mile to the valley, arriving safely at Tucker's farm on Buffalo creek.
The Indians did not follow but rode along the foothills to the west. A
party of four or five from Tucker's was not long in giving chase, but
the Indians had disappeared in the hills. A little later, Anton Abel,
who lived a mile north of town, came in on the run and stated that a
file of eight or ten Indians, with scalp sticks waving, were headed
south a half mile west of town. A number mounted their horses and gave
chase to the river where the Indians crossed and were lost sight of. We
never suffered much loss or injury from the Indians. Many scares were
reported, but like the buffalo after 1874-75, they were a thing of the
past in our county.
My practice for the first ten or twelve years among the sick and
injured, covered a field almost unlimited. I was called as far north as
Broken Bow in the Loup valley, fifty miles, east to Elm Creek, Buffalo
county, twenty miles, west to Brady Island, Lincoln county, thirty-five
miles, and south to the Republican river. Most of the time there were no
roads or bridges. The valley of the Platte in Dawson county is now the
garden spot of the state. As stated before the settlement of 1872 was on
the extreme edge of the frontier. Now we have no frontier. It is
progressive civilization from coast to coast. I have practiced my
profession for over forty years continuously in this state, and am still
in active practice. I have an abiding faith that I shall yet finish up
with an airship in which to visit my patients.
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS
BY C. CHABOT
After repeated invitations from my old boyhood companion, Dr. Bancroft,
to visit him in his new home in western Nebraska, I left Philadelphia
and arrived in Omaha the early part of April, 1878. Omaha at that time
did not impress me very favorably. After buying my ticket to Plum Creek
(in those days you could only buy a ticket to Omaha) the next thing in
order was to get in line and have my trunk checked, and witness baggage
"smashers" demolish a few trunks, then coolly offer to rope them at
twenty-five cents each. Our train left at 11 a. m. and arrived in Plum
Creek at 11 p. m., good time for those days. The train left with all
seats occupied and some passengers standing. Everybody was eager to see
the great prairie country. We expected to see Indians and buffalo, but
only a few jack rabbits appeared, which created quite a laugh, as it was
the first time any of us had ever seen one run. After we had traveled
about twenty miles, "U. P. Sam," as he called himself, came into our car
and treated us to a song of his own composition. In his song he related
all the wonders of the great Union Pacific railroad and the country
between Omaha and Ogden. I saw him two years later in Dawson county,
playing the violin at a country dance, and singing songs about different
persons at the gathering. All you had to do was to give him a few points
as to a man's disposition and habits with a few dimes and he would have
the whole company laughing.
We stopped at Grand Island for supper, and in due time arrived in Plum
Creek. Dr. Bancroft was waiting for me and after being introduced to
many of his western friends, we retired for the night. Next morning
feeling the necessity of visiting a barber shop, I asked the doctor if
there was a barber shop in town. Judging from the accommodations at the
hotel I had my doubts. "We have a good barber in town," he replied, "but
I will go with you." On arriving at the corner of what is now Main and
Depot streets we entered a building which I discovered to be a saloon.
I protested, but before I had had time to say much, the doctor asked the
barkeeper where Ed. (the barber) was. "Why, he has gone south of the
river to plaster a house," was the reply. Then I thought "what kind of a
country have I come to, barber and plasterer the same person." Then my
mind wandered back to the far East where I saw a comfortable bath room,
and I thought "What can the doctor see in this country to deny himself
all the comforts of home?" Before I had time to recover from my
reveries, I was surrounded by cowboys who insisted that I drink with
them. I protested and if it had not been for Dr. Bancroft I suppose they
would have made me dance to the music of their six shooters or drink,
but as I was a friend of "Little Doc" (as they called him) that was
sufficient and the tenderfoot was allowed to leave. Then and only then I
saw in the northwest corner of the room the barber's chair.
I accompanied Dr. Bancroft on many drives over the country going as far
north as the Loup and Dismal rivers. We went several times south to
Arapahoe; in fact it was but a short time before I was acquainted with
most all the settlers in Dawson and adjacent counties. The population at
that time was hardly 2,000 in Dawson county. In a very short time I
began to feel more at home. The hospitality of the people was something
I had never dreamed of; the climate and good fresh air so invigorating
that I soon adjusted myself to surrounding conditions, and before I had
been here a month I decided to cast my lot with the rest of the new
settlers and became one of them.
While I have had many ups and downs I cannot say that I regret having
done so. When I look back and think of the many friends I made in the
early days and how we stood hand in hand in our adversities as well as
in our good fortunes, I cannot help feeling that we are more than
friends and belong to one big family.
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE FIRST SETTLER OF DAWSON COUNTY
BY MRS. DANIEL FREEMAN
I came from Canada to Leavenworth, Kansas. Mr. Freeman was a freighter
to Pike's Peak, but was not always successful. He spent $4,000 on one
train and came back with only a team of oxen and a team of ponies. The
next spring, 1862, I bought a stage-coach and using the pony team, I
took my three children, the youngest only two months old, and drove all
the way to Nebraska. My husband was there and had started a little store
just across from the pony express station on Plum creek. He bought
buffalo hides of the Indians and shipped them east. The buffalo were in
easy reach and we had fresh meat every day. We had a big sign with the
word "Bakery" on it. I baked a hundred pounds of flour every day. I
would make yeast bread over night and bake it in the forenoon, and make
salt-rising in the morning and bake it in the afternoon. We got St.
Louis flour that the freighters brought from Denver when they came back.
I sold my bread for fifty cents a loaf and made as much as thirty
dollars a day. I made cheese, too. We had seventy-five head of cows and
milked twenty-five. We would take a young calf and let it fill its
stomach with its mother's milk, then kill it. Then we took the stomach
and washed and wiped it and hung it up on a nail to dry. When it was
perfectly dry we would put it away carefully in a cloth and used it for
rennet to make the cheese. I would put a little piece of it in new
milk and it would form a solid curd. My husband made me a press and a
mold. I got twenty-five cents a pound for my cheese, and sold lots of
it. I got up fine meals and charged two dollars a meal. The people were
glad to pay it. There was plenty of firewood. The trees drifted down the
river and we piled the wood up on the islands, but after the settlers
came they would steal it. There was no need of anybody going hungry
those days, for anyone could kill a buffalo. One day a herd of thirty
came within ten feet of our door, and our cows went away with them. The
children and I walked three miles before we came up to the cows and
could get them back home. We were near the river and it was not far down
to water. We dug holes in the ground and sunk five salt barrels. The
water came up in these and we always had plenty of water. Sometimes we
dipped the barrels dry, but they would be full the next morning. There
wasn't a pump in the country for years.
The people who kept the Pony Express station were named Humphries. These
stations were about fifty miles apart. There would be lots of people at
the station every night, for after the Indians became troublesome, the
people went in trains of about a hundred wagons. There were many six
oxen teams. The Indians never troubled anybody until the whites killed
so many buffalo and wasted so much. There were carcasses all over the
prairies. The Indians used every part, and they knew this great
slaughter of the buffalo meant starvation for them, so they went on the
warpath in self-defense. They would skulk on the river bank where the
trail came close, and would rush up and attack the travelers. The
soldiers were sent out as escorts and their families often went with
them. One night at Plum Creek Pony Express station twin babies were born
to the lieutenant and wife. I went over in the morning to see if I could
help them, but they were all cared for by the lieutenant. He had washed
the babies and had the tent in order. I do not remember his name now. We
often saw tiny babies with their mothers lying in the wagons that came
by. They would be wrapped up, and looked very comfortable. Water was so
scarce that they had to pay for enough to wash the babies.
Brigham Young made trip after trip with foreign people of all kinds but
blacks. Most of these could not speak English, and I don't think Brigham
bought any water for them, as they were filthy dirty. Brigham was a
great big fat man, and he kept himself pretty neat. He made just about
one trip a year. One company of these immigrants was walking through,
and the train was a couple of miles long. They went south of the river
on the Oregon trail. There was no other road then.
On August 8, 1864, the Sioux people killed eleven men at 11:00 o'clock
in the morning, on Elm creek. I was afraid to stay on our ranch, so I
took the children and started to Fort Kearny. On the way we came to the
place of the massacre. The dead men were lying side by side in a long
trench, their faces were covered with blood and their boots were on.
Three women were taken prisoners. I heard that there were two children
in the party, and that they were thrown in the grass, but I looked all
around for them and didn't find any signs of them. Friends of these
people wrote to Mr. E. M. F. Leflang, to know if he could locate them.
The Indians never troubled us except to take one team during this war,
but I was always afraid when I saw the soldiers coming. They would come
in the store and help themselves to tobacco, cookies, or anything. Then
the teamsters would swing their long black-snake whips and bring them
down across my chicken's heads, then pick them up and carry them to
camp. I think the officers were the most to blame, for they sold the
soldiers' rations, and the men were hungry.
When the Union Pacific railroad was first built we lived on our
homestead north of the river and the town was started on our land. We
had the contract to supply the wood for the engines. They didn't use any
other fuel then. We hired men to cut the wood on Wood river where
Eddyville and Sumner are now. I boarded the men in our new big house
across from the depot in old Plum Creek. The store was below and there
was an outside stairway for the men to go up. That summer Mr. Freeman
was in Washington, Philadelphia, and New York talking up this country.
Mr. Freeman was the first county clerk and his office was upstairs over
the store. We rented some of the rooms to newcomers. We did a big
business until the railroad moved the town to their section, a mile
west. Mr. Freeman kept on trapping, and finally was drowned near
Deadwood, South Dakota. I stayed by Dawson county and raised my family
and they all are settled near me and have good homes.
EARLY DAYS IN DAWSON COUNTY
BY LUCY R. HEWITT
Mr. and Mrs. Thomas J. Hewitt, in June, 1873, journeyed from Forreston,
Illinois, to Plum Creek, Nebraska. Their object was to take advantage of
the offer the government was making to civil war soldiers, whereby each
soldier could obtain one hundred and sixty acres of land. They stopped
at Grand Island and Kearney, but at neither place could they find two
adjoining quarter sections, not yet filed on. They wanted two, for my
grandfather, Rockwood, who lived with us was also a soldier. At Plum
Creek, now Lexington, they were able to obtain what they wanted but it
was six miles northwest of the station.
Plum Creek at that early date consisted of the depot. The town was a
mile east and when my parents arrived at Plum Creek, they were obliged
to walk back to the town, in order to find lodging for the night. Rooms
seem to have been scarce for they had to share theirs with another man
and his wife. They found a place to eat in the restaurant owned by Mr.
and Mrs. E. D. Johnson.
In August of the same year, they made a second trip to Nebraska, this
time with wagon and carriage, bringing with others a carpenter who built
their house upon the dividing line of the two homesteads. This house had
the distinction of being the first two-story house in the neighborhood.
All the others were one-story, because the settlers feared the high
winds that occasionally swept over the prairies. For a few months it was
the farthest away from town.
In the three months between the two trips the town had moved to the
depot, and had grown from nothing to a village of sixty houses and
stores. The Johnsons had brought their restaurant and placed it upon the
site where a little later they built a hotel called the Johnson house.
Mr. T. Martin had built the first hotel which he named the Alhambra. I
have a very faint recollection of being in this hotel when the third
trip brought the household goods and the family to the new home. It was
in December when this last journey was taken, and great was the
astonishment of the older members of the family to see the ground
covered with a foot of snow. They had been told that there was
practically no winter in Nebraska, and they had believed the statement.
They found that the thermometer could drop almost out of sight with the
cold, and yet the greater part of many winters was very pleasant.
My father opened a law office in the town and T. L. Warrington, who
taught the first school in the village, read law with him, and kept the
office open when the farm required attention. The fields were small at
first and did not require so very much time.
The first exciting event was a prairie fire. A neighbor's family was
spending the day at our farm and some other friends also came to call.
The day was warm, no wind was stirring until about 4 o'clock, when it
suddenly and with much force blew from the north and brought the fire,
which had been smoldering for some days in the bluffs to the north of
the farm, down into the valley with the speed of a racing automobile. We
children were very much frightened, and grandmother who was sick with a
headache, was so startled she forgot her pain--did not have any in fact.
Mother and Mrs. Fagot, the neighbor's wife, were outside loosening the
tumble weeds and sending them along with the wind before the fire could
catch them. In that way they saved the house from catching fire. My
father, who had seen the fire come over the hills, as he was driving
from town, had unhitched the horses and riding one of them as fast as
possible, reached home in time to watch the hay stacks. Three times they
caught fire and each time he beat it out with a wet gunny sack. I think
this happened in March, 1874.
That same year about harvest time the country was visited by
grasshoppers. They did considerable damage by nipping off the oat heads
before the farmers could finish the reaping. My aunt who was visiting us
suggested that the whole family walk through the potato field and send
the hoppers into the grass beyond. It was a happy thought, for the
insects ate grass that night and the next day a favorable wind sent them
all away.
The worst grasshopper visitation we had was in July, 1876. One Sunday
morning father and mother and I went to town to church. The small grain
had been harvested and the corn all along the way was a most beautiful,
dark green. When we were about a mile from town a slight shade seemed to
come over the sun; when we looked up for the cause, we saw millions of
grasshoppers slowly dropping to the ground. They came down in such
numbers that they clung two or three deep to every green thing. The
people knew that nothing in the way of corn or gardens could escape such
devastating hordes and they were very much discouraged. To add to their
troubles, the Presbyterian minister that morning announced his intention
to resign. He, no doubt, thought he was justified.
I was pretty small at that time and did not understand what it all
meant, but I do know that as we drove home that afternoon, the
cornfields looked as they would in December after the cattle had fed on
them--not a green shred left. The asparagus stems, too, were equally
bare. The onions were eaten down to the very roots. Of the whole garden,
there was, in fact, nothing left but a double petunia, which grandmother
had put a tub over. So ravenous were the pests that they even ate the
cotton mosquito netting that covered the windows.
In a day or two when nothing remained to eat, the grasshoppers spread
their wings and whirred away. Then grandfather said, "We will plant some
beans and turnips, there is plenty of time for them to mature before
frost." Accordingly, he put in the seeds and a timely rain wet them so
that in a very few days they had sprouted and were well up, when on
Monday morning, just two weeks and one day from the time of the first
visitation, a second lot dropped down and breakfasted off grandfather's
beans. It was too late in the season then to plant more.
My mother had quite a flock of turkeys and a number of chickens. They
were almost dazed at the sight of so many perfectly good insects. They
tried to eat them all but had to give up the task. They ate enough,
however, to make themselves sick.
This time I believe the grasshoppers stayed several days. They seemed to
be hunting some good hard ground in which to lay their eggs. The
following spring the warm days brought out millions of little ones,
which a prairie fire later destroyed.
The corn crop having been eaten green and the wheat acreage being rather
small, left many people with nothing to live on during the winter. Many
moved away and many of those who could not get away had to be helped. It
was then that Dawson county people learned that they had good friends in
the neighboring states for they sent carloads of food and clothing to
their less fortunate neighbors.
A good many homesteaders were well-educated, refined people from
Pennsylvania, New York, and elsewhere. They were a very congenial
company and often had social times together. They were for the most part
young people, some with families of young children, others just married,
and some unmarried. I remember hearing my mother tell of a wedding that
she and father attended. The ceremony was performed at a private house
and then the whole company adjourned to a large hall where everybody who
wanted to, danced and the rest watched until the supper was served by
Mr. and Mrs. Johnson in their new hotel. The bride on this occasion was
Miss Addie Bradley and the groom was W. H. Lingle, at one time county
superintendent of public instruction.
For some time after the starting of the town of Plum Creek there was no
church edifice but there was a good sized schoolhouse, and here each
Sunday morning the people for miles around gathered. One Sunday the
Methodist preacher talked to all the people and the next week the
Presbyterian minister preached to the same congregation, until the
courthouse was built, and then the Presbyterians used the courtroom. I
have heard the members say that they received more real good from those
union services than they ever did when each denomination had a church of
its own. The Episcopalians in the community were the most enterprising
for they built the first church, a little brick building that seated one
hundred people. It was very plainly furnished, but it cost fifteen
hundred dollars, due to the fact that the brick was brought from Kearney
and freight rates were high. It stood on the site of the present modern
building and was built in 1874. My grandfather, an ardent Churchman,
often read the service when there was no rector in town.
Speaking of the courthouse reminds me that it was not always put to the
best use. I cannot remember when the following incident occurred, but I
do remember hearing it talked of. A man who lived on the south side of
the Platte river was accused of poisoning some flour that belonged to
another man. He was ordered arrested and two or three men, among them
Charles Mayes, the deputy sheriff, were sent after him. He resisted
arrest and using his gun, killed Mayes. He was finally taken and brought
to town and put into the county jail in the basement of the courthouse.
Mayes had been a very popular man and the feeling was very high against
his slayer, so high, indeed, that some time between night and morning
the man was taken from the jail, and the next morning his lifeless body
was found hanging at the back door of the courthouse.
One of the pleasures of the pioneer is hunting. In the early days there
was plenty of game in Dawson county, buffalo, elk, deer, antelope, jack
rabbits, and several game birds, such as plover, prairie hen, ducks,
geese, and cranes. By the time we arrived, however, the buffalo had been
driven so far away that they were seldom seen. There was plenty of
buffalo meat in the market, however, for hunters followed them and shot
them, mostly for their hides. The meat was very good, always tender and
of fine flavor. My father rushed into the house one day and called for
his revolver. A herd of buffalo was racing across the fields towards the
bluffs on the north. Father and some of the men with him, thought
possibly they might get near enough to shoot one. But although he rode
as fast as his pony could carry him, he could not get close enough and
the herd, once it reached the hills was safe. The poor beasts had been
chased for miles and were weary, but they did not give up. The cows
huddled the calves together and pushed them along and the bulls led the
way. Father learned afterward that his pony had been trained by the
Indians to hunt; and if he had given him the rein and allowed him to go
at it in his own way, he would have gone so close that father could have
shot one. But he did not know this until the buffalo were far away.
PIONEER JUSTICE
BY B. F. KRIER
In the early history of Lexington, Nebraska, as in all western states,
there was no crime committed more reprehensible than that of stealing a
horse. One might kill a man and it would be overlooked or excused, but
the offense of stealing a horse was a crime that nothing could atone for
but the "wiping out" of the thief. And generally when the horse thief
was caught the nearest tree or the upraised end of a wagon tongue was
immediately brought into use as a gallows upon which the criminal was
duly hanged without the formalities of courts or juries. It was amply
sufficient to know that the accused had stolen a horse, and it mattered
but little to whom the horse belonged or whether the owner was present
to take a hand in the execution. The culprit was dealt with in such
manner that he never stole another animal.
This sentiment prevailed among the first settlers of Dawson county, as
was shown in 1871, shortly after the organization of the county. Among
the officials of the county at that time was a justice of the peace, a
sturdy, honest man, who had been a resident of the county several years
before it was organized. One day in 1871 a half-breed Sioux came riding
from the east into Plum Creek (as Lexington was then called). The Indian
stopped in the town and secured a meal for himself and feed for his
horse.
While he was eating, two Pawnee warriors arrived at the station on a
freight train, from the east. They at once hunted up the sheriff, a
broad-shouldered Irishman named John Kehoe, and made complaint that the
half-breed Sioux had stolen a horse from one of them and had the animal
in his possession. Complaint was formally made and a warrant issued for
the half-breed's arrest upon the charge of horse-stealing, the warrant
being issued by the aforesaid justice of the peace.
The Sioux was at once taken in custody by the sheriff and brought before
the justice. One of the Pawnees swore the horse the half-breed rode when
he entered the town was his property, and the other Pawnee upon oath
declared he knew it was. The prisoner denied the statement made by the
Pawnees and vehemently declared the animal was his property; that he
came by it honestly, and that the Pawnee had no title whatever in the
horse.
There was no jury to hear and judge the evidence, and the justice was
compelled to decide the case. He had had some experience with redskins,
and entertained but small regard for any of them, but as the
preponderance of the evidence was against the Sioux, he decided the
latter was guilty, and after a short study of the matter sentenced the
culprit to be hanged.
There were no lawyers in Plum Creek at that time, a condition that has
not existed since, and each side did its own talking. The Sioux at once
filed a vigorous complaint against the sentence, but was ordered by the
court to keep still.
Realizing he had no chance, he became silent, but some of the citizens
who were present and listening to the trial, interposed objections to
the strenuous sentence, and informed the court that "as we are now
organized into a county and have to go by law, you can't sentence a man
to hang fer stealin' a hoss."
This staggered the justice somewhat and he again took the matter under
advisement, and shortly after made the following change in the sentence,
addressing the prisoner as follows "----, Dem laws don't let you get
hanged, vich iss not right. You iss one teef; dat iss a sure ting, and I
shust gif you fifteen minutes to git out of dis state of Newbrasky."
The Pawnee secured possession of the horse, but whether it belonged to
them or not is questionable, and hit the eastern trail for the "Pawnee
house," while the Sioux warrior hastily got himself together and made a
swift hike toward the setting sun and safety.
A GOOD INDIAN
BY MRS. CLIFFORD WHITTAKER
The late John H. MacColl came to Dawson county in 1869 to benefit his
health, but shortly after reaching here he had an attack of mountain
fever, that left his lower limbs paralyzed. The nearest medical aid he
could get was from the army surgeon at Fort McPherson, forty miles to
the west. He made a number of trips to attend Mr. MacColl, and finally
told him that he would never be any better. An old Indian medicine man
happened along about that time and he went to see Mr. MacColl. By
curious signs, gesticulations, and grunts, he made Mr. MacColl
understand that he could cure him and that he would be back the next day
at the rising of the sun. True to his word, he came, bringing with him
an interpreter who explained to Mr. MacColl that the medicine man could
cure him if he would submit to his treatment. Mr. MacColl was desperate
and willing to do almost anything, so he agreed. The patient was
stripped and laid flat on a plank. The medicine man then took a
saw-edged knife and made no less than a hundred tiny gashes all over his
patient's body. This done he produced a queer herb, and began chewing
it. Then he spit it in his hand, as needed, and rubbed it into each tiny
wound. That was all, and in three days Mr. MacColl could stand alone,
and in a week he could walk.
This incident was told to me in 1910 by the sister, Laura MacColl.
FROM MISSOURI TO DAWSON COUNTY IN 1872
BY A. J. PORTER
I left southwest Missouri late in October, 1872, accompanied by my
sister, and journeyed by team via Topeka, Kansas, to Nebraska. We spent
our first night in Nebraska at Fairbury, November 8, 1872. Trains on the
St. Joe and Grand Island railroad had just reached that point.
After visiting a few days with the Carney families near Fairmont we took
the train for Plum Creek (now Lexington) and reached Kearney at 10
o'clock P. M. All rooms being occupied we sat in the office of the hotel
till morning. None of the Union Pacific trains stopped at that place
except to take mail. At 10 o'clock that night we got a train to Plum
Creek, which place we reached at 12 o'clock. There being no hotel we
stayed in the depot until morning, when we found our brother living on a
homestead.
During our stay I filed on land six miles northeast of Plum Creek. The
next April I brought my family by wagon over the same route and reached
Dawson county a month after the noted Easter storm of 1873. At that time
we saw hundreds of hides of Texas cattle, that had perished in the
storm, hanging on fences surrounding the stockyards at Elm Creek.
We remained on our homestead until August, 1876, at which time we came
to Fillmore county and bought the southwest quarter of section eleven in
Madison township, which place we now own.
THE ERICKSON FAMILY
BY MRS. W. M. STEBBINS
Charles J. Erickson left Sweden in 1864 and for two years lived in New
York, Indiana, and Illinois. In 1866 he moved to Fort McPherson,
Nebraska. He worked around the Fort until 1871 when he took a homestead
nine miles east. The next year, he sent to Sweden for his family. They
arrived at McPherson station--now Maxwell--on September 1, 1872. Mr.
Erickson died in April, 1877. The family resided on the old homestead
until 1910, when they moved to Gothenburg, Nebraska. The sons, Frank and
John Erickson, who still reside in Nebraska, unite in the following
statement:
"Coming to this part of the state at so early a date we have been eye
witnesses to the development and transformation of the country from a
bleak, wild prairie covered with blue stem grasses, upon which fed
thousands of buffalo, deer, antelope, and elk. The Indians still
controlled the country and caused us to have many sleepless nights.
"In those early days we always took our guns with us when we went away
from home, or into the field to work. Several times we were forced to
seek shelter in the Fort, or in some home, saving our scalps from the
Indians by the fleetness of our ponies. But how changed now.
"One of our early recollections is the blackened posts and poles along
the old Oregon trail. As we gazed down the trail these looked like
sentinels guarding the way, but we soon learned they were the poles of
the first telegraph line built across Nebraska. It extended from
Nebraska City to Fort Laramie, Wyoming. When the Union Pacific railroad
was built through here--on the north side of the river--in 1866, the
telegraph line followed and the old line on the south side of the Platte
was abandoned. The old poles were of red cedar taken from the caÒons and
were all burned black by the prairie fires. They soon disappeared, being
used by the Indians and the emigrants for firewood. The old trail and
telegraph line crossed our farm and only a few years ago we dug out of
the ground one of the stubs of a cedar telegraph pole about two feet in
diameter and six feet long, and there are still more of these old stubs
in our fields.
"In the early seventies the most prominent ranches in this section were
Upper 96 and Lower 96. These ranches had first been the relay stations
of the old Wells Fargo Express Company. At each of these may be seen
well preserved cedar log buildings still in use built by this company
when they first established their express business across the plains in
the middle of the last century. On the advent of the Union Pacific, the
Wells Fargo Express Company abandoned these stations and they became the
property of the 96 Ranch. Although they have passed through the hands of
several different owners they have always retained their names of Upper
96 ranch and Lower 96 ranch.
"The caÒons leading into the hills from the south side of the river are
named from the early ranches along the valley near the mouths of the
caÒons; Conroy from Conroy's ranch, Jeffrie from Jeffrie's ranch, Gilman
from Gilman's ranch, and Hiles from Hiles' ranch. An exception to the
above is the Dan Smith caÒon which is named after Dan Smith in memory of
the tragedy with which his name is connected. Dan Smith and wife were
working at the Lower 96 ranch in 1871. Mrs. Smith wished to attend a
ball to be given by the officers at Fort McPherson and wanted her
husband to go with her, but he being of a jealous disposition refused to
go. She mounted her horse and started to go alone when he called to her
to come back and take his gun to protect herself from the Indians. She
turned around and started back toward him. He drew his gun and fired,
killing her instantly. She was buried at the Lower 96 ranch and until a
few years ago her grave was kept green. After shooting his wife, Dan
Smith mounted her horse and rode away into the hills to the south. The
soldiers at the Fort twenty-five miles away were notified and the next
day they came to hunt for the murderer. They surrounded him in a caÒon
in the hills and there shot him to death leaving his body a prey for
buzzards and wolves. The caÒon to this day is called Dan Smith CaÒon and
through it is the main road leading from Gothenburg to Farnam,
Nebraska."
THE BEGINNINGS OF FREMONT
BY SADIE IRENE MOORE
Fremont was named for John C. Fremont, who was a candidate against
Buchanan for president. The first stakes were set August 23, 1856, the
boundaries being finished three days later. "The first habitation of any
sort, was constructed of poles surrounded by prairie grass. It was built
and owned by E. H. Barnard and J. Koontz, in 1856, and stood upon the
site of the present Congregational church." In the autumn of 1856,
Robert Kittle built and owned the first house. A few weeks later his
house was occupied by Rev. Isaac E. Heaton, wife and two daughters, who
were the first family to keep house in Fremont. Alice Flor, born in the
fall of 1857, was the first child born in Fremont. She is now Mrs.
Gilkerson, of Wahoo. The first male child born in Fremont was Fred
Kittle. He was born in March, 1858, and died in 1890. On August 23,
1858, occurred the first marriage. The couple were Luther Wilson and
Eliza Turner. The first death was that of Seth P. Marvin, who was
accidentally drowned in April, 1857, while crossing the Elkhorn seven
miles northeast of Fremont. The Marvin home was a mile and a quarter
west of Fremont and this house was the rendezvous of the parties who
laid out Fremont. Mr. Marvin was one of the town company.
The first celebration of the Fourth of July was in 1857. Robert Kittle
sold the first goods. J. G. and Towner Smith conducted the first regular
store. In 1860, the first district school was opened with Miss McNeil
teacher. Then came Mary Heaton, now Mrs. Hawthorne. Mrs. Margaret
Turner, followed by James G. Smith, conducted the first hotel situated
where the First National bank now is. This was also the "stage house,"
and here all the traders stopped en route from Omaha to Denver. In the
evening the old hotel resounded with the music of violin and the sound
of merry dancing. Charles Smith conducted a drug store where Holloway
and Fowler now are. A telegraph line was established in 1860. The first
public school was held in a building owned by the Congregational
church at the corner of Eighth and D streets. Miss Sarah Pneuman, now
Mrs. Harrington, of Fremont, was the teacher. When court convened,
school adjourned, there being no courthouse. In three years the school
had grown from sixteen to one hundred pupils, with three teachers. The
first public schoolhouse was built at the corner of Fifth and D streets.
In 1866 the Union Pacific was built. The first bank was established in
1867. The _Tribune_, the first newspaper, was published July 24, 1868.
"The Central School" was built in 1869 and the teacher, in search of
truant boys, would ascend to the top, where with the aid of field glass,
she could see from the Platte to the Elkhorn. Today, can be seen on the
foundations of this old landmark, the marks of slate pencils, which were
sharpened by some of our middle aged business men of today.
[Illustration: MONUMENT AT FREMONT, NEBRASKA, MARKING THE OVERLAND
EMIGRANT TRAILS OR CALIFORNIA ROAD
Erected by Lewis-Clark Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution]
Mrs. Cynthia Hamilton, of Fremont, gives an interesting account of the
early days. In June, 1857, she, with her husband, Mr. West, their
daughter, Julia, Mrs. West's brother, the late Wilson Reynolds, and Mrs.
Reynolds, reached the few dwellings then comprising Fremont, after an
eighteen or nineteen days trip in moving wagons from Racine, Wisconsin.
They first stopped at the house of Robert Kittle, corner Military and
Broad streets. This house was made from trees grown on the bluffs
southwest of town, and had a red cedar shingle roof, the shingles shaved
from logs floated down the Platte. After two days, they all moved to a
log house in "Pierce's Grove." While living here, Mrs. Hamilton tells of
hearing a great commotion among the tinware and upon investigation,
found it was caused by a huge snake. In August of the same year they
moved to their homestead, northwest of town, on the Rawhide. It is now
known as the Rohr place. Here they remained two years. In winter the men
made trips to the river for wood, and the women must either accompany
them or remain at home, alone, far from another house. Thus, alone one
day, she saw a large band of Indians approaching. The chief, picking up
an axe from the wood pile, placed it under the window where she sat,
indicating that she must take care of it, else some one might steal it.
He then led his band northward. During all the residence on the
homestead the three members of the family suffered continually from
ague. In the fall of 1859, Mrs. West and her child returned to
Wisconsin, where they remained ten months. During her absence, Mr. West
became a trader with the Indians and once in Saunders county as he was
selling a quantity of meat on a temporary counter, the Indians became
rather unruly. His white companions fled, and Mr. West seizing a club,
went among the Indians, striking them right and left. For this, they
called him a brave and ever afterwards called him "Buck Skadaway,"
meaning curly hair. When Mrs. West returned from Wisconsin, she came
down the Mississippi and up the Missouri to Omaha, then a small town.
From there they drove to Fremont, with horse and buggy, via Florence.
Mr. West now bought a cottonwood house, battened up and down. It
consisted of two rooms, and stood on the site of the present residence
of Thad Quinn. Wilson Reynolds bought two lots on the south side of
Sixth street near the West home for twenty-five cents. Here he built a
house made partly of black walnut taken from the banks of the Platte. In
this house, was born our present postmaster, B. W. Reynolds. Mrs.
Hamilton relates that the Indians were frequent callers at her home, one
even teaching her to make "corn coffee," "by taking a whole ear of corn,
burning it black and then putting it in the coffee pot." Food consisted
of vegetables, which were grown on the prairie sod, prairie chickens,
small game, and corn bread. Butter was twenty-five cents a pound. Syrup
was made by boiling down watermelon. Boiled beans were mashed to a pulp
and used as butter. "Everything was high and when the money and supplies
which we bought were exhausted it was hard to get more." Screens were
unknown and the flies and mosquitoes were terrible. In the evenings
everyone would build a smudge so that they could sleep. Not a tree was
to be seen except those on the banks of the streams. Tall prairie grass
waved like the ocean and prairie fires were greatly feared. Everyone
began setting out trees at once.
"In those days Broad street was noted as a racing road for the Indians
and now it is a boulevard for automobiles," says Mrs. Hamilton. "Yes,"
she continued, "I well remember the Fourth of July celebration in 1857.
There were about one hundred people in attendance. Miss McNeil was my
little girl's first teacher and Dr. Rhustrat was our first physician."
In 1861, after a short illness, Mr. West died. He was buried beside his
infant daughter in the cemetery, which at that time stood near the
present brewery. The bodies were afterward removed to Barnard's
cemetery and later to Ridge. The following year, Mrs. West, with her
daughter, Julia, returned to her parents at Racine, Wisconsin, where she
remained for many years. In 1876, as the wife of William Hamilton she
returned and made her home on one of her farms near the stockyards.
Twenty-five years ago this place was sold for $100 per acre while the
old homestead northwest of town brought $25 per acre in 1875. After
selling the south farm she and Mr. Hamilton, who died a few years ago,
bought the present home on Broad street. Everyone should honor the early
settlers, who left their eastern homes, endured hardships and privations
that a beautiful land might be developed for posterity. They should be
pensioned as well as our soldiers. And we, of the younger generation,
should respect and reverence their memory.
A GRASSHOPPER STORY
BY MARGARET F. KELLY
I came to Fremont, Nebraska, in May, 1870, and settled on a farm on
Maple creek. In 1874 or 1875 we were visited by grasshoppers. I had
never formed an idea of anything so disastrous. When the "hoppers" were
flying the air was full of them. As one looked up, they seemed like a
severe snow storm. It must have been like one of the plagues of Egypt.
They were so bad one day that the passenger train on the Union Pacific
was stalled here. I went to see the train and the odor from the crushed
insects was nauseating. I think the train was kept here for three hours.
The engine was besmeared with them. It was a very wonderful sight. The
rails and ground were covered with the pests. They came into the houses
and one lady went into her parlor one day and found her lace curtains on
the floor, almost entirely eaten. Mrs. George Turner said that she came
home from town one day when the "hoppers" were flying and they were so
thick that the horses could not find the barn. Mrs. Turner's son had a
field of corn. W. R. Wilson offered him fifty dollars for it. When he
began to husk it, there was no corn there. A hired man of Mrs. Turner's
threw his vest on the ground. When he had finished his work and picked
up the vest it was completely riddled by the grasshoppers. I heard one
man say that he was out riding with his wife and they stopped by a field
of wheat where the "hoppers" were working and they could hear their
mandibles working on the wheat. When they flew it sounded like a train
of cars in motion. Horses would not face them unless compelled. One year
I had an eighty acre field of corn which was being cultivated. The men
came in and said the "hoppers" were taking the corn. They did not stay
long, but when they left no one would have known that there had ever
been any corn in that field. My brother from California came in 1876. On
the way to the farm a thunder storm came up and we stopped at a friend's
until it was over. My brother said, "I would not go through the
experience again for $10,000, and I would not lose the experience for
the same amount." The "hoppers" came before the storm and were thick on
the ground. It was a wonderful experience. In those days we cut our
small grain with "headers." The grain head was cut and fell into boxes
on wagons. After dinner one day, the men went out to find the
grasshoppers in full possession. A coat which had been left hanging was
completely destroyed. Gardens and field crops were their delight. They
would eat an onion entirely out of the hard outer skin. I had a thirty
acre field of oats which looked fine on Saturday. We could not harvest
it then and on Monday it looked like an inverted whisk broom. Some of
the "hoppers" were three inches long. The backs were between brown and
slate color and underneath was white. I think we received visits from
them for five years.
EARLY DAYS IN FREMONT
BY MRS. THERON NYE
From the year 1856 until the beginning of the civil war in 1861 the
early settlers of Nebraska experienced nearly all of the ills and
hardships incidental to a pioneer life. Fifty years have passed since
then and to one having lived through those trying days--or to a stranger
who merely listens to the almost incredulous tales of a past
generation--there arises a question as to why any sane person or persons
should desire to leave a land of comparative comfort and plenty for one
of deprivation and possible starvation.
The early settlers of Fremont were for the most part young people from
the eastern states, full of ambition and hope. There is in the youthful
heart a spirit of energy, of doing and daring in order to realize, if
possible, dreams of a perhaps glorious future in which may be won honor
and fame and wealth. Then again the forces of nature are never at rest
and man, being a part of the great whole, must inevitably keep in step
with the universal law. A few lines written for a paper several years
ago give the first impression of the landscape which greeted the eyes of
a stranger on entering the valley of the Elkhorn river in 1858, April
26:
"This is the picture as I see it plainly in retrospect--a country, and
it was all a country, with a smooth, level, gray surface which appeared
to go on toward the west forever and forever. On the north were the
bluffs of the Elkhorn river, but the great Elkhorn Valley was a part of
an unknown world. South of the little townsite of Fremont the Platte
river moved sluggishly along to meet and be swallowed up in the great
Missouri. Ten or twelve log cabins broke the monotony of the treeless
expanse that stretched far away, apparently to a leaden sky. My heart
sank within me as I thought but did not say, 'How can I ever live in a
place like this?'" And yet the writer of the above lines has lived in
Fremont for forty-seven years.
The histories of the world are chiefly men's histories. They are
stories of governments, of religions, of wars, and only in exceptional
instances has woman appeared to hold any important place in the affairs
of nations. From the earliest settlement of the colonies in the new
world until the present time, women have not only borne with bravery and
fortitude the greater trials of the pioneer life, but from their
peculiar organization and temperament suffered more from the small
annoyances than their stronger companions of the other sex. The
experiences of the home and family life of the early settlers of the
great West have never entered into the annals of history nor can a
truthful story be told without them, but thus far no doubt the apparent
neglect has been due to woman herself, who until quite recently has felt
that she was a small factor in the world's affairs.
In the beginning of the new life in Fremont women had their first
introduction to the log cabin which was to be their home for many years.
It was not as comfortable as it looks picturesque and romantic printed
on paper. It was a story and a half high, sixteen by twenty feet in
size. The logs were hewn on two sides, but the work performed by the
volunteer carpenters of that time was not altogether satisfactory,
consequently the logs did not fit closely but the open spaces between
were filled with a sort of mortar that had a faculty of gradually
dropping off as it dried, leaving the original holes and openings
through which the winter winds whistled and Nebraska breezes blew the
dirt.
The houses were made of cottonwood logs and finished with cottonwood
lumber. The shingles warped so the roof somewhat resembled a sieve. The
rain dripped through it in summer and snow sifted through it in winter.
The floors were made of wide rough boards, the planing and polishing
given by the broom, the old-fashioned mop, and the scrubbing brush. The
boards warped and shrunk so that the edges turned up, making wide cracks
in the floor through which many small articles dropped down into a large
hole in the ground miscalled a cellar. It was hardly possible to keep
from freezing in these houses in winter. Snow sifted through the roof,
covering beds and floors. The piercing winds blew through every crack
and crevice. Green cottonwood was the only fuel obtainable and that
would sizzle and fry in the stove while water froze standing under the
stove. This is no fairy tale.
The summers were not much more pleasant. It must be remembered that
there were no trees in Fremont, nothing that afforded the least
protection from the hot rays of a Nebraska sun. Mosquitoes and flies
were in abundance, and door screens were unknown at that time. The
cotton netting nailed over windows and hung over and around the beds was
a slight protection from the pests, although as the doors must
necessarily be opened more or less no remedy could be devised that would
make any perceptible improvement. To submit was the rule and the law in
those days, but many, many times it was done under protest.
The first floor was divided or partitioned off, by the use of quilts or
blankets, into a kitchen, bedroom, and pantry. The chamber, or what
might be called attic, was also partitioned in the same way, giving as
many rooms as it would hold beds. The main articles of food for the
first two years consisted of potatoes, corn meal, and bacon. The meal
was made from a variety of corn raised by the Indians and called Pawnee
corn. It was very soft, white, and palatable. Wheat flour was not very
plentiful the first year. Bacon was the only available meat.
Occasionally a piece of buffalo meat was obtained, but it being very
hard to masticate only served to make a slight change in the gravy,
which was otherwise made with lard and flour browned together in an iron
frying pan, adding boiling water until it was of the right consistency,
salt and pepper to suit the taste. This mixture was used for potatoes
and bread of all kinds. Lard was a necessity. Biscuits were made of
flour, using a little corn meal for shortening and saleratus for
raising. Much of the corn was ground in an ordinary coffee mill or in
some instances rubbed on a large grater or over a tin pan with a
perforated bottom, made so by driving nails through it. The nearest
flouring mill was at Fort Calhoun, over forty miles away, which was then
a three days' journey, taking more time than a trip to California at the
present day. Nothing, however, could be substituted for butter. The lack
of meat, sugar, eggs and fruit, tea and coffee, was borne patiently, but
wheat flour and corn meal bread with its everlasting lard gravy
accompaniment was more than human nature could bear, yet most of the
people waxed strong and flourished on bread and grease. Oh, where are
the students of scientific research and domestic economy? There were
possibly three or four cows in the settlement, and if there was ever an
aristocracy in Fremont, it was represented by the owners of said cows.
In 1858 a little sorghum was raised. "Hope springs eternal in the human
breast." Men, women, and children helped to prepare the stalks when at
the right stage for crushing, which was done with a very primitive
home-made machine. The juice obtained was boiled down to syrup, but
alas, the dreams of a surfeit of sweetness vanished into thin air, for
the result of all the toil and trouble expended was a production so
nauseous that it could not be used even for vinegar.
Wild plums and grapes grew in profusion on the banks of the rivers.
There was much more enjoyment in gathering the fruit than in eating or
cooking it. The plums were bitter and sour, the grapes were sour and
mostly seeds, and sugar was not plentiful.
The climate was the finest in the world for throat and lung troubles,
but on the breaking up of the soil malaria made its appearance and many
of the inhabitants suffered from ague and fever. Quinine was the only
remedy. There were neither physicians nor trained nurses here, but all
were neighbors and friends, always ready to help each other when the
occasion required.
In 1856, the year in which Fremont was born, the Pawnee Indians were
living four miles south across the Platte river on the bluffs in
Saunders county. They numbered about four thousand and were a constant
source of annoyance and fear. In winter they easily crossed the river on
the ice and in summer the water most of the time was so low they could
swim and wade over, consequently there were few days in the year that
they did not visit Fremont by the hundred. Weeks and months passed
before women and children became accustomed to them and they could never
feel quite sure that they were harmless. Stealing was their forte. Eyes
sharp and keen were ever on the alert when they were present, yet when
they left almost invariably some little article would be missed. They
owned buffalo robes and blankets for which the settlers exchanged
clothing which they did not need, jewelry, beads, and ornaments, with a
little silver coin intermixed. The blankets and robes were utilized for
bedding and many were the shivering forms they served to protect from
the icy cold of the Nebraska winters. In 1859 the government moved them
to another home on the Loup river and in 1876 they were removed to
Indian territory.
Snakes of many kinds abounded, but rattlesnakes were the most numerous.
They appeared to have a taste for domestic life, as many were found in
houses and cellars. A little four-year-old boy one sunny summer day ran
out of the house bare-footed, and stepping on the threshold outside the
door felt something soft and cold to his feet. An exclamation of
surprise caused a member of the household to hasten to the door just in
time to see a young rattlesnake gliding swiftly away. In several
instances they were found snugly ensconced under pillows, on lounges,
and very frequently were they found in cellars.
For more than two years there was no way of receiving or sending mail
only as one or another would make a trip to Omaha, which was usually
once a week. In 1859 a stage line was put on between Omaha and Fort
Kearny. No one can tell with what thankfulness and rejoicing each and
every improvement in the condition and surroundings was greeted by the
settlers. Dating from the discovery of gold in Colorado the pioneer was
no more an object of pity or sympathy. Those who had planted their
stakes and made their claims along the old military and California trail
were independent. Many of the emigrants became discouraged and turned
their faces homeward before getting a glimpse of the Rocky Mountains. On
their way home they sold loads of provisions for a song. The same fall
the fertile soil of the Platte Valley, after two years of cultivation,
responded to the demand of civilization. There was a market west for
every bushel of grain and every pound of vegetables grown. So at least
the patient and persevering ones received their reward.
The sources of amusement were few, and yet all enjoyed the strange new
life. A pleasant ride over the level prairie dotted with wild flowers,
in any sort of vehicle drawn by a pair of oxen, was as enjoyable to the
young people then as a drive over the country would now be in the finest
turnout that Fremont possesses. A dance in a room twelve by sixteen feet
in a log cabin, to the music of the Arkansas Traveler played on one
violin, was "just delightful." A trip to Omaha once or twice a year was
a rare event in the woman's life particularly. Three days were taken,
two to drive in and out, and one to do a little trading (not shopping)
and look around to view the sights. A span of horses, a lumber wagon
with a spring seat in front high up in the air, was the conveyance.
Women always wore sunbonnets on these occasions to keep their complexion
fair.
Several times in the earlier years the Mormons passed through here with
long trains of emigrants journeying to the promised land, and a sorry
lot they were, for the most of them were footsore and weary, as they all
walked. The train was made up of emigrant covered wagons drawn by oxen,
and hand carts drawn by cows, men and women, and dogs. It was a sight
never to be forgotten.
This is merely a short description of some of the trials and sufferings
endured by the majority of the early settlers of this state. Many of the
actors in the drama have passed away, a few only now remaining, and soon
the stories of their lives will be to the coming generation like
forgotten dreams.
PIONEER WOMEN OF OMAHA
BY MRS. CHARLES H. FISETTE
Very few of those now living in Omaha can have any realization of the
privations, not to say hardships, that were endured by the pioneer women
who came here at an early date. A few claim shanties were scattered at
distant intervals over this beautiful plateau, and were eagerly taken by
those who were fortunate enough to secure them. There was seldom more
than one room in them, so that no servants could be kept, even if there
were any to be had. Many an amusing scene could have been witnessed if
the friends who had been left behind could have peeped in at the door
and have seen the attempts made at cooking by those who never had cooked
before.
A description of one of the homes might be of interest. A friend of ours
owned a claim shanty that stood on the hill west of what is now
Saunders, or Twenty-fourth street, and he very kindly offered it to us,
saying he would have it plastered and fixed up. We, of course, accepted
it at once and as soon as possible it was made ready and we moved into
it late one evening, very happy to have a home. The house consisted of
upstairs, downstairs, and a cellar, the upstairs being just high enough
for one to stand erect in the center of the room, provided one was not
very tall. The stairs were nothing but a ladder, home-made at that, in
one corner of the room, held in place by a trunk. It was some time
before I succeeded in going up and down gracefully. I happened to be
upstairs when our first caller came and in my effort to get down quickly
caught my feet in one of the rungs of the ladder and landed on the
aforementioned trunk so suddenly that it brought everyone in the room to
their feet. It took away all the formality of an introduction.
Mr. and Mrs. Hanscom lived half a mile north of the cottage just
described, and had what seemed to others a house that was almost
palatial. It contained three rooms, besides a kitchen, and had many
comforts that few had in those days, including a cradle, which held a
rosy-cheeked, curly-headed baby girl, who has long since grown to
womanhood and had babies of her own. Another home, standing where
Creighton College now stands, was built by a nephew of the late Rev.
Reuben Gaylord, but was afterwards occupied by Mr. and Mrs. W. N. Byers,
who have for many years resided in Colorado. The Gaylords moved from
there to a new home at Eleventh and Jackson streets. Their family
consisted of three children: Mrs. S. C. Brewster, of Irvington, who is
still living at the age of 77 years; a son, Ralph Gaylord; and an
adopted daughter, Georgia, who has since died.
[Illustration: MRS. CHARLOTTE F. PALMER
First State Regent, Nebraska Society, Daughters of the American
Revolution. 1894-1895]
A one story house built just in the rear of Tootle and Mauls' store on
Farnam, between Thirteenth and Fourteenth streets, was kept as a
boarding house by Kentucky Wood and his wife. It was considered a
high-toned boarding house, although the partitions were made of
unbleached cloth and the floor of the dining room was covered with
sawdust. Judges Lockwood and Bradley, two of our territorial judges,
boarded there and a dinner was given in their honor by the landlord. The
invited guests included Governor and Mrs. Cuming, Colonel and Mrs. C. B.
Smith, and Dr. Geo. L. Miller. That was the first dinner party ever
given in Omaha. Governor and Mrs. Cuming then boarded at the Douglas
house, Thirteenth and Harney streets, and their rooms were often filled
with the elite of this young and growing city. Mrs. Cuming was very
popular in the little gatherings which were frequently held. She was the
leading light and was always ready and willing to assist in any good
work. Wherever there was sickness she was sure to be found. Mrs. Thomas
Davis was another who was always doing little acts of kindness. She was
the mother of the late Mrs. Herman Kountze, who, at that time, was the
only white little girl in Omaha. Still another who never turned anyone
away from her door who needed help was Mrs. E. Estabrook.
Mrs. A. D. Jones, our first postmaster's wife, lived at that time at
what was called Park Wild, in a one story log and frame house, which was
afterwards occupied by General G. M. Dodge, the distinguished soldier,
so well and widely known to the whole country as the chief engineer of
the Union Pacific railroad. Among others who were here were Mrs. Edwin
Patrick and Mrs. Allen Root, also Mrs. T. G. Goodwill, who lived in the
Kentucky Wood house that I have already mentioned. She afterwards built
the brick house that still stands near the northwest corner of
Davenport street, facing south. It is an old landmark near Fifteenth
street.
One of the most prominent women of that day was Mrs. John M. Thayer,
whose home at that time was said to have been the first civilized
appearing home. It was plastered, clapboarded, and shingled. The entire
community envied Mrs. Thayer her somewhat imposing residence. It was in
very strong contrast, however, with the beautiful brick house which
General Thayer afterwards built and occupied for several years, on the
northeast corner of Sixteenth and Davenport streets.
Mrs. Samuel Rogers, Mrs. William Snowden, Mrs. Thomas O'Conner, Mrs. O.
B. Selden, Mrs. Hadley Johnson, and Mrs. Harrison Johnson were among the
first women who lived in Omaha. Mrs. A. J. Poppleton may be classed
among the number, although at that time she was living in Council
Bluffs, then called Kanesville, where she was one of the leading young
ladies.
The first hotel in Omaha, a log house, eighteen by twenty feet, one
story high, was named the St. Nicholas. It was first occupied by the
family of Wm. P. Snowden, and stood on the corner of Twelfth and Jackson
streets in 1855. The Douglas house, a two story frame building, was
erected at the southwest corner of Thirteenth and Harney streets. The
rear part was made of cottonwood slabs, and in the winter time it was
said to have been very cold. It was the leading hotel and all the
high-toned people stopped there. The Tremont house, between Thirteenth
and Fourteenth streets, was built in 1856, and opened by Wm. F. Sweezy
and Aaron Root. Mr. Sweezy is still living in Omaha. The Farnham,
between Thirteenth and Fourteenth on Harney, was built in 1858. The
famous Herndon house was built in 1856 by Dr. Geo. L. Miller and Lyman
Richardson. The Hamilton, a brick building, was erected in 1856 by C. W.
Hamilton, C. B. Smith, and H. M. Judson. The proprietors bought their
furniture in St. Louis and brought it to Omaha by steamboat. The upper
part of the house was one large bedroom with beds ranged against the
walls. About once a week the furniture was all removed from this room
and it was temporarily converted into a ballroom.
A PIONEER FAMILY
BY EDITH ERMA PURVIANCE
Dr. Wm. Washington Wiley, with his wife, Gertrude Miranda Wiley, and
their children, came to Nebraska July 6, 1857, and lived at Saratoga
(now in Omaha) a year and a half. They came from Ohio in covered wagons,
driving their cows along. It took two months to make the trip.
They caught up with a company of Mormon emigrants when they reached Iowa
City, Iowa, three or four hundred of whom camped along about five miles
ahead of the Wiley family. They stopped at Florence a few weeks to buy
provisions and teams to carry them across the plains to Utah. These
Mormons had two-wheeled carts. These carts were provision carts drawn by
both men and women.
Mrs. Wiley was of Holland Dutch descent, and inherited the thrift and
capability of her ancestors. She deserved great credit for her quick
action in saving one victim from the Claim Club. This Claim Club was an
organization of prominent Omaha business men. John Kelly, a nephew of
Mrs. Wiley's sister, had a claim of one hundred sixty acres near Omaha.
There were four wagonloads of men out looking for him to compel him to
give them the papers showing his right to the land. The late Joseph
Redman, of Omaha, lived near Mrs. Wiley, and when he saw the men coming
for John Kelly he went to Mrs. Wiley and requested her to warn young
Kelly, as she could get past the men, but he could not. Mrs. Redman went
to Mrs. Wiley's house and took care of the three months' old baby and
five other children. John Kelly was working at the carpenter's trade in
Omaha, about three miles south of Mrs. Wiley's. All she had to ride was
a stallion, of which she was afraid, and which had never been ridden by
a woman. She rode slowly until out of sight of the wagonloads of men and
then hit the horse every other jump. She made him run all the way,
passing some Indians on the way, who looked at her wonderingly but did
not try to stop her. After going to several places she finally located
John Kelly. He wanted to go to the ferry, but her judgment was better
and she said they would look for him there the first thing, which they
did. She took him on behind her and rode to the home of Jane Beeson, his
aunt, who put him down cellar and then spread a piece of rag carpet over
the trap door. The Claim Club men were there several times that day to
look for him, but did not search the house. After dark he walked to
Bellevue, twelve miles, and the next morning crossed the Missouri river
on the ferry boat and went to Missouri. When his claim papers were
returned from Washington he returned and lived on his land without any
further trouble. He would have been badly beaten and probably killed had
it not been for Mrs. Wiley's nerve and decision in riding a fractious
horse to warn him of his danger.
While Dr. and Mrs. Wiley resided at Omaha the territorial law-makers
disagreed, part of them going to Florence to make laws and part of them
to Omaha, each party feeling it was the rightful law-making body of the
territory.
In December, 1859, the family crossed the Platte river on the ice and
located on a farm in Cass county, three miles west of the Missouri
river, about three miles southwest of the present town of Murray,
although the old town of Rock Bluffs was their nearest town at that
time. Dr. Wiley and the older children went on ahead with the household
goods and live stock. Mrs. Wiley, with the small children, rode in a
one-horse buggy. She did not know the way and there were no fences or
landmarks to guide her. She had the ague so badly she could hardly drive
the horse. A sack containing $1,800 in gold was tied around her waist.
This was all the money they had, and they intended to use it to build a
house and barn on their new farm. She objected to carrying so much
money, but Dr. Wiley said it was safer from robbers with her than with
him. In spite of her illness and the difficulty in traveling in an
unknown country a distance of thirty-five or forty miles, she reached
the new home safely. She took off the sack of gold, threw it in a
corner, and fell on the bed exhausted. They lived all winter in a log
house of two rooms. There was a floor and roof, but no ceiling, and the
snow drifted in on the beds. Most of the family were sick all winter.
The next summer they built a frame house, the first in that locality,
which caused the neighbors to call them "high toned." Mrs. Wiley bought
a parlor set of walnut furniture, upholstered in green.
General Worth, who had been a congressman, wrote to Washington, D. C.,
and got the commission, signed by Abraham Lincoln, appointing Dr. Wiley
postmaster, the name of the postoffice being Three Groves. They kept the
postoffice eleven years.
They kept the stage station five years. It was the main stop between St.
Joseph and Omaha before the railroad went through. They had from ten to
fifteen people to dinner one coach load. The stage coach was drawn by
four horses, and carried both mail and passengers. The horses were
changed for fresh ones at the Wiley farm. At first the meals were
twenty-five cents; the last two years, fifty cents. This was paid by the
passengers and not included in the stage fare.
Shortly after the discovery of Pike's Peak and gold in Colorado,
freighters, with big freight wagons of provisions drawn by six or eight
oxen, stopped there over night. There were usually twelve men, who slept
on the floor, paying eighteen dollars for supper, breakfast, and
lodging. Mr. McComas and Mr. Majors (father of Col. Thomas J. Majors)
each had freight wagons starting at Nebraska City and taking the
supplies to Denver and Pike's Peak via Fort Kearny, Nebraska. When the
Union Pacific railroad was completed in 1869 the freighters had to sell
their oxen and wagons, as they could not compete with the railroad in
hauling freight.
The Omaha, Pawnee, and Otoe Indians, when visiting other Indians, would
stop at Dr. Wiley's and ask for things to eat. Sometimes there would be
fifty of them. An old Indian would peer in. If the shade was pulled down
while he was looking in he would call the party vile names. If food was
given him a dozen more Indians would come and ask for something. If
chickens were not given them they helped themselves to all they found
straying around. It would make either tribe angry to ask if they were
going to visit any other tribe. The Pawnees would say, "Omaha no good";
the Omahas would say, "Pawnee no good."
Mrs. Wiley kept a copy of the _Omaha Republican_, published November 30,
1859. The paper is yellow with age, but well preserved, and a few years
ago she presented it to the State Historical Society. It is a four-page
paper, the second and third pages being nearly all advertisements. It
contains a letter written by Robert W. Furnas, ex-governor of Nebraska,
and a long article about the late J. Sterling Morton. This was about the
time Mr. Morton tried to claim the salt basin at Lincoln as a
preÎmption, and wanted to locate salt works there.
Mrs. Wiley always took a great interest in the development of the state;
she attended the State Fair almost every year, spending a great deal of
time looking over the new machinery.
Dr. Wiley died in 1887 and Mrs. Wiley in 1914. Mrs. Wiley lived to the
age of 87 years.
Little Erma Purviance, daughter of Dr. W. E. and Edith E. Purviance, of
Omaha, is a great-granddaughter of Mrs. Wiley, and also a namesake. May
she possess some of the virtue and intelligence of her ancestor.
NOTE: Mrs. Wiley's two daughters, Araminta and Hattie, were
students in the early years at Brownell Hall, then the only means
of obtaining an education, as there were very few public schools.
Some of the children and grandchildren still live on the lands
taken by Dr. and Mrs. Wiley, and have always been among the
well-to-do citizens of Cass county.
Mrs. Edith Erma Purviance, the writer of the foregoing article,
spent most of her girlhood with her grandmother, who sent her to
the State University, where she made good use of her advantages.
Other children of Mrs. Wiley were also university students or
identified with the various schools of the state. Mrs. A. Dove
Wiley Asche, youngest daughter of Mrs. Wiley, now occupies the old
home, out of which so recently went the brave pioneer who made it
of note among the early homes of the territory.--HARRIETT S.
MACMURPHY.
THE BADGER FAMILY
Lewis H. Badger drove with his parents, Henry L. and Mary A. Badger,
from their home in Livingston county, Illinois, to Fillmore county,
Nebraska. They had a covered emigrant wagon and a buggy tied behind.
Lewis was twelve years old October 5, 1868, the day they crossed the
Missouri river at Nebraska City, the nearest railroad station to their
future home. The family stayed with friends near Saltillo while H. L.
Badger came on with the horse and buggy and picked out his claim on the
north side of Fillmore county, it being the northwest quarter of section
2, township 8, range 3, west of the sixth principal meridian.
At that time the claims were taken near the river in order that water
might be obtained more easily, and also to be near the railroad which
had been surveyed and staked out in the southern edge of York county
near the West Blue river.
The Badger family came on to Lincoln, then a mere village, and stopped
there. They bought a log chain, and lumber for a door; the window frames
were hewed from logs. When they reached the claim they did not know
where to ford the river so they went on farther west to Whitaker's and
stayed all night. There they forded the river and came on to the claim
the next morning, October 20, 1868. There they camped while Mr. Badger
made a dugout in the banks of the West Blue river, where the family
lived for more than two years. The hollow in the ground made by this
dugout can still be seen.
In 1870 H. L. Badger kept the postoffice in the dugout. He received his
commission from Postmaster General Creswell. The postoffice was known as
West Blue. About the same time E. L. Martin was appointed postmaster at
Fillmore. Those were the first postoffices in Fillmore county. Before
that time the settlers got their mail at McFadden in York county. Mr.
Badger kept the postoffice for some time after moving into the log house
and after the establishment of the postoffice at Fairmont.
In 1867 the Indians were all on reservations but by permission of the
agents were allowed to go on hunting trips. If they made trouble for the
settlers they were taken back to the reservations. While the Badgers
were living in the dugout a party of about one thousand Omaha Indians
came up the river on a hunting trip. Some of their ponies got away and
ate some corn belonging to a man named Dean, who lived farther down the
river. The man loved trouble and decided to report them to the agent.
The Indians were afraid of being sent back to the reservation so the
chief, Prairie Chicken, his brother, Sammy White, and seventeen of the
other Indians came into the dugout and asked Mr. Badger to write a
letter to the agent for them stating their side of the case. This he did
and read it to Sammy White, the interpreter, who translated it for the
other eighteen. It proved satisfactory to both Indians and agent.
In August, 1869, while Mr. Badger was away helping a family named
Whitaker, who lived up the river, to do some breaking, the son, Lewis,
walked to where his father was at work, leaving Mrs. Badger at home
alone with her four-year-old daughter. About four o'clock it began to
rain very hard and continued all night. The river raised until the water
came within eighteen inches of the dugout door. The roof leaked so that
it was almost as wet inside as out. Mr. Badger and Lewis stayed at the
Whitaker dugout. They fixed the canvas that had been the cover of the
wagon over the bed to keep Grandmother Whitaker dry and the others sat
by the stove and tried to keep warm, but could not. The next morning the
men paddled down the rived to the Badger dugout in a wagon box. The
wagon box was a product of their own making and was all wood, so it
served the purpose of a boat.
It should be explained that the reason the roofs of the dugouts and log
houses leaked was because of the material used in their construction.
Shingles were out of the question to these settlers of small means
living one hundred miles from the railroad. There were plenty of trees
near the river, so the settlers hewed out logs for ridge poles, then
placed willow poles and brush across for a support. On top of that they
put dirt and sod. When it rained the water naturally soaked through. The
roof would leak for several days after a big rain.
The next dwelling place of the Badger family was a log house built on
the south half of the quarter section. For some time they lived in the
log house and kept their stock in the dugout stable on the river bank.
Thus they were living during the great April storm of 1873, which lasted
for three days. All of the draws and ravines, even the river, were
packed full of snow that was solid enough to hold a man up. There was
very little snow on the level, it all being in drifts in the low places.
The Badgers had a corn field between the log house and the river. While
the storm raged Lewis wrapped himself in a blanket, and by following the
rows of corn made his way to the dugout stable and fed the horses corn
once each day. It was impossible to give them water.
Henry L. Badger was commissioned by Governor Butler the first notary
public in Fillmore county. Later he was appointed by acting Governor
James, registrar of voters for the election to be held April 21, 1871,
to elect officers for the new county. At that election he was elected
both county clerk and county surveyor.
In the late sixties when the county was first settled the country
abounded in buffalo, deer, antelope, elk, prairie chickens, wild geese,
ducks, and turkeys. The muddy stream known as West Blue river was clear
and the fish found in it were not of the same variety as those caught
now. Wild plums grew in abundance along the river bank and were much
larger and of finer quality than the wild plums of today. In those days
glass jars for canning were not as plentiful as now, so they picked the
plums late in the fall, put them in a barrel and poured water over them
and kept them for winter use.
Lewis Badger tells of going on buffalo hunts with his father and seeing
herds of thousands of the big animals, and driving for ten hours through
the herd. He has now an old silver half dime that he found in an
abandoned stage station on the Oregon trail, when on a buffalo hunt.
In early days the settlers did lots of trapping. The Indians were
frequent visitors and one time an Indian went with Mr. Badger and his
son to look at their traps. In one trap they found a mink. Mr. Badger
remarked that they got a mink in that same trap the day before. The
Indian said, "Him lucky trap." The Indian would not steal but he wanted
the lucky trap, so the next day that trap was gone and another in its
place. The Indian seemed to get the best of the bargain for it is a fact
that they never caught a thing in the trap he left.
Sammy and Luke White, brothers of chief Prairie Chicken of the Omahas,
frequently visited the early settlers. Sammy could talk English and was
a good interpreter. He told of a big Indian battle in the western part
of the state wherein the Sioux and Cheyenne, and Omahas, Otoes, Poncas,
and Pawnees all took part and fought for two days and only killed two
Indians. His brother, Prairie Chicken, killed one of the Indians and
scalped him in the midst of the battle. For that act of bravery he was
made a chief. After telling the story of his brother, when asked about
himself, Sammy very modestly said, "Me 'fraid, me run."
On one of Mr. Badger's hunting trips he killed a deer. When it was
dressed Lewis was sent to the Whitaker dugout with a quarter of the
meat. An Indian, Pawnee Jack, happened to be there at the time and it
stormed so they had to keep him all night, much to their disgust.
Evidently he enjoyed their hospitality, especially the venison, for when
they started him on the next morning he inquired where the "papoose"
lived that brought the "buckskin," meaning the venison. They told him
and he made straight for the Badger dugout and the "buckskin." It
stormed so they were forced to keep him there two nights before sending
him on.
Although most painfully familiar to every early settler, no pioneer
story is complete without the grasshoppers. They came in herds and
droves and ate every green thing. For days great clouds of them passed
over. The next year they hatched out in great numbers and flew away
without hurting anything. Mr. Badger had a nice young orchard that he
had planted and tended. The grasshoppers ate the leaves off the trees
and as it was early in August they leaved out again and were frozen so
they died. Snakes feasted on the hoppers. Since seeing a garter snake at
that time just as full of grasshoppers as it could possibly be, Lewis
Badger has never killed a snake or permitted one to be killed on his
farm. He declared that anything that could make away with so many
grasshoppers should be allowed to live. Many people asked for and
received the so-called "aid for grasshopper sufferers." In this section
of the country it seemed absolutely unnecessary as there had been
harvested a good crop of wheat, previous to the coming of the hoppers.
In 1871 the railroad was built through the county. That season Lewis
Badger sold watermelons, that he had raised, to the construction gang at
work on the road. The town of Fairmont was started the same year. In
those days the settlers would walk to town. It was nothing unusual for
Mr. and Mrs. Badger and Lewis to walk to Fairmont, a distance of six
miles.
When the Badger family settled on their claim, they planted a row of
cottonwood trees around it. These trees have made a wonderful growth. In
1911 part of them were sawed into lumber. There are two especially large
cottonwood trees on the farm. One measures twenty-six feet in
circumference at the base and nineteen feet around five feet above the
ground and runs up forty feet before it begins to branch out. The other
is thirty-three feet around the base but branches into three trees four
feet above the ground.
Mrs. H. L. Badger was a witness of the first wedding in the county, that
of Wm. Whitaker and Sabra Brumsey, which took place June 28, 1871. The
ceremony was performed by the first county judge, Wm. H. Blaine, who
stayed all night at the Badger home and attended the wedding the next
day.
Mrs. H. L. Badger died January 11, 1894, and Mr. Badger July 21, 1905.
The son Lewis and family still own and farm the old homestead.
FIRST WHITE SETTLER IN FILLMORE COUNTY
The first settlement in Fillmore county, Nebraska, was made in 1866 by
Nimrod J. Dixon, a native of Pennsylvania. He was married to Lydia
Gilmore, who had previously filed on a homestead adjoining his. Mr. and
Mrs. Dixon continued to reside on their homestead until they moved to
Fairmont, Nebraska, where they are now living, having lived on the farm
forty years.
Mr. and Mrs. Dixon were married February 28, 1867, at the home of Mrs.
Dixon's father, Elias Gilmore, near Blue Vale. Mr. Dixon got the license
at Nebraska City. From that time until the summer of 1868 they were the
only settlers in the county and were seven or eight miles from the
nearest neighbor.
In relating her experiences Mrs. Dixon said: "I was afraid to stay
alone, so when Mr. Dixon had to go away I went with him or my sisters
stayed with me. At that time we had to go to Milford for flour and
twenty-five miles to get a plow-lay sharpened. At such times Mr. Dixon
would stay at my father's home near Blue Vale and help them two or three
days with their breaking, in return for which one of the boys would come
and help him.
"The Indians visited us frequently and I was afraid of them. One time a
number of them came and two entered the dugout and asked for flour. We
gave them as much as we could spare, but they could see the flour
sitting on a bench behind the door and wanted more. We refused, but they
became very insistent, so much so that Mr. Dixon grabbed a black-snake
whip that hung on the wall and started toward them. This show of
resistance was all that was necessary. It proved to the Indians that Mr.
Dixon was not afraid of them, so they gave him powder and shot to regain
his friendship.
"An Indian came in one day and gave me a lot of beads, then he wanted
flour, which we gave him. He took it and held it out to me, saying,
'Squaw cook it, squaw cook it!' This I refused to do, so he said, 'Give
me the beads, give me the beads.'
"My baby, Arthur, born January 9, 1869, was the first white child born
in Fillmore county. I recall one time that I was home alone with the
baby. An Indian came in and handed me a paper that said he had lost a
pony. I assured him that we had seen nothing of the pony. He saw a new
butcher knife that was lying on the table, picked it up, and finally
drew out his old knife and held it toward me, saying, 'Swap, swap!' I
said, 'Yes,' so he went away with my good knife.
"The worst fright I ever did have was not from Indians. My sister Minnie
was with me and we were out of salt. Mr. Dixon said he would go across
the river to Whitaker's and borrow some. We thought that he wouldn't be
gone long so we stayed at home. While he was away a cloud came up and it
began to rain. I never did see it rain harder. The river raised, and the
water in the ravine in front of the dugout came nearly to the door. The
roof leaked so we were nearly as wet indoors as we would have been out.
The rain began about four o'clock in the afternoon. It grew dark and Mr.
Dixon did not return. We thought that he would certainly be drowned in
trying to cross the river. While we were in this state of suspense, the
door burst open and a half-clad woman rushed in, saying, 'Don't let me
scare you to death.' I was never so frightened in my life, and it was
some time before I recognized her as my neighbor, Mrs. Fairbanks.
"Mr. and Mrs. Fairbanks had gone to Whitaker's, who were coopers, to get
some barrels fixed for sorghum, and left the children at home. When it
rained they thought they must try to cross the river and get to their
children. Mr. Dixon came with them. At first they tried to ride horses
across, but the one Mrs. Fairbanks was riding refused to swim and threw
her into the water, so she had to swim back. They were all excellent
swimmers, so they started again in a wagon box which those on land tried
to guide by means of a line. With the aid of the wagon box and by
swimming they succeeded in getting across. That was in the fall of 1869.
"The only time I ever saw a buffalo skinned was when a big herd stayed a
week or more on the south side of the river. Kate Bussard and I stood on
the top of the dugout and watched the chase, and after they killed one
we went nearer and watched them skin it."
Mr. Dixon took his claim without seeing it. In October, 1866, he went
to the land office and learned that he could then take a homestead of
one hundred and sixty acres but the new law would soon go into effect
providing that settlers could only homestead eighty acres. Mr. Dixon was
afraid that he could not go and see the claim and get back to Nebraska
City and file on it in time to get one hundred and sixty acres. In
telling about it Mr. Dixon says, "I thought it would, indeed, be a poor
quarter section that would not have eighty acres of farm land, so I took
my chances.
"In the year 1868, the first year that we had any crops planted, it
almost forgot to rain at all. The barley was so short that it fell
through the cradle. There were no bridges so we had to ford the river.
It was hard to haul much of a load across because the wagon would cut
into the mud on the two banks while the sandy river bottom would stand a
pretty good load. That difficulty I overcame by making bundles or
sheaves of willow poles and placing them at the two banks and covering
them with sand. Later the settlers made a bridge across the river near
the homestead of H. L. Badger. This has ever since been known as the
'Badger Bridge.' The first bridge was made of logs which we procured
along the river.
"I was making a hayrack of willow poles at the time of the total eclipse
of the sun. It began to grow dark, the chickens went to roost, and it
seemed that night was coming on.
"The year 1869 was rainy and we raised good crops an
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