The following is a clipping handed to us this week by Mrs. W. J. Freeman. It was taken from the old Daily News of Medford, but the author's name is not given. It is so well written and so beautifully expresses the feelings of so many people toward the town of Central Point and its pioneer history that we are more than glad to reprint it.
    The clipping follows:
    The casual passerby may, in ignorance, dismiss Central Point from his attention with the fleeting thought that here is a nice, quiet little town where people are lucky to have a gorgeous view in whichever direction they may choose to look, but to those who are privileged to become intimate with the place and its environments comes the awareness that there is an ancient authority emanating from the town, which is situated in the heart of one of the most important communities in the state of Oregon.
    One learns to enter the neighborhood with a thrill of expectation that something new and delightful will unfold itself, some project in which the partaker is excelling (for people here have the faculty of accomplishing things with thoroughness to the point of excellence) or it may be some unforgettable personality is encountered, or an ancient tale of times gone by is brought to light with a relic gently handled to point the story.
    One of the characteristics of that part of the valley taking in Medford, Jacksonville and Central Point is that one can enter the grounds of almost any home and be introduced to one or more of the scenic wonders, such as Table Rock or one of the peaks from the owner's particular point of vantage, each view taking on a different aspect to the sight one has seen before.
    Two ladies, sisters, who are held in veneration in Central Point and who lived there as children long before any town existed, are Mrs. Julia A. Owen and Mrs. Margaret Magruder. The grounds of their homes adjoin one another in the east of the town and are located on a part of the original donation claims taken up by their parents, Mr. and Mrs. Isaac Constant, in the early '50s.
    It was in the year 1850 that Isaac Constant, being told by his doctor that he must seek another climate for his health, left his home in Elkhart, Illinois, and accompanied by a friend, set out on horseback for Oregon where he had been told people were finding it a good place to settle. They journeyed in safety as far as the Willamette Valley unmolested by Indians, and blazing a trail with axes en route, so that they could retrace their steps. Conditions looked promising to the young men, and they returned home to pack up their belongings. The trip each way took six months, and it took them another six months to prepare a suitable outfit for the momentous undertaking. The young people belonged to a family of substantial landowners, and much thought was expended on practical appurtenances to convey to the new home.
    Finally all was ready and the party, which consisted of two wagon trains, set out, Mr. Constant joining his train to that of another emigrating family.
    All went well for some time, but when approaching the country bordering Utah a band of marauding Indians stampeded the trains, carrying off two white mules, of which Mr. Constant possessed a team of six fine matched creatures. The men of the party pursued the miscreants, and came upon their camping place only to find that they had fled in alarm, leaving juicy portions of fat mule roasting over the fires, while the other mule was dressed and hanging up in a tree in readiness for future consumption. Indian baskets full of ripe berries were left behind in the flight, among other camp articles, and the enraged white men gathered them all together and with the meat fed them to the flames to teach the Indians not to molest other folks' property.
    The travelers replaced the mules in the team with two cows, after this being more on their guard, and pretty soon they came to a place where two routes were available. The shorter way wound along under some overhanging cliffs for some distance, while the other road was more circuitous but presented no possibilities of ambush. Mr. Constant, who possessed very sound judgment, thought it would be wise not to take any chance on the shortcut, but his companion was equally determined that there was no risk involved. The result was that the trains parted company here. Mr. Constant piloted his train along on the roundabout route while the other man took his following to meet a dreadful fate, every one of them being massacred by the Indians who were waiting, just as had been suspected.
    When the place now known as Central Point was reached, Mr. Constant found a man who had a right and log cabin on the banks of Bear Creek, and wanted to leave because he was afraid of the Indians. Mr. Constant bought his right and proved upon it, and he and his wife each filed on a claim in their own right, as they were allowed to do in those days. This gave them a substantial landholding, and they enjoyed a very prosperous living in the style of the times. The young wife and mother of the family found it hard at first to live in this out-of-the-way place, and every day the children would see her wiping away tears, and she would say, "Your father had to go somewhere for his health, but he needn't have come out here to the ends of the earth." Then, being a good pioneer mother, she proceeded to make the best of things. With soap and candles to make meat to cure and butter to churn, besides the thousand household and garden tasks, there was not much leisure for repining.
    There the grass was so rich and tall that it grew up to the animals' heads, and the fine cows of the Longhorn Durham breed, which had been brought out with the herd of hogs, grew fat, and considerable money was made from the butter and other farm projects.
    It was no uncommon thing for Mr. Constant to slaughter 35 to 40 hogs on his place, and when the meat was cured to invite his less fortunate neighbors to go into the smokehouse and help themselves. They used to avail themselves of the offer so freely that Mrs. Constant had to protest and tell her husband that she didn't mind his letting people have all the meat they wanted, but she simply wouldn't stand for the hams being carried off.
    Mr. Constant gave freely to all, even to the point of self-denial, and perhaps that is why during the period of the Indian unrest in the valley they were unmolested. They were told that the Indians looked upon them as their "tillicums" (cousins). This was because Mr. Constant had fed the Indians when they were starving, and they need have no fear, whatever happened.
    Time went on, and the children grew up and married. The eldest sister, who is now 96 years old, is enjoying splendid health and keen faculties at Vacaville, Calif. One of the daughters, Julia A. Constant, married William Addison Owen, a prominent young man of the time who came to California in '49 and was attracted to Jacksonville by the gold rush in '52. Being a college man, he was looked up to in civic affairs and had an active part in the town management. He was sheriff for two terms, and revenue collector, and served as major in the Indian wars. Like his father-in-law he was a kindly, generous man, who could always be depended on to help in time of need. He built one of the three first houses in Central Point, and was mourned by all at the conclusion of a useful life.
    Mrs. Owen now lives with her son-in-law and daughter, Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Freeman, of the Freeman Implement Company, and at 87 is active and sprightly in mind and body. She still possesses a complete suite of bedroom furniture which came 'round the coast from San Francisco to Crescent City. She is looking forward to a visit with her daughter at their cabin on Union Creek, having a keen appreciation of nature's delights in the solitary places.
    She has the satisfaction of seeing her children to the fourth generation happily settled around in the valley filling honored positions and carrying out the tradition of their forefathers. W. J. Freeman has lived in Central Point and carried on a substantial business for the past 36 years. He holds the confidence of his customers, who may be found all the way to Crescent City, and has been identified with the progress of the town since its infancy.
    Mrs. Owen lived for part of her life in Jacksonville, and during the smallpox scare moved to Sams Valley. With the exception of three years spent in the Willamette Valley, she has been living in Jackson County since she crossed the plains at the age of ten.
    Her sister, Mrs. Margery Magruder, who is 81 years old [born in 1845], enjoys the distinction of having lived within a radius of four miles for the past 77 years, coming to Central Point as a four-year-old tot and never leaving it except for an occasional visit. She married in the town, and her husband had a store there in the '70s. While rheumatic infirmities keep her very much confined to her home, she is a great reader and her hands are always finding occupation making rag rugs and performing light tasks. She knows all the lights and shadows on her beloved hills and has rich memories of bygone days, when one of her pleasures was to climb Table Rock and look down on the valley below. Like most of the oldtimers who are really authorities on the subject, she deprecates the inaccuracy of many of the stories of early times. Her memory travels back to the time when she was a small child and the snow was four feet deep on the level. It quickly melted and caused the floods which took the lives of several people, including a whole family of children who were at home on an island in the river. She remembers in the second year of their coming that her father rebelled at the local high prices, when salt was a dollar a pound and other commodities equally dear. He took a pack train and went up the Willamette Valley, returning with stores of provisions at a more reasonable rate and a little coop containing two chickens and a rooster, the foundation of poultry in Central Point. Mrs. Magruder remembers her father's struggles to start a family orchard. The first attempt failed through an invasion of grasshoppers, the next planting fell prey to an army of caterpillars, commonly called army worms, hairy black creatures which moved along in millions, turning aside for nothing and crossing housetops and streams with equal facility. The third lot of trees were demolished by another grasshopper visit, but the unconquerable spirit of the pioneer enabled him to try yet again and he succeeded in establishing a fine orchard.
    One leaves the presence of our beloved pioneer with the feeling that glimpses have been obtained of a vision of the immortal spirit the reflection of which prompted the words "The wilderness and the solitary places shall be glad thereof, and the desert shall rejoice and blossom as the rose."
    (Editor's note: Mrs. Magruder died at her home in Central Point about two years ago.)
Central Point American, May 24, 1934, page 1   Judging by the reported ages of Mrs. Owen and Magruder, the Daily News article reprinted by the American was written sometime between 1926 and 1928.