Wisconsin Best for Business

    "It is now over two months since we left Wisconsin, and during that time we experienced all kinds of climatic conditions, from the balmy zephyrs of the sunny South to the frigid climate of the frozen North. Since December 24th this particular part of "Sunny Southern Oregon," where the "pine and palm meet," has been enveloped in a heavy blanket of "the beautiful." On January 6 there was a heavy snow storm and blizzard that would put even North Dakota to shame. Over nine inches of snow fell, and at the present writing (January 13) they are having excellent sleighing.
    "Things are practically at a standstill--there are no improvements of any kind going on except at Portland. Going from Portland to this city we saw thousands of bushels of apples, in orchard after orchard, going to waste. The fruit industry is overdone; the production is greater than the demand, and has been for some time back. The heavy freight rates are a great handicap. The rate from Portland to San Francisco is nearly the same as that between Portland and St. Paul. The raising of alfalfa and stock is the most productive industry in this western country at the present time.
    "There are many things in the western country that are excellent--the climate, fruit, flowers and mountain scenery. These are very nice for those who have no vocation to follow for a livelihood, to enjoy and to admire, but for the man who must toil at manual labor to keep the wolf from the door, there is but a meager existence for him. Labor can be secured at your own price, and there is a large surplus in every coast town. All lines of business are overdone; it's the same in any line you wish to investigate. At the present time there are about 250 vacant houses in Ashland; 300 in Medford, the much advertised city of the Rogue River Valley, and it is about the same in every city, according to size, in the coast country that we have visited.
    "Good old Wisconsin has many conditions that some people don't like, but when its comes to the business end of it, it can turn out more cash to the amount of capital invested than any of this coast country that it has been our pleasure to visit. Its factories and enterprises exceed anything here in a dependable way. The advice of this Badgerite, for the young man, or middle-aged, who has the Western fever, and contemplates migrating to benefit himself financially, is to remain in the "bread and butter" states of the Middle West. He can make more clear money there in one year than he can in this country in two, unless fortune happens to smile on some venture or investment that he may have made. This is a splendid country to live in, providing you have enough of the "filthy lucre" to exist on the remainder of your days.
    "The young man who can gather enough cash together to buy 40 or 80 acres of Wisconsin land can become more independent than he ever could in this part of the West on a forty-acre orchard tract. A good dairy farm will bring in more ready cash than will a fruit farm, year in and year out.
    "As for ourselves we do not expect to make our home in the West permanently--we expect to eventually make our permanent home in the Middle West again."

A. E. ROESE.
    Ashland, Oregon, January 13, 1913.

    GRANTS PASS, Or., June 28.--(Special.)--After the winter's work is over there is a general feeling to get out of doors and take a good view of nature. It is the springtime that everybody looks to for recreation after being enjoined to remain in office and home all the long winter days. Of course you are going to take a vacation, but where?
    Then how are you going and how long will your requisition last? But never mind such long-drawn-out puzzling things. Take the first invitation some friend gives you and sally forth in a motor car. June is the proper time for making such raids into the country, as the rural scenes are at their best; in fact, in a fruit country like Rogue River Valley the promising crops have taken form, which in itself is a magnificent thing to look upon.
    Then, too, the roads are not dusty and one may walk, ride or dash across a stretch of country in his machine at any rate and return with a face full of smiles, which beats all patent medicines for eliminating crows' feet.
    Not long ago, on one of those bright days in June, I cranked my machine and with a four-passenger list of friends we were off without any definite aim other than a determination to see the Rogue River Valley, its orchards, farms, valleys and hay fields, and the abundance of wealth growing out of the ground through the medium of fruit trees, vegetable farms and mines.
    Rogue River Valley by the aid of an automobile can be seen in a run of 100 miles, if your machine is kept on the highways and no side trips are made. Such a run would cover the Pacific Highway from Grants Pass to Ashland. While this is a straight figure, one can easily take time and augment it on side trips through the fruit section to 200 miles and never be amiss. The start from Grants Pass was made at 5 o'clock A.M. at a moderate gait, so that considerable sport might be enjoyed by shooting jackrabbits.
    The morning air was filled with the fragrance of azaleas at various places along our route, and their beautiful cream and pink color blended with the green added zest to the joy ride. It must be remembered that at the sunrise hour songbirds of every description, of which there are many in Southern Oregon, were bursting their throats, each vying with the other in melody and harmony. The road from Grants Pass to Murphy is a lapse of seven miles and marked the first open settlement in the valley of the Applegate River, a tributary to the Rogue River Valley, and is one of the pleasant routes to take.
    The whole of the Applegate Valley indicates a thriving community of diversified farming, dairying and stock-raising. Just before approaching Murphy, it was necessary to cross a considerable hill from which could be seen the watersheds of the Siskiyous that form part of the water system of Southern Oregon. The big ribbed canyons filled with cataracts and sparkling streams cast off the prismatic colors of the sun's rays everywhere as the sunlight reached the inner recesses of the mountains and valleys.
    At Murphy after crossing the bridge the road sharply turns toward the east or up through the valley. It is this Applegate River that supplies the farmers with water for irrigation and domestic purposes and gives prosperity to one of Oregon's best taxpaying districts.
    Passing up the valley, on every side, could be seen activity among the farmers. Frequently in coming in view of the house the chimney was belching forth its first smoke for the morning fire. Where once stood the log cabin and slovenly kept box house, there now appears the modern type of bungalow and most frequently water and sanitary conditions for domestic use.
    The next stop after leaving Murphy is at Provolt, a pretty cross-country road station where the roads fork, the one leading to the right up Williams Creek and the other up the Applegate. Leaving the dust of Provolt behind, the road skirted near the river, and for the next half hour or so the machine rolled along among the big poplars and pines with visions here and there of rising mountains, giving out impressions of highland views. To the right could be seen Grayback Mountain, the home of the Josephine County caves, its sides and crown sheets covered with descriptive rivulets, cataracts and beds of snow.
    At the end of 20 miles a halt was made at the Valley Pride Creamery, where a short rest was taken and the manager invited us to drink buttermilk. Not one glass, but all we wanted, and the want was strong, for the trip had been exciting in more than one way, and it seemed quite a little while before breakfast. The creamery is an excellent cement building, situated on the banks of the river in a beautiful grove. Everything that could be seen was scrupulously clean.
    At the creamery the road crosses to the north side of the Applegate. The next five miles we hit the grit at a good pace, at the end of which the machine was halted under an array of fine oak trees, within 20 feet of which a high, swinging bridge was suspended across the river for neighborhood communication.
    Beneath these large trees we all piled out for breakfast, hungry as bears. Campfire was soon started. Nearby strawberries and cream were procured, and bacon, eggs and steaming coffee formed the breakfast menu. An hour was spent in camp, and we were off again, forcing up the valley by water-grade degree. As the machine ascended the course of the valley began to narrow, and at the end of three or four miles what is commonly known as the Jacksonville Hill loomed up before us. Before approaching this hill, which is the only one of importance and forms the watershed between the Applegate Valley and Jacksonville, the road takes a long sweep, passing a large spring sequestered in a clump of willows. The Jacksonville Hill is very smooth and can be made with one change of gear. But it must be remembered that while the story runs smoothly, on the climb of the Jacksonville Hill the only accident of the day occurred, which was committed by a rear wheel picking up a screw. It was an open, hot roadway, and a lot of amateurs piled out to inspect what had happened. But with the aid of an extra tire and some illustrated booklet on how to take off and put on tires, the job was completed while one read and the other worked.
    From the saddleback of the Jacksonville Hill, over which the roadway forms a dusty streak, may be seen Rogue River Valley in all its greatness and beauty. To the north could be seen all the lower valley, embracing Grants Pass, Rogue River, Gold Hill and numerous other smaller towns. Far to the east and southeast could be seen the historic Table Rock, one of the natural attractive monuments of the valley and around which centers much of Southern Oregon's early Indian history and the pioneer life. Prominent in the background could be seen Mount McLoughlin, flushed with the colors of the morning sun, with its dome hidden behind fleecy clouds which blended with the pure white snow that covered it far down its sides.
    Off further to the right could be seen Mount Shasta, the sentinel of the Siskiyous, imposing, grand and beautifully clad in its winter coat of snow, undisturbed by the spring sunshine. These are some of the natural objects that greet the traveler. Beneath these and in the foreground of the kaleidoscopic picture could be seen miles and miles of orchards, distinctively told by the geometrical forms, whether they were pears, peaches or apples.
    These long rows of trees, healthy, thrifty and well kept, manifested untold wealth, and I doubt if the owners of the orchards could group themselves on some high prominence and tell in figure what the Rogue River Valley's fruit crop will produce in dollars this year. It cannot be measured by carloads. Such a method is out of date. The situation is now to be sized up in trainloads.
    In the center of the picture could be seen at our feet Jacksonville, rich in pioneer history and early mining lore. Over the top of Jacksonville could be seen the progressive city of Medford. Further to the right along the horizon loomed Ashland, guardian of the south entrance to the Rogue River Valley. Between Ashland and Medford could be seen Talent and Phoenix, a thriving section of the country's growth. Dotted over the valley we noted many wireless telegraph stations.
    Down the sinuous road the machine shot on compression. The hill is quite long and steep from this side and requires careful driving. From Jacksonville to Medford is a stretch of about five miles, and that afforded an opportunity to try our machine for speed. The ride so far had afforded ample opportunity to view large fields of alfalfa, grain and fruit. Immense crops of hay seemed to be a part of every farm along the road.
    From Medford to Ashland the Pacific Highway is in splendid condition and the 12 miles can be run in about a half an hour if one desires speed. The whole 12-mile course is lined on each side from the line fence to the retreating foothills with fruit trees. A long stop was made at Ashland where midday lunch was served in the city park, which is one of the pretty municipal spots of Southern Oregon, being cool, inviting and well kept, with a large stream, Ashland Creek, flowing through its center.
    The return trip from Ashland to Medford may be made over the same road, or a triangular trip may be made toward Jacksonville, which offers a pretty view. This side trip we took as it brought us into Medford from a different angle. Following the Pacific Highway out of Medford a run of a few minutes landed us in Central Point. Here the road courses toward Tolo and strikes across the mountain gap. The road on the north side of this gap has a longer declivity and gradually swings down and down to the water grade until the machine shoots across the Gold Hill bridge.
    Gold Hill in its name indicates its past history, but of late years the country has developed into considerable importance in fruit raising. Limestone quarries are its latest commercial interest. Just below Gold Hill the road forks again and one may pass to the south side of the river or continue on the north side. Both roads are good and again unite at Rogue River. Here the Pacific Highway takes the south side of the river and continues down through the industrial section until it merges across the steel bridge into Grants Pass.
    The ride down the river was one of pleasure, and the whole day's run is worth any person's time with opportunity to gaze on a million-dollar fruit crop and perhaps that much more in dairying products, farm forage and livestock. It was all covered in one day's drive, and we arrived home better contented than ever and much wiser as to the resources of Rogue River Valley. It is not that which is far away that affords the greater pleasure, but that which is close at hand.
Oregonian, June 29, 1913, page C9


    L. A. P. Eichler, who writes for the Sacramento Bee, has the following to say of the trip up the coast and across to Grants Pass.
    Dr. Saeltzer, of the McCormick, Saeltzer Company of this city, who was elected President of the Pacific Coast Good Roads Association at the convention in Eureka last week, reached home last night.
    In the party were Supervisors George H. Nutting of Anderson, Fred Hurst of Redding, W. M. Welch of Kennett, Mayor Harry Glover of Redding, Rev. P. Tevlin of Redding, W. R. Radcliff, a Watsonville banker, E. F. Cheffins of San Francisco, Secretary of the California State Automobile Association and the writer.
    The party motored from Eureka north along the coast on the return trip from Eureka, and visited Crescent City, Del Norte County, Grants Pass, Medford and Ashland, Ore., Yreka, Dunsmuir and other smaller places. It was a tour of 600 miles, much of it through a vast natural park along the coast. Many other parties were encountered bound in either direction over the same route. Several cars that went to Eureka convention took the Crescent City-Grants Pass route home. Others returned through Mendocino and Sonoma counties, while still others left by steamer. Capt. J. R. Foster and G. W. Harney of Marysville were among these.
    The grades along the coast are more easily negotiated than are those through the Siskiyous, on the Pacific Highway, but there are more grades on the coast route, and the turns are more abrupt. A car that can go through the Siskiyous will have no trouble on the coast route. The two Redding cars, which found nothing too heavy for them on other portions of the trip, had to help each other a couple of times in the Siskiyous. There were no mishaps to mar the trip.
    Secretary George E. Boos, of the Pacific Coast Good Roads Association, whose home is in Medford, accompanied the Redding delegation from Eureka to Grants Pass, from which place he went home by rail to arrange a dinner for the travelers on their arrival at the beautiful Hotel Medford Sunday noon. A number of Medford's progressive citizens participated in the banquet, after which some of the city's prominent points were visited. Medford, with 12,000 population, has 21½ miles of paved streets.
    From Medford to Ashland Bert Greer, who was secretary of the Eureka convention, and who is editor of the Ashland Tidings, was pathfinder. He who accompanied by Mrs. Greer. A beautiful view of Ashland was afforded from a hill up which he led the machines. His city proved a revelation to the guests, who had supposed it was merely a railroad division.
    The roads in Oregon were not very good, particularly in the mountains. In the Siskiyous north of the Oregon line they were quite bad, with grades, curves and holes. Part of this is a toll road. In the Rogue River Valley, through orchards and gardens, where watered roads were expected, there were miles of dusty thoroughfares. Improvements are expected to be made, however.
    In Siskiyou County the roads were not bad and good time was made most of the way.
    Over on the coast several miles of plank roads were traveled, the planks being redwood slabs, split from the logs and laid flat on the ground. Years ago small logs were used for such road building and were called corduroy. That name sticks to the plank road, but is a misnomer, for there are worse roads in every county than those plank roads of Humboldt and Del Norte. At one point in the Del Norte redwoods the plank road leads up a mountain and is wet from the drip of the trees. This place sticks many machines unless equipped with chains.
    There is no more beautiful route for an automobile tour than that along the upper coast of California, and with the cutoff via Grants Pass, that from Eureka to Redding or that from Eureka to Red Bluff, one can see the valley, mountains and coast on the one round trip. The trip can readily be made from Sacramento in a week, but one should spend two weeks at it to get the full enjoyment.
    Entering Crescent City from the south there is a stretch of four miles where each tide builds a new road, and a good one. It is a strip of smooth beach sand, over which the motorist cannot resist speeding. There are no speed limit signs, and it is customary to "let 'er out." That little trip is one the tourist is not likely to forget, though it is quickly over. The beach is absolutely smooth, and the wet sand makes the best possible speedway.
Del Norte Triplicate, Crescent City, September 5, 1913, page 1


    Grand beyond the possibility of description is what C. A. McGee of the Howard Automobile Company, who has just returned from the north with the little model "24" Buick, which made the run from San Francisco to Portland in 40 hours 50 minutes last week, lowering the road record between the two cities more than 17 hours, has to say of Crater Lake and the country surrounding it. McGee followed the Pacific Highway as far south as Medford, Ore. Leaving it at that place, he drove his little Buick northeast to Crater Lake, then nearly south to Klamath Falls, and then southwest to Ager, Cal., at which point the Pacific Highway was again encountered and followed south to San Francisco.
    In speaking of this trip south McGee has the following to say: "There is plenty of information available regarding the Pacific Highway. This route is very clearly marked with distinctive road signs from Redding north, and there seems to be a united effort being made by most of the counties in both California and Oregon to get this highway in at least passable shape, and the improvements on it are noticeable from month to month, there being many improvements since Fred Gross and I drove the No. 3 Buick truck to Portland in record time last July.
    "In returning from the north I made a detour to the east, leaving the Pacific Highway between the towns of Medford, Ore., and Hilt, Cal. This detour, which adds about 150 miles to the trip between San Francisco and Portland, is very little known at present, but owing to the beautiful scenery through which it passes it is sure to be one of the popular automobile routes of the future.
    From Medford the road followed leads north through Rogue River Valley to Eagle Point. Here the foothills country is entered, and the next few miles are not particularly interesting. This open country, which is covered with small trees and shrubs, soon changes to more rugged mountains and larger trees. In fact, the motorist on this trip drives through the largest forest of yellow pine now in existence. About 25 miles from Medford the Rogue River is crossed, and a very good road follows the north bank of this stream to the little mountain town of Prospect.
    The first intimation that one has that they are approaching a town is a sign nailed to a big pine tree, warning automobilists to travel through the city of Prospect at not more than 10 miles per hour. The city of Prospect, we discovered later, consists of about six houses, most of them unpainted.
    At Prospect the Rogue River is crossed, and from there on to its headwaters the road follows near the south bank.
    The next stopping place is Camp Arants. This is five miles from the rim of Crater Lake, and up to this point the roads and grades are such that any modern automobile with good clearance can make the trip without difficulty. In fact, the little 28-horsepower Buick I was driving ran most of the distance between Medford and Arants Camp on high gear, and there was not more than a mile of low gear in the entire 77 miles separating the two places.
    The roads are dusty and in some places rough. The scenery is such, however, that one should be perfectly content with a speed of 10 miles an hour, and at that speed the trip will be enjoyed by anyone who enjoys seeing nature in the original.
    Those desiring to camp will find ideal camping spots every few miles, and we were advised that the fishing was all that could be asked for.
    Arants Camp is several miles inside the Crater Lake National Park, and the park superintendent's office is located at this place. Upon payment of $1, which the government charges for allowing automobiles to drive through this park, the superintendent issues a permit which must be shown upon demand as long as the automobile is within the park boundaries.
    The hardest climb, in fact the only grade that will cause trouble to the average automobile, is encountered one mile from Crater Lake Lodge, which is built on the rim surrounding the lake. This grade is between a half and three-quarters of a mile long, and a good part of it has a grade between 30 and 35 percent. Most machines are left at the bottom of this grade and the last mile is made on foot.
    The little Buick which I was driving made the round trip to Portland with practically no mechanical attention, and there was San Francisco air in five of the six "Goodyear No Rim Cut Tires" upon its return here.
San Francisco Call, October 4, 1913, page 3


    A carload of hogs--the first in two years--was shipped from Central Point to Portland Tuesday by Elden Brothers and R. M. Conley.
    This car will bring the owners $1200--a good price for a carload of extra fancy fruit.
    These hogs, we are told, were not sprayed, pruned or sorted, but were fattened on alfalfa and sweet clover grown on these two ranches and shipped as they ran. Many of the pigs were from the spring litter and represented some six months' work, with the pigs doing a large share of it.
    This shipment, which is to be followed by another car shortly, once more calls attention to the opportunities in the way of diversified farming in this valley.
    The fruit business is a lucrative one properly handled, and where the soil is well selected is hard to beat when returns, healthful employment, etc., are considered. But livestock raising has many advantages and when adopted in conjunction with raising fruit is the best possible insurance against loss.
    Under present conditions fruit cannot escape its off years. With cattle and hogs there is a steady and ready market from one year's end to another, and relatively speaking the cost of production is low.
    Moreover the hog is a forager. Properly cared for he spends 12 hours a day, seven days in the week, converting low-price crops into high-price pork, ham and bacon. Where the cow will increase from 60 to 100 percent annually, the hog will increase from 500 to 2,000 percent, and he can be converted into money as readily as wheat or gold dust.
    One of the most encouraging signs in the Rogue River Valley at present is this revival in stock raising. There are thousands of acres in the hills and in the less fertile regions where sweet clover can be grown and experiments by the government have demonstrated that this despised weed not only has approximately the same protein value as alfalfa but that stock will relish it often in preference to alfalfa. Moreover it will grow without irrigation. In fact the principal problem heretofore has been to prevent sweet clover from growing, its predilection for macadamized roads being well known.
    Two carloads of cattle are now on the way for the Lewis ranch near Wellen, while the various Dodge ranches have contracted for a herd of the best dairy cows.
    The Rogue River Valley will always be a fruit country of the very highest grade, but it should be a cattle country, a hog country, and a dairy country as well. These ranchers in developing the livestock branches of agriculture are primarily benefiting themselves, but they are also pioneers in the important work of putting prosperity in the Rogue River Valley upon a permanent and lasting basis.--Medford, (Oregon) Sun.
Flathead Courier, Polson, Montana, October 23, 1913, page 2

Last revised February 23, 2025