GOLD HILL, Or., Oct. 8.--(Special.)--The removal of J. L. Hammersly to Portland creates a vacancy in the Gold Hill post office, and there are said to be a flock of candidates for the position. The most prominent contenders for the privilege of defacing Uncle Sam's stamps are E. B. Hammond and J. B. Hammersley, the latter being a brother of the late postmaster. Mr. Hammond has sent a petition to Representative Hawley bearing the names of nearly all the business men in town. Mr. Hammersley is relying on a campaign promise made to him by the congressman.
Morning Oregonian, Portland, October 9, 1911, page 9


    Starting from Gold Hill Monday, accompanied by Frank Avery, whose mission it was to obtain signatures for a rural free delivery mail route. After crossing the beautiful Rogue we are traversing through a district locally known as "Garden Row," where such prominent heads of families are located as J. E. Davidson, Haight, McClellan, Ritter, Crawford, Cook, etc. After interviewing the above residents, we find E. Savage busily engaged cultivating the blossoming orchard which so many people are minutely observing daily with the remark, "How beautiful." We are now headed for Galls Creek where upon approaching the mouth of that stream we find O. E. Blackington, Robt. Cook, Jas. Burns and W. H. Edmonds loading timber for the construction of the footbridge across Rogue River on C Street. Their signatures were readily given for better mail service.
    Upon approaching the fertile valley of Galls Creek, we find the residents busily engaged with their daily labors, which are very diversified indeed, as mining, both placer and quartz, has been continuously carried on since the early settlement of the country, as well as farming, stock raising, etc. We then retraced our steps to the place of beginning and, after a brief repast, wended our way to the Foots Creek district, where we found the newly settled district of Riverside as busy as bees, and most favorablY observed by the passerby, as those people are to be commended for their neatness, from the construction of a dwelling to the planting of trees, shrubbery and plants. We have now reached Foots Creek store, where we find Mr. Elliott, the merchant, and assistants in pleasant moods and by observations doing a thriving business. We are now on the famous Foots Creek, not made so by the name, but by the many resources for which it is noted. We reach the home of the Champlins, where we find Charles, the superintendent, assisted in the culinary department by our former townsman, Ad Graham. After extending the hand of good fellowship I was invited to the cellar, where Ad had a nice pitcher of buttermilk of which the writer partook of in no small quantity. It was then the kennels were visited, much to my gratification, where a pair of purebred Russian wolf hounds were found and, to say the least, are sure beauties.
    Our next halt was made near the Carter and Howard mine, where we met the former and wife, also Mr. Howard, who were out for a little constitutional on the mountainside after a day's work spent in the tunnel, where they report that a quartz vein exists of no small dimensions and richness. From there we go to Chamberlain Carr's, thence to Johnny Donegan's, when the shadow of night was approaching and, after the usual salutation, asked to be fed and lodged for the night. After a few excuses as to being a bachelor and having no spare beds in which to lodge "especially" town folks, it looked for a few minutes to Frank and I that a night's drive or camp fire would be our lot, so I informed Johnny that I was an ex-bear hunter, not high-toned, and could eat and sleep as such any old place. So we were made welcome and spent a most comfortable and pleasant night.
    After visiting many residents along the proposed route, of which space will not permit me to enumerate, we reach Draper post office, where we are royally entertained by Mr. McReynolds and family.
    We now start across the dividing range to the right-hand fork of Foots Creek and to the Lance placer mine where Messrs. Cook, Bottoms & Co., the lessees, were engaged in making their spring cleanup and, judging by the three or four gold nuggets we saw, two of which were as heavy as a $20 piece, the boys will be well recompensed for their labors. Here we retrace to the Mattis lane and visit the residents settled along the creek until we are again at the junction of the two roads of which I have just written.
Gold Hill News, May 4, 1912, page 5


    Riley Hammersley and wife were the guests of Mr. and Mrs. John Hammersley the latter part of last week. Mr. Hammersley is a deputy game warden stationed, in the Trail Creek district.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, July 13, 1912, page 3


    Luther A. Hammersly, founder and publisher of the Rogue River Argus, has disposed of his interests in that publication to Roy M. Avery, who will conduct the destinies of the Argus henceforth. Mr. Hammersly gave to the people of Rogue River, nee Woodville, a country publication second to none, and while it is to be regretted that he has abandoned the field he so ably occupied, the News feels certain that editor Avery is thoroughly capable of maintaining the present high standard of the paper, and urges the citizens of Rogue River to extend a support commensurate with the value of the service they are receiving.
Gold Hill News, August 17, 1912, page 2


    Mrs. Luther A. Hammersly, of Rogue River, departed on Monday evening for Seattle, where she will remain for some time as the guest of her mother.
    Master Dale Hammersley, accompanied by his father, Postmaster John Hammersley, spent Monday in Rogue River at the grandparental home of Mr. and Mrs. George R. Hammersly.
    Luther A. Hammersly, ex-editor of the Rogue River Argus, has received an appointment as water warden and is now employed at the Ament dam in the repairing and enlarging of the fishway at that point. Following the completion of this work it is planned to make extensive alterations and improvements in the facilities for fish travel at the Raygold dam above this city.
    The Wego picture show, according to manager John Hammersley, will remain closed until September 1st, at which time it will be reopened. That the tri-weekly entertainments at the Wego, which have become equally welcome to young and old, are not to be permanently discontinued is good news, indeed, and the public should see to it that the Wego receives the support its excellent little entertainments warrant.
    John Hammersley and son, Dale, went to Rogue River yesterday, where they were joined by George Hammersly, sr., and August Fowler, the party trekking into the Evans Creek district to spend a week in hunting and prospecting. Mr. Fowler, who has but recently returned from a visit to his boyhood home in Scotland, will be remembered by old timers as having been employed years ago in the Hammersly mine on Jumpoff Joe Creek.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, August 17, 1912, page 3

    GOLD HILL, Or., Jan. 8.--(Special.)--The woes of other postmasters since the establishment of the parcel post are lost upon Postmaster Hammersley, of this city, who declines to admit that even a dozen scrambled eggs in a mail sack can compete for official discomfort with three quarts of very "gooey" varnish mixed thoroughly throughout a sack of second-class mail.
    The sack in question arrived from the south yesterday, and the first dip into its recesses brought forth a sticky fistful of a certain famous brand of floor varnish. Three one-quart cans, unboxed, had lost their lids in transit and mixed freely with the contents of the sack, in direct defiance of the regulations. Patrons of the office received their mail an hour later than usual, and with a fine shellac finish.
Morning Oregonian, Portland, January 9, 1913, page 12


    Contrary to the current rumor Luther A. Hammersly, who was reported to have enlisted in his country's service at San Francisco, did not again enter the army but is now engaged as motorman upon the electric system of the city of Portland. Letters to his friends and relatives announce that he is very well satisfied with his present position, and has no intention of again becoming mere "food for powder." "Fritz," as he is best known to his many friends hereabout, saw three years service in our island possessions.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, April 5, 1913, page 3


    JOHN BARTHOLOMEW HAMMERSLEY, whose likeness appears above, and who is the subject of this sketch, was born in Baker City, Oregon, in 1864. He has been a resident of Gold Hill during the past twenty-three years, and is widely famed for his pertinacity on the trail, and his ability to outwit the crafty cougar, and to battle Bruin of the Deep Woods--frequently bringing home the pelts of both to his tepee.
    It has been said of John that, given a flintlock and a horn of powder, he could take to his native hills and bring in more frolicsome fauna in the way of venison, cats, cougar, and others of our wild cousins than an automobile load of Medford sports turned loose in the national park with all restrictions removed. It has even been claimed by the enthusiastic that in two years time so congenially occupied he would revert to type--although this contention in generally considered to be carrying admiration to an extreme.
    Mr. Hammersley has passed four years in his country's service; two years being spent as commissary sergeant of the 35th U.S. Volunteers, stationed in the [Philippine] Islands; and two years in the ranks of federal office holders under the late administration, as purveyor of postage at Gold Hill.
    The above photograph, the only one available, purports to be a likeness of Mr. Hammersley upon his discharge from the service in 1901. At that time he set aside a promising military career for the editorial desk of the Gold Hill News, which paper he managed in an able manner for three years,
    In March of the present year Postmaster Hammersley forwarded his resignation to the department--to take effect following the civil service examination to be held at Medford to determine his successor. He has not definitely announced his future plans, but it is understood that he will devote the next few years to testing out some plausible prospecting theories, while renewing his acquaintance with the woods and waters of the western coast.
    The retirement of Postmaster Hammersley will be accompanied by the sincere regret of every patron of the Gold Hill office, where his uniform courtesy and attention to detail constitute as nearly an ideal tenure of the office as is possible. Among other good works while in the local office, Postmaster Hammersley is primarily responsible for the rural free delivery service to Foots Creek.
    Possessing an enviable record with the department, with his townspeople, and with his companions of the trail and campfire, the retiring postmaster may well be wished,
    "Good luck and good hunting!"
Gold Hill News, April 19, 1913, page 1


    J. L. Hammersly arrived on Saturday from Portland, and is spending the present week visiting his parents, Mr. and Mrs. George R. Hammersly, and renewing his acquaintance with all. Mr. Hammersley, who was formerly associated with the Gold Hill Bank, and a prominent member of the Jackson County bar, is now deputy district attorney of Multnomah County. His brother, Tom Hammersley, who also spent several days in the city, and who is a detective sergeant of Portland, returned to that city on Tuesday evening.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, July 19, 1913, page 3


    Letters to friends in this city from former postmaster John Hammersley announce that he has returned to civilization after a two-months' trek through the mountains on a big game hunt, and is now at Grangerville, Idaho. Mr. Hammersley stated that he would soon leave for Clearwater, an Idaho mining camp of considerable repute, where he expected to prospect for some time.
Gold Hill News, August 30, 1913, page 1


The Gold Hill News,
    Gold Hill, Ore.
Dear Friends:--
    Have intended to write you ere this, but traveling through mountainous districts where established post offices are few and far between has prevented me from writing many, who no doubt think me untruthful.
    However, since reaching this state I have confined my travels to mining sections and have endeavored to do as much prospecting and traverse as much of the country during the summer as I could. I have visited famous placer camps, made so by their richness, such as Florence, said to have been one of the richest in the world during the years of '60 and '61; also Buffalo Hump, a mountain of quartz, discovered in 1893, where a 10-foot hole sold for $700,000 cash. But,
"listen"; not one of those famous properties is in operation today, and I have found dozens of other camps likewise; in fact, from what I have seen, there is less activity and development than our old state of Oregon has ever experienced since Jackson, Sardine, Kanes, and numerous creeks were first muddied from their sluices and quartz mills. Understand, my intentions are not to knock, but to simply represent as condition exist. The people of Oregon are surrounded with opportunities and luxuries that this or no other state can supply, and they do not realize it. Did I ever tell you that I was an Oregonian by birth? Well, I am, and am proud of it.
    As I came down the Selway fork of the Clearwater River last week, after seeing no one but a few lonely bachelors for thirty days, I looked down the road and there saw a beautiful young lady approaching, riding what seemed a very spirited bay horse. Not having lost all my desires to gaze upon the beautiful things of this earth, I dismounted, got my pack animals and dogs clear of the public highway, and removed my old slouch hat, standing as a gallant soldier, at full "attention," until the lady passed by. I noticed that she looked frightened, but thought it was on account of her home becoming alarmed at the outfit; but no, after passing me by she looked across her shoulder in fond salutation, put her heels to horse-ribs, and away she went; reporting at the first house that a crazy man was going down the road bareheaded. So it don't always pay to be too polite.
    I am prospecting a cinnabar dike in the Bitterroot Mountains, where I am now packing supplies for the winter. Think of it; 100 miles to pack; 40 miles to the nearest post office, and to reach it after December requires 5 days to make the trip on snowshoes, as you are compelled to cross a high mountain range. A company engaged in the raising of horses and cattle are located near my domicile, also three or four trappers from the Montana side; which includes the entire settlement within 40 miles.
    It's the winter quarters for big game. Bear, elk, sheep, cougar, deer, and on occasion moose. Game wardens are not required, and unknown, but one having ever visited the district; and if reports are true never returned. So Sam Sandry and Riley Hammersley would not last fifteen minutes in that country. All cabins are without padlocks and a more generous people could not be found, but they warn you to beware of interfering with their affairs and all will be well. They are the pathfinders and builders up to date.
    Now, I am in hopes that the good citizens of Gold Hill are supporting the News as it justly deserves, for to appreciate it means to be where you cannot get it only at intervals, as I am; then you read all patents, ads, etc., and greatly enjoy having one man print what it would take a hundred friends to write.
    Send me the News to this address until December 1st, Kooskia, Idaho; then to Red River, Hot Springs, Idaho, until further orders. When I see you I will give you a dollar and a half, and the gladdest hand you ever shook.
Gold Hill News, October 11, 1913, page 1


    At the special school election called on Friday afternoon of last week Ben H. Lampman was unanimously elected to fill the unexpired directorship of John B. Hammersley, which term expires June, 1915. The loss of Mr. Hammersley to the councils of the board is a regrettable one, but his decision to remain in the Idaho wilds, prospecting and getting back to nature, through the coming winter at least, led to his resignation as a director. A tax levy of 12 mills was voted for the expenses of the forthcoming year, a notable reduction of the 20-mill tax hitherto in force.
    Knox Hammersly, late of Klamath Falls, was in this city Tuesday as the guest of his mother, Mrs. D. C. Cameron. Knox, or "Slim" as he is now known to his associates and fellow buckaroos of the Sims and Chandler Wild West Show, which exhibited at Medford this week, appeared on his native streets in the full regalia of a plains rider, and made a picturesque figure for the admiration of the gaping small boy. The show is a new one, recently organized at Klamath Falls, where Mr. Hammersly joined. In the general try-out Monday, to determine which riders should remain permanently with the show, the Gold Hill boy established a record by riding Grizzly Murphy, the Medford outlaw horse which held the unique record of never having been ridden before that time. In commenting upon the performance the Medford Sun says: "Hammersly made the best ride ever witnessed in this section. At no time was he in danger, but on the other hand he rather enjoyed the sport, looking back at the crowd and fanning his horse every jump." Knox will go south with the show to play California points during the winter, and expects to close the season exhibiting for moving picture scenarios. When the Wego opens up, at a not distant date, Gold Hill friends will scan the films for "Slim" in new roles as a histrionic hero.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, November 22, 1913, page 3


    Deputy game warden Riley Hammersley was the guest of Dr. Chisholm and family on Thanksgiving Day. Warden Hammersley is now outfitting for the winter season at his Willow Flat headquarters, on upper Evans Creek, where he will operate a trap line for the state game commission. All pelts secured will be shipped to a taxidermist, for mounting, and will later add to a state collection of Oregon wildlife.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, November 29, 1913, page 3


    One month and a half in transit from the Idaho woods, where ex-postmaster John B. Hammersley pitched his hunting and trapping camp in an elysium of fur and game, a letter wandered to the mails and thence to his parents in this city. Believing that it will be appreciated by his friends here and throughout the county, many of whom have known him in camp and on the hunt, the News begged the privilege for publication of this hunter's missive from the cabin in the Idaho wilderness. Here it goes, characteristically:
Dear Folks at Home:
    As I will have an opportunity to send this to an office in a few days, I will write a few lines. Am very comfortably housed in a small log cabin, good fireplace, plenty of wood awaiting the ax, and a spring of water nearby; also supplies and tobacco to last until springtime. I never felt better in my life.
    My cinnabar lode has about "petered out," so I have quit it and gone to hunting for a livelihood. Have thus far killed four bear and three cougar; a bounty of $25 on the latter--so I can see my expense account for the winter much reduced should I not meet with further success.
    Deer and elk are very plentiful here. The Selway fork of the Clearwater is also noted for its trout fishing during the summer. I have not had a coat on this winter, just a heavy woolen shirt, and I have not felt cold or had one. While the thermometer registers much lower than in the Rogue River Valley, you do not feel the cold half as much.
    The horses are on the hills eating bunchgrass and, with the exception of one of Young's, which slid over a bluff and is in bad shape, having smashed part of one side in and no doubt will die, are fat. The mountains are high, steep and rough, and covered with grass, and it seems those horses of mine try to climb to the very top and most dangerous places.
    I may not have animals enough to carry luggage out of here next spring; still so far they have got along nicely. Three rolled with packs during my last trip with supplies down into a canyon two or three hundred feet, and while the contents were a wreck, the horses escaped with only a few scratches.
    I have not had a letter or paper since I was at Kooskia in November, so am not posted as to what has occurred since; hope at least all have kept in good health. I will get mail when the party returns which mails this.
    Hoping the new year will be kind to us all, I remain as ever,
Gold Hill News, March 7, 1914, page 1


    Riley Hammersley, of Willow Springs wardenship, trekked downward with the ponies to this city Tuesday for the monthly provisioning. In the clear cold waters of the left fork of Evans Creek, Warden Hammersley declares the trout are languishing for the spring fisherman and his assortment of enticing flies. Just before departing he took twenty in a half hour's angling, and the aroma of mountain trout browned in cornmeal raised a hungered wail from the cougar for two sections around. Picking his teeth with a pine sliver, the warden whistled in the dogs, threw the harness on his ponies, and jounced down the trail to gloat over the lesser advantages of the lowland.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, May 2, 1914, page 3


    Warden Hammersley returned to his station at Willow Flat Tuesday morning, to wash dishes and generally prepare for the visit of Wm. L. Finley, ex-state warden and present head of the biological department. Mr. Finley was to arrive the latter part of this week, escorted by district warden Sam L. Sandry. He brings with him a motion picture camera, and expects to make films of deer and other fauna of the upper Evans Creek wilds, remaining for the week.
    While operating a hoist at the Braden mine on Saturday last, George Hammersly sustained an accident to his right hand by catching it between the drum and the cable. Only a quick wrench freed him from serious injury. As it was, the drum claimed the end of one digit and badly mutilated the remaining three. George will enjoy a fortnight's vacation.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, May 23, 1914, page 3


    Self-exiled to the deepest wilds of the Idaho woods more than a year ago, the infrequent communications of ex-postmaster John Hammersley to friends in this vicinity have been of interest to all. Each letter has related a new epic of the woodsman's life, which Hammersley much prefers to store clothes and a federal job. At Red River Hot Springs, Idaho, in which vicinity he hunted and prospected for the past twelve months, many pelts of cougar, bear, and smaller varmints rewarded him for the disappointments of what was intended as a prospecting venture. Last month he was joined by Mrs. Hammersley and Master Gail Hammersley, and the letter received by the News relates their further wanderings and adventures by the trail:
Gold Hill News,
    Gold Hill, Oregon.
Dear Friends:
    Self, wife and boy are now camped on Montana soil after a journey via the Lochsa Fork of Clearwater and Blodgett Pass, one of the many trails leading to the Montana side.
    After leaving Kooskia, Idaho, with four pack animals, four dogs, provisions and equipage, etc., to last 30 days, we are at last nearing our destination. We will leave today for the mineral districts of the Bitterroot Mountains. So far have done but little prospecting--but we fish and follow my famous (?) bear dogs. Through the various deep canyons they make the tall trees tremble while tonguing in pursuit of Mr. Bruin, whose tracks across the trail have given them a clue to his whereabouts. This invariably leads to his having to seek safety among the branches of the forest. Fourth of July the dogs treed four bear. On the 5th we caught 87 trout in two
hours. That's going some, isn't it?
    From here we go to Darby, Montana, which is 18 miles south of Hamilton. Thence across Nez Perce Pass to the east fork of Clearwater River, Idaho. Expect to make Darby my headquarters during the remainder of this season and, perhaps, year.
    Have not received a News since date of March 14th, and have not felt very kindly toward you, if you are responsible for the non-arrival of the same. Bundle up all extra copies and fire them until further advised to Darby, Montana.
    Kind regards and best wishes to all friends.
Gold Hill News, July 18, 1914, page 1


    Miss Dora Clarke, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. J. W. Clarke, of this city, was quietly wedded to George Hammersly at Jacksonville Tuesday forenoon. The following day the young couple left for Weed, near which place George has leased a ranching property. The News joins with their many friends in wishing them much happiness.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, October 31, 1914, page 5


    L. A. ("Fritz") Hammersly, former editor and founder of the Rogue River Argus, and for some years past a resident of Portland, has returned to the copy desk and case. An issue of his new venture, the Sherwood Leader, has been received by this office. The Leader is well edited and favored by a patronage that should warrant success. Mr. Hammersly's friends in Gold Hill, and they comprise a practical census of the city, will bespeak prosperity for the Leader and its capable editor.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, February 13, 1915, page 3


    J. L. Hammersly, deputy district attorney of Multnomah County, and T. E. Hammersley, detective sergeant of the Portland force, returned to that city Sunday after spending several days in this city.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, March 20, 1915, page 3


    Deputy game warden Riley Hammersley was quietly married to Oral Opal Orth at the Presbyterian parsonage in Grants Pass on Tuesday forenoon. Both bride and groom are of Gold Hill, whereas elsewhere they possess many friends to wish them great happiness. They will make their home in this city, with intermittent vacations at Willow Flat--the cabin residence of the warden when on duty along upper Evans Creek. The News desires to join in the chorus of congratulation.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, June 5, 1915, page 3


    When John B. Hammersley takes his pen in hand to indite a letter he frequently contributes a magazine article. To a recent letter from our ex-postmaster the News is indebted for the following interesting article. Mr. Hammersley expects to arrive in Gold Hill, traveling overland, about July 1st. His letter was dated at Grangeville, Idaho. During the last year and a half he has prospected, trapped and hunted through the Idaho wilds.
    The weary traveler, in crossing the high chain of mountains between Darby and Wisdom, Montana, is suddenly confronted with a large sign board inscribed, "Continental Divide." The traveler, also, little realizes while he halts to read the sign, that he or she, as the case may be, is now where the waters flow east to the Atlantic, and west to the Pacific oceans, but, strange as it may appear, such is the case.
    Neither does the traveler stop to think that but a few years ago, in 1877, Chief Joseph with his band of about 400 warriors passed this same spot, followed by General Gibbons and 191 soldiers.
    From the general's report of the battle, dated September 2nd, at Fort Shaw, Montana, I copy some of the details as best suit the limited time and space in which this article is to be written. He says: "The Nez Perces, with a large herd of horses, succeeded in avoiding Captain Rawn's little command by marching around it, and turned up the valley of the Bitterroot; halting a day or two at a time to trade off to the inhabitants their stolen stock and plunder for fresh horses, food and supplies of all kinds, including ammunition."
    Of the battle proper the general says, in part: "As day began to break on August 28th, and enabled me to make out the ground beneath us, I found that the tepees were in the form of an open V, with the apex toward us, extending along a large creek (headwaters of the Missouri River), some two or three hundred yards from us. The intervening space between the camp and the foot of the slope upon which we stood was almost entirely covered with a dense growth of willow brush, in the grassy spaces of which herds of ponies were grazing. A deep slough, with water in places waist deep, wound through this bottom and had to be crossed before the stream itself could be reached.
    "Suddenly a single shot rang out on the extreme left, on the clear morning air, followed quickly by several others, and the whole line pushed rapidly forward through the brush. A heavy fire was at once opened along the whole line of tepees; pandemonium reigned, the startled Indians rushing from them in every direction. Many of the Indians fled for the brush and, sheltering themselves behind the creek bank, opened fire on the troops as they came into the open.
    "As Logan and the right of the line swept forward our men hurled themselves at the backs of these Indians, and here the greatest slaughter took place. But the Indians by no means had given up the fight, and while a portion of the command was engaged in setting fire to the tepees rifle shots came upon us from every direction--the brush, the creek bank, the open prairie, and the distant hills. At almost every crack of a rifle some member of the command was sure to fall.''
    The fight lasted all day and night, and General Gibbons' report of the casualities shows the loss to be 29 killed and 40 wounded.
    Where this battle took place thirty-eight years ago stands a grove of lodgepole trees averaging about 8 or 10 inches in diameter and perhaps fifty feet in length, where the soldiers, 191 in number, so heroically made their final stand, surrounded by what were supposed to be 400 armed Indians. Today among that grove of trees hundreds of bullet holes are to be seen at various heights ranging from two to ten feet; some no doubt blotted out the lives of those whose names appear upon the granite monument, five by six feet square, and 8 ft. high, erected by a grateful nation to its brave defenders who fell there 38 years ago.
    Where this battle was fought, forest ranger Keas, wife and child dwell in peace. He takes pride in showing the many visitors the bullet-scarred trees, which the Forest Service hold sacred, his time being occupied in making the place attractive, and he extends the glad hand of fellowship to all visitors who through curiosity or otherwise seek this memorable spot.
Gold Hill News, June 12, 1915, page 2


    T. E. Hammersley arrived Thursday for a brief visit with local relatives. The big fellow walked with a pronounced limp, which he was forced to explain at every meeting with his many friends. From Portland to Albany he made the trip on a motorcycle. Near the latter city he was forced by a stubborn son of the soil, perched on a load of hay, to turn entirely out of the road. In the spill which ensued he was badly bruised. The motorcycle remained at Albany.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, June 12, 1915, page 3


    By two years of wandering in the Idaho woods, John B. Hammersley claims to have substantiated his pet theory that any man can have the sort of healthful fun he wants, and earn a livelihood thereby. Mr. Hammersley arrived in Gold Hill Wednesday, accompanied by his pack train of six animals. With him were the indispensable dogs--five of them--all veterans of bear and cougar fray. During his absence the ex-postmaster of Gold Hill gathered in sixteen cougar and fifteen bear, with small game past all mention. At no time was he a dweller in the communities, but spent each part of every season on the trail and in the deep woods. "It was sure a splendid vacation," said Mr. Hammersley, "and a profitable one as well. I call Gold Hill my home, and I am back to stay for awhile." The News will publish an abbreviated journal of his wanderings in another issue.
Gold Hill News, July 17, 1915, page 1


    Mrs. John B. Hammersley and son, Master Dale, arrived from Grants Pass the first of the week and joined Mr. Hammersley in this city. The family are now guests of Dr. and Mrs. W. P. Chisholm, and will soon leave for a short camping trip on the Applegate.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, July 17, 1915, page 3


    Mr. and Mrs. John B. Hammersley and son Dale and Chas. Young left Medford Wednesday afternoon for a fortnight's hunting and prospecting trip into the Applegate headwaters country. The forepart of the week Mr. Hammersley spent as the guest of his brother Riley, the game warden of Willow Flat. The Applegate expedition will be made partly via Charley's auto, and the rough and ready remainder with the aid of John's train of pack horses.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, July 24, 1915, page 3


    I have been asked by a number of sportsmen and residents to give my opinion, based upon actual experience and observation of years spent in the large game districts of Oregon, Idaho, Montana and California. Man, with the assistance of predatory animals, if allowed to gratify his greed for gain, will destroy one of the greatest assets which our forests contain, viz, as a food supply and revenue derived from tourists.
    The state of Oregon contains hundreds of thousands of acres of waste lands that can never be utilized for settlement, hence an ideal refuge for the propagation of game, if proper methods are followed in their protection. In my opinion the state of Oregon needs more game wardens to patrol the mountainous districts, where the majority of game breeds and exists and where also numerous hunters annually slaughter indiscriminately. The length and limit of the open season, restrictions as to amount, license, provisions, and similar enforcements materially affect the rate of game increase and if not properly enforced at once will in the near future be useless, as is the case of the now extinct districts, where but a few years ago large herds of elk, deer, goats and sheep were numerous. Take game protection out of politics, deputize efficient men who are familiar with the game which they seek to protect and who also are willing to spend their time in the mountains instead of in the valleys and towns and note the result. Compel each deputy game warden to deliver to the state game warden each year at least four predatory animal hides, which would be the means of keeping the wardens where they would do the most good and also protect much game. Bounties should be arranged uniformly in each adjoining state and increased as the occasion demands instead of repealing the law, as heretofore, through the change of administration, thereby allowing such animals to soon become as plentiful as ever and also the taxpayers' money to be cast where no possible results are obtainable.
    There is then needed cooperation by all citizens of the several states in which our wildlife exists, and the federal authorities as well as state must use every available means to secure best results in the protection of our game which if allowed to be consumed by man and beast at the present rate must soon be as the buffalo, only found on preserves or in private parks.
Gold Hill News, August 7, 1915, page 1


    Ex-postmaster John B. Hammersley and son, Master Dale, renowned cougar hunters and trout trailers, returned from Grants Pass Thursday afternoon. They will pass a fortnight somewhere in the upper Evans Creek district, hunting deer and bear.
    Mrs. Clarisia J. Williams, aged 76 years, 7 months and 14 days, passed away at her home in Grants Pass on Saturday, August 14th, after a long illness. Death was directly due to paralysis. Mrs. Williams was known and respected by many Gold Hill people, as she was frequently the guest of her daughter, Mrs. John B. Hammersley, in this city. Funeral services were held on Monday at the Hall chapel, and the interment was made at Granite Hill cemetery.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, August 21, 1915, page 3


    Ex-game warden Riley Hammersley, the deposed dictator of the Willow Flat wilds, arrived in Gold Hill from the timber Wednesday afternoon. He will make several trips to and from camp, bringing in equipment and state property, traps, etc. Mr. Hammersley is blithely resigned to his release from the service--and declares that he will take advantage of his freedom on a long-planned trip to Alaska. His dismissal from the service is held by friends to have been made without cause, as he bore consistently out his reputation for fearless efficiency in the discharge of duty, and has a long list of arrests and convictions to his credit.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, August 28, 1915, page 3


    George Hammersley, during the past year a rusticant rancher in the vicinity of Weed, is paying a visit to his parents-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. J. W. Clarke. He will remain for a month or more.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, September 4, 1915, page 3


    Detective Thomas Hammersley, brother of Mr. W. P. Chisholm of Gold Hill, and a former resident of this city, is in temporary retirement from the Portland plain clothes force by injuries received Sunday evening at Linnton, a Portland suburb, in a sanguinary melee between rioting Austrians and a police squad. Various members of the little band of policemen who sought to subdue the foreigners are seriously injured, while Joe Rotose, a young Austrian, lies dead from a pistol wound.
    Enraged with drink and the current dispute between the American government and their homeland, a score of Austrians, employees of the Clark & Wilson Lumber Company, began a hostile anti-American demonstration Sunday evening. From their gathering place on a vacant lot they shouted vile insults at American women on a nearby residence. Summons was sent to Patrolman Long, of the Linnton beat.
    Long, with a citizen companion, approached the Austrians, who promptly attacked. The foreigners knocked down and brutally beat and kicked the patrolman's ally before the officer forced his way to their victim, striking with clubbed gun. Long succeeded in arresting three rioters, placed the injured man in safety and phoned for reinforcements.
    Six plain clothes men, of the detective squad, Hammersley among them, hurried to the battleground, where the drunken Austrians were shouting defiance. The crazed rioters, owing to the citizen dress of the new arrivals, did not consider them to be policemen, and swarmed to the new attack.
    Detective Hammersley was knocked to his knees by a blow from a club. He lurched to his feet and swung at his assailant, striking the bludgeon with his fist and snapping the bones of his right wrist. Patrolman Long sprang to the detective's aid. The Austrian, Joe Rotose, came at him with raised club. In peril of his life Long fired the single shot of the affray. Rotose ran forty yards and fell, with a bullet in his abdomen.
    Reinforcements of the regular police arrived in time to save the situation and back up the retreating detectives. Seventeen of the Austrian rioters were rounded up and jailed on a rioting charge. These weakened at the sight of uniformed men, and were dragged from various hiding places.
    Every man of the original attacking party of detectives was severely beaten. Rotose, the wounded Austrian, died at the Good Samaritan Hospital the following morning.
Gold Hill News, September 18, 1915, page 1


    Fritz Hammersly, founder of the Rogue River Argus, and for the past year editor of the Sherwood Journal, has located in [Deadwood], South Dakota, according to advices received by his sister, Mrs. W. P. Chisholm, of this city.
    Mr. and Mrs. Riley Hammersley departed Saturday for Portland, where they will visit for a few days before leaving for Cook's Inlet, Alaska, where Riley will seek service in the government employ. Their many well-wishers in Southern Oregon speed after them the sincere hope that Alaska will so bountifully endow them that their return to God's country may not be long delayed.
    Wo, woe and whoa! to the cougar which crosses the trail of that intrepid sport, John B. Hammersley, when the ex-postmaster of Gold Hill "sics" on his dilapidated but dauntless kiyoodles and follows with his unerring rifle. John is spending the season at Willow Flat. Recently word came to him that cougar sign had been observed near the old salt works--where all Southern Oregon turned for its soup seasoning forty years ago. The old scout picked up a single-shot .25-caliber rifle, invited his wife to "come along!" and whistled to his dogs. Within a few hours' time they treed and killed two cougar, and brought a third one to bay. John waded into the melee of scrapping dogs and cat and finished this one at close range. The largest was an adult female, who had long since accounted for a range herd of deer; the second was a yearling; and the third--the leanest, sorriest specimen that ever fell to be scalped--was a mangy kitten that had lost its spots but a few months ago. Two trappers, Brown and Cunningham, killed many cougar in the same district last winter, and the theory is advanced that the poor condition of the third cougar was due to the loss of its maternal parent during the winter. Sunday noon Mr. Hammersley brought his trophies into Gold Hill, where cougars, captor and canines were made much of and duly photographed. As a side issue to his mountain outing the cougar episode will bring Mr. Hammersley $75 in bounty.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, September 18, 1915, page 3


    An 8½-pound prize package arrived at Grandpap Clarke's home Monday forenoon when a son was born to Mr. and Mrs. George Hammersly. Mrs. Hammersly is the youngest daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Clarke.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, October 2, 1915, page 3


    "Dad" Clarke and George Hammersly motored to Delaney, California, last Sunday, where they have leased a ranch. The property is situated sixteen miles from Weed, on the branch road to Klamath Falls. Mrs. Clarke and daughter, Mrs. Hammersly, remained in Gold Hill till Thursday, when they also left for Delaney. During the past two years the Clarkes have managed the Cottage Hotel in this city. They were admirable as mine host and hostess, and highly esteemed as neighbors. The News wishes them much success.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, October 16, 1915, page 5


    Mrs. J. B. Hammersley, of Grants Pass, and Mrs. Lansing, of Washington, visited with Mrs. W. P. Chisholm last Friday. Mrs. Lansing was formerly Mrs. Fritz Hammersly.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, November 6, 1915, page 3


    John Hammersley, the mysterious mountaineer, blew in from a protracted bear hunt somewhere, and took train for Grants Pass to spend Thanksgiving with his family.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, November 27, 1915, page 3


    John Hammersley, local Daniel Boone, has embarked upon a new enterprise. Hereafter Mr. Hammersley wil be accompanied by a moving picture camera. Mr. Hammersley and a Mr. McTimmins, "the camera man," left Grants Pass Wednesday morning for haunts of the bobcat, intent upon a series of realistic animal pictures. We predict that Mr. Hammersley will produce the goods.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, February 19, 1916, page 3


    Mr. and Mrs. John Hammersley spent Tuesday in Gold Hill. They were guests of Dr. Chisholm and family. John has just returned from his foray into the wilds in quest of game to be photographed for the movies. The search was highly successful, as they secured a menagerie of raccoon, wildcat, cougar and other game.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, March 4, 1916, page 3


    John Hammersley was in this city last Wednesday. He has been in the Cow Creek country with L. C. Applegate. John expects to be able to stage a film south of Gold Hill soon.
"Local News Notes," Gold Hill News, March 18, 1916, page 3


    Jos. Hammersley and Mr. and Mrs. Tom Hammersley arrived Wednesday from Portland. They made the trip in their car, leaving Portland at 11 a.m. Tuesday and arriving here at 10 a.m. Wednesday.
Gold Hill News, July 15, 1916, page 1


    Mrs. John Hammersley came down from Willow Flats Sunday, the first trip in two months. John is a government hunter and has nine cougars to his credit since July 1st, of which his wife brought five in with her, returning Monday to the jungles where they expect to remain until October.
    George Hammersly and family have returned to Gold Hill community and are occupying the Eber Davis house east of town.
"General City News for Busy People," Gold Hill News, September 2, 1916, page 1


    H. H. Leonard, Geo. Hammersly and Tony Ross Monday leased the Davis brothers' mine known as the Bowden mine, three miles from Gold Hill on the road to Medford. The rock assays good, and development work is being pushed by the new holders of the mine as rapidly as the material can be obtained and the ore uncovered. We have been howling progress so long and have been working on Mr. Leonard to exercise his ability that there was danger of overdoing it, and we are very well pleased with the step he has taken and with the results, as it verifies our big talk.
"Two Are Hurt on Blackwell," Gold Hill News, September 2, 1916, page 1


    Mrs. John Hammersley and son Dale, who have been spending the summer at Willow Flat, came down Saturday, staying over Sunday with Dr. Chisholm's folks, returning to Grants Pass where Dale will attend school.
"Hughes Alliance to Be Organized," Gold Hill News, September 30, 1916, page 1


    Jno. Hammersley, collector for the U.S. Biological Department, visited in Gold Hill Thursday and reported that he has this season sent eleven cougar pelts and a family of fox to the department. He has been asked by the government to look over the Umpqua country for timber wolves, and he will leave for those parts shortly after election.
Gold Hill News, October 21, 1916, page 1


    John Hammersley and wife spent Friday of last week here packing some of their goods preparatory to renting their home for the winter.
"E. C. Richards Is Coming," Gold Hill News, October 28, 1916, page 1

    Fears that John Hammersley, of Grants Pass, missing government hunter, had been killed by wolves in Jackson County were set at rest yesterday when he reached Wimer, Jackson County, after having been for days away from his cabin on Willow Flat, near the Green Mountains, and after having covered miles of territory in pursuit of predatory animals.
    It was reported here at a late hour last night that the Gold Hill victim of wolves was John Dorando, a prospector.
    News that Mr. Hammersley was safe was telephoned to his brother, T. E. Hammersley, Portland detective, from Gold Hill yesterday afternoon.
    The belief that Hammersley had been killed by wolves resulted from the discovery of human bones on Evans Creek near the missing hunter's cabin by two timbermen last Friday. Nearby were the bodies of three wolves which apparently had been shot by the man in the death struggle.
    John Hammersley, for whom searching parties had been hunting several days, reached Wimer yesterday, and it was not until then that he discovered the anxiety that his long absence had caused. When he learned of the report that he had been killed by wolves he immediately telephoned to his brother-in-law, Dr. W. P. Chisholm, of Gold Hill, announcing his safety. He told his brother-in-law that he would reach Grants Pass, where his wife is, sometime last night.
Morning Oregonian, Portland, January 31, 1917, page 8

    Fulfilling his prediction that John Hammersley, government hunter reported killed by wolves in Jackson County, was not dead but would show up today to send his monthly report to Pendleton, E. F. Averill, district inspector of predatory animals, yesterday afternoon received a telegram declaring that there was no truth in the published story of Hammersley's death.
    Hammersley showed up yesterday at Wimer to learn that he was supposed to have been eaten by wolves. He stated that he had been absent from his cabin on Willow Flats for four or five days on a cougar hunt. He at once telephoned the news of his safety to Gold Hill.
    Reports reaching Portland state that the bones found have been identified as those of John Duranda, a prospector of Grants Pass. He probably perished in the mountains and was afterwards discovered by wolves.
East Oregonian, Pendleton, January 31, 1917, page 1


Inspired by the disappearance of John Hammersley:
    One winter day in the wooded wilds of the Umpqua Mountains in Southern Oregon, John Burch, a government hunter, was plodding his weary way over a new fall of snow, on a tour of inspection over his district. His legs were encased in waterproof leggins, laced above the knees, and shoes of the timbermen type; about his gaunt frame hung a short leather jacket lined with felt. Plainly, he had paid but little attention to his attire, except for comfort. He carried a late-modeled Winchester rifle strapped over his shoulder; his field glasses hung in a leather case by his side.
    Chained to the hunter's waist was Bruce, an old hound that had been his boon companion for five years. The dog was sired by a bloodhound, imported by his master from old Kentucky. His dam was a black and tan hound, who had lost her life in a battle with the crafty panther in these very mountains. All during his career old Bruce had led a charmed life. His puppyhood comrades had all fallen on the trail, the victim of their foe. The old hero had survived them all. He was of a lank frame, sense wonderfully developed, of great strength and endurance. He knew but one master; his comrades feared and respected his superior authority. Keen on the trail, swift on foot, and valorous, the old fighter had never met defeat; every child was his friend and playmate.
    Chained to the old hound were four young dogs of the same breed. The hunter called them his "pups." Since waddling puppies the youngsters had been under the artful tutorship of old Bruce. They had ofttimes been on the trail and in the din of battle, being well versed in the art of the old master. The hounds were all uneasy, clamoring for the fray. The hunter and his faithful dogs had been very successful in ridding the range of the presence of their foe. It had been a fortnight since the pack had had the sport of chasing the panther to his lair.
    It was some task for the hunter to keep pace as his feet followed the chained animals as they forged ahead in the unbroken path. Suddenly they emerged from the deep recesses of the dense forest into a large clearing which had been made by a forest fire. The view from the opening was high upon the mountainside, far above their return route to camp. The hoary evergreen forest, fringed with the lingering morning mist, greeted the eye of the hunter to the vanishing point in the far-reaching uplands.
    The sunshine glistened brightly upon the snow, and with the brisk walking it had splashed the lean cheek of the hunter with a lustrous pink. Halting, he removed his fur cap from his head; his unkempt brown hair hung crinkly and moistly on the edge of his forehead. Of a medium size and erect figure, vitality merrily rippled in his blue, contented eyes.
    Removing his powerful field glasses from their case he placed them to his eyes, sweeping his vision over the vast mountain slope. While surveying his surroundings, he was interrupted by the whining of old Bruce. Lowering the glasses he turned to the old dog, which continued his whining, with his entire body in a tremor while he sniffed the balmy air and cast his gaze toward their rear. "Well, oldtimer, what is your trouble now?" remarked the hunter as he raised the glasses to continue the survey of the mountains. The hunter was well aware that the old dog with his keen scent or ear had detected the presence of some animal. Lowering the glasses, he returned them to the case dangling at his side, then moving a few paces back, sat down upon a log at the edge of the clearing. He bade the dogs "lie down," which command they obeyed by crouching down on the snow, then quietness for a few moments reigned over the animated scene in the mountain wilderness. Hark! Faintly; then harsher came the sound of the deep howl of the timber wolf, far to their rear. Instantly, the young dogs detected the distant call as it clearly wafted over the vast stillness. Springing quickly to their feet, joined by old Bruce, the dogs crowded around their master, whining for their freedom to begin the chase.
    "Timber wolves! Dern their pesky hides! It's the first time this winter I've heard that familiar beckon in this neck of the woods. Lordy! she's been some storm; it's driving them down from above," remarked the hunter, gesturing to his dogs as he slowly arose to his feet from the seat on the snow-covered log. "Move on, old timer," commanded the hunter, addressing old Bruce, as he pointed to the western slope with his staff which he had cut by the wayside early in the journey. The old dog tightened his chain and led the way as directed.
    The hunter had been in these mountains for the past three years as government hunter, and for sixteen years before as a homesteader and hunter, and knew well all the haunts and habits of the game and animals. He had established his camp and headquarters at Willow Flat, a few miles to the south down the mountainside, and was situated at the junction of two neighboring streams, which headed far above in the summit of the divide. It was the terminal of the wagon road leading from the valley below, and was only accessible with vehicles during the summer season. The camp was the key to all that immense territory, and was the distributing point for the hunter, game warden, and all who visited this wonderful game preserve.
    The hunter had served with distinction in the late Spanish war, with the Second Oregon, as corporal, in the Philippines. After the war and his discharge from the army he located on and acquired under the soldier's homestead act a claim situated near his present camp. The claim was covered with a valuable growth of Oregon fir, and like most of the homesteaders, attracted by the fancy prices offered for standing timber, the hunter sold his tract to non-resident timber purchasers. These timber barons are now holding their valuable assets until the time comes when the iron horse will transport this timber to the valleys below, then on to the markets of the world. A decade before many hundreds of the claim holders covered this large region; it was now unmarked by habitation, destitute of human beings, save and excepting this lonely government hunter.
    This far-reaching woodland had reverted to the noblemen of the forest--the deer and elk. The wild animals, as tenants, for ages past had roamed over these grass- and rill-covered uplands. Nature, a mother kind to all, who so bountifully provided this pasture for the game, also made it the happy hunting ground of the red man, timber wolf and panther, and these aboriginals of the woods, with their crude and cunning mode of capture, were unable to reduce the number of these prolific herds.
    These lofty Umpqua Mountains extend across the southern part of the state, a distance of one hundred miles, and are the connecting chains of mountains which run east and west between the Cascades on the east and the Coast Range on the west. The gentle slopes of the Umpquas extend a distance of from twenty to thirty miles on the south to the Rogue River Valley, and on the north to the Umpqua Valley. The Umpqua and Cascade mountains are the source of the waters which feed the streams in the valleys below. The home of the sportive trout, the little rill and the mighty mountain torrent flowing from these lofty peaks form the two snow-fed rivers, the Rogue and Umpqua, which glide onward to the Pacific.
    The deer in these mountains are increasing rapidly in number. Hundreds are killed annually by the hunter in the open season, under the regulation of the State Game Commission. The elk, but few remain; in former years the gun of the skin hunter, assisted by the timber wolf and panther, nearly exterminated this noble game animal. The state, assisted by the government, came to the rescue of the fast-disappearing elk and saved the remnant of the former herds in these mountains. But, almost too late, so few were left when the slaughter was stopped that the number could be counted on the fingers of the hands, but since protected from the gun of the hunter they are slowly increasing in number from that small herd. The game wardens of the state patrol this preserve for the poacher during the accessible season, while the government employs the special hunter throughout the year to capture the predatory animals that prey upon his wards.
    The hunter, a person of considerable education, student of nature and writer, was born forty years before in an adjoining county. A son of the hardy pioneer, he grew to manhood with the instinct of the hardy race, who built an empire in the golden West. The wilds of the mountains, the gun, the horse and dog, were the lords of his fancies. When on the trail, his eye and ear was ever on the alert; instinct seemed to guide the hunter through the dense and tangled forest. Possessed of an iron muscle, great power of endurance, he was master of all the arts of woodcraft; and one of the most skillful riflemen in the country.
    Hunting and trailing the mountain lion, in his home and adjoining states with his pack of trained hounds, the hunter became the hero of many a chase and capture. The hunter, his dogs and their trophies, were starred in the films; his pen was famous for his magazine stories. The government, attracted by his success, employed him as a special hunter to destroy the enemy of the game and stationed him in these mountains. And Uncle Sam doled out regular rations for the hunter and his dogs and horses, also furnished all the ingenious contrivances known to man for the capture of the foe of the game, while the hunter's wife and four small children resided in one of the valley towns at the foot of the mountain slope. The mother and children annually joined the hunter in his haunts during the summer months. The hunter usually made regular trips to the nearest settlement in the valley below for supplies, a distance of twenty miles, and with each trip out he mailed to his publishers an installment of his serial, "The Waif of the Umpquas."
    The shades of the closing day were covering the dreary mountain slope. For several miles on their path towards camp the hunter and his dogs were frequently interrupted by the near approach of the wolves in their rear. At every outbreak of the deep note of the wolves the young fighters would halt and attempt to retrace their steps to meet and challenge their enemy, and it was with some difficulty that the quartet were induced to proceed. With an occasional thrust of the staff, or a kick from the hunter's foot, accompanied by his harsh command, the unruly fellows sullenly went onward.
    The timber wolf, ranging regularly through the year in this section in former times, was very destructive to the cattle upon this summer range; many of them were killed annually by the wolves. The cattlemen, with the assistance of the hunter and trapper, waged a war of extermination upon the wolf. The wolves now visiting this section of the mountains range far to the east in the Cascades. It only makes its appearance in this section when the heavy snowfall drives the deer down from the summits and the distant Cascade Mountains; it follows the deer down and ranges back with them as the snow line recedes.
    During the summer months these wolves prey upon the breeding does in the thickets; they follow the mother to her foundling and capture the fawn. The wolf's favorite method of foraging is to range with the panther in the vicinity of the licks and watering places of the deer. After the panther makes a capture from aloft, the wolf drives the victor from its spoils, and devours the carcass of the deer. The deer in the early spring season range on the southerly high peaks of the mountains, where the snow first disappears, while the snow on the north slope remains at a great depth, and with the early spring freezing and thawing causes a crust to form on the top of these immense snow beds. The wolves by an organized system drives the deer from their hiding places in the adjoining thickets out upon the crust-covered snow. The crust breaks with the deer, making it a helpless victim of the pursuers. The wolves creep out in pursuit of the deer on top of the crust, pounce upon the struggling animal in the snow pit, and begin eating the poor victim while still alive.
    This timber wolf is of a dirty, grizzly color during the summer season, and as winter appears its coat turns nearly white. Its average weight at maturity is usually over a hundred pounds. It is possessed with an extra large and broad head, with powerful jaws crushing the bones of its victim and swallowing them with a gulp. It is not very ferocious, due to the plentifulness of game; they do not as a rule attack a human being. On account of the constant warfare waged against this wolf by the hunter and trapper, it will not unheedingly expose itself, but it is not a coward by any means. It is brave when occasion demands it, when necessary to gain its point. Instances are of record in these mountains when the wolf has risked and lost its life to save a wounded mate from the assault of either man or beast.
    The hunter and dogs, marching in single file down the mountain slope, arrived on the old government trail, which leads past the door of the hunter's cabin. This deep-trod landmark was constructed by the government while conducting military expeditions in these mountains before the country was settled--in the days of the red man. The old trail extended over the mountains through Goulway Gap, the lowest pass in the summits, and in the time before the advent of the vehicle, it was the only thoroughfare between the distant valleys for the traveler journeying up and down the Pacific Coast. The long and tiresome tramp during the day over the hampered path in the snowbound mountains had sharpened the appetite of the hungry hunter. His only subsistence during the day had been his morning meal at dawn, excepting an occasional handful of snow from the pathway to quench his thirst. It was a feeling of relief that the hunter experienced as he stepped into the old familiar highway, and with visions of an unobstructed trail to the journey's end and the comforts of the cabin home it impelled him to urge the dogs to quicken their pace.
    Striding down the trail at a point where the timber grew thinner, again the hunter and his companions were disturbed by their pursuers. The deafening howl came from a short distance away--to their right above the trail--in a clump of young firs. At the sound of the alarm the young dogs with a sniff and yelp bounded toward the thicket, dragging old Bruce and casting the hunter down into the snow. "L-o-o-rdy! L-o-o-rdy! " loudly exclaimed the chattering hunter, as he regained his feet and shook the snow from his person. "Git out, you pups!" again screamed the angry hunter, as he swung his arms and staff over his head. "Beat it! Blow!" he commanded the dogs, as he thrust at them with his staff, and with a warning growl from old Bruce the young hounds retreated down the pathway, with the hunter and old Bruce in the rear.
    In a short time the hunter and his companions arrived at a point on the trail where the fir timber grew thicker, the underbrush having disappeared, and again they were abruptly interrupted by the howl of the wolf sounding down the trail, directly in their front. "Dern yer! I'll bet fifteen cents I'll puncture your pesky hide for this," angrily muttered the hunter as he halted, dropping his staff in the snow, and by a rapid change ducked over, slipping the strap that supported the gun over his head and shoulders, and the gun was ready for service. Just then the young dogs set up a yelp, again defying the authority of their master by attempting to bolt down the trail. "Lie down, you pups! Dern yer, can't you keep quiet for a moment?" the hunter commanded and interrogated, as he raised his gun and waved it in a threatening manner over the young dogs. At this old Bruce, with a snarly growl, settled back on his chain, leaning against the hunter's legs, and with distorted bodies, their hair ruffled on their backs crouched down in the snow, sullenly snarling and obeying the command. Lowering his gun to his waistline, the hunter then peered down the trail and viewed their disturber, poised, in the act of repeating his call. Quick as a flash the hunter raised the Winchester, and with a sharp crack, a yelp of pain, the wolf leapt skyward, then dropping disappeared in the snow on the trail.
    "Dern yer, I've won!" chirped the hunter in glee, as he quickly dropped his gun on the snow, then stooping down he unhooked the chain from the dogs. "Now go! you pups, go!" he shouted as he stood holding the chain in his hands watching the dogs file down the trail at a rapid pace towards the shot wolf. The dogs had just got under way when the wolf sprang to its feet, staggered for a moment, saw the dogs approaching, then with a bound it started down the trail, emitting with each leap a mournful howl of distress, with the hounds nearly upon it.
    Instantly, from four quarters in the distance, came the sound of the dismal answer to the mournful wail of the wounded wolf. The hunter at this alarm threw the chain over and around his shoulder with one hand, and with the other grasped his rifle from the snow, then with a bound started down the trail in pursuit of the retreating animals. They soon disappeared from his sight at a point where the trail entered into a dense thicket, and in a few moments the dogs' baying sounded beyond. The hunter increased his pace and soon arrived in a little glen beyond the thicket on the old trail. The twilight gushed through the tops of the lofty firs into the little clearing and cast its light upon the coming combat.
    The fearless dogs, with a galloping sidestep, were circling around their victim. Every avenue of escape attempted by the wolf brought it face to face with its powerful adversary, while others were snapping at its rear. The approach of the hunter prompted the dogs to close the circle and charge upon their foe, and with a joint move forward they closed in upon the wolf, whirling with a yelp of defiance. The next moment, with a wail of anguish, the bloodthirsty grip of the powerful jaws of the fighters were fastened upon the vitals of their victim. The work of death was done.
    The shadows of the evening were fast falling upon the scene in the wooded glen on the old mountain trail. His thoughts absorbed in the savage butchery of the dogs, the hunter was unmindful of the lurking danger so near at hand. He was in the act of unwinding the chain from around his body to make the dogs secure again, and to proceed on the journey to the camp, when, "Whoop! whoop!" the twilight air was filled with the deafening roar, as the woods resounded with a mighty din. Volley after volley of the dismal howl of the wolves sounded in the trail above. The cool hunter moved a few paces up the trail to a point which gave him a full view of the approach on the shaded trail above. He raised his gun ready to fire, well knowing that an effective shot repeated several times would check the advent of the angry wolves.
    At the first alarm of danger, the faithful dogs rallied to the defense of their master, who had just gained his position on the trail, when with a loud whirling whoop, the companions of the dead wolf made their appearance on the trail, tracking the blood-stained track of the wounded wolf--three in the lead--a vicious horde following a few feet in the rear. With a sharp crack sounded the report of the hunter's gun--the leader dropped to the snow; again voiced the gun--its victim fell. The swarming wolves in the rear, with vengeance bent, bolted over and past their fallen companions, and with a chorus of spitty snarls, they bristled the coarse and dirty hair along their spines and halted, facing the brave hunter and his faithful companions a few feet away. The dogs, with old Bruce slightly in the lead, stood abreast in front of the hunter, braced with bowed backs, showing their teeth with a resentful growl. Again the hunter raised his trusty rifle, and with deadly aim he covered the foremost of his ferocious foes. "Snap!" replied the gun--it was empty.
    Winter was drawing to a close, the snow had done its work, and was fast disappearing. Again the little wooded glen on the old mountain trail was an animated scene. Two lonely miners passing over the old thoroughfare reached the shady nook and halted! What is this on the snow? At their feet lay the carcass of the timber wolf. Peering down the pathway--(it gave evidence of a mighty struggle)--a few feet ahead lay another grizzly form--beyond was a third--a story of a tragedy. Advancing down the trail on the further side of their gruesome find--the melting snow was strewn with the strand of the garment--here and there--the bone of the victim--as the wild beasts had left them after the horrible feast. In the center of the circle, in the trampled snow, lay a Winchester rifle--its breech was gaping. On the stock of the gun was carved, "John Burch--Government Hunter."
The Oregon Sportsman, January 1918, pages 18-24


    The War Stamp meeting Friday night was attended by a large crowd that listened with enrapt attention and applauded vigorously every time the speakers dealt the Kaiser an oratorical blow.
    The program began with a song by little Miss Violet Olson, of Woodburn, who played her own ukulele accompaniment. She was recalled by a storm of applause. She was followed by Wendell Kent with a xylophone selection; Mrs. Kent, his mother, accompanied him.
    Chairman Sadler then introduced Joseph Hammersley, deputy county attorney of Multnomah County, who delivered an address straight from a heart overflowing with patriotic sentiment and enthusiasm. Mr. Hammersley has a son at the front and knows what that means to the parents and relatives of our soldiers. He made a splendid address amid repeated outbursts of patriotic applause.
Aurora Observer, Aurora, Oregon, July 4, 1918, page 1


    GOLD HILL, Jan. 16.--(Special)--John B. Hammersley, Gold Hill's ex-postmaster, mayor, recorder, marshal and editor of the Gold Hill News, like the bad penny has returned to his old tramping ground after an absence of two years. Hammersley won great distinction and become famous after his return from military service in the Philippines during the Spanish-American War, as government hunter killing and trapping mountain lions and wolves with a pack of trained dogs. Hammersley was the government hunter reported to have been killed and devoured by the timber wolves in Upper Evans Creek a few years ago. He later appeared in a distant frontier settlement unharmed. The press reports of the incident shocked the whole Northwest and was the inspiration of Kellogg's "Umpqua Tragedy" (above).
Medford Mail Tribune, January 17, 1923, page 3


Medford Mail Tribune, January 24, 1923, page 5


    John Hammersley, one of the best known old-time Gold Hill citizens, has returned to his home town and is residing in the Hammersley cottage down Main Street toward the cement plant. John, as usual, received a hearty welcome on his return here, and his intention of living here makes his old-time friends feel more at home. In an interview with Mr. Hammersley the News is informed that Dave Hammersley, a son of John H., is making a good showing in the radio industry. The Gold Hill boy is now chief operator of the Muskegon, Michigan wireless station at $200 per month.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, April 8, 1926, page 1


    John Hammersley as the new recorder for Gold Hill has taken ahold in a businesslike manner, and we believe will suit all factions here better than any of the recorders in the past several years.
"This Week," Gold Hill News, July 15, 1926, page 6


    Joe Hammersley and J. O. Pearce left Wednesday for Klamath Falls. Hammersley will be employed near Klamath, but Pearce will return to this valley in a few days.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, October 14, 1926, page 6


    City Recorder John Hammersley received word last week to the effect that the mother-in-law of his brother Riley had passed away. The woman was the sister of Dick and Lee Hayes, who live near this city, and an aunt of Jack Hayes, local business man.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, November 4, 1926, page 3


    Mrs. Hammersley and son from Washington, a sister to the Breeding brothers, is visiting here for a while.
"Local Happenings," Rogue River Reporter section, Gold Hill News, January 13, 1927, page 8


    Mrs. Dora Hammersly assisted at the local telephone office a few days this week.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, January 20, 1927, page 7


    H. Fields has been busy the past week or so repairing the Hammersly building on 4th Street and will remodel the same into a dwelling house. He expects to move his family into it as soon as it is completed.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, February 3, 1927, page 5


    Mrs. Joe Hammersley of Portland was a guest at the H. D. Reed home a few days this week.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, May 12, 1927, page 7


    Mrs. Riley Hammersley of Carlton, Oregon is visiting in the city as the guest of friends and relatives.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, May 26, 1927, page 5


    Mrs. Geo. Hammersly left Saturday for Portland, where she went to be with her sister, Mrs. Clyde Walker, who underwent an operation at a Portland hospital Sunday.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, June 9, 1927, page 5


    Three new cars have been purchased by local people the past week. George Hammersly and family are now enjoying the comfort of a new Chevrolet Coach.
    Elijah Davidson of Williams Creek, brother of J. Davidson, our townsman, visited in this city the last of the week and while here purchased the famous old varmint dog "Mutt" of John Hammersley, so it's to be expected that Mr. Davidson will succeed in killing some of the cougars which are reported to be infesting his district.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, June 30, 1927, page 5


    Mrs. M. B. Merriman and Mrs. Geo. Hammersly were visitors at Weed, Calif., this week, the guests at the C. W. Garman home. Wm. Hammersley will return home with them.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, August 4, 1927, page 4


    City Recorder John Hammersley left this morning for Portland, where he will visit his brothers, who live in that vicinity. Accompanying him on the trip were Wm. and Jean Hammersley, children of Mr. and Mrs. Geo. Hammersly, and Janet and Jean Chisholm. They expect to be gone about a week.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, August 18, 1927, page 5


    Jack Hayes and John Hammersley left Monday afternoon for the deer country. They expect to have oodles of venison when they come back. The only chance for a slip is that someone puts the deer wise to the fact that Hammersley is toting a gun. John has such a reputation as a nimrod that all the wild meat disappears as soon as he gets into the woods. We expect, however, that some of the city recorder's friends will soon be treated to some good venison steaks.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, October 13, 1927, page 6


    Tom Hammersley of Portland is visiting in the city as a guest of his brother, John Hammersley.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, October 20, 1927, page 4


    John Hammersley has been busy the past week remodeling the Hammersley building on 4th Avenue, and formerly occupied by the Bolling bakery. The building is now being occupied as a residence.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, January 5, 1928, page 5


    The past week was the scene of the changing of the personal of the city officialdom. John Hammersley handed in his resignation as recorder of the city, which was accepted at the meeting of the city council Monday evening and Earl Adams was appointed to fill the office.
    Mr. Hammersley gave as his reason for resigning that the money paid to the judge and recorder was not of sufficient magnitude to merit the services of such an one as he. He asked for a raise to $50 per month but the city officials decided to cast about for a man to take the position at the former rate of pay. Earl Adams decided to be the martyr, and as a result the yoke will now rest upon his shoulders.
    John Hammersley has been a very faithful servant in the office of recorder and has given unsparingly of his time, labor and advice to the city administration, and it will be difficult to obtain a man who will devote as much time and thought to the office. In Mr. Adams, however, the city has a man of splendid qualifications and after becoming accustomed to the duties of the office will undoubtedly be a splendid official.
    I. Martin, police officer, handed in his resignation the same evening and asked that another man be appointed to fill the position. He was asked to hold over until another man was obtained to take the position. At a meeting Wednesday evening the name of John Hammersley was proposed and he accepted, so that now John will lead them in to bid good morning to the judge instead of being on the receiving end of the salutation. This is not a new position to Mr. Hammersley, as he served the city many years ago in the same capacity. Mr. Martin has not made known his plans for the future but he expects to remain in Gold Hill.
Gold Hill News, March 8, 1928, page 1


    Geo. and Joe Hammersley are at Chiloquin, where they are employed in the lumbering business in that vicinity.
    Mrs. Geo. Hammersly was a visitor at Chiloquin Sunday, where she went to take in the sights with the prospects of later moving to that vicinity.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, March 8, 1928, page 5


    John B. Hammersley has been busy repairing some of the ruts in the city streets the past few days. John has a habit of taking his duties as a city officer seriously, and the people of the city are assured that the work in his departments will be well taken care of.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, March 15, 1928, page 8


    The Gold Hill dance was a big affair as usual. The vigilance of the police force under the direction of Chief Hammersley kept the crowd from being noisy on the streets of the city, and there were no ill reports from the town people. Manager Kincaid stated to your reporter that they have run down the parties who have been stealing purses at the Gold Hill and Eagle Point dances. There had been several reports of purses being lost, so manager Kincaid [figured] that it was theft rather than carelessness that caused the loss. He placed several people to watch the crowd at the Eagle Point dance, and at last the culprits were caught and placed in jail at Medford. Mr. Kincaid has spared no effort to make his dances enjoyable and attractive to the dancing public.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, March 22, 1928, page 5


    Geo. Hammersly was over from Chiloquin as the guest of his family during the weekend. Mr. Hammersly is employed in the woods near that city.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, March 29, 1928, page 3


    Chief Hammersley, I. Martin and J. W. Bryan have been working the past several days on the sewer system on the south side of town.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, April 12, 1928, page 6


    Mr. and Mrs. Geo. Hammersly, Mrs. M. B. Merriman and Mrs. E. H. Radtke motored to Klamath Falls and Chiloquin last Friday. Mr. Hammersly went to Klamath to receive medical attention for an injured hand which he received while working in a logging camp in that vicinity recently. Mrs. Radtke remained at Chiloquin, where she will be the guest of her husband during the week.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, April 26, 1928, page 7


    Mrs. Dora Hammersly and children William and Jeanne left Sunday for Chiloquin, where they will visit with their husband and father, George Hammersly. Le Roy Cameron made the trip with Mrs. Hammersly to the Eastern Oregon city, where he is employed in the woods.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, June 7, 1928, page 5


    George Hammersly returned Wednesday from Chiloquin after several months' labor in the logging camps.
Gold Hill News, June 14, 1928, page 1


    George Hammersly left this morning for the Salmon River country in Northern Oregon, where he will be employed by Wm. von der Hellen on a road graveling job he just received a contract for.
Gold Hill News, June 21, 1928, page 1


Resigns as Marshal
    John Hammersley handed in his resignation as city marshal at the council meeting Monday night, which was accepted, and Ray Thompson was appointed by the city council.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, July 5, 1928, page 5


Returns Home from Chiloquin
    Joe Hammersley of this city returned home for the 4th of July. Mr. Hammersley has been employed in the woods near Chiloquin. He reports that there is movement on foot over that way to make an offer to trade the reservation for Gold Hill territory so that the rest of the town can move over there. Mr. Hammersley should be in a position to know what he is talking about, for he is reported to be well known on the reservation.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, July 5, 1928, page 8


Goes to Carlton
    Mrs. Geo. Hammersly left for Carlton, Oregon, where she and the children will visit with Mr. Hammersly's folks. Mr. Hammersly is employed near that place on a road surfacing contract with Wm. von der Hellen.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, July 5, 1928, page 8


On Camping Trip
    John B. Hammersley and Rip Rogers are camped in the salt springs country on the upper Evans Creek. The two men expect to bag a few of the big cats during their stay. John has been carrying the burdens of the city for so long that he felt he needed a rest and recreation. Both men are experienced trappers and hunters, and it's just going to be too bad if any stray felines cross their trail.
Gold Hill News, July 12, 1928, page 4


Returns from North
    Mrs. Dora Hammersly and two children returned from Carlton, Oregon, where they had been spending the past two weeks. Mr. Hammersly is employed on road work near that city.
"Local Happenings," Gold Hill News, July 12, 1928, page 5

    Sale of the Weller Apartments at 315 N.E. 28th Avenue by Tessie M. Hammersly to a Portland attorney, Arthur D. Jones, was reported last week by Fred E. Arnold, realtor, who handled the transaction.
    The Weller is a modern two-story and basement brick and frame structure containing 16 units, including 15 of two rooms, one of four rooms and a store space on the ground floor.
    The sale price was reported to be approximately $30,000; Mr. Jones purchased the property as an investment.
    Mr. Arnold reports that well-selected multiple-dwelling properties are at the top of the list as a real estate investment at this time.
Oregonian, Portland, July 19, 1942, page 24.  The building is still standing as of November 2019.

    Portland, Ore., June 19.--(AP)--Joseph L. Hammersly, 71, former deputy district attorney for Multnomah County, died yesterday. He was a native of Eugene and studied law under Judge H. K. Hanna of Jacksonville. He practiced in Gold Hill until 1911, when he came here. His widow, Tessie, and three children by a previous marriage, survive.
Medford Mail Tribune, June 19, 1942, page 12