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 Oliver Cromwell Applegate The Tribe and the Common School:
Housed in
a log cabin, a sod hut, a laboriously sawn frame shed, the district
school on the moving frontier symbolized American faith in education.
Today we know very little about what went on in these schools and what
difference they made in the lives of the children who attended them.
One reason for this ignorance about pioneer schools is a lack of
records--a sign of their unbureaucratic character, for a bureaucracy is
prolific in paper and ink. Much of the meager evidence which does
remain consists of receipts, tax data, bills, and bids, just as the
average citizen today keeps his canceled checks but throws away
letters which would be far more interesting to a future historian.
Fortunately one frontier schoolteacher, Oliver
Cromwell Applegate of
Ashland, Oregon, kept the essays and declamations and manuscript
newspapers his students wrote. Together with his correspondence with
friends and other records of the school he taught, these sources not
only illuminate the school and its community, but also suggest
its impact on students.1THE DISTRICT SCHOOL IN ASHLAND, OREGON IN THE 1860s In early Oregon the school belonged to the community in more than a legal sense. Settlers often built the schoolhouse with their own hands. The school building became the focus of many neighborhood activities: there itinerant ministers of various sects met their flocks on successive sabbaths; politicians caucused under the common school's roof; families gathered there to watch lantern slides and to socialize.2 School and community were organically related in a face-to-face group in which everyone knew everyone's affairs. The families of a neighborhood were a loosely organized tribe; social and economic roles were overlapping, unspecialized, familiar. There was little mystery, little privacy, little professionalism in either the school or its neighborhood. As one of the few social institutions which settlers encountered daily, the common school both reflected and shaped a sense of community. If the families of a neighborhood were amicable, the school expressed their cohesiveness. If they were discordant, the school was often caught in the middle of warring factions. And sometimes schooling became itself a source of contention, often resulting in the formation of new districts. A friend in Yoncalla, Oregon, wrote to Oliver Applegate that the Yoncallans were quarreling bitterly, as was their wont: our teacher has taught just as long as any man can in Yoncalla, and consequently, to use the popular phrase of the day, is "just about played out." The directors hired him for one quarter at forty dollars a month and also a young lady as assistant, the people got in one of their contrary ways and kept their children from school.… As to declamations [public performances of children] you know how they carried on when you lived here what subjects were treated on etc. The same subjects are treated on now in the same disinterested manner; the old people are opposed to such nonsense as they are pleased to call it and of course the young ones will coincide with their parents. The district is in an awful fix anyhow.…Soon he wrote again saying that the tribe had splintered into three factions, each struggling unsuccessfully to maintain a school.3 The pioneers regarded schooling as only an incidental part of child raising. Witness an indenture binding two little orphan girls to Alvin Smith and his wife in Oregon in 1847: it required the Smiths as surrogate parents "to cause them to be properly taught the useful branches of housewifery and to give them from time to time such opportunities for schooling and education as is customary for girls of their age in the common walks of life in this country and to use their best endeavor to have them trained in a virtuous and respectable manner."4 Many lessons the child learned from his family, his community, the hard tasks set by his environment. The district school was really a voluntary institution, the creature of the tribe more than the legal offspring of the state. No law compelled parents to send their children to school; no truant officer chased the young. Attendance in Ashland, for example, fluctuated wildly, probably reflecting the public estimation of the teacher or the need for the child on the farm. The position of the teacher in the tribal school was tenuous. In fact if not in law, the local school directors were free to select instructors (since the examinations given by the county superintendents were usually perfunctory). With no bureaucracy to serve as buffer between him and the community, with little sense of being part of a professional establishment, the teacher found himself subordinated to the community. The results of his instruction, good or poor, were evident at the Friday spelling bees and declamations as neighbors crowded the schoolhouse to see the show. If he "boarded 'round" at the houses of the parents, even his hours of leisure were under scrutiny. If he were a local boy, like Applegate, his faults and virtues were public knowledge, and a rival local aspirant to the office of village schoolmaster might find ways to make his life unpleasant. If he were an outsider to the tribe, he would have to prove himself. With ghoulish anticipation patrons waited to see if the big boys would throw a new teacher out. Romance was sometimes as much a threat as brawn. Matrimony stalked one Yoncalla teacher: "It was not the fault of the Yoncalla 'gals' that the young Gent … escaped here in single blessedness. It was a manoeuver of his own. He was attacked on several occasions mostly in the usually quiet manner but one time furiously, but he artfully overlooked the gantlet and was not carried away.…"5 Against the tyranny of public opinion the teacher had little recourse; against the wiles of the "scholars" he had as allies only his muscles, his wit, and his charm. Though usually half-educated at best, the pioneer teacher was often regarded by the community as an intellectual. It didn't take much to convince him that he was a man of letters. A friend of Applegate's wrote that he "was in Portland recently at the State Teachers' Institute, where there was an immense gathering of the literatim--no less than eleven men with the title of 'Professor'--and fourteen with the title of Reverend besides about fifty lesser lights."6 Frontiersmen were ambivalent about these literati in their midst. The "old folks" in Yoncalla derided spelling schools "and societies of that kind" as "a sparking school or some silly thing."7 The children shared their parents' doubts about "all singing Schools, Sabbath Schools, Spelling Schools, Grammar Schools, and all debating Societies."8 But there lurked in the pioneer a bourgeois, secret desire for refinement (at least for the womenfolk). When a teacher could successfully bridge the world of the tribe and the wider world of intellect--as Oliver Cromwell Applegate did--the community rejoiced. The Ashland School--District No. 5, Jackson County--was fairly typical of Oregon common schools in size. In 1873-74, the first year for which there are reasonably accurate statewide statistics on attendance, there were 670 school districts with an average enrollment of about 31 and average attendance of about 23 (by contrast, in 1965-66 Oregon had 400 districts, with District Number One--Portland--alone having an enrollment of over 80,000). The state was very thinly populated: only six of twenty-two counties in 1873-74 had more than 1000 children in average attendance in the schools. In 1865 Oliver Applegate reported as district clerk (a hat he wore as well as that of teacher) that his Ashland district had 34 legal voters, 56 children over 4 and under 20, 33 students enrolled, and an average daily attendance of about 17. That year the teachers were paid $285.76 from the county school fund (money derived from sale of public land) and $6.00 went for "incidental expenses."9 Although Ashland was fairly typical of Oregon schools in size, Oliver Applegate was no ordinary teacher. The son of Lindsay Applegate and nephew of Jesse, Missourians who became prominent trailblazers and men of political and social influence in Southern Oregon, Oliver was equally at home in the drawing room and the bear hunt. Witty, a talented artist, knowledgeable about politics, a humorous rhymer if not a poet, a skilled penman in a day in which elegant script was a mark of refinement, Applegate was able to raise the horizons of the students while knowing first-hand their rustic way of life. From November 1863 to April 1868 he taught at least one quarter per year. When not teaching during those years he tended sheep and did farm chores like his older scholars.10 During Applegate's tenure Ashland could boast a new schoolhouse far more palatial than many rural Oregon schools. The State Superintendent of Public Instruction complained in 1874 that many of the log cabins and unpainted boxes serving as school buildings, unlike the Ashland school, were "inferior in construction and in provision for the comfort of their inmates to the barns of some of the farmers who live near them."11 The Ashland building was twenty-eight by thirty-two feet, painted white on the outside and sheathed with boards on the inside, balloon-frame in construction, with ample windows. In 1865 the thirty-three children in Applegate's school ranged in age from six to eighteen. There were four Applegates, four Grubbs, four Helmans, three Millions, two Smiths, and six Walkers--all in all a family affair. Applegate enjoyed his teaching, and so, apparently, did his students. "I get along first rate in the capacity of 'village schoolmaster' and have about 20 interesting and studious scholars," he wrote in 1864.12 "Boys and girls are glad when School commences for they like to learn and gain knowledge Sometimes," wrote one student tentatively. F. Walter Myer, aged fourteen, expressed his feelings about school to Applegate thus in 1865: Dear TeacherApplegate seems to have had little trouble controlling his charges. Describing himself as "knight of the Birches," he said he needed mere apple switches.13 But one parent, at least, objected to his discipline. This was Mr. B. Million, who wrote this note to Applegate: SirThe first bell announcing school rang at 8:20 a.m. Applegate began school with a New Testament reading lesson, proceeding then to graded readers and geography. At 10:30 came the separate boys' and girls' recesses. After recess until 12:00 dismissal, the students recited from their grammars and spellers, group by group. The afternoon session began with more Bible reading, continued with their graded readers, and finished after a 2:30 recess with arithmetic and spelling. He dismissed the school at 4:00. Applegate managed to squeeze in study of the primer for the littlest children and recitations in history and natural philosophy for the oldest. The textbooks varied year by year, but the favorites were Sanders' and Wilson's series of readers, Sanders' and Webster's spellers, Mitchell's geographies, and Clark's grammar. Tacked up on the wall of the school were Applegate's "Rules of the Ashland School": 1. No scholar shall willfully infringe upon the rights of another in or out of School on School days.Applegate's fourteen-year-old sister Alice wrote in 1867 a pious essay on "Order in School"--whether as a gesture of sisterly support or as a punishment for mischief we will never know: Thare is nothing like Order in School. Scholars should always be orderly, and when any one is Speaking, they should pay strict attention to all that is said and be as quiet as possible. They should sit facing their teacher and not be turning around and looking at those behind them, and doing things to attract their attention and make them laugh. they should try to get their lessons and if they do not get them very well, what more can they do but try. When they are reciting a lesson they should try to answer every question correctly and if they can not give to answer just as it is in the Book, if they can give it in their own language it will do just as well. they should try to obey all the rules and be able to answer perfect every evening.All was not grim propriety in the Ashland school, however. Applegate emulated the young literati of Santiam Academy, Willamette University, and other cultural centers by writing and staging plays and helping the students to write ambitious manuscript newspapers. And sometimes the children performed for the tribe, the girls demurely reading their essays and the boys boldly declaiming their pieces. At such an occasion Charles Henry Hargadine, age 6 in 1865, sounded a (more or less) confident note: Friends, Teacher and Parents:A less bumptious welcome was this "Opening Address": Respected Parents and Friends--Throughout the essays, the declamations, the school newspapers, echoes the moralistic rhetoric of the textbooks of the time, with only the faintest indications that the students suspected that this treacle-coated world was unreal. Clarence Darrow recalled that in the Ohio district school of his youth "We were taught by our books that we must on all accounts speak the truth; that we must learn our lessons; that we must love our parents and our teachers; must enjoy work; must be generous and kind; must despise riches; must avoid ambition; and then if we did these things, some fairy godmother would come along at just the darkest hour and give us everything our hearts desired." In practice, he said, "we were young savages," but Darrow recalled that he probably believed as a child that the stories of Providential payola were true, his own experience notwithstanding.14 Clarence Darrow was not the only unregenerate boy who swallowed whole the saccharine morality of the textbooks. A young newspaper reporter on the Brooklyn Evening Star wrote the following message on October 10, 1845: Boy, or young man, whose eyes hover over these lines! how much of your leisure time do you give to loafing? What vulgar habits of smoking cigars, chewing tobacco, or making frequent use of blasphemous or obscene language have you begun to form? What associations and appetites are you idly falling into, that future years will ripen into wickedness or shame? Consider these questions as addressed, not to everybody in general, but to you, in particular--and answer them honestly to your own heart.The author was no budding parson, but Walt Whitman, who would later say in "Song of Myself" I loafe and invite my soul,The Banner, an Ashland school manuscript newspaper, had as its motto "Temperance, Education, Humility, Truth, Honor, Education." It sported essays like Mary Hanna's on "Idleness": Idleness is a sin, yet there are a great many who will idle away their time; and what do they gain? What kind of men and women will boys and girls make if they give themselves up to Idleness? I will tell you what I think: They will be lazy good-for-nothing men and women. The men they boys will become, will sit in the Bar room while their families are left in dark cellars to starve. Think of it. Thousands have perished in this way. I warn you to guard against the evil, hoping that you will never spend your precious time at the gaming table. For remember "time flies on Eagle's wings," and if you lose it once, you can never catch it again. A great many have written on this subject, but I do not think too much can be said about so great a sin as Idleness.Idleness and intemperance were partners in evil. A scholar signing himself "Pie Biter" wrote this essay on "News Years": A new year has begun again and if we would improve the time in usefulness we would be joyful all the year. In a new year a person trys to be happy but he never can be happy by Drinking Rum and getting drunk. to be happy you must never taste strong drink it is very wrong to taste strong drink always take water in the place of it and you will feel much better.The question of ambition puzzled the Ashland scholars. Many wanted, like Charles Henry Hargadine, to be somebody, but pride was a sin and pomp was unAmerican. The cult of the self-made man ran headlong into the problem of the deserving poor. Inherited high rank was clearly foreign and undesirable: "a man need not be of great birth to do great deeds," said Applegate's sister Alice in praise of the poor man William Tell. Francis W. Smith, aged thirteen in 1865, wrote in good Populist style in his essay on "Man" that "if a man is rich he is no better than a poor man. Some folks think if they are wealthy that they are the wisest and do not notice the poor. No man would be better than an other one if his house was made of gold." Warming to this theme, Master Smith wrote "The Talent of Success": Every man must patiently abide his time. He must wait; not in listless idleness, not in useless pastime, but in constant, steady, cheerful endeavor, always willing, fulfilling his task, "that when the occasion comes he may be equal to the occasion." The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you can do well, without a thought of fame. If it comes at all it will come because it is deserved, not because it is sought after. It is indiscreet and troublesome ambition which cares so much about fame, about what the world says of us; to be always looking in the face of others for approval; to be always anxious about the effect of what we do or say; to be always shouting, to hear the echoes of our own voice.Ambition aside, all agreed that there was work to do. Despite his flowery diction, the scholar who declaimed on the "Resources of our State" saw hard cash ahead and lost no sentiment over conquered nature: Oregon is yet young. Her "shadow scarce reaches to her father's knee." Her resources are undeveloped, her mighty accomplishments of the future are "veiled in obscurity." But they must become known. Who that has beheld the rising magnificance of the states, presided over by the Godess of Liberty, can doubt for an instant the grandeur she will attain. The fields of New-England, when the productions of the soil had already repaid the laborer for his toil, have discovered to her enterprising sons, immense deposits of coal, without which the great improvements of the age would be comparatively useless. Every land however barren or unsightly it may appear, will unfold to the industrious laborer, whose deeds are presided over by freedom, the rich fruits of glory and glow with grandeur and sublimity. Our state is not behind her sisters in the resources of power. The germ of greatness lies imbedded in her bosom, and when time with its necessary accompaniments, has revealed it, it will glow with such surprising magnificence, that a brighter ray would scarcely be perceptible. Coal, that necessary accompaniment of power, is imbedded in almost every mountain, waiting only the wild snorting of the iron horse to call it into the power of man.--He will come! …Iron, the "infernal material," which has become a necessary companion of resistence and power, is every where slumbering in our rich vallies, and mountain recesses. And ere long when the knell of coming greatness shall have awakened the dormant energies of our state, it will reecho to the sound of the anvil and pickaxe--and rise from its rock-bound bed, spread afar irresistible arms, protect us while "preserving the peaceful attractions of life," and with its more delicate power assist the husbandman at his plow, the smith at his anvil, and follow the enterprising miner into the dangers of the untrammeled wilderness, watch over his toils and assist him in bringing into existence the mortal God--Gold--Gold, the motive power of improvement, exists in matchless plenitude within our domain, … The products of our gardens and orchards rival in number and character the luscious productions of the tropics. Why attempt to enumerate our resources, Tis vain. Every mountain side or footstep of Empire reveals unknown splendor. Ere long, when our youthful state shall behold the unfolded wings of time, mighty changes will meet our gaze on every hand.… And the whole land will glow with the smile of plenty and satisfaction.…Such was the course of empire as baroquely painted for the children and neighbors in the Ashland schoolroom. Far from fleeing, like Natty Bumppo, the sound of the axe, they embraced the iron horse and saw sublimity in coal. At times, though. the children saw Nature through the conventionally tinted glass of the readers' and the ladies' gift books. Mary, a little girl, wrote "Spring": Spring is the Season of beauty--then All are happy the birds the bees the boys and girls are gay and Joyful the birds are building their nests and the bees are stoaring away honey for winter useAlmeda, an adolescent, wrote of melancholy "Autumn": Autumn has come at lastTo Walter Myer, age fourteen in 1865, Nature showed a sterner face in his Faulkneresque essay "A Hunt": Once upon a time there was a man went out to hunt he trailed for some time before he saw any game by and by he came to a place where he supposed it to be bears den or some other kind of wild animals nest he was progican around their and direcly he saw a large Grizzly bear a coming and their was no trees around their that he could climb he did nor think it best to run so he thought he would stand still till it would come up enough to shoot at it and then he would shoot he shot and knocked it down but it got up again and took after him and he did not have a gun that would shoot fifteen times like Mr Applgate has and he did not have time load before it catch him then he thought it best to run so he took to his heels and skedadle the bear fowled hin a little peace and stoped the man run on a little peace and stoped and loded his gun and went hack in search of his bear direcly he came up to the spot where the bear was laying down he slipped around til he got close enough to shoot and then he hauld up and shot and killed it then he went up to the bear layed down his gun and rested for a little while and direcly he heard something snorting through the brush and he thought it was another bear he sit for a moment and then got up and went to the place where he heard the noise in the brush but could not find any trace of it so he though he would hunt around their a little more and then go back to where he had killed his other bear then he cut off some of its hind quarter and then started back to his cabin.In the 1860s the prime political issue was of course the Civil War. The martial Applegate clan firmly opposed secessionist and pro-Southern sentiment. Oliver's sister Alice had this to say about "The Copperhead": Ever since the commencement of this desperate Struggle for national existence the land has been infested by a kind of reptiles called "Copperheads" they are to be found in every saloon in the County, drinking and gambling. It was by such that the war was brought on. Bush whackers is another name applied to them. They go by this name in the North-western states. But all good men rejoice in the name of "traitors" & "Lincoln slaves" when applied by "copperheads"The scholars read the Bible aloud twice daily. Christianity was inseparable from Americanism and morality in the textbooks, and probably so, too, in the minds of the children. The Bible explained and ordered their universe. Alice Applegate told a familiar, unfinished story in one of her themes: Addam was the first man that looked upon the face of the earth and he was then in the garden of eden. Around him were all kindes of fruit and flowers and in the center of the garden grew the tree of the Knowledge of Good & EvilGenesis; the grizzly bear; polite accomplishments; Copperheads; the perils of ambition, drink, and idleness; the dream of mountains of coal, iron, and gold--these merged in the school with the lessons the frontier community taught the children. The scholars read textbooks written by men from afar who told of distant lands, who painted technicolor panoramas of virtue and vice, who talked in language never heard on the Ashland playground. Slowly the conventional wisdom of the tribe became tinged with the conventional wisdom of formal education. In Ashland, Oliver Cromwell Applegate, who wrote poetry and had a gun that fired fifteen times, mediated the two worlds. DAVID
TYACK
Reed College 1. These records are deposited in the Library of the University of Oregon, hereafter cited as Or U. Besides the scattered clues like those left by Oliver Applegate, perhaps the best insights into the pioneer school appear in fiction and autobiography, notably in Edward Eggleston's The Hoosier Schoolmaster. Eggleston artistically simplifies the transaction of district school and rural community, far different from the compulsory, standardized present-day urban or suburban school. 2. Oregon Superintendent of Public Instruction, First Biennial Report (Salem, 1874), p. 25. Marshall Barber, who attended a rural school in Kansas in the 1870s, recalls in The Schoolhouse at Prairie View (Lawrence, Kansas, 1953), that "Prairie View was the official name, so far as it had any, of a country school district in southeastern Kansas. Its capitol was a small white-painted building which was not only the schoolhouse, but the center--educational, social, dramatic, political, and religious--of a pioneer community of the prairie region of the West." 3. John Miller to Oliver Applegate, June 21 and August 15, 1863, O. C. Applegate Papers, Or U.; in his delightful chapter on education in The Sod-House Frontier (New York, 1937) Everett Dick narrates a number of pitched battles over the location of school houses, telling of one enterprising crowd who moved a school one mile secretly at night. 4. Indenture dated November 24, 1847, in A. J. Smith Papers, Or U. 5. John Miller to Oliver Applegate, February 16, 1867, O. C. Applegate Papers. 6. Henry Cummins to Oliver Applegate, February 17, 1863, O. C. Applegate Papers. 7. John Miller to Oliver Applegate, April 15, 1863, O. C. Applegate Papers. 8. Superintendent of Public Instruction, Report (1874), pp. 58-59. 9. Figures taken from Applegate's manuscript report for 1865; this report and all the succeeding information on the Ashland school are quoted from the file on School District No. 5, Jackson County, Or U., which contains yearly statistical and financial reports and the students' manuscripts cited later in the text. All sources not otherwise footnoted are taken from this file. 10. Applegate's correspondence, sometimes written in humorous doggerel, and his diaries delightfully illuminated with doodles reveal a broad and attractive mind and personality. 11. Superintendent of Public Instruction, Report (1874), p. 25. 12. Oliver Applegate to Thomas Applegate, May 1, 1864, O. C Applegate Papers. 13. Oliver Applegate to John Miller, December 18, 1866, O. C. Applegate Papers. 14. As quoted in Claude Fuess and Emory Basford, eds., Unseen Harvests (New York, 1947), pp. 42-43. David Tyack, The Call Number (semi-annual publication of the University of Oregon Library), Spring 1966, Vol. 27, No. 2, pages 13-23 -
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SICK.--We regret to state that Mr. O. C. Applegate, of Ashland, is lying very ill at Salem. He sprained his wrist several months since, and the consequences were so serious that his physician told him his arm was poisoned by impure matter during the smallpox last winter. His arm seemed to improve for some time, but has grown worse within a week, and it is now feared that he will have to submit to amputation. Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville,
September 25, 1869, page
2
IMPROVING.--The friends of Mr. O. C. Applegate, who is lying sick at Salem, will be glad to learn that he is improving. His symptoms are now favorable, and strong hopes are entertained that he will not lose his arm. Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville,
October 2, 1869, page
2
Captain O. C. Applegate lives at Klamath Falls. He is a son of Lindsay Applegate, who, with his brother Jesse, came across the plains in 1843. Major Lindsay Applegate was the first agent appointed for the Modoc Indians. He was one of the men representing the government when the treaty was made with the Indians in 1864. In a recent letter to me Captain O. C. Applegate gives much interesting history of the early days. In speaking of the causes leading up to the Modoc War he writes: "My father, Captain Lindsay Applegate, the first agent to take charge of the Indians of this region after the treaty of 1864, assisted in making the treaty. He was well known to many of the Indians, and it was at their request, made at the time the treaty was signed, that he was appointed. He took charge of the Indians in 1865. I was his clerk and assistant. In the summer of 1869, having served four years, he was succeeded by Captain O. C. Knapp of the United States army, supernumerary army officers having been placed in charge of nearly all the Indian agencies. "Captain Jack, a sub-chief of the Modoc tribe, had signed the treaty as Keintpoos, but was never on the reservation with his band during the incumbency of Agent Applegate. Old Schonchin, head chief of the Modocs, voluntarily came onto the reservation with more than half of his people soon after the treaty was made, although it was not ratified until some years after, and loyally remained thereafter. In the fall of 1869 Superintendent A. B. Meacham, of the Oregon superintendency, removed Captain Jack and his band to the Klamath Reservation and established them at Modoc Point, where they remained during the succeeding winter, but in the spring of 1870 they folded their tents like the Arabs and quietly stole away to their old country about Tule Lake. They claimed that the Klamaths mistreated them and that Captain Knapp, the agent, did not treat them as well as he did the Klamaths. "During succeeding years several councils were held with Keintpoos, and repeated efforts were made by the authorities, and by the old loyal chief, Schonchin, to induce him to come onto the reservation in accordance with the treaty, but without avail. Finally, in the fall of 1872, Superintendent T. H. B. Odeneal, whose office was at Salem, was instructed by the authorities at Washington to bring Captain Jack's band onto the reservation, 'peaceably if possible, but by force if necessary,' they having become a menace to the settlements in the region occupied by them. "Now we come to the actual cause of the war. On the arrival of Superintendent Odeneal at Linkville (now Klamath Falls) he sent a Modoc Indian woman to Captain Jack, asking for a conference with him, but Jack abruptly refused, and Mr. Odeneal immediately placed the matter in the hands of Colonel John Green, commander at Fort Klamath, and asked that Jack and his band be removed to the reservation without delay. It had been supposed that Colonel Green could detach the 50 troopers for this purpose on short notice, but the sequel proved that only 25 men were available, and these, under Captain James Jackson of B troop of the First United States Cavalry, left Fort Klamath at noon on November 28, 1872, and after riding 65 miles arrived at Captain Jack's winter camp on Lost River at daylight on the morning of November 29. Preliminary efforts for a peaceful settlement failed and the fight was on. The force proved insufficient. Though Jack's men were driven out of this encampment, about a fourth of Captain Jackson's men were killed or wounded and the Indians escaped to the lava beds and there occupied one of the strongest natural fortifications in the world, and 18 settlers in the settlement at the head of Tule Lake were killed by a band of the Modocs who were en route to the lava beds. "Had General Frank Wheaton, who was in command of the District of the Lakes, his garrisons being Camp Harney, Bidwell and Warner and Fort Klamath, been called upon, he could have put into the field 150 troopers without depleting his garrison too much, and this force in all reason could have protected the menaced settlers and made the efforts to bring in the insurgent band a success. It was my belief then, as it is now, that had that been done there would have been no Modoc War. This was the advice of the man who had charge of the loyal Modocs, the Piutes and the Upper Klamaths at Yainax subagency, a man well informed on the situation and who was in correspondence with General Wheaton and knew how promptly that fine officer would have complied had he been called upon. "When Superintendent Odeneal received the rebuff from Captain Jack he failed to heed the counsel of the man at Yainax, and the result was a failure. Doubtless no living man knows the truth of this statement better than I do myself, for I represented the Indian Department as United States commissary at Yainax and had made a trip to Klamath agency on purpose to advise calling on General Wheaton for 150 men, in case force should be required to compel Jack's return to the reservation and make the settlements safe." Fred Lockley, "Observations and Impressions of the Journal Man," Oregon Journal, Portland, October 22, 1921, page 4 Captain Applegate, Indian Fighter
of Early Oregon Days
The fires of a mountain evening are playing around the hearth, with
shadows throwing the lodge walls into silhouette. Through a small
window can be had glimpses of dark blue radiating upward from the
waters of Crater Lake, otherwise the darkness of forestlands where in a
former day the pale smoke stream of a signal fire arose.(By Payson Jones) Within, a small group of listeners are gathered around the figure of Captain O. C. Applegate, an Indian fighter of the old days when Crater Lake lay deep in the unknown wilds of the Oregon country, days when the American pioneer created the coast country from the enemies of the commonwealth. To the south, beyond the territory of the Rogue River Indians lay the Sacramento Valley and the mining regions of California, partially a province of Mexico, and partially ground disputed with the Britisher. It is often said by Europeans that America is young, so young that tradition and legend of early valor can play but little part in the popular mind. Pointing to their cathedral towns and the battle relics of Saxon days, they search in vain for such values in the Yankee world. They are largely wrong, however. A survey of western history brings to light deeds of the emigrant and the settler which can well take their place with those encircled by the halo of a continental Parnassus. And so it was we look upon this stalwart Oregonian of other days with something akin to awe. Daniel Boone is dead, and of his brothers few remain. A little while and they will live only in dusty records of the past. Captain Applegate.
A tall man is Captain O. C. Applegate, dressed in a broadcloth suit
over the waist of which gleam a pair of golden charms. His hair is more
than silver-tipped above blue eyes that gaze straight and fearless.In all respects is he also an admirable figure. Perhaps he has outlived his time, as some sea captain may rest upon the shore, carving little ships and gazing ever upon the wave, as though life and memory live thereon. But if he has, it is only that others may know and understand the type that went before. Gouverneur Morris might describe him as a strong he-man, but we should prefer to call him gentleman. Early Frontier Days.
He is telling of frontier days when ox-carts passed over the emigrant
trail, and lone horsemen scouted upon the horizon, searching, searching
for signs of the Piute, the Modoc and the Rogue. A friend of the
captain's father, Kit Carson, crossed and recrossed this territory
exploring lands into which others might follow with something more than
rifle and cartridge with which to scour the wilderness. And there was
Captain John Fremont, the pathfinder!A cold gleam comes into the captain's eyes as he recalls another episode of the powder and ball. Stroking a white beard as long as the House of David, he becomes the raconteur. In the year of '61, he tells us, Captain Evans and Joe Baily left the settlement of Fort Hall, Oregon, with 800 cattle for the mining regions of Californey. Beyond the country of the Modoc Lakes they passed in safety until reaching a rocky divide by the Pit River, a north branch of the Sacramento. At this point they were attacked by hundreds of Piute Indians, out for the great prize of cattle. The latter were corralled within the circle of wagons while the fight proceeded. The odds were hopeless, and only a few escaped down the river to Fort Crook. Returning with soldiers they recaptured a few of the cattle, but the havoc of Bloody Point had been nearly complete. News traveled fast, however, and in a few days the people at the Rogue River settlement had been apprised of the disaster. This caused considerable excitement, for some of those to whom the ugly report had been brought had relatives in an emigrant train from St. Jo, Missouri, near the fighting grounds. Rescue Expedition.
Forty
volunteers enlisted under Captain Lindsay Applegate, the brother of the
story teller [the
Lindsay in question was O.C.'s father], for an expedition
to rescue the emigrants.Green men they were in the art of forest fighting, but determined. The second night out, Captain Applegate resolved to try his men with a call to arms. At two in the morning he rose and gave the alarm. The result was the wildest melee in the history of Oregon, with aspects ludicrous to the point of danger. The men fell out. They rolled out. They cried out. Weapons had been carefully laid away the night before, but locating them was a big problem. All was turmoil and confusion. As a climax to the proceeding one rotund gentleman of the bull voice type began to bellow. Mounting the tumult, his voice rolled over the mountain camp like the intonations of a thunder storm. At this juncture Captain Applegate intervened with the white flag and uplifted hand. Silence, terrible by contrast! Applegate Talks.
"Men," he said to the shivering brethren around him, "there might be
Injuns playin' out yonder, but there ain't. You might all be a-lyin'
here on the ground as cold as ice, and without no hair t' keep yer fool
heads warm, but you ain't! Them pore lonesome emigrants out thar with
the Piutes might be waitin' till Doomsday for rescuers. But they ain't.
This here alarm was a test, and you shore passed it miserable. God
Almighty saved you, I reckon, fer use later. But let this be a lesson
to ye when the time comes. We're out to get Injins. an' men, it's up to
you to die with yer boots on instead of checkin' out like a pa'cel o'
skeered rabbits! Get that--now roll under."Learned Its Lesson.
The company learned its lesson, and when they encountered the enemy
fought like men. A few were left by the wayside, but died with their
boots on. The Indians were defeated in a single fight, and the men
under Captain Applegate acted as an escort to the emigrants during the
remainder of their journey. How they were received by the newcomers is
another story. Women sobbed with relief, men felt as though they had
been born anew. Then back to the settlement lying upon the shores of
Rogue River.At the close of his narrative Captain Applegate threw back his shoulders and spoke the words of a poem dedicated by himself to the American flag, tingling with the spirit of a new country. Listening, there were some who cried softly, but with a smile, as they gazed upon that frontiersman of a day that is gone Hartford Courant, Hartford, Connecticut, October 30, 1921, page C2 Interestingly, throughout the article "O. C. Applegate" was spelled "Hosea Applegate." Captain Applegate Gives Modoc War
History
Capt. O. C. Applegate, well-known Southern Oregon pioneer, who observed
as an onlooker many events of the Modoc War, has written a history of
the great Indian struggle for Crater Lake chapter, Daughters of the
American Revolution. The history has been presented the Mail Tribune for
publication, and the first chapter appears today. Next Saturday's story
will tell the "Actual Causes of the War."for Daughters of Revolution Well-Known So. Oregon Pioneer Witnessed Many Stirring Days When Whites and Indians Came to Grips Today's reads: The Klamath and Modocs are, or were, the same people, the Lu-tu-a-mi, speaking the same language, occupying the same country of Oregon and California, and for ages defending it with its abundant natural resources from all surrounding tribes. These Indians are regarded as mentally superior to many other tribes of North America and are not related to any other tribe in the region, as shown by their language, unless remotely, to the Cayuse, occupying a country further north. While the Klamath (Ouxy Ka-no) portion of the tribe occupied the country adjacent to the great Klamath Lake and its tributaries, the Modoc (Moa-dock) occupied the southern lake region, the watershed of Lower Klamath, Tule and Clear lakes. Modoc (or Moa-dock in their language) means farther south--near southerners, not "strangers" or "enemies," as stated by some writers. One of the most important events that ever occurred in this region was the great treaty of October 15, 1864, signed by 26 chiefs of the Klamath, Modoc and Yahooskin band of "Snake," or "Piute," Indians. This treaty was made at Council Grove, near Fort Klamath, and about 1500 Indians of these tribes were present. On behalf of the Modocs the treaty was signed by the old hereditary chief Schonchin and by Slackitet (George) Keintpoos and Chuck-ei-ox.Keintpoos, a young sub-chief, was afterwards known and became famous as "Captain Jack." Schonchin, with more than half his people, came onto the reservation soon after the treaty was made, although it was not ratified until some years later. In the fall of 1869 Superintendent Alfred B. Meacham, of the Oregon Superintendency [of Indian Affairs], whose office was in Salem, removed Captain Jack's band to the reservation and established them at Modoc Point, south of Williamson River, where they remained that winter, but in the spring of 1870 they folded their tents, like the Arabs, and quietly stole away to their old country about Tule lake. Later they claimed in defense that the Klamaths mistreated them and that the agent, Captain O. C. Knapp of the U.S. army, did not treat them as well as he did the Klamaths. (Personally, I was at that time in the hands of the surgeons in Salem, under treatment for blood poisoning, and so was never on the reservation during the period of Captain Jack's residence there, but I believe the superintendent made a serious mistake in not locating the band on Whiskey Creek, near Yainax subagency, where they would have been with the Schonchin people and under the influence of the forceful and loyal old chief.) During several succeeding years councils were held with Captain Jack, and repeated efforts were made by the authorities, as well as by old Chief Schonchin, to induce him to come onto the reservation with his band, but without avail. Finally, in the fall of 1872, Superintendent T. H. B. Odeneal, whose office was in Salem, was instructed by the authorities at Washington to bring Capt. Jack's band onto the reservation "peacefully, if possible, but by force if necessary," they having become a serious menace to the settlements in the region occupied by them. Medford Mail Tribune, November 7, 1931, page B3 Captain Applegate Tells Real
Causes
This second installment of Capt. O. C. Applegate's history of the Modoc
War tells the story of the real cause of the war and the exciting
events which followed. Next week he will tell of the massacre of the
peace commission.Modoc War; White Forces Inadequate On the arrival of Supt. Odeneal at Linkville, now Klamath Falls, he sent messengers to Captain Jack, asking for a conference with him. Jack abruptly refused to hold a council with the superintendent, and Mrs. [sic] Odeneal immediately placed the matter in the hands of Col. John Green, commander at Fort Klamath, and asked that Captain Jack and his band be removed to the reservation without delay. It was supposed that Col. Green could detach 50 troopers for this purpose on short notice, that being the number called for by the superintendent, but the sequel proved that only 35 men were available, and these under command of Capt. James Jackson of B Troop, First U. S. Cavalry, accompanied by [Frazier] A. Boutelle and Surgeon Capt. McElderry, left Fort Klamath at noon on November 28, 1872, and after riding 65 miles, arrived at Captain Jack's camp on the west and south side of Lost River at daylight on the morning of November 29. Preliminary efforts for a peaceful settlement failing, the fight was on. The force proved insufficient. Though Jack's men were driven out of the encampment, about a fourth of Capt. Jackson's men were killed or wounded and the command was powerless to pursue. The Indians escaped to the lava beds, where they occupied one of the strongest natural fortifications in the world and 18 settlers at the head of Tule Lake, in the region now blooming with its evidences of an advancing civilization, were killed where they were pursuing their usual avocations about their ranches or at work in the woods, by a band of Jack's men en route to the stronghold in the lava beds. I was at that time commissary of subsistence for Modocs and Piutes at Camp Yainax on the Klamath reservation, and was the man who was to take charge of Captain Jack's band in case of their surrender, had put up hay for their horses and otherwise made provision for the band along with old Chief Schonchin's people at Yainax, and had recommended to the authorities that no effort should be made to bring Jack's band onto the reservation until Gen. Frank Wheaton, who was in command of the district of the lakes, which embraced Fort Harney, Camp Bidwell, Camp Warner and Fort Klamath, could have within reach 150 troopers which he could easily spare without depleting his garrisons too much; and this recommendation was known to Supt. Odeneal. It was my opinion then, as it is now, that had that been done, Jack would not have resisted and the settlers would have been spared. There would have been no Modoc War. Neither would there have been, had it not been for the unfortunate duel between Scarface Charley and Lieut. Boutelle, which precipitated the fight at Captain Jack's camp that fatal morning of November 29, 1872. When the firing began at Captain Jack's camp, it was instantly taken up by Black Jim's men, and the fight was on with us and at close quarters. Under orders of Supt. Odeneal to endeavor to settle things peaceably with Captain Jack's band, I was in the encampment of Black Jim. Captain Jack's half-brother, on the east side of Lost River, talking to the Indians in the interest of peace when the firing began in Captain Jack's encampment on the other side of the river, and it instantly began on our side. Several of the Indians had come forward and shaken hands with me, one of these being the Curly-headed Doctor, a leading man of Jack's band, and I am sure they would all have surrendered had it not been for the unfortunate duel on the other side of the river. I had with me five men on my mission, one of them my interpreter, Klamath sub-chief Dave Hill. Five settlers, who resided near, had come into the encampment while I was talking with the Indians, none of them making any aggressive action, hence the statement afterwards made by writers that the settlers attacked the Indians at Black Jim's camp that morning is not true. It was my brother Ivan, who also was under instruction of Supt. Odeneal, [who] was to visit Captain Jack's camp as guide to the troopers, in an endeavor to secure peaceable surrender. Passing over in this narrative many of the early incidents of the war, including the attack on Captain Jack's stronghold January 17, 1873, the fight in the fog so dense that we could not use artillery without endangering our men on the opposite side of the stronghold, when we withdrew at night without dislodging the enemy, with a loss of 41 men killed and wounded. Medford Mail Tribune, November 14, 1931, page 8 Captain Applegate Tells of
Modocs' Treachery
The massacre of the peace commission is told in this week's chapter of
Capt. O. C. Applegate's history of the Modoc War. In next Saturday's Mail Tribune
the colorful story will be concluded. Captain Applegate witnessed the
war and is one of the few persons left to review the actual events of
the struggle, which had so much to do with the history of Southern
Oregon.Uncle Sam had called a halt in military proceedings, hoping for a peaceful settlement, and had sent a peace commission under the chairmanship of [Alfred] B. Meacham, formerly U.S. Superintendent of Indian Affairs in Oregon. General Canby, one of the ablest commanders of the Union army in the Civil War, was not technically a member of the commission, but was commander of this military department at that time and was under orders to act with the commission. Gen. [Alvan] C. Gillem was commander of the army in the field, and was encamped at the foot of the bluff at a point now known as Gillem's Graveyard. Meacham had without due consideration, as I have always believed, agreed to meet Captain Jack with five of his staff about a mile within the rugged area of the lava beds for a peace conference, notwithstanding that he knew that more than a month before, while the army was encamped at the Fairchild ranch on Cottonwood Creek, a plan had been laid by the wily chieftain and his warriors to lead the peace commissioners and army commanders into a trap on an area of the lava beds on lower Klamath Lake. This plan had been discovered by Winema and her husband Frank Riddle, and we warned the commissioners in time to save them. The telegram of Mr. Meacham to the Secretary of the Interior following this circumstance reads, I think, in these words: "The Indians mean treachery. Nothing can be done," and the reply was, according to my recollection (and I was with the commissioners under detail to assist them as secretary) from the all-knowing authorities at Washington: "We do not believe the Indians mean treachery. Continue negotiations," thus assuming to know more about conditions at the front than the selected and experienced men on the ground. We quote an eyewitness, who was conscious only a part of the time though during the massacre, Chairman Alfred B. Meacham himself, detailing the massacre: "General Canby and Dr. Thomas were the first of our party to arrive. They were greeted by the Indians with extreme cordiality, General Canby giving to each a cigar. Instead of five unarmed men including Scarface Charley, as promised by Boston Charley, in negotiations for the council, we found eight well-armed desperadoes, including the notorious cutthroats Hooker Jim and Black Jim. Captain Jack seemed anxious and ill at ease, and did not exhibit the friendship the others of his party pretended. "General Canby seemed calm and thoroughly self-possessed. General Thomas did not appear to note any suspicious circumstances but was endeavoring to impress the Indians with his good intentions. I made my election to abide by the consequences. I knew that the horse beneath me was one of the fleetest in the Modoc country and notwithstanding the rock trail could carry me out of danger with a few bounds, which he seemed more than willing to make at the slightest invitation. I made up my mind that Canby and Thomas should not be endangered by cowardly flight on my part. "Withdrawing from my overcoat and hanging it upon the horn of my saddle, I dismounted, dropping the rope halter to the ground, leaving my horse free to escape. Mr. Dyar dismounted, leaving his horse free. Mr. Riddle secured Wi-ne-ma's horse and we all gathered around the council fire. "Before the council talk began I sat down facing the chief and began the talk by referring to the proposition made the day before by Boston Charley, and continued by saying that we were ready to complete the arrangement for peace. Captain Jack asked if we were willing to remove the soldiers from the lava beds and give his people a home in the country. I felt that if his demand was met we could escape and although General Canby had refused to allow me to make this promise, I thought that, convinced as he must be of intended treachery, he would feel justified in assenting to the request. Cautiously turning to him I asked him to talk. After a moment's waiting he rose and stood erect. Every eye was upon him. All seemed to feel that if he assented to the withdrawal of the army the trouble would be passed over. Whether Gen. Canby realized the situation, with all its fearful possibilities, and would not swerve even from his purpose; or if he still thought the Modocs had not the desperate courage to execute the plan can never be known. If he said the soldiers should be removed, the phantom would have passed as a dream. If he said they should not be withdrawn the phantom must soon become a terrible reality. With a dignity that was peculiar to that brave soldier, he firmly pronounced his own death sentence, as well as that of Dr. Thomas, by saying that the soldiers could not be withdrawn." Medford Mail Tribune, November 21, 1931, page 10 General Canby's Slaying Ends
Applegate's Story
In this, the last chapter of Captain Applegate's history of the Modoc
War, the shooting of General Canby is related and a vivid story of the
events following repeated.----
"Again and again the Modoc chief repeated the demand for the removal of
the soldiers. General Canby, having once refused, was mute. Turning to
Dr. Thomas, who was sitting at my left, I asked him if he wished to
talk. The doctor dropped forward on his knees and made his last
proclamation of peace. He assured the Modocs that he was a friend to
them; that God had sent us to them as messengers of peace."The Modoc chief leaned forward, and touching me on the arm, he once more declared that no peace could be made until the soldiers were taken away. I believe that to now Captain Jack had hoped it would be granted and bloodshed thereby avoided. Schonchin (John) sprang to the seat vacated by Captain Jack, and in loud, angry tones repeated the ultimatum. Wi-ne-ma had thrown herself on the ground in front of Dr. Thomas and was interpreting Schonchin's speech at the moment when Captain Jack gave the signal, 'Kau-tux' (all ready). Almost at the same instant the Modoc yell broke from the rocks and two Modocs sprang forward, bearing rifles. "Captain Jack drew a pistol and shot Gen. Canby. 'Ellen's man' joined him in the attack. Gen. Canby did not fall until he had run 40 or 50 yards, when a shot struck him in the back of the head. His assailants came upon him and, shooting him again, stripped him of his clothing, turned his face downward and then left him. "Dr. Thomas received a shot from the hand of Boston Charley. He sank slowly, catching by his right hand. He was permitted to get upon his feet and stagger away a few rods, his murderers taunting him with not believing Wi-ne-ma, jeering him and ridiculing his religion and the failure of his prayers. Finally pushing him down, they shot him through the head, stripped him and turning him also upon his face, gathered up the dripping garments and joined the other murderers at the council fire. "Mr. Dyar, having his horse for a cover when the attack began, made good his escape, although pursued by Hooker Jim. Mr. Riddle escaped by running, covered by Scarface Charley's rifle, who declared it 'was unworthy of a Modoc to kill unarmed men.' Simultaneously with the attack on Gen. Canby and Dr. Thomas, Schonchin sprang to his feet, and drawing a knife and pistol, shouted 'Chook-e-la' (blood), pointed at my head and discharged his pistol, the bullet tearing through the collar of my coat and vest. Before the next shot, Wi-ne-ma was between him and his victim, grasping his arms and pleading for my life. I walked backwards 40 yards, while my heroic defender struggled to save me. Shacknasty Jim joined Schonchin in the attack, and Wi-ne-ma, running from one to the other, continued to turn aside the pistols aimed at me, until I went down. After I fell I raised my head above the rock over which I had fallen, and at the instant Schonchin aimed at me so correctly that his shot struck me between the eyes and glanced over my left eye, which was blinded. A shot from Shacknasty Jim struck me on the right side of the head, over the ear, which stunned me and I became unconscious. From Wi-ne-ma and Scarface Charley I learned that Shacknasty Jim robbed me of my clothing in part, notwithstanding Wi-ne-ma's expostulations that while Jim was unbuttoning my shirt collar one of the other murderers came up with a gun, and pointing it at my head was just in the act of touching the trigger when Jim pushed the gun up and said, 'Don't shoot any more. Him dead. He no get up. I hit him high up. Save the powder.' Having taken my coat, pants and vest, they left me, saying to Wi-ne-ma, 'Take care of your white brother.' Wi-ne-ma wiped the blood from my face and straightened my limbs, believing me dead. "Boston Charley drew a knife which, however, was a dull one, and began the difficult task of scalping a bald-headed man, and what added to the difficulty was the strong arm of Wi-ne-ma grasping him and hurling him as though he was but a boy to the rocks beside me. But Boston Charley had Modoc persistency, and springing to his feet with his pistol he struck her a blow upon the head, at the same time threatening to shoot her should she again interfere, and resumed the delicate task. Wi-ne-ma, dazed by the blow for a moment, in half-bewilderment saw the dull blade cutting down to the bone, while Boston Charley, enraged and impatient, set one foot upon the back of my neck and muttering curses in broken English, succeeded in cutting a circle almost around the upper part of my head, and had already so far lifted the scalp that he inserted the fingers of his left hand below it, preparatory to tearing it off, when Wi-ne-ma, recovering her presence of mind, resorted to strategy, shouting exultantly, 'Kap-ho Bostee-na-sol-sier' (soldiers coming). Boston Charley, without waiting for proof of the announcement, giving his victim a parting kick, left him, as he still supposed, a corpse in Wi-ne-ma's care."--From Meacham's book, Winema. Medford Mail Tribune, November 29, 1931, page 12
Pioneer Recalls Story of Early
Indian Strife
This is a
review of Capt. John
Charles Fremont's explorations of the Oregon country, told by
Capt. O. C. Applegate, one of Oregon's best-known pioneers.Fremont, who as a scientific geographer and an officer in the engineering corps of the United States army made in 1842 his initial exploration as far west as the summit of the Rocky Mountains, the midline of which was then the western boundary of the "Oregon country," which great province, then extending from Mexico to the Russian possessions, was under a treaty of joint occupation between Great Britain and the United States. In 1843 his second exploration led him across the mountains through the South Pass and practically on the same route pursued by the great covered wagon emigration of that year, which gave the preponderance of population of the Oregon country to Americans, and characterized that migration of nearly a thousand people as the one which "Americanized" Oregon. Fremont, after leaving his party at The Dalles, went personally as far as the Hudson Bay headquarters at Vancouver, returned to The Dalles and, with his well-equipped force of about 60 men following the valley of the Deschutes southward, crossed over the divide and encamped on the Klamath Marsh on December 11, 1843. Thence he proceeded eastward, feeling for the fabulous Buenaventura River, which was said to flow through the Golden Gate to the Pacific; he went east as far as Christmas Lake, so named by him and now known as Warner Lake, and encountering the great barrier of the Sierra, crossed it with almost incredible hardships in February, 1844, to the Sacramento Valley in Mexico. [California was then part of Mexico.] Before Fremont left Washington for his third exploration of the Pacific Coast, in the spring of 1845, he was advised by the authorities that war was imminent with Mexico, and in that event he would be advised by special messenger, and his duty then would be to try to save the great province of Alta California for the United States, as it was not believed that, in case of war, Mexico would be able to retain California. On his arrival in California, although he had authority from the Mexican government to pursue his explorations in Mexican territory, he found General Castro, the Mexican commander, suspicious and hostile towards him, and to avoid trouble, he went up on the foothills of the Sierras, built a stockade and encamped there until with the coming of spring he followed the gorge of Pit River to highlands east of the Cascade Sierras, and on May 1, 1846 encamped at the southeast end of Tule Lake, which he called Rhett Lake. There he waited three days, until the return of one of his hunters who had lost his way; then following up the east side of the lake, found at the north end a stream entering a tule marsh at the lake, our Lost River of the present day, which is called McCrady River. On May 6th he crossed Link River at the great village of Eulalona and late the same day encamped near where [we] have placed the Denny marker, on the creek for many years known as Rock Creek, which should be called Denny Creek, the name given it by Fremont. From here, pursuing his way along the west side of the lake, he encamped, as nearly as we can determine from his journal, on or near Wood River, and that night was surprised by the arrival of two men who had been sent out to overtake him by Lieut. Gillespie of the U.S. Marine service, who was following Fremont's trail to apprise him of the declaration of war with Mexico, and bearing orders to him to return according to program, which he understood to Alta California. Lieutenant Gillespie had left Sacramento with five men, and when he [was] in a region where the Indians were among the most warlike on the coast, he had sent forward Neal and Sigler to overtake Fremont. The two messengers only escaped from the Indians on Link River because of the speed of their horses. They told Fremont they feared Gillespie and his three men had already fallen victim [to the Indians]. Selecting ten resolute men, including Kit Carson and four Delaware scouts, Fremont took the back track as soon as possible to see the way, hoping to rescue Gillespie and his small party, and at sundown he had the great satisfaction of making camp with Gillespie and his three men on the edge of the marsh. Turning their horses and mules on the grasslands nearby, they made their camp under the overhanging branches of trees. The 15 exhausted men gathered about three fires for a few hours, and all then retired to their blankets, leaving Captain Fremont alone by the campfire, reading his orders from Washington, letters from his home, and deeply considering the changed circumstances that had come to him because of the declaration of war against Mexico; and there in the dim light of the campfire, in what was probably the first plan devised for the conquest of the great province of Alta California. Startled by a sudden disturbance among the horses and mules, down on the meadow, he took a revolver and went among them. He says in his journal: "A mule is a great sentinel, and when he quits eating and stands with his ears stuck out straight, taking notice, it is best to see what is the matter." It was probably midnight when he returned to camp. He says further: "I went to my blanket under the cedars. I had hardly gone to sleep when I was awakened by Carson's voice, asking Basil, 'What's the matter over there?' No reply came and immediately the camp was aroused by the cry from Kit and Owens, 'Indians!' Basil and the halfbreed had been killed. It was the sound of the ax driven into Basil's head that had awakened Carson. The halfbreed had been killed by arrows. Immediately the fight was on. Crane, a brave Delaware, was meeting the rush of the Indians, using his gun as a club, and fell, pierced by seven arrows. The Indian chief was killed instantly, and the Indians then retired before the rapid fire of the Fremont men. They made several rushes during the night in efforts to recover the body of their fallen chief, but without avail; and when daylight came they had disappeared." The morning scene was sad indeed, for out of the party of 15, three men were dead; another--a Delaware--was wounded. Taking up the bodies of their dead and placing them on mules, the little party started northward as soon as possible in the morning of the 10th of May, to regain the main command. Fremont says: "Before we had been two hours on the way, canoes appeared on the lake coming from different ways, apparently making for a point where the trail came down to the shore. As we approached this place, the prolonged cry of a loon told us that their scout was giving them warning of our approach. Knowing that if we came to a fight the care of our dead would prove a great hindrance and probably cost more lives, I turned sharply off to the mountains and buried or cached them in a laurel thicket. With our knives we dug a shallow grave, and wrapping their blankets around them, left them among the laurels. There are men above where the laurels bloom who did not better deserve them than my brave Delaware and Basil. I left Denny's name on the creek where he died." Medford Mail Tribune, February 28, 1932, page 9
Pioneer Turns History's Pages
Back to 1826 in Tale of Klamath Region
Peter
Skene Ogden,
when chief of trappers of the Hudson Bay Company, with a brigade of
trappers, made a winter excursion into and through the Klamath country
in 1826, saw and named Mt. Shasta. He spelled the name of the region
Clammitte.(By Capt. O. C. Applegate) The erratic school teacher, Hall J. Kelley of Boston, who for so many years advocated the settlement of the Oregon country, published a map in 1839 in which he abbreviated the name to Clamet. Capt. John C. Fremont, the famous geographer and pathfinder, on his second exploration for Uncle Sam, accompanying, with a party of about 40 men, a part of the time the great wagon train of 1843, came up Fall River (Deschutes) and camped December 11, 1843, at the Klamath Marsh, which he called Klamath Lake. He found the Klamath Indians friendly, and the chief of the village piloted him on his way some distance through the wilderness toward the east, where he expected to find the fabulous Buenaventura River, and follow it to the bay of San Francisco. The country was practically an unknown region at that time, and we know that Fremont crossed the great barrier of the Sierra Nevada in February, 1844, his party suffering incredible hardships. He came again, that time from the Sacramento Valley, in the Mexican province of Alta California, and camped, May 1, 1846, at the southeast corner of Tule Lake, where we have placed a marker, crossed the Klamath River where it issues from Klamath Lake, at the Indian village of Eulalona, May 6, 1846, where we have also placed a stone marker. Fremont's purpose was to complete his exploration of the Klamath country, which had on his previous trip greatly impressed him with its beauty and potentialities. He was overtaken by Lieut. Gillespie of the Marine service, with information that war had been declared against Mexico, and was ordered to return to California and endeavor to break the Mexican power in that great province. He had three men killed, another wounded by Indians at Rock Creek (called by him Denny Creek) on the eastern side of Klamath Lake. Attacked the Klamaths at their great village on Williamson River, May 13, 1846, Kit Carson leading in the attack; killed fourteen Klamaths and burned their village. In a subsequent attack in the timber south of Williamson River, Fremont saved Carson's life by jumping his horse onto a Klamath who was in the act of shooting Carson with an arrow, and one of Fremont's Delaware scouts killed the prostrate Indian with a war club. The fifteen locators of the South Emigrant Road, from the Willamette Valley (where our only American settlement was at that time), to an intersection of the older Oregon trail at Fort Hall on Snake River, crossed Lost River on a rock ledge, which they called the Stone Bridge, on July 6, 1846. In their honor a stone marker was placed at that point by the Eulalona chapter, D.A.R., of Klamath Falls, on July 10, 1927. A great emigrant train was massacred by Modocs in the fall of 1852 at Bloody Point on the eastern margin of Tule Lake, thus beginning a period of tragic events in that region, which continued for a number of years, the last rescue of a train there occurring in July 1861. In 1859 Ledford and four other white men were killed by Molallas and Klamaths at Rancheria Prairie near Mt. Pitt in the Cascades. Chief Lalakes of the Klamaths brought three heads of the murderers to Jacksonville and Skookum John, another of the murderers, was killed at Fort Klamath when attempting to escape. In 1863 Fort Klamath, a company post, was established ten miles north of upper Klamath Lake. It was the nucleus for military operations during both the Snake and Modoc wars, and the troops were withdrawn from it in 1889. During its continuation many distinguished men of the army were here for various periods, among them Gen. Frank Wheaton, Alvin C. Gillem, Oliver O. Howard, Nelson A. Miles and Jefferson C. Davis. The great treaty with the Klamaths, Modocs and Yahooskin band of Snake Indians occurred at Council Grove near Fort Klamath, and was signed by representatives of the United States and twenty-six chiefs and head men of the tribes on Oct. 18, 1864. On the part of the Modocs, it was signed by head chief Schonchin and three sub-chiefs, one of these being Kientpoos, afterwards known as Capt. Jack, head of the insurgent band. Old Chief Schonchin, with half of his band, remained loyal during the war of 1872-3. Capt. Lindsay Applegate, who had been instrumental in securing the establishment of Fort Klamath, took charge of the Indians at Ft. Klamath in 1865 and in 1866 built the cabins of the original agency at Kowasta Indian village, at the head of Klamath Lake. In October and November, 1867, Supt. Huntington, with a great wagon train conveying annuity tools for the Klamath Indians, came through the central Oregon country from The Dalles. There was no road for wagons then south of the Canyon City road, and the train was preceded by a band of Indians, the "ax and rifle company," who opened the road before the train. This was the genesis of The Dalles and California highway. The first fight of the Modoc War occurred on Lost River, a mile east of the Stone Bridge, on the morning of Nov. 29, 1872, in an attempt by Capt. James Jackson, with a force of only thirty-five men, to return Capt. Jack and his insurgent band of Modocs to the reservation. It was precipitated by a duel between Lieut. Bowtelle of the army and Scarface Charley, one of Jack's most desperate warriors. The army force was inadequate, and the Modocs escaped to their stronghold in the Lava Beds. A mounted band of them passing through the settlement at the head of Tule Lake killed eighteen settlers that day and joined their leaders in the Lava Beds. Here for five and a half months, in one of the most formidable natural fortifications in the world, the Modocs held off the military forces, and many tragic events occurred in and about that rugged region until they were finally driven from their stronghold and in scattered bands were picked up in detail. The first investment of the stronghold occurred on Jan. 17, 1873, and although forty-one men were lost in the efforts, they failed to dislodge the enemy. The massacre of the peace commission, resulting in the death of General E. R. S. Canby and Rev. Eleazar Thomas, and serious wounding of Col. A. B. Meacham, occurred on April 11, 1873. At this point a marker has been erected in honor of Gen. Canby and many others who lost their lives in this final struggle with the red men of the region. April 26, 1873 occurred the defeat of the command of Capt. Evan Thomas, consisting of about eighty men who were surprised at the Sand Hills, four miles south of the stronghold, while making reconnaissance, and twenty-two men were killed and nineteen wounded. A number of minor engagements occurred, the last on March 12 at Dry Lake, in which the Modocs were defeated by the soldiers; and soon after, the surrender of the band occurred. Capt. Jack himself surrendered with a remnant of his band June 6, 1873, at Willow Creek canyon, east of Clear Lake, and the tragedy of the Modoc War terminated by the execution of Captain Jack, Schonchin John, Black Jim and Boston Charley at Fort Klamath, Oct. 3, 1873 for the murder of the peace commission. This article would be too long to mention the various important events which have marked the advance of civilization and development in the Klamath region from the beginning of white settlement in 1867 to the entrance of the Southern Pacific railroad in 1914, the wonderful transformation due to the reclamation program and other agencies which are contributing to the awakening of an empire, with even yet untold possibilities of development. Capt. Applegate has given Crater Lake Chapter, D.A.R., permission to have above article published. Medford Mail Tribune, April 10, 1932, page 9 Many years ago I met Captain O. C. Applegate in the Klamath country. He was a member of a party that went in search of the Blue Bucket mine. In an article he wrote for the paper at Klamath Falls many years ago, he said: "It was 42 years ago that I was one of a party of five men who made a trip across Central Oregon in search of the Blue Bucket mine. Before starting we conferred with Mrs. William G. Parker, who was 16 years old in 1845, when the gold was supposed to be discovered. She was a daughter of Captain Solomon Tetherow, who headed the train of which the discoverer of gold was a member. Mrs. Parker told us that she saw the metal that was picked up, hammered on a wagon tire until it was flattened. Her son, Sam Parker, had taken great pains to get all the details possible from his mother and also from his grandfather, Captain Sol Tetherow, who was still alive when we made our trip to search of the lost mine in 1877. "Here in brief is the story as given to us by Sam Parker: Captain Stephen Meek, brother of Joe Meek, was in command of a train of emigrants coming down Snake River on the old trail. He had 'a compass in his head,' as the old mountain men used to say. Before reaching the Blue Mountains he left the main trail, believing that he could cut across and save many days' travel on the way to the Willamette Valley. Sol Tetherow's wagon train was a few days behind Meek. He decided to follow Meek. He overtook Meek with his party at a spring that had made a marsh at the base of a hill. There was not sufficient water for the use of both wagon trains. Captain Tetherow and Steve Meek had a dispute about which was the way to make the cutoff. Tetherow said they were bearing too far south. Tetherow and his wagon train pulled out that night, heading northward. At 2 o'clock next day they struck a marsh. A man was sent back on a mule to notify the stragglers. The discovery of gold was made by members of the Tetherow wagon train before they had overtaken Meek. It was found in a range of hills sparsely covered with stunted juniper. The teams had to detour around the hills. The gold was found by the men driving the loose stock. They brought some of the nuggets in their shot pouches and produced them when they rejoined the main party that night. While one of the men was hammering out one of the pieces of metal on the wagon tire, someone said, 'How much of that stuff did you see?' The answer was, 'We could have filled that thar blue bucket with it,' and he pointed to one of the blue buckets used for carrying water. "Many years later Mrs. Parker, whose husband was a brother-in-law of Jesse Applegate, made a trip with her son, Sumner, into the Steen Mountain country to see if she could locate their old camp, but she was unable to remember just where the gulch was." Fred Lockley, "Impressions and Observations of the Journal Man," Oregon Journal, Portland, March 12, 1932, page 4 In traveling from Crater Lake to Klamath Falls last summer I stopped to revisit Fort Klamath. This fort was established in 1863. William Colvig of Medford gave me a most interesting history of this old fort. Captain O. C. Applegate also told me of its early history. The Indian name of Fort Klamath was Iukak, meaning "enclosed," and describing its location as enclosed by mountains. The Klamath Agency was established on May 12, 1866, on what was then known as Agency Lake. Klamath Marsh, in Klamath County, is named for the Klamath Indians, though the Indians called the marsh Eukshi. Klamath County was created on October 17, 1882, being cut off from Lake County. David Douglas, for whom our Douglas fir is named and who was killed in the Sandwich Islands, refers to this district as the Clamite country in his journal dated October 25, 1826. Colonel Fremont refers to the country as the Tlamath country. The city of Klamath Falls takes its name from the Klamath Indians. Fred Lockley, "Impressions and Observations of the Journal Man," Oregon Journal, Portland, April 7, 1932, page 10 |
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