HOME



The Infamous Black Bird Southern Oregon History, Revised


Grants Pass Daily Courier Diamond Edition
On April 2, 1960 the Courier commemorated its 75th anniversary with the publication of a thirty-page edition reprinting Southern Oregon histories, some of them originally printed by the paper in the 1920s.
   

Transcribed by Rene Forncrook.


Best of Indian War Tales Told by Fidler
    The best of the Rogue River Indian Wars stories--these are, in the opinion of the publishers of the Grants Pass Daily Courier, and the editor of this Pioneer Edition, none other than the Courier's own well-told tales of that turbulent time in Southern Oregon beginnings, as set forth by William W. Fidler, and featured weekly in the Courier well back into the early 1920s.
    The Rogue River Indian Wars happened RIGHT HERE--on either bank of our own Rogue River, battles and skirmishes raging from Table Rock and the mountains next beyond, down the river with its most horrible atrocities occurring at sites within hailing distance of our own Grants Pass' center. True, they continued to rage all the way down the river to the sickening debacle of a betrayed people at Gold Beach on Washington's Birthday, in [1856]; all the way across the Illinois Valley to the Oregon-California dividing line mountains, and beyond, and up the reaches of the Applegate River.
    But the war was brought into its sharpest and most poignant focus with the horror of the October 9 massacres in 1855, when family after family, and home after home, were completely destroyed in the Rogues' frenzied onslaught, at the foot of the lovely hills barely to the east and north of this county seat.
    William Fidler wrote his stories of those wars well. He wrote with the forthright conviction of a man who knew from actual living experience what he was writing about. William Fidler set down his stories of those awful years as they were recalled to him by the men who fought these wars.
    Skilled writer that he was, he captured the vernacular of their speech, and thus presented a story sequence of war in a manner at once informative, as well as entertaining--and for the average newspaper reader, the latter requisite is all important, if he is to be coaxed through to the end of any long news column.
    Frequently Fidler exhibited that rare sixth sense of a good newspaper man--that someone else could tell, or already had told, the story better than he, and he willingly starred them with all due credit, as he wove their salty bits into his own main theme of the war stories.
    It is with much the same humility as well as with downright appreciation of well-told story matter that this writer herewith confers upon fine old William W. Fidler, now long since gathered unto his forefathers, the honor of the "byline" for the story of the Rogue River Indians Wars as set forth in this Pioneer Edition, which thus marks the 75th anniversary of the publication of this Grants Pass Courier.
    The stories are set forth as told in weekly issues of the Courier starting August 24, 1923.
    Side stories, which, it is hoped, will add much to the readers' general knowledge of the times have been gleaned from the historical writings as set forth by A. G. Walling in his History of Southern Oregon, and himself an early-day settler and miner up Democrat Gulch, back of old Browntown and Tigertown; from Bancroft's (historical) Works, particularly Volume II, covering the history of Oregon from 1848 to 1888; and, for specialized authority, The Early Indian Wars, as compiled by Frances Fuller Victor at the behest of the Oregon State Legislature as their official record of the period.
    Certain specifics have also been taken verbatim from the Congressional Record of those days, where topics pertinent to the Oregon wars were dealt with.
    But of these latter…all such but serve to enhance and authenticate some point or other covered along the way in the entertaining tales of the wars as set forth by the Courier's friend of long ago--William W. Fidler. (A.F.B.)

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 1  The sources of the quotes Fidler cobbled together into the account below can most likely be clarified by reference to his original scrapbook, in the archives of the Southern Oregon Historical Society.]


----


Famed Table Rock Center of Indian War Treaties
By W. W. FIDLER

    To write up Oregon history without any reference to General Joseph Lane, the Marion of the Mexican War, would be like recounting the experiences of Hamlet with the Prince of Denmark left out. Hence early in my assortment of chronicles I run across his name in many ranges of activity. My first excerpt, however, has to do with mining rather than military affairs. The latter will soon follow.
    "Early in February 1851," says Sutton, "General Joseph Lane," assisted by Elijah Steele, Esq., raised a company of prospectors to go to the new diggings on Scotts River, at which place they arrived about the last of February of that year. Upon their arrival on the upper waters of Scotts River the Indians, who heard of General Lane through the Rogue River Indians, learning that he was the leader of the company, came into the camp and expressed a desire that all hostilities between them and the whites should close and that General Lane should be the chief over both parties.
Lane Holds Men
    This proposition was a great relief to the miners, for up to this time they had to keep a strict guard over their horses and camps, day and night. It was therefore agreed that their head men should come in and have a talk.
    Among the Indians that came according to agreement was the chief of the Scott Rivers, whom they christened "John" and his wards "Old Man," chief of the band that occupied the country where Yreka is located, and the chief of the Canyon Indians. The last-mentioned chief was afterwards known as "Charley." A general treaty of amity was agreed to and both parties expressed themselves highly gratified with the result.
    "On the discovery of gold on the Yreka Flat in March of 1851 General Lane and Mr. Steele left Scott River and located at the new diggings. This transferred the impromptu Indian department to that point."
    When Gen. Lane arrived in Yreka the Indians who were congregated on the flat received him in a most friendly manner. These Indians spoke a language in common with the Rogue River and Scotts River tribe and were formerly under the control of one chief.
    This head chief, who was the father of John of Scotts Valley, had accidentally been killed some years previously and John being young, a strife for the supremacy had been carried on for some time between him and "Old Joe" and "Sam" of Rogue River, and "Scar Face" of Shasta.
    When the whites came among them their strife ceased, each assuming supreme control over his own people. At this time the Indians had no stock and knew no use for horses and mules except for food, only as they had seen them used by the whites, as they passed through the country, or when war parties of "strange people" (Modocs) came among them.
    These Indians (the Shastas) were naked during the warm season and lived an indolent life, living on roots and fish, which were abundant and easily obtained. As a consequence of the inattention of the miners to their animals they frequently strayed off a long distance, and when wanted, could not be found by their owners, and had it not been for General Lane much trouble might have resulted.
    While the general commanded the highest respect from the miners he had won the most implicit confidence of the Indians, and at a word from him, "Old Tolo" would send his young men to look up any lost animals desired. This duty, which by common consent was awarded to him, was a heavy draw, both upon his time and his means, but he performed it with a cheerfulness which endeared the name of General Joe Lane to all the miners.
    After General Lane left his home in Oregon the Indians, having so frequently seen Mr. E. Steele in the general's company, "Tyee Joe Lane's codawa," meaning Chief Joe Lane's brother, and would go to him for advice and to relate their troubles. Since then to the present time Mr. Steele has been an important actor in the Indian affairs in this part of the country."
    The Mr. Steele mentioned above is, no doubt, the same Elijah Steele who figured so conspicuously in the Modoc troubles many years
afterwards. What is here related deals about as much with Northern California as with Southern Oregon, but as has been suggested by Sutton, the two sections are so intimately interlocked historically that it is difficult to treat of either section without including the other. Our next lengthy extract has to deal with Steele's continued services as Indian pacifier, but brings us back nearer home, which means Table Rock.
    Table Rock has often been the scene of Indian troubles as well as of Indian treaties. Indian treaties, however, have been like pie crusts, primarily to be broken.
    "On the second day of June 1852, Calvin Woodman was killed by Indians on what is now known as Indian Creek. This raised a general alarm among the whites, and a company of volunteers was immediately raised at Johnson's Ranch, at the lower end of Scott Valley. Three days after the murder a collision occurred between the volunteers and the Indians which resulted in killing several horses, wounding S. G. Whipple, acting as sheriff in Siskiyou County. Mr. Steele, learning of the trouble, hurried forward to Johnson's Ranch. That night, June 7, 1852, a large party of citizens from Scott's Bar came over under command of Major Rowe as captain and proceeded to Yreka.
    On the next day, however, most of them returned. On Monday the 10th, Mr. Steele had a talk with the Indians. They informed him that the murder had been committed by an Indian from Rogue River and one from Shasta Valley; that they had no desire for war. They proposed to go with him and deliver up the guilty parties if found in the camp of the Shastas, and if not to follow them as long as he would go with them, whereupon Mr. Steele obtained the services of a small company, consisting of John McNeal, James Bruce (afterwards Major Bruce), James White, Peter Snellback, John Galvin, and a young man remembered as Harry. These men took with them "Old Tolo" and his son and started for the canyon on Shasta River.
Officers Seek Marauders; Factions Unite
    When Mr. Steele and his party arrived at Yreka great excitement was prevailing on account of suspicious movements of the Indians of that vicinity, who had moved with their families into the mountains. Some of the more excitable of the citizens on learning that some Indians had been brought into town called a public meeting for the purpose of taking them away and hanging them. Mr. Steele addressed the meeting and explained his arrangement with the Indians.
    Judge William A. Robertson and Associate Judges Strowbridge and Patterson officially authorized Steele to obtain and deliver up the murderers and agreed to pay the expenses out of the county treasury, supposing they would be found within the county.
    Steele's party was joined by Dr. Joe S. Thompson (late of Jackson County, Oregon), F. W. Merritt and Capt. Ben Wright, the latter being interpreter.
     The Indians having fled to the mountains, two days were spent in hunting them up and getting them together, when it was learned that the two they were in pursuit of had fled to Rogue River to join Tipsu Tyee, inhabiting the Siskiyou Mountains and upper portion of the Rogue River Valley, and the Rogue Rivers, whom they said were in arms and intended to kill all the whites if Dr. Ambrose would not give his little daughter to Sam's son for a wife.
Reds Favored
    Before starting in pursuit for the fugitives "Old Tolo" and his son and "Jim" proposed to substitute two others in their stead--two active young warriors who were better acquainted with the country proffered--to obtain and deliver the murderers or suffer punishment in their stead. [The above was originally printed in the Grants Pass Courier of August 25, 1923, page 4.]
    Steele and Cook returned and consulted with Judge Strowbridge. He advised pursuit and Steele set out to join the party. Upon arriving in camp he learned from the Indians that at the time the fugitives left they were undecided whether it would be best for them to flee to upper Klamath or to Rogue River.
    The Indians offered to raise a band of their own and go to the lake with Ben Wright. After consultation it was agreed to accept their services and for Steele to accept their services and for Steele to take his company to Rogue River country.
    They traveled much in the night through unfrequented routes led by their two young Indian guides, whom they christened "Tom" and "Jack." In crossing the Siskiyou Mountains they met a Rogue River Indian with his bow strung and arrows ready for immediate use and surrounded him before he was aware of their presence. The guides talked to him awhile and learned that the Indians they were after had gone to Sam's band on Rogue River, and this Indian was a runner going over to induce the Shastas and Scott Rivers to join "Sam" and "Topsie" against whites.
Runner Detained
    Orders were given to disarm him, and the Indians were instructed to explain to him the state of affairs and tell him he must go back with them to the agent of Rogue River Valley, Judge Skinner. When they attempted to disarm him he snatched a Colt's six-shooter from Mr. Galvin and commenced firing at the men in quick succession, but fortunately doing no damage.
    He then broke loose and fled up the mountains. He was pursued by the men but it was found he could travel faster than men on horseback. Therefore, Bill was ordered to dismount and follow him on foot and, if he could not overtake and detain him until the rest of the party came up, to shoot him. Bill followed him for about half a mile and seeing he was about to make his escape, shot him.
    After passing the summit of the Siskiyous they fell in with a son of Tipsu who was out reconnoitering and took him prisoner. After descending into Rogue River Valley they were met by Dr. C. Hillman and another gentleman who informed them that large numbers of Old Joe's tribe were gathered in arms on Big Bar, near Table Rock, and that the citizens under Captain Lamerick were also under arms on the opposite side of the river and wished to hasten to render their assistance. Dr. Hillman and companion proceeded to Yreka to procure ammunition, and Steele and party pushed on with all possible speed for the scene of the trouble.
Policy Resented
    About one mile from the bar they met Judge A. A. Skinner, who urged them forward, as he said, "matters looked desperate."  Mr. Steele made known the object of his visit and asked him, in case an arrangement were made with the Indians, that provision be made for the return of the murderers of which they were in pursuit.
    The agent agreed and they arrived at sundown and camped for the night. On the following morning Judge Skinner arrived, and after a short consultation, they sent Tom across the river, who, after a short time, succeeded in inducing Sam, Joe and a number of their warriors to come over and have a talk.
    While over there Tom saw and talked with the fugitives. After these Indians had been with them a short time, others began to come over, all well armed, many having guns and revolvers, until there were nearly 200 mixed with the men. Sam then demanded that the two prisoners captured on the mountain be set at liberty as a preliminary step to the "talk."
    Whereupon Judge Skinner ordered Mr. Steele to restore their guns and pistols and let them go. Steele, knowing full well the bad policy of such a course, and advantage the retention of the prisoners would be to him, refused to comply with the demand, unless the murders be given up in their stead.
Treatment of Red Killers Disputed Among Regulars

    The latter ticklish unpleasantness proceeded as follows: The agent notified Steele that he was in his jurisdiction and peremptorily ordered the release of the prisoners.
    This demand was met with a positive refusal on any terms except those already proposed. The agent then went to the prisoners and told them that he was chief of the whites, and that they must not go, and if they made the least move that he would shoot them down. Skinner threatened to arrest the whole party and send them to Oregon City for trial, unless the Indians were discharged.
    The order was still refused and the two Indians were placed under guard, with instructions to shoot them on the least attempt to escape or rescue.
    Steele then placed his other six men behind trees, separated within supporting distance of each other, so as to prevent the Indians getting in their rear and cutting off their retreat, and then, with his Indian guides, Tom, Jack and Bill, took his place in the council with Joe, Sam and the other Indians.
    Sam then informed the agent that before he would talk the white men must stack their arms some fifty yards back, indicating the place. The agent, who was evidently afraid to refuse anything to the Indians, ordered the whites to do so. Capt. Lamerick, being under his jurisdiction, felt under obligations to comply and ordered his men to obey the order.
    Mr. Steele refused and entered protest against such a hazardous move, unless the Indians, who were as well armed as the whites, should also be required to dispose of their arms in a similar manner. Skinner refused this stipulation and the council commenced, with Steele's men and the Indians retaining their arms.
    Sam, evidently feeling that he was master of the situation, refused to give up the refugees. But he proposed to cross back and have a talk among themselves and return in a short time. On reaching the opposite side, however, he shouted back saying he would not return, and defied the volunteers.
White Ranks Are Handicapped
    Capt. Lamerick immediately ordered his men to resume their arms. He divided them into two detachments, sending one under his lieutenant to a ford about half a mile below, and took the other under his own command about the same distance above, and gave orders in case of any difficulty occurring between Steele's company and the Indians to immediately cross over.
    The agent asked time to go over and make one more effort to effect a compromise, which was agreed to. He went and was gone about half an hour, when the Indians who were this side of the river near Steele's position began quietly crossing back, one at a time, and in a short time there were not over fifty left. Steele placed McLoud and Galvin to guard the river and permit no one to cross until the agent should return and sent Tom over to notify what was transpiring.
    The Judge returned, but still refused to permit Tom to point out the murderers. White Steele was urgently insisting that the agent should use his influence to procure the guilty Indians, the keen eye of Jack observed two Indians going over the hills in the direction of Klamath Lake. They were followed by another who proved to be Scarface. The first two were soon identified as the two they were in pursuit of.
    The Indians on this side immediately began to prepare for battle by endeavoring to hide behind trees. Steele ordered his men to intercept them in this move, as he had the advantage of the timber. At this juncture Martin Angel interceded, and the Indians agreed to surrender up their arms to him and go into a log house and remain prisoners until they should bring back the fugitives.
    Mr. Angel undertook to get them into the house, but as soon as they had passed Steele's men they ran to get shelter behind some big pines hard by, and had they succeeded the little band of whites would have been exposed to fire without any show of shelter.
Volunteers' Volley Kills
    The orders were given to fire on them, which were promptly responded to by the white men, and the fight immediately became general. The Indians soon retreated and the volunteers followed them to the river's edge, killing thirteen of them.
    The usual peace parley ensued and a temporary truce followed.
    In taking temporary leave of Mr. Steele and his Shastas a couple of quotations may be made from Sam Simpson's tribute to Shasta John, whom he designates as the grandest chief the red tribes had in Oregon.
   

"And thus at last when his conquered band
    Were gathered down by the sea.
To dig and die on a patch of land,
    And learn to spell and bend the knee,
Old Shasta sighed that his heart was dead--
    He would not be in bondage led.
   
"They say the withering hand of age
    Seemed first to touch the chief that night,
And, old and strange, to his narrow cage
    Down by the sea he passed from sight
A broken heart and an empty frame,
    The shadow of a mighty name."
   
Galice Massacre Shifts War into Lower Rogue Area
    In December 1852 eight men who were mining at the mouth of Galice Creek were missed from their claims, and suspicions of foul play were entertained. Some weeks afterwards "Taylor," chief of the Galice band of Indians, came to Vannoy's ferry on Rogue River accompanied by a number of his men, for the purpose of trading. They, exhibiting a greater amount of gold dust than it was usual for Indians to have, were supposed to have obtained it by some foul means.
    They were questioned as to the whereabouts of those men. They stated in reply that they were washed off an island, where they were camped, by high water, and all drowned. Their explanation and manner led to a strong belief that these Indians had murdered the lost miners. An investigation led to the discovery that Taylor and his band had murdered the entire party.
Taylor's Band Is Captured
    He and some of his head men were arrested by some of the citizens, and as there were no courts yet organized in that part of the territory, they were brought before a citizens' jury, tried, convicted and sentenced to be hanged. Finding that the decree of the court was about to be executed and seeing no possible chance of escape, they related the particulars of the case themselves and boasted of the part they had taken in the murder and robbery.
    They gave a minute account of the manner in which they tortured their victims after they had taken them captive, stabbing them in numerous places with knives and burning them with firebrands, as they said.
Indians Feign Friendship
    This summary justice dealt out to "Taylor" had the effect to somewhat check for the time being depredations of the Indians north of the Siskiyous and they became more profuse in their professions of friendship to the whites. These professions, however, proved only a blind under which these same Indians matured plans and collected munitions of war for a renewal of hostilities on a larger scale.
    By resorting to this ruse, they were enabled to augment their forces from neighboring tribes, and form alliances unsuspected by the whites.
    In the meantime, being allowed access to the premises of the settlers, they procured more or less guns and pistols by theft and otherwise, and also accumulated a considerable ammunition.
    In those days all the tea brought into the country was put up in lead caddies, which, when emptied were thrown out with the rubbish, and from this source the Indians collected a very abundant supply of lead, and through a few unprincipled dealers, they procured a large amount of powder.
    A few of the more experienced frontiersmen, who had closely watched the movements of the Indians, saw many things in those movements to arouse their distrust. Signal fires were frequently seen in the distant mountains, the numbers in each camp were continually being increased, strange Indians, evidently from other tribes, were frequently seen at camps and occasionally in town and in the settlements, accompanied by some of the head men of the Rogue Rivers. For the most part, however, the people rested under a feeling of security, relying on the good promises of the Indians, who were lavish in their declarations of friendship.
War Threat Mounts on All Sides
    Toward the latter part of the spring of 1853, the Indians began to show a more aggressive disposition. They frequently visited houses in the absences of the men, and demanded food and other articles of the women, and by their threatening manner, succeeded in procuring their demands.
    War dances were frequently heard in their camps at a late hour in the night, and their whole intercourse with the settlers was assuming a haughty attitude, which foreshadowed evil. Many of the leading citizens, however, still placed implicit confidence in a continuation of their friendship.
    In June a band of Indians, probably belonging to the Galice Creek tribe, attacked a miner's cabin in the vicinity of Cow Creek, and two men, an American and a Mexican, were murdered, and all their valuables carried away. These murders, being so remote from the settlements, created but little alarm amongst the majority of settlers who argued that it was no indication of a general hostility, but was a mere robbery and murder for the sake of gain and was to be looked on as having no more bearing on the Indian question than would a like offense committed by white men.
Phoenix Farmer Waylaid
    On the 4th day of August in 1853 a thrill of alarm was occasioned by the murder of Edward Edwards, a farmer, living about two and a half miles below Phoenix, on the east side of Bear Creek. While he was absent a party of Indians secreted themselves in some underbrush near his house, and on his return at noon, they shot and killed him, and after pillaging the house fled to the mountains.
    After this murder there were those yet who claimed that it was only the work of a few desperadoes, intent on spoils, and was not from any general understanding among the Indians. These suppositions, however, were soon dissipated. On the following day Thomas Wills, of the firm of Wills & Kyle, engaged in the merchandising business in Jacksonville, was shot and mortally wounded just as he was entering the town.
    In the meantime, the Indians under Chief Sam were rapidly concentrating in a strong position north of upper Table Rock, and the country had become thoroughly alarmed and several volunteer companies were raised to keep the Indians in check until aid could be procured from Fort Jones, that being the only military post in the country. Messengers were dispatched who arrived at the Fort at noon, on Aug. 8, 1853, two days after the last murder.
    Six hours after the arrival of the messengers, Capt. B. R. Alden, 4th U.S. Infantry, with a detachment of 20 men, all his available force, was on the march to the scene of the difficulty, where he arrived on the 10th.
    The time, up to the arrival of Capt. Alden, was occupied in defensive preparations, the volunteers guarding the outskirts of the settlements, and escorting exposed families to places of greater security. Stockades were constructed in various parts of the valley, where families were taken for safety.
Settlers Unite into Regiment
    On the arrival of Capt. Alden with only 20 men it was found necessary to organize the forces and increase the number of volunteers. Accordingly headquarters were established at a point now known as Camp Stuart, near the present site of Manzanita [Central Point], where all those of the volunteers who could be spared from guarding the settlements were organized into a regiment, and elected Capt. Alden Col. of the volunteers and were formally mustered into the United States service during the war.
    The regiment consisted of six companies of volunteers, commanded respectively by Captains J. Rhodes, J. P. Goodall, J. K. Lamerick, John S. Miller, Robert L. Williams, and the detachment of regulars under Capt. Alden. When the forces were organized, scouts were sent out in every direction for the double purpose of protecting the settlements and observing the movements of the Indians.
    On the 16th of August, the companies of Lamerick, Goodall and Miller were sent out to guard the passes back of the Table Rocks, while Capt. Rhodes and a detachment of Capt. Goodall's company under Lieut. Ely were sent above to scour the country and drive the Indians down where they would fall into the hands of the forces stationed back of the Rocks. Capt. Rhodes went immediately to the point where "Sam's" forces had been encamped a few days before but discovered that they had all gone.
    On the 17th of August, Lieut. Ely's command, consisting of 22 men, proceeded up the river until they struck [Evans] Creek near the mouth, and following this stream up a short distance, halted for dinner. They picketed their horses in a small grassy cove nearby and placed a guard in position to watch them and the camp. The guard, concluding that they could safely leave their post for a short time, joined the rest of the men at dinner.
Six Are Killed from Ambush
    They had not been long in camp before the whole party was fired on from a dense body of willows that skirted the creek, killing six of their men and wounding four. Recovering their guns, they immediately fled to the brow of a hill nearby, where they found a more tenable position, and where they were able to hold the enemy in check. In this position they were soon surrounded by Indians, rendering retreat impossible.
    One of their number managed to pass the lines unobserved, under cover of timber and underbrush, and made his way to headquarters for reinforcements.
    Meanwhile, the Indians on horseback, some of them mounted on horses belonging to the volunteers, kept up a steady fire, charging and retreating alternately for the purpose of reloading. In time, however, assistance came and the Indians fled. The volunteers lost no men.
Raids Occur on Williams Creek
    War with the Indians seems to have been quite general in Aug. 1853 throughout Southern Oregon. Mr. Sutton gives this account of the affair on Williams Creek.
    Prior to the fight on [Evans] Creek by Lieut. Ely, a detachment of 20 men from Capt. John S. Miller's company, under command of Lieut. B. B. Griffin, was dispatched to the Applegate country to protect the settlers and watch the movements of the Indians in that vicinity. This detachment struck main Applegate at the mouth of Little Applegate on the 8th day of August and, proceeding up that stream to the mouth of Sterling Creek, came to an encampment of Indians, who were evidently hostile and prepared for battle. An attack was at once made, and after a sharp engagement they were routed and their camp and equipment destroyed.
    Lieut. Griffin then returned down the creek to Spencer's ranch, three miles below the mouth of Little Applegate, and camped for the night. On the morning of the 9th he took up his line of march down main Applegate to the mouth of Williams Creek and turned his course up that stream and soon discovered an abundance of fresh Indian sign.
     The Indians were moving up the creek and the volunteers followed them, expecting to be attacked.
    When they had arrived at a point about opposite Williamsburg they were fired on by the Indians who were ambushed in the thick underbrush that lined the old Indian trail which they were following. The only damage done the first fire was the wounding of some of their horses. On the second fire, which followed quickly, Frank Garnett was killed, and Lieut. Griffin severely wounded in the right leg.
    This engagement lasted three quarters of an hour. The volunteers, having scarcely a tree to protect them, stood their ground against four or five to one, the enemy being sheltered by the thick timber and almost hid by the heavy undergrowth in which they had chosen their position. At length the Indians began to flank the volunteers and several of the men were left afoot. Their horses having been shot from under them, it was deemed advisable to withdraw.
'53 Treaty
     On the 21st day of August 1853, Gen. Lane arrived in Rogue River Valley, having been commissioned commander of the volunteer forces by acting Governor George L. Curry. He superseded B. R. Alden, 4th U.S. infantry, who had been elected colonel of the volunteers.
      On the 23rd he took formal command and after a consultation with Col. Alden and other officers it was determined to make an aggressive movement on the Indians. Accordingly, the General divided his available forces into two battalions, sending one, under the command of Col. Alden, up the river to where Lieut. Ely met with his defeat for the purpose of striking their trail and overtaking them in the mountains, as it was known that they had gone across in the direction of Evans Creek, thence to proceed up that stream to form a junction with Col. Alden on its upper waters, and to prevent the Indians returning to the settlements from that direction. The General accompanied Col. Alden's command.
Lane, Alden Go After Redskins
    That same day Alden's command left Camp Stuart. Moving up the river to [Evans] Creek and following the direction of that stream, he struck the Indian trail and encamped for the night. The Indians, having fired the mountains in their rear, made the advance of the volunteers on the 23rd very difficult. The fire in many places had obliterated the Indian trail and the smoke made traveling very disagreeable. They crossed the mountains and late in the afternoon of that day struck a branch of Evans Creek. Their horses being very much exhausted, they camped for the night.
    Early on the morning of the 24th, after they had taken up their line of march, a rifle was heard in advance which indicated that the Indians were near. Gen. Lane, who was in advance of his command, rode forward, and soon discovered by his ear the hostile camp in a dense forest, and so thick with underbrush as to entirely hide them from view. Being now considerably in advance of his command, he halted till they came up and then announced his plan of battle.
Reds Surprised
    A detachment of Capt. Rhodes' command, consisting of 10 picked men, under the command of Lieut. Charles Blair, were sent to turn the enemy's left flank. Col. Alden, with the main force, proceeded to attack them in front. So quietly were their movements, and so utterly unexpected by the Indians was the attack, that their well-directed fire was the first intimation the Indians had of their approach. From the peculiar structure of the ground, and the dense underbrush, it was found impracticable to turn the enemy's left, and the flanking party proceeded to engage them on the right.
    The men were now deployed, taking cover behind trees, and the fight became general. Gen. Lane was delayed for a short time for the arrival of the rear guards. On their arrival 15 men were detailed to guard the horses and camp equipage, and the General took command in person of the remainder and pushing forward to join the other men. On arriving at the front he found Col. Alden, who had been shot down early in the fight, dangerously wounded, surrounded by a few of his men.
Gen. Lane Wounded
    After examining the ground and finding that the enemy were securely posted behind trees and logs, and concealed by underbrush, Gen. Lane immediately passed the order to charge them, and led forward in the movement. When he had reached within 3 yards of their lines, he received a severe wound. Believing the shot to have come from the flank, he gave orders to have the line extended so as to prevent the enemy from turning it, and the men were again ordered to cover behind trees. This position they held for three of four hours.
    Notwithstanding the close proximity of the Indians, occupying as they did an almost impregnable position and greatly outnumbering them, the men acted in the most cool and determined manner. Gen. Lane, finding himself growing weak from loss of blood, retired to the rear to have his wound examined and dressed.
    In his absence the Indians called to the volunteers that they were anxious to have a talk, that they wished to fight no longer, that they desired peace, and expressed a desire to see Gen. Lane. On the return of the General a consultation was held, and the matter of a talk discussed. It was evident they far outnumbered the whites, that they were well armed and that they held a position that it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to dislodge them.
    It was therefore determined to leave it to a vote of all the men present whether to listen to them or make another effort to dislodge them. It was evident that the Indians could have but one or two objects in view. They were either sincere in their desire for peace, as they had no immediate cause to fear defeat, or they were seeking to obtain an advantage. On a vote being taken, less than half the men voted in favor of a talk, but as none voted against it, it was decided in the affirmative.
Parley Climax Is Tense
    In accordance with the vote of the men, Gen. Lane, in company with Capt. Goodall and four or five of his men, went to their camp and made a preliminary treaty with the Indians, they agreeing to go on a reservation lying north of Rogue River, subsequently known as the Table Rock Reservation. In this fight John Scarborough was killed and Henry Fisher, Thos. Hays and G. C. Abbott wounded; the latter died of his wounds on the 2nd of September. General Lane and Capt. Alden were also wounded. Alden died of his wounds two years afterwards. [Alden died of unrelated causes seventeen years later.] Shortly after the battle Capt. A. J. Smith, 1st U.S. Dragoons, arrived with his troops from Port Orford.
Reservation Established
    The negotiations for peace were then concluded, and the metes and bounds of the Table Rock Reservation established. Fort Lane was established on the south side of Rogue River, opposite the lower end of lower Table Rock, and Capt. Smith put in command. The settlers could now breathe easy once more. They could retire at night with some assurance that when they arose in the morning they would not be confronted by a band of howling fiends.
    They congratulated themselves that the Indian question, so far as Southern Oregon was concerned, was virtually settled. They had implicit confidence in the power of the troops to keep the Indians in check on the reservation, and that power would be wielded by Capt. Smith for the general protection of the country. How sadly these hopes were blasted the sequel will show. [End of Sutton's account.]
More Light on the Evans Creek Battle
    Ex-Senator J. W. Nesmith wrote an account of Indian troubles on Evans Creek that dovetails so nicely into the account given by Mr. Sutton in a former article that I am tempted to make use of it almost in full. It adds some new features to the story that are truly exciting.
    "During the month of August 1853, the different tribes of Indians inhabiting the Rogue River Valley suddenly assumed a hostile attitude. [August Kautz' account, published November 14, 1853 by the New York Herald, revealed that the sudden "hostile attitude" was the work of one native. Subsequent hostilities were the effect of panic on both sides.] They murdered many settlers and miners and burned nearly all the buildings for over a hundred miles along the main traveled route. Gen. Lane assumed command of a body of militia, suddenly called for the defense of the settlers.
    "Capt. Alden of the regular army and Col. John E. Ross of Jackson County joined Gen. Lane and served under his command. Old Joe, John and Sam were the principal leaders of the Indians, aided by such young and vigorous warriors as George and Limpy.
    "The Indians collected in a large body and retreated northward in the direction of the Umpqua. Gen. Lane made a vigorous pursuit and on the 14th of August 1853 overtook and attacked the foe in a rough, mountainous and heavily timbered region on Evans Creek.
    "In an attempt to charge through the brush Gen. Lane was shot through the arm and Capt. Alden received a wound from which he never fully recovered. Several of the attacking party were wounded, some of whom subsequently died of their injures. Capt. Armstrong was shot through the heart and died instantly.
Reds Ask Terms
    "The Indians and whites were so close together that they could easily converse. The most of them knew Gen. Lane and when they found that he was in command of the troops, they called out 'Joe Lane' and asked him to come into their camp to arrange some terms for a cessation of hostilities.
    "The General, with more courage than discretion, in his wounded condition, ordered a cessation of hostilities and fearlessly walked into the hostile camp, where he saw many wounded Indians, together with many who were dead and being burned to keep them from falling into the hands of the enemy, which clearly demonstrated that the Indians had gotten the worst of the fight.
    "After a long conference it was finally agreed that there should be a cessation of hostilities and that both parties should return to the neighborhood of Table Rock, on the north side of Rogue River, and that an armistice should exist until Gen. Palmer, Superintendent of Indian Affairs for Oregon, could be sent for, and that a treaty should be negotiated with the United States authorities, in which all grievances should be adjusted between the parties. Both whites and Indians marched back slowly over the same trail, encumbered with their wounded, each party keeping a vigilant watch on the other.
Camp at Cliff
    "Gen. Lane encamped on Rogue River, while the Indians selected a strong and almost inaccessible position, high up and just under the perpendicular cliffs of Table Rock, to await the arrival of Superintendent Palmer and Agent Culver. Gen. Lane and Capt. Alden at the commencement of the outbreak had sent an express to Gov. Geo. L. Curry, then secretary and acting governor. Major Rains, with headquarters at Fort Vancouver, was called upon to supply the threatened settlers with arms and ammunition. Major Rains responded to the call but was deficient in troops to escort them to their destination at the seat of war.
    "Gov. Curry at once authorized the writer to raise 75 men and escort the arms to the threatened settlements. The escort was soon raised in the town of Salem and marched to Albany, where it waited a couple of days for the arrival of Lieut. Kautz, in charge of the wagons with rifles and cartridges, together with a 12-pound howitzer and a good supply of fixed ammunition. Kautz was then fresh from West Point, and this was his first campaign. He subsequently achieved the rank of Major General and rendered good service during the late 'unpleasantness with the South.'
     "After a toilsome march, dragging the howitzer and other materials of war through the Umpqua Canyon and up and down the mountain trails made slippery by recent rains, we arrived at Gen. Lane's encampment on Rogue River near the subsequent site of Fort Lane on the 8th day of September.
General Lane's Forces Grow
    "On the same day Capt. A. J. Smith, since the distinguished General Smith of the Union army, arrived at headquarters with Company C, First Dragoons. The accession of Capt. Smith's company and my own gave Gen. Lane a force sufficient to cope with the enemy, then supposed to be about 700 strong. The encampment of the Indians was still on the side of the mountains of which Table Rock forms the summit, and at night we could plainly see their campfire, while they could look directly down upon us.
    "The whole command was anxious and willing to fight, but Gen. Lane had pledged the Indians that an effort should be made to treat for peace. Superintendent Palmer and Agent Culver were on the ground. The armistice had not yet expired and the 10th was fixed for the time of the council.
Talks Set for Enemy Camp
    "On the morning of that day Gen. Lane sent for me and desired me to go with him to the council ground inside the Indian encampment to act as interpreter, as I was master of the Chinook jargon. I asked the General upon what terms and where were we to meet the Indians.
    "He replied that the agreement was that the meeting should take place within the encampment of the enemy and that we should be accompanied by 10 other men of his own selection, unarmed.
     "Against these terms I protested and told the Gen. that I had traversed that country five years before and fought those same Indians, that they were notoriously treacherous and in early times had earned the name of 'Rogues' by never permitting a white man to escape with his scalp when once within the power, that I knew them better than he did, and that it was criminal folly for 11 unarmed white men to place themselves voluntarily within the power of 700 well-armed hostile Indians, in their own encampment.
    "I reminded him that I was a soldier in command of a company of cavalry and was ready to obey his order to lead my men into action or to discharge any soldierly duty, no part of which was to go into the enemy's camp as an unarmed interpreter.
    "The General listened to my protest and replied that he had fixed upon the terms of meeting the Indians and should keep his word, and if I was afraid to go, I could remain behind. When he put it upon that ground I responded that I thought that I was as little acquainted with fear as he was and that I would accompany him to what I believed to be our slaughter.
    "Early in the morning of the 10th of September we mounted our horses and rode out in the direction of the Indian encampment. We dismounted and scrambled up for half a mile over huge rocks and through bushes, and then found ourselves in the Indian stronghold, just under the perpendicular cliff of Table Rock and surrounded by 700 fierce and well-armed hostile savages, in all their gorgeous war paint and feathers.
     "Capt. Smith had drawn out his company of dragoons and left them in line on the plain below. It was late in the afternoon when the treaty was completed and signed.
    "In the meantime an incident occurred which came near terminating the treaty as well as the representation of one of the high contracting parties in a sudden and tragic manner. About the middle of the afternoon a young Indian came running into camp stark naked with the perspiration streaming from every pore. He made a brief harangue and threw himself upon the ground apparently exhausted. His speech had made a great tumult among the tribe.
    "Gen. Lane told me to inquire of the Indian interpreter the cause of the commotion. The Indian responded that a company of white men down on Applegate Creek, and under the command of Capt. Owen, had that morning captured an Indian, known as Jim Taylor, and had tied him up to a tree and shot him to death. The hubbub and confusion among the Indians at once became intense, and murder glared from each savage visage.
    "The Indian interpreter told me that the Indians were threatening to tie us up to the trees and serve us as Owen's men had served Jim Taylor. I saw some Indians gathering up lass-ropes, while others drew the skin covers from their guns and the wiping sticks from their muzzles. There appeared a strong probability of our party being subjected to a sudden volley.
    "I explained as briefly as I could what the interpreter had communicated to me in order to keep our people from huddling together and thus make a better target for the savages. I used a few English words, not likely to be understood by the Indian interpreter, such as disperse and segregate.
    "In fact we kept so close to the savages and separated from each other that any general firing must have been nearly as fatal to the Indians as to the whites.
    "While I admit that I thought my time had come and hurriedly thought of wife and children, I noticed nothing but coolness among my companions. Gen. Lane sat upon a log with his arm bandaged in a sling, the lines about his mouth rigidly compressing his lips, while his eyes flashed fire. He asked brief questions and gave me sententious answers to what little the Indians said to us.
    "Capt. A. J. Smith, who was prematurely gray-headed and was afflicted with a nervous snapping of the eyes, leaned upon his cavalry saber and looked anxiously down upon his well-formed line of dragoons in the valley below. His eyes snapped more vigorously than usual, and muttered words escaped from under the old dragoon's white mustache that did not sound like prayers. His squadron looked beautiful, but, alas, they could render us no service.
    "I sat down on a log close to old Chief Joe and having a sharp scalping knife under my hunting shift kept one hand near its handle, determined that there would be one Indian made 'good' about the time the firing commenced.
    "In a few moments Gen. Lane stood up and commenced to speak slowly but very distinctly. He said 'Owen, who has violated the armistice and killed Jim Taylor, is a bad man. He is not one of my soldiers. When I catch him he shall be punished. I promised, in good faith, to come into your camp with 10 other men unarmed to secure peace.'
    "'Myself and men are placed in your power. I do not believe that you are such cowardly dogs as to take advantage of our unarmed condition. I know you have the power to murder us and can do so as quickly as you please, but what good will our blood do you?  Our murder will exasperate our friends and your tribe will be hunted.'
    "The excitement gradually subsided after Lane promised to give a fair compensation for the defunct Jim Taylor in shirts and blankets. I drew a long breath and remarked to the old General that the next time he wanted to go unarmed into a hostile camp, he must hunt up someone besides myself to act as interpreter.
    "With a benignant smile he responded, 'God bless you, luck is better than science.' I never hear the fate of Gen. Canby, at the Modoc camp, referred to that I do not think of our narrow escape of a similar fate at Table Rock."--J. W. Nesmith, Rickreal, April 20, 1879
    One of the names intimately connected with the early history of Oregon is that of W. G. T'Vault. He was editor of the first Oregon newspaper, printed at Oregon City and known as the Spectator. Afterwards he started the Table Rock Sentinel at Jacksonville. Besides his editorial functions, he was well known as a lawyer and an eccentric character in general. It was my privilege to become well acquainted with him, as he at one time wanted me to enter his law office and study law. He claimed that he could fit me up in six months so that I could be admitted.
    It was, perhaps, one of the numerous mistakes of my life that I did not take him up, for they had easy and expeditious facilities in those days for turning out lawyers.
    He gave me an incident in his own experience at the bar that is perhaps worth inserting. He said he was engaged defending a Chinaman who was charged by the District Attorney with stealing a sack of flour. But the District Attorney had spelled it "flower." He said he at first thought of demurring to the indictment on account of the erroneous orthography, but, said he, "after studying the matter over a little I come to the conclusion that if f-l-o-w-e-r didn't spell flour what in the h--- does it spell?"
    As an editor he was well versed in the old "Oregon Style" when it was at its best, or rather its worst, when personal abuse was the predominant weapon of offense and defense.
    A single sample may do to illustrate it. Mr. Turner, who was editing the opposition paper, had ventured the opinion that if certain Democratic editors had lived in the time of our Savior, our Savior would have been regarded as a perjured traitor and Judas Iscariot as the curly-headed little boy.
    T'Vault came back at him with: "If dirty work Turner had lived in the time of our Savior, there would have been no Judas Iscariot, for the former would have betrayed his master for just silver enough to buy one nip."
    The jokesmiths found in T'Vault a good subject for the exercise of their alleged wit. One of their best efforts, whether it was faulty in accuracy or not, helps to illustrate the character of the man. They said he and some of his companions were having a convivial time of it near a hamlet known at that time as Dardanelles. This was long before the Volstead Act and the 18th amendment were thought of. In the course of the spree T'Vault was beset with the idea that he must personate an Indian chief and it was suggested that he should have a crown.
    As there was an iron kettle handy, his brow was soon decorated with that symbol of authority. In stepping around too lively, however, the symbol slipped down over his face and nearly smothered the life out of him. His companions had a very sobering time of it rescuing the chief from his sad predicament. They did rescue him, however, and he lived many years afterwards till the scourge of smallpox at Jacksonville put him in the vault we all have to enter, sooner or later. [The victim of this story is also remembered as John Ross.]
    T'Vault was elected to the first legislature, after Oregon was admitted as a state and became tyee of the lower house, being elected speaker of that body. That he had trouble with the Indians, the newspaper records of that period will attest.
    When mines were first struck in Southern Oregon it was thought that Port Orford would become the port of entry. Many people commenced gathering there on that account. A writer for the Oregonian gives the following account of T'Vault's trouble.
    "An editorial of Aug. 26, 1851 sums up Port Orford as having for proprietors Capt. Tichenor, T. B. King, James Gamble, F. M. Smith, Isaac M. Hubbard and Col. T'Vault. Port Orford matters were bad, according to the various accounts of the T'Vault catastrophe, one being by that individual himself, from which I gather that immediately after arriving from Portland on August 14, with a company of 18 men started to explore a route up the coast and river country.
    Then they bore northeast a few days and on August 31, nine of the party started to return. The other nine kept up Rogue River until September 7. They laid up to cure elk eat, as their provisions were running short.
Editor Caught on Wrong River
    One of their party was Cy Hedden, who had been with Kirkpatrick's party in June. He recognized that they were on the Coquille where the Indians had been hostile at that time and warned T'Vault to be on his guard. They believed they were on the Umpqua and going down to Scottsburg and were much put out when they found their mistake.
    On the 14th of Sept. they passed near some Indian village, intending to land, when naked Indians in large numbers rushed into the water, grappled with them, and climbed into their canoes. They tried to rush for the shore. As he tried to draw a revolver, T'Vault was knocked down and found himself floating down the river.
    On the shore he saw a fierce struggle, heard shouts and screams of agony and groans of the dying. He saw a canoe close by and an Indian lad in it. The boy helped him in and helped Brush in, whose head had been pounded with an Indian paddle, then pointed to the south side, put a paddle in his hand and jumped overboard. They reached the south side, stripped off their clothing and crawled up the bank. They traveled south in their naked condition, following the beach at night and in and through the woods by day.
    At Cape Blanco friendly Indians took care of them and carried them to Port Orford next day. Mr. Brush had several inches of scalp cut off. It is not plain why they left their clothes, unless to deceive the savages, but they could not hide their trail from them. There is some incoherency in this statement, but that of others confirms the T'Vault story. A letter from Gardner, Umpqua River says that Cyrus Hedden and L. L. Williams reached that place after eight days' journey in the wilderness. Another one escaped with them, but they lost sight of him afterwards. Hedden was unhurt, but Williams was thought to be mortally wounded, as two arrows entered him and he was fearfully bruised. They had lived all the time on wild berries and sea mussels.
    In 1853 T'Vault had further Indian troubles on his hands, as the following extract will show: "On August 14 a detachment of five men, consisting of W. G. T'Vault, David Birdseye, S. W. Wall, Wm. R. Rose and John R. Harden were attacked by Indians about one mile south of Willow Springs, in which Rose was killed, and Harden received a wound from which he died August 18th."
    Before finishing up the war of 1853 it is well to let that veteran miner and Indian fighter, Alex Watts, tell his experience--a task he was well qualified to perform. As his story deals chiefly with Illinois Valley and Josephine County it has a local bearing and interest.
    "During the Indian war in Rogue River Valley in the year 1853, the Indians of Illinois Valley were, to all appearances, friendly and peaceable until Capt. Williams raised a company and went to the assistance of the people of Rogue River. The news of the departure of this company was quickly spread among the Indians, and the mask of peace was soon torn off and the hideous war-painted visage of the savage revealed.
    "About the 12th of September the Indians made a night attack upon the miners of Deer Creek Bar on Illinois River.
    "The men were sleeping on the ground in the open air, and circumstances seemed to favor the designs of the murderous savages. They were preparing for a general massacre, each choosing his victim with the intention of sending a bullet through his brain at a prearranged signal, when the impending tragedy was averted by the warning of a humble but faithful friend of the imperiled men.
    "Joe Lord's dog awakened his master with a low growl and Lord, taking in the situation in an instant, raised his gun and fired just as the Indians, who found they were discovered, fired a volley at the sleeping men. The Indians immediately retreated, firing as they went, but the miners were not long finding means of shelter from bullets.
    "Pursuit was out of the question, for in the whole camp with 11 men there was but one rifle--so great was the sense of security. It was found that the only injuries were received by a Mr. Hulbert, who was wounded in the hand and ankle by a bullet that evidently had been fired within a few feet of his head.
    "In the excitement that followed, the other men down the river were forgotten until daylight when Truesdale and Dave Picket volunteered to go down and give his alarm to John Makin and Alex Watts, who were prospecting on the river about six miles below.
    "Upon learning of their danger, Makin and Watts cached their tools and their provisions and the four returned at once to Deer Creek Bar. They found the camp deserted, the men having gone to Derby's ranch, near the present site of Kerby.
    "Here it was learned that two men, named Rouse and Tedford, were still further down the river prospecting and a party of six immediately started down the river to give them warning. When they had reached the old camp of Picket and Watts all refused to go further, except these two men.
    "Picket had no gun and tried to get one from one of the partners of the imperiled men, who was in the party, but the gun was refused and Picket, of course, would not go without it. This terminated the project as Watts would not go alone into a country with which he was unacquainted and where there were no trails to guide him, and the party returned to the ranch the same night.
    "The next day, about noon, Mr. Hart arrived at the ranch from down the river where he had been mining in company with Bill Brown and a man named Hopkins, unknown to those who lived above on the same stream. Hart brought the intelligence that Rouse and Telford had been attacked that morning. Rouse was cut in the face with an ax and Telford's left arm was broken by a bullet.
    "They had been prospecting at the place where Smith's copper works now are and had an Indian with then. This Indian, the evening before, had gone to the Indian ranch, not far distant. Returning just before daybreak he proceeded to play his part in the bloody drama that had been planned by the savages.
    "He found the two asleep and seizing an ax struck Rouse in the face and then snatched a rifle and shot Telford when he ran off without waiting to determine whether he had accomplished his intended double murder.
    "The wounded men were able to make their way up the river about four miles to the camp of Hart & co. and Mr. Hart had started out alone, and unarmed, to bring the news to Derby's ranch and obtain assistance, if possible, while Brown and Hopkins waited all day in the bushes with their rifles cocked, expecting the Indians every moment, but resolved to defend the wounded men and die with them if necessary.
    "When the men at the ranch had heard Hart's story, they at once formed a party to go to the relief of the wounded men. The party was composed of Mr. Allen, Mike Bour, John Miter, Dave Picket, Malachi Boughman and Alex Watts--as many as could obtain weapons (the rifles having all been taken to Rogue River). They reached the camp where the wounded men and their guard were anxiously looking for them. Here they passed the remainder of the night, camping on the sand without blankets or fire.
    "When daylight appeared, in a hasty examination of the condition of the wounded men it was found that Telford would have to be carried by hand, while Rouse was able to ride a mule which had fortunately been provided. In a very short time a litter was prepared and the march back to the ranch was begun. Allen took charge of the mule on which Rouse was placed and the rest took turns carrying Telford, as the trail was so narrow that only two could take hold at once.
    "There was no shirking, all vying with each other as to who should do the most and the whole party were nearly exhausted before they had reached the ranch. While they had yet about two miles to go, they were met by Capt. O. T. Root, who had traveled 40 miles that day, but upon reaching the ranch and learning the news, he at once set out to give what assistance he could to the unfortunate men.
    "Never was help more welcome. The whole party were so tired as to be scarcely able to walk without a load, and we were almost ready to stop in despair. But the Captain took hold with a will and besides doing the work of at least three such tired as we were, inspired the whole party with renewed endurance by his cheerful example and generous aid. The ranch was reached about dark, and the wounded men were given the best care and attention that could be rendered.
    "Mr. Rouse, who was cut with the axe, recovered in a short time, but Telford, after having his arm amputated, lived only about a week, when the dark-winged angel relieved him from his sufferings."
Armed Men Return from Rogue River
    Watts' story of Indian depredations for 1853 continues as follows:
    [Here we pick up the Sutton account again.]
    For a few days after the events recorded last week nothing was done toward combatting the savages, as the arms were few and the Indians kept themselves out of the way, remaining in concealment down the Illinois River.
    In about two weeks our men returned from Rogue River and at once reoccupied their old camps, hoping that the Indians would not molest them. They supposed that the Indians were only persuaded to make their recent break because of the absence of the greater portion of the men and the unprotected and indefensible condition of those remaining and now having returned in full force, they felt assured that the Indians would not attack them. But they were soon taught that it is not wise to calculate upon anything but danger, deviltry and trouble in deciding upon questions in which the Indian character is one of the factors effecting the result.
    On the second night after the men had returned, the Indians attacked the camp, and after firing into one of the cabins made off with five muleloads of provisions belonging to the Hunter brothers and 15 to 20 mules and horses. When the Hunter boys' cabin was fired into, William Murphy, known as "Dirty Bill," was sleeping on the ground. Two bullets struck the log just above his head, but he lay perfectly still. Of course the firing produced considerable excitement and someone said, "Get up, Bill, the Indians are shooting at you."  Bill turned over with the cool remark "Oh, d--n the Indians, there ain't but two of them."
    But in spite of his stoicism he loaded his musket with 15 buckshot and went with the party of 17 men who started out immediately upon the track of the Indians under command of John Makin. After we had started we were joined by Samuel Mooney and eight others, of whom I can remember the names of only two, Dr. Osborn and John Nichols, now of Crescent City.
    The Indians tried to throw us off their track by scattering, doubling and going over the worst mountains they could, and we found much difficulty in tracking them, but about 6 o'clock on the morning of the third day, as we reached the top of a prominent hill, we saw their camp on the Illinois River, at Oak Flat, above the mouth of Briggs Creek.
    Instantly our party was fired with that eagerness for the fray which welcomes a command to charge on the double quick. It was a race to see who could reach the camp first. Notwithstanding our recklessness, the Indians did not seem to be aware of our approach, as they were sitting around in the genuine Siwash style, until the bullets were among them. Three were killed outright, and how many were wounded, we never knew.
    The attack was a success, but there were other camps that we had not seen, one much larger going under the bank on the same side of the stream that we were. The camp that we fired into was on the opposite side and instead of being the assailants we were soon compelled to assume the defensive, finding ourselves attacked by the main body of the hostile Indians, who soon came to the defense of their brethren.
    By accident rather than design, Giles Hunter, Joe Dickinson and Alex Watts happened to be about 200 yards down the river from the main party, and unknown to the Indians, who were met with a volley from these three at about 30 paces and were so astonished that they turned and fled without firing a gun. The fight then degenerated into a game of ball at long range, which was kept up for some hours, until Watts received a slight wound in the leg, when it was deemed best to retreat and secure more forces.
    Three days after this the regulars, under the pilotage of two pet Indians, surprised the camp. They killed a number, ran the rest off and captured all the spare ammunition of the Indians and a few horses, with no loss to themselves. But on their return the Indians followed them, and, about four miles from the battle ground, killed two brave soldiers, one of whom was the orderly sergeant.
    Two days after the soldiers' fight our boys, about 35 strong, again started for another attack on the camp. But, with the exception of one good shot, and that obtained after a half-mile foot race, they had no opportunity to use their rifles, seeing none of the foe. An incident, however, will show that the enemy saw them.
    The boys had made camp and all had their horses staked out who had come on, except Bill Hunter, who had a stiff knee. Bill laid his gun down, took his mule and started out, when Mike Bushey called to him: "Better take your gun, Bill."
Bullets Had Scant Powder
    "Guess I am old enough to take care of myself" was the answer and Bill went out beyond all the other animals and was in the act of driving his picket when he heard a click and looking up he saw four or five muzzles pointed at him. Quick as thought he sprang to take leave of the too-familiar visitors.
    Pop! Pop! Pop! went the guns, and the bullets were well aimed. One cut his coat collar and singed his cheek, one struck just below the shoulder blade, and two where it interfered with his sitting down easily. But Bill came into camp faster than a scared mule, singing out at the top of his voice, "Siwashes! Siwashes! Shooting tin wads at me."
    On examination of Bill's wounds they were found to be not serious, as none of the balls striking him had powder enough behind them to send them more than an inch into the flesh.
    Our boys returned to their respective camps without any further adventures and soon after this, through the mediation of Mike Bushey and an Indian named Henry who is said to have been always friendly, a treaty was made which, with the exception of one or two breaks, lasted till the war of '55.
Reds Ignore Treaty Terms
    The treaty stipulated that the Indians were to stay down the river or the miners would not be responsible for any attacks that might be made upon them by white men. We told them that so far as we were concerned the peace would not be broken if they were careful to comply with the conditions of the treaty, but we could not control the feelings or actions of our neighbors in the valley or at Althouse and Sailor Diggings and would not vouch for their being or continuing friendly.
    They remained down the river but a short time, however, notwithstanding our impressive wawa ["talk"], and it was soon discovered that they had moved up to Deer Creek and settled, apparently permanently, at the lower end of the valley, at the Fiester place. The news of their arrival spread, of course, all over the settlement, and again a feeling of uneasiness and dread of impending trouble took possession of the whites. All were watchful and anxious, and the few miners on the river kept themselves in readiness for any emergency. The Indians molested no one, however, and no disturbance occurred until a party of whites made an attack on the Indian camp.
Whites' Revenge Is Ill-Timed
    The winter of 53-54 was very cold. One heavy snow storm lasted about 10 days. During this time Mr. Rouse, who was suffering from his own injuries, and craving revenge for the death of his partner, collected a party of 20 at Sailor Diggings, and without giving any warning to the whites down the river, started out to surprise and slaughter the Indians at the ranch. Their expedition was well planned, and they had no doubt of its success.
    They expected to entirely "clean out" the camp and put an end to all trouble from this band of Indians, but their project,
like many other military schemes, was not so nobly executed as calculated upon. They lost their way and traveled all night in the snow, at one time floundering about in a swamp where two of the men became very wet and were almost frozen. They came upon the camp in the morning, but too late to make the attack a success, and after a short fight they were compelled to give up the attack and retire with two men wounded.
    The conclusion of Mr. Watts' story runs as follows: Thus the peace was again broken and the effect of this attack upon the Indians was a condition of vigilant defense upon both sides. On the day after the attack, Mike Bushey and Alex Watts went to the Indians, accompanied by a friendly Indian named Jim, and patched up a truce.
    The truce--a sort of armed neutrality, with both parties suspiciously watching each other--continued without any events of moment to break its monotony until the spring of 1855, when a party of Illinois Indians went over to Happy Camp and robbed a party of white men, then killed a man on Indian Creek, thence came to Hay's ranch and stole some cattle and carried off their booty in the Slate Creek hills.
Indians Pursued on Deer Creek
    At daylight on the morning of the next day a party of nine men under command of Capt. Sam Frye started out from Hay's to follow the Indians.
    By rapid traveling the party came up to the Indians about 10 o'clock a.m. and surprised and shot their rear guard of three men. One of the three was killed outright and the other two were fatally wounded, as was learned subsequently. The sacrifice of their rear guard saved the main party of the Indians. As soon as our shots were fired they chose their ground and fired a volley on us at short range but did no injury. They then took shelter in a thicket, and as it would have been equal to insanity to attempt to follow, we returned to Hay's ranch for more help.
    From Hay's Capt. Frye and a few others started the same evening for Kerby to get more men for the next day's attack. Having succeeded in obtaining several more men the Capt. was returning to Hay's with a party of seven men in all, Capt. Sam Frye, John Frye, James Hornbuckle, Jack Guess and Alex Watts. Just as we were entering the Deer Creek bottom the stillness of the forest was broken by a succession of rifle shots directly ahead of us.
Night Pursuit
    We halted on the impulse of the moment, and before we had time to form in our own minds any idea of what the firing could mean James Mills appeared, coming towards us from a thicket in the direction in which the firing had been heard. He had received two wounds in his side from which the blood was running, and as he came up to us he told us that the Indians had attacked his camp and his partner, a Mr. Philpot, had been killed.
    Capt. Frye immediately ordered Jack Guess to go with the wounded man back to Kerby and then told the rest of us that our duty was to recover the dead body and then go to the rescue of another Mr. Philpot and his little boy, a little fellow of about four years who lived on the opposite side of the brush about a quarter of a mile from where we then were.
    The trail through the thick underbrush was very narrow and it seemed like inviting death from the bullets of some hidden foe to venture upon the trail, but we thought of the man and boy in danger and not one faltered. Stopping but an instant to see that our rifles were all ready for use, we raised a yell and then followed the Captain as he dashed into the thicket saying, "Come on boys, we'll save the boy."
Tot Escapes Red Scalping
    Just as we started we heard three gun shots at the creek where James Mills and his partner had been ahead. Perhaps our faces blanched and our breath came harder, but we kept on at full speed expecting to be fired on at every jump, until we came to a halt.
    There lying upon the bank of the stream was the body of Mr. Philpot, with the brains oozing from three bullet holes in his head, and eight other wounds in the body and limbs. We took but a glance at the shocking sight, then rushed through the brush to the house, where we found Mr. Philpot with his boy behind him on his horse just starting away. We called him back, yoked his oxen to a wagon, loaded his household effects upon it, then went down to the creek, and brought up the body of his brother and moved all up the creek a short distance to a fort or blockade built by Mr. Yarnall. Leaving Mr. Philpot and his boy here in tolerable security, we returned to Hay's ranch, reaching there about 10 o'clock in the morning.
Soldiers Are Encountered
    Resting but two hours at Hay's, we started with a party of 21 in pursuit of the band of Indians who had given us the slip the day before. We found them at the head of Round Prairie Creek and they immediately began to retreat, going down the creek and up Applegate to Cheyenne Creek. We followed them until nearly dark and then camped where Mrs. Stevens lived. After it was dark enough several of us started out to look for camp fires, hoping to discover the Indians in that way.
    Our search was soon rewarded by the sight of a blazing fire, not far from our camp, and creeping slowly toward it we found, instead of Indians, a party of soldiers under command of Lieut. Sweitzer, who had come up from Fort Lane. The Lieutenant told us he was very glad to see us, as he had but 12 men and two Indian scouts or guides. He told us that the Indians had killed Jerome Dyar and Dan McCue on Applegate, and that as he was out of rations he would not be able to follow the Indians and would have to return to the fort the next day but would let us have his guides to help us in our pursuit of the hostiles, who, he said, had started toward Klamath.
Soldiers Deal Out Justice
    We returned to our camp well pleased with the polite Lieut. And the next morning early went over to the camping ground of the regulars to take our guides and start after the Indians, when, behold, the Lieut., soldiers and guides had all disappeared.
    We were considerably astonished, of course, but their trail being plain, Capt. Frye, taking four men, who were best mounted, set out to learn the cause of the "skedaddle."  By hard riding, he overtook the detachment near Rock Point, and found that the Indians had surrendered to them and the Lieutenant was marching to the fort as prisoners nine bucks and seven squaws, the bucks carrying their arms and ammunition.
    Upon being asked by Capt. Frye the meaning of his strange actions, the redoubtable officer merely replied that the Indians were his prisoners; they had killed three white men and we had killed three Indians. It was an even thing, and we could go home satisfied. I do not say we were satisfied, but we thought it best to go home, as there were nine buck Indians and 12 soldiers and one U.S. lieutenant of dragoons against five of us.
    As we draw on towards the bloody regime of 1855-6 I will continue to borrow scraps from other writers. They mostly agree as to the main particulars but differ slightly as to minor events. For instance, they do not agree as to what became of Mr. Wagner, sometimes written Wagoner. They don't agree as to whether Mrs. Harris was rescued from a patch of willows or from a treetop. They agree, however, that she put up a most notable fight. A writer for the Sunday Oregonian once gave details as follows:
Massacres of '55 Climax of Horror; Many Are Killed
    "The Indians have broken loose and are killing everybody!" shouted a mud-bespattered and excited horseman as he dashed into the busy town of Jacksonville in Southern Oregon, on the 9th of October 1855.
[Henry Klippel identifies the horseman as George Anderson, arriving in Jacksonville at midnight of the 9th.]
    Dismounting from his foam-flecked steed, he repeated to the crowd which had gathered about him: "The red devils broke out of the reservation last night and killed every man along the river. Yes, and the women and children, too. They have burned all the houses and run off the cattle, and God knows what they haven't done. I just came from Jewett's ferry.
    "I was asleep in the old log house at Jewett's ferry, and several others were there. Just before day, or maybe 3 or 4 o'clock, 'whish' went a bullet through the shingles. Then there was a fearful howl and a lot more guns were fired. We got down on the floor at first, but when lights were brought we found we were all right and we began to fire back. We saw through the dark a dozen Indians firing at the house. In about half an hour they left and we waited till daybreak and looked out and saw one man dead on the ground near the house.
    "Then we looked around, keeping an eye out for Indians until about 10 o'clock. Robbins came tearing from Evans' and says: 'The whole country is murdered. Jones and his wife are shot; Wagner and his family are killed and the Indians have beat Haines' brains out.' I want you fellows to go back with me just as soon as you can and look and see who are left alive."
Vigilant Defense Is Organized by Settlers, Miners
    As these disjointed words were repeated about the town, great excitement ensued. Jacksonville was full of people, mainly refugees from the surrounding mining camps and farming settlements, for the whole country was, and had been for many days, in anticipation of trouble with the Indians, although of less serious nature than that which now cast a chill over the stoutest hearts.
    A large number of the inhabitants of Jackson and Josephine counties were forted up, that is, had collected in strong buildings, bulletproof and large enough to contain several families. A large number of men were required to defend these detached posts, and even in Jacksonville itself some apprehension of danger to the town was felt, although the number of men there capable of bearing arms was several hundred.
    Very quickly, however, a volunteer force of about 20 active and fearless men were in the saddle and set off at a swift gallop for the north side of the Rogue River, where the atrocities had been committed. While they ride to succor the helpless victims of savagery, let us examine the route which they followed and the region toward which they directed their headlong steps.
Massacres Were Near Grants Pass
    Parallel to the railway and not far to the eastward lay the old California trail, where were enacted the scenes which are about to be describe. Along the Rogue, from the point where Grants Pass now stands, up as far as upper Table Rock, every mentionable locality bears its tale of Indian occupancy and Indian cruelty. In the sands of the Rogue River gold was found worth a king's ransom. The crest of yonder symmetrical hill--Gold Hill, it is fittingly called--bears a vein of quartz, the story of whose wealth rivals the wondrous tales of Aladdin and his lamp.
    At Ft. Lane, which was then garrisoned by a few companies of regular troops under Capt. Smith, the volunteer relief party was reinforced by 55 mounted dragoons, under command of Major Fitzgerald. Guided by John F. Miller, the combined party swept onward and never drew rein until Evans' ferry was reached, where they were told of the death of Isaac Shelton, a Willamette Valley man, who, while on his way to Yreka, was shot by the Indians near the ferry while preparing his breakfast. He received four wounds, poor fellow, and lingered 20 hours.
    From there the raging savages, traveling rapidly away from the reservation, had proceeded along the road, butchering whomever they met and burning every house they came to, as they passed through the thinly settled region. Two men driving a wagon loaded with apples were next met with, whom they pursued and killed.
Jones Home Was First Attacked
    The next victim found was a man named Jones, one of the few settlers along the road. He had been shot near his house and his body was partially eaten by hogs before it was found. His wife, fleeing towards the brush when the attack began, was shot at by an Indian and her spinal column fractured by the bullet. Falling to the ground, the poor creature had dragged herself to cover but was searched for and found by the bloody miscreants, one of whom presented his revolver and in spite of her prayer shot her again, the second bullet passing through her arm. She fell senseless, and the Indians, doubtless imagining her dead, hastily left. She recovered her senses late in the day and being found was taken to Tuft's place near the river and died, for she lived a day only. O. P. Robbins, Jones' partner, happened to be away from home at the time, hunting the cows. He saw the house on fire and heard the yelling of the Indians and surmised the trouble, then went to Tufts place for assistance.
    Trooping in disorder along the road, the savages next attacked two men who were transporting provisions to the mines. Killing them both, they took the horses from the wagon and turned them loose in the woods, where the relief party found them. The harness they piled upon the wagon and set the whole on fire, and it was consumed.
    Coming next to J. B. Wagner's place, they found only Mrs. Wagner with her little girl, Mary, at home, several persons having left but a very short time previous. This house they set on fire and barbarously murdered the lady and dragged her child away, a captive, to their bestial abodes.
    The relief party found the body of Mrs. Wagner, charred, and almost unrecognizable, amid the ruins of the house. The little girl was taken by the Indians to the Meadows, on lower Rogue River, according to their accounts, but died some weeks later. According to tradition, Mrs. Wagner was compelled to remain in her dwelling while it burned and was last seen by the savages standing before her glass arranging her hair.
    As Fitzgerald's force came in sight of the scene of the Wagner tragedy some half-dozen men who were in advance caught a view of the burned domicile, with the corpse of the unfortunate woman, and simultaneously became aware of a number of Indians partly concealed in the brush. Seeing the smallness of the force opposed to them, and not being aware of the regulars' proximity, the insolent murderers shouted a challenge to the whites to come and fight them. At the next instant the military burst into view and, giving the astonished redskins no chance to hide, charged them with the utmost vigor and kept them on the jump for two miles, killing six.
    Then the party returned to the road and proceeded northward to Haines' house, where lay the corpses of the owner and his little son, the latter's brains dashed out and the body perforated with bullets. Haines, lying sick in bed, attended by his wife and two children, had been surprised by the savages, who shot him and his son, and taking the wife and the daughter with them passed on to Harris' house, the next settlement north.
    As the relief party approached Harris' house, no signs of human occupancy were visible, and an air of desolation lay upon the scene. The outbuildings had been burned, and wreaths of smoke rose slowly from their ruins. Dismounting, some of the party passed within the house. The spectacle that met their eyes was a terrible one. In the room lay the body of the ill-fated owner pierced by a bullet. The signs of determined attack and resistance were visible in the bullet-marked doors and walls. Whatever the termination of the contest could not be ascertained, and as the party felt that it would be a waste of time to remain, the order was given to mount and push on.
Mrs. Harris Found Safe
    As the cavalcade passed a willow thicket not far from the now abandoned homestead a cry was heard and a woman, begrimed and disheveled, rushed out, leading a wounded girl by the hand, and implored the aid of the troops. It was Mrs. Harris, who, having with the courage of a lioness, defended her hearth and her family from the attacks of a large party of murderous Indians, had after their withdrawal taken refuge in the willow copes, and there awaited the arrival of succor. When the troops gathered about her house she had watched with anxious eyes, too far off to distinguish whether they were whites sent to relieve her or red men bent to complete their horrible work. Her story is one of the most extraordinary in the whole range of frontier narrative and forms the leading episode of the terrible massacre which is now being recounted.
Woman's Defense of Home Saga of Western Courage
    In the Harris domicile resided five persons--Mr. and Mrs. Harris, their two children, Mary, a girl of 12, and David, somewhat younger. The fifth was Frank A. Reed. When the first alarm of Indians was given the latter attempted to escape to the woods but was pursued and killed. His skeleton was found a year afterward.
    The boy, David, who was at some distance from the house, was last seen running across the field. Subsequent trace of him was never found, but it is supposed that he was murdered, and his body concealed.
    Mr. Harris was a few rods from the house when the redskins appeared, and in attempting to retreat to his shelter, was fired at and mortally wounded as he stood upon the threshold of his own door. His wife drew him into the house and closed and barred the door, and obedient to her husband's advice brought the firearms--a rifle, double-barreled shotgun and revolver--and, loading them, began to return the fire of the miscreants, who remained close to the house. Her husband was dying in agony the while, and of the two children, one, the boy, was she knew not where, but supposed with reason that he had already met the cruel fate that impended over them all.
    The child, Mary, had been painfully wounded in the arm, and the terrified sufferer climbed the ladder which led to the attic and there remained for several hours, the mute witness of the terrible conflict.
    While the Indians remained in the vicinity they kept beyond the reach of danger from her fire, but repeatedly attempted to cast burning brands upon the roof over her head, intending thereby to cremate all those the house contained.
    In an hour, more or less, the husband and father breathed his last, and his bloody corpse with its wide-staring eyes and the expression of agony into which its features were molded added tenfold to the terrific nature of the surroundings which confronted the poor and despairing woman.
    Through this scene of horror she kept up such an effective resistance as she was able, discharging her firearms in such directions and at such intervals as seemed to intimidate the savages, but probably not succeeding in any case in hitting any of them.
Knew No Guns
    Unfortunately this poor woman, who was suffering so much from the cruelty of her assailants, was not able to revenge herself effectually upon them, for never having fired a gun before, and gaining her knowledge even of how to load one by the instructions of her wounded husband, all she could do was to load and fire, hoping that the show of resistance might, as it did, keep her foes at a distance.
    She steadily loaded her weapons and discharged them through crevices of the logs of which the house was built, and the Indians, though numerous, dared not attack the building. They burned the outbuilding, however, first removing the horses from the stable.
    In the afternoon they decamped, leaving the dauntless woman mistress of the field and the savior of her own and her daughter's life. As soon as she was assured of their departure, she called her daughter down from the loft and with her took refuge in the willow copes and remained there until the arrival of the relief party, as before said. By them she was removed to a place of safety.
Escape by Minutes
    It happened that on the morning of the 9th, Judge Deady, who was returning from holding court at Jacksonville, in company with Dr. J. W. Drew, setting out early on their northward journey, took breakfast at the Wagner house, a few hours before the arrival of the murderous savages. Miss Pellet, well known in Oregon at the time as a temperance lecturer, was also at Wagner's awaiting a conveyance which was to take her on her way to Crescent City. Judge Deady and his fellow traveler left first, and soon after the lecturer set out for Vannoy's ferry, escorted by Mr. Wagner.
    Very soon after their departure the house was attacked, and Mrs. Wagner, who with her daughter were the sole tenants, fell easy victims to savage brutality. The three travelers escaped narrowly indeed, for so close had been the call that Messrs. Deady and Drew, looking back from the summit of a hill near Grave Creek, saw the smoke of burning buildings, but did not know the cause until overtaken by the news of the dire catastrophe.
    Wagner, the bereaved father and husband, returning from Vannoy's, when he approached his home found it on fire and encircled by howling savages. By them he was not observed, and feeling his inability to cope with them, unarmed as he was, he rushed in the utmost haste toward Evans' ferry, to obtain help to rescue his beloved ones. Reaching the Jones place he saw the owner's dead body, and in the road below lay the murdered travelers. Returning as soon as he could obtain even one man to accompany him, he flew rather than ran to his home only to find his wife's body smoldering in the ruins and his child gone, he knew not whither.
Mail Carrier First
    The mail carrier that morning got as far as Wagner's, where he was joined by two men. A little way beyond, on the way to Evans' ferry, they met a band of 10 or 15 Indians, armed and stripped for war. Getting past these they met a second band, a few hundred yards or so beyond, when the two bands began howling and firing at them, they being in the middle. The whites had to take to the woods and, making a detour, got back to Wagner's only to find the house in flames and Indians surrounding it, yelling and dancing.
    Taking again to the woods, they traveled northward for some time, passing near Harris', where five or six shots were heard and flames were seen arising. Regaining the road where they adjudged it safe they kept on toward the north, giving the alarm and causing the settlers and travelers on that part of the road to seek safety at the Grave Creek House, where no disturbances had occurred. No murders were perpetrated on that day by the Indians on the remaining portion of the road, but all the inhabitants left their homes as far north as Canyon, and the vacant tenements were mostly burned.
    Only two or three buildings were left between Evans ferry and Turner's station, near the northern boundary of Josephine County. At Turner's a number of men stood guard, while all those who could be spared joined Richardson and Sheffield, and effectually patrolled the dangerous space on the road.
    The savages came no further north, but plunged into the rough mountains to the west, and secluded themselves from the whites and for a time delayed the vengeance which was destined to fall upon them eventually. Their hiding place was well chosen. It is a country of craggy mountains, of precipices and steep gorges, of impenetrable jungles and baffling thickets. It contains as many mountains as can find room to stand. [The above account is condensed from the Oregonian of December 20, 1885. Click here for the original, with explanatory links. Fidler's account here returns to Sutton's.]
    As soon as we got the news at Galice Creek of the massacre at Evans ferry, and the murder of the Wagner family, and that of the Jones and Haines, we began to keep our eyes open, expecting that the Indians would come down upon us in a body some night and clean out from end to end.
    The miners held a meeting and agreed to lay their claims over--that is, they passed a law that if anyone owning a claim on the creek or within the limits of Galice Creek mining district should choose to leave the diggings and volunteer, or for other reasons, it should not be lawful for anyone to enter upon said claim during the absence of the proper owner.
    Thereupon the miners stacked up their sluice boxes and, taking 
their other effects on their backs or on the backs of horses or mules, they scattered in all directions, some for parts unknown.
    Some went up the river and joined various volunteer companies, while others, myself among them, stayed on the creek and organized a company with the determination of holding our ground and taking care of our property, which we had bought together at the mouth of the creek.
    There were only about 40 of us, but we knew that we could defend ourselves against as many Indians as could be brought against us, as the volunteer companies above would keep most of the Indians busy up there. We elected Billy Lewis captain, and your humble servant was elected 1st lieutenant. As soon as we got our company in working order we began looking about for a suitable place for a blockhouse.
    We picked upon a large log house on a wide bar on the river, and soon repaired it and made some additions which we thought might be necessary in case of an attack, although we did not indulge much apprehension of such an event.
    But we had several women and children with us and they looked to us for protection, so we thought it best to have everything safe. We moved all our traps and supplies into our headquarters and soon had everything snug and in order, ready at any time for an attack.
Skirmishes Increase
    In a few days after we had got everything ready, we received news that everybody was forted up in the settlement above us, and that the Indians were getting the best of some of the regular troops in the skirmishes they were having; that it was believed that the Indians had divided their warriors; that George and Limpy had gone down Rogue River and would probably pay us a visit in a short time, and by reason of their successful raid upon the settlements around Evans' Ferry they would pitch into us with great expectations of cleaning us out.
    But we had no fears on that score, for we were well armed and on the lookout for them, while the settlers above had been taken by surprise and each family was alone without means of defense.
    [The manufactured exculpatory account of the Lupton Massacre below is completely unsupported by contemporary accounts.] Sometime prior to the 6th day of October 1855, the Indians had all left the Table Rock reserve. The military authorities at Fort Lane were applied to for assistance to induce them to return, but the efforts of the officers proved fruitless, and they returned to the Fort, leaving the Indians in the field in a hostile attitude.
    On the following day, the 7th, Agent Ambrose, accompanied by Major Lupton, went to the Indians' camp and again endeavored to induce them to abandon their hostile intentions, and return to the reservation. The Indians told them plainly that they would not, that they intended to kill the settlers; that they were determined to go to war and that there was no use in talking anymore.
     It was then apparent to all but the military commandant at Fort Lane that force must be used to protect settlers of Rogue River Valley from being massacred. Major Lupton took the result of Agent Ambrose's interview with the Indians to the volunteers who were encamped on Butte Creek
Butte Creek Fight
    It was decided to delay no longer, so the company was put in motion and in the evening of the same day, the 7th, arrangements were perfected for an attack on the Indians' camp the next morning before daylight.
    As soon as it was sufficiently dark to hide their movements, the volunteers surrounded the Indian camp, far enough away to prevent being observed by them. The necessary instructions were given, a guard stationed at proper places and all then lay down to await daylight and the order to move to the attack. As soon as the first faint glimmer of daylight began to make its appearance in the east, the men were aroused, and the order was given to close up around the camp. When they had approached to within a hundred yards of the camp, Indians' dogs gave the alarm, and they came rushing out of their camp.
    The volunteers, with a shout, charged into the very midst of them, and the fight was truly a hand-to-hand fight in the dark, for it was scarcely light enough to distinguish friend from foe. It did not last long but it was hot while it did last. The Indians scattered and the volunteers were victorious.
    Major Lupton and Mr. Sheppard were killed, and seven others more or less severely wounded. Several Indian bodies were found, and many more were seen by the volunteers to be carried off to the camp. [More than thirty natives were murdered. All other accounts, contemporary and since, are unanimous that the massacre was unprovoked and that the victims were almost all old men, women and children.]
Battle Tales of Olney, Moore, Rich in Drama
    Getting back to the original theme of Indian battles I still have the assistance of Mr. Olney, who introduces an assistant narrator, whom he calls "Bill," presumably Bill Moore. [Compare with Sutton's 1878-79 version of the Olney account.]
    Bill tells of some battles we have hitherto skipped, such as the fight on Butte Creek, and the fight at Galice.
    First quoting Olney, Bill says:  "No news of the Indians had been received since the battle of Eight Dollar Mountain, and as Gen. Lamerick had issued a general order rendezvousing the Southern Battalion 2nd Reg. O.M.V. at the mouth of Applegate, on the 10th of April, which was not far off, the companies, one by one, left the general camp and marched to the designated rendezvous. During their stay in the camp the news of the massacre of the settlers at the Cascades was received with particulars--how the settlers were driven into a blockhouse and were compelled to be on the fight day and night, until relieved by volunteers and regular troops."
    Bill listened attentively to the recital; and when he had heard it all he said in his quiet tone, "That's pretty tough, but nothing like the attack on Galice Creek last fall."
    "Tell us about it, Bill--come on--you're a good hand at spinning yarns."
    "There's no yarn about it," he retorted. "It's as true as anything you ever heard."
    "Why don't you write it out and send it to Harper's Magazine--it would be a splendid yarn--I mean story?" suggested one in his audience.
    "Write it out!  If you'll set up a mark I'll bet my old Hawkins that I can beat any man in camp shooting at it or an Indian either--but when you talk about writing anything out, you needn't count me in!" 
    "Give me a chaw of tobacco, somebody," said he, as he sat down on the block of wood which had been procured for his seat. Taking a large quid, he began:
Galice Preparations
    "You know, boys, that Galice Creek is about 40 miles below here, and empties into Rogue River from the south side. The diggin's on the creek have been worked for a number of years and have paid about as well as any other diggin's in the country.
    "In the summer of 1855 the miners on the creek became aware that there was something up amongst the Indians, and all signs showed plainly that we were going to have trouble. We knew that the Indians were slyly on the war path higher up the river, and had killed, in the month of June alone, four or five men in the Illinois Valley, but did not expect they would come down here.
    "There were so many miners on the creek, and all well armed, that we thought the Indians would be afraid to tackle us. Reports came at short intervals that the Indians had killed a person here and there on the upper part of the river, and in the Illinois Valley.
    "But the Chiefs, Limpy, John, Sam, George and the others were, to all appearances, friendly and told the regular officers in command of U.S. troops that there were only a few bad Indians; that they and the great majority were friendly and that there was no real danger to be apprehended; that the few murders that had been committed were to be laid to the charge of a few very bad Indians that the chief could not control, and that they, the chiefs, had been doing and would continue to do all in their power to apprehend and bring them to trial.
    "Things went on this way until the 9th of October 1855, when the Indians threw off the mask and fell upon the most exposed parts of the settlements and began in indiscriminate massacre of the inhabitants. [The breakout of October 9 was precipitated by the Lupton Massacre.]
Galice Siege Was Trial for Whites
    "At an early hour in the evening," says Olney, "a large crowd of the boys were gathered around the Lieut. Colonel's camp fire, eager for Bill to begin his story about the siege of Galice Creek. Bill presently made his appearance and took his seat at the fire and made ready to begin his story by placing his lame foot in a comfortable position and getting a new quid of tobacco between his molars. Looking around in rather a puzzled manner, he said, "I don't exactly know where I left off."
    "It was where you had got everything into a blockhouse and yourselves ready for an attack."
    "Well, as I was saying, we had no fears of being cleaned out even if we should be attacked, which we all doubted. We did not have much provisions, and for meat we had to depend on our rifles. So one day it came my turn to go out after game. I don't mean to say I went alone, but that I was one of six who were detailed for that duty. We went out in three squads, two men together. One party went up the river, one down and another back in the hills and up the creek.
    "It was my fortune to go up the creek, so my pard and I set out before daybreak, and by the time it was light we were five miles from the house. We had killed two deer and were sitting down by a small fire which we had kindled and broiling each a piece of steak, for we were hungry and camp was too far off for us to go to it before satisfying our hunger.
    "I say, Bill," said my pard, "don't you believe Old Limpy is around in these hills watching for a chance to pounce upon our blockhouse?"  "Very likely," I answered. "I had begun to think that somebody has been hunting in these hills since we were up here two weeks ago. The game is scarce today and everything seems to wear a strange look; the squirrels don't seem lively at all. I've had a strange feeling all day. I believe that we'll have trouble before long."
Warning Shots
    "Hark! A rifle report! Two! Three! Then all was still, the report came from up in the hills up the river from our blockhouse; we knew that but two of our boys went up there in the morning, and they could fire but two shots in such rapid succession. It could not be them. The very stillness seemed to prognosticate a coming fray.
    "We gathered up our game--each one slinging a deer over his shoulder--and started for the blockhouse. My pard, who was ahead about ten steps, said to me, 'Bill, you must keep your ears open from behind and I'll do the same from the front--horse fashion. You know when horses are traveling, those in the rear keep their ears turned back, while those in front keep theirs well forward, so that they can better catch sounds in either direction.' 'All right,' said I, 'go ahead, but I don't believe we will see any Indians today. If they are meditating an attack on us they will make it at daylight some morning for--'Down Bill! Down! Do you see that?'
    "And throwing himself down behind a cluster of brush he pointed down the hill directly in our front to a dozen or more mounted Indians and about 50 on foot who were rapidly crossing our track and heading toward the river. All of them were armed and, from their rapid movements, seemed to be intent on accomplishing some already arranged plan. Fortunately we were so far away they did not discover us.
    "Remaining in our hiding place after the last one had passed out of sight at least 15 minutes, we again set out for the blockhouse with no fear of running across the Indians, as they in all probability intended to go below us and leave their horses and traps, and come upon us early some morning.
    "Arriving at the house with our game, we found that the two who had gone up the river had returned without any game. When they started out in the morning they went up the river about four miles and then turned to the right into the hills. Seeing no game worthy of shot, they slowly wandered up and along the ridge and through the open and level grassy benches until about 1 o'clock in the afternoon, when they sat down by a small spring that burst from the side of the hill, intending to remain there until towards night, when they would return to the house.
    "They had been by the spring about two hours, engaged in talking over Indian matters--for that was the all-engrossing topic--and venturing guesses whether they would see any sign, when they became aware that they were to have an accession to their company. In the open woods they saw two persons coming in an oblique direction towards them.
Enemy Nears
    "They could not make out to which party they belonged, for the Indians in almost all cases were clothed in the white man's costume, but to be on the safe side they quickly sank back into some brush that was growing below the spring, and from which they could see the newcomers slowly moving towards them.
    "It was not long before the boys distinctly saw that they were Indians who had, perhaps, been sent out to secure meat for a larger number, for it was very evident they could be but temporarily alone. The boys had not succeeded in finding any deer, but they now began to congratulate themselves that they had found game of another kind.
    "Each man had chosen his mark and had prepared to shoot as soon as the Indians had come out of a small ravine which they were crossing. As the Indians began to show themselves above the bank our two men were startled almost out of their wits at the sudden apparition of a large band of Indians, mounted and on foot, advancing directly towards the spring which they had just left.
    "No time was to be lost now; things had taken a very sudden and disagreeable turn. Down the little gulch they plunged headlong through the brush at a galloping pace. The Indians saw them, but only for a moment still, long enough to send three shots after them. But the boys were good on the run and jump, and in less than half a minute they were far down in the dark, deep canyon, putting into Rogue River, following down which they soon made their way to the river and down that to the blockhouse.
     "About an hour after dark the other men came in with two deer. A third one they left to be brought in on the following day, but we never got it, for the next morning just at daybreak the Indians came upon us with a tremendous rush, thinking to take us by surprise. But we had worked all night getting all things in readiness for them, and of course were not much surprised at the attack.
Fort Defense
    "Every man in our fort, except the guards, had worked all night throwing up breastworks in a square in front of the house. At each of the outer corners we had erected a bastion, and our limited military knowledge assured us that we could defend ourselves against all the Indians that might come against us.
    "Just before daybreak Capt. Lewis had sent me with a squad of men to inspect the entrenchments from the outside and if there should be anything more needed to tell those in the trench inside how and where to perform the needed work.
    "I had been around several times and had at last finished all necessary work and was standing at one of the bastions with my men all in a huddle when the Indians, who had come up under cover of the darkness, poured a broadside into us and into the fort.
    "'Get inside boys!'  I yelled, to make myself heard above the din, but it was not necessary to tell the biggest fool in the squad to get inside; they would have climbed inside like a band of sheep jumping over a fence, even if I had told them to stand their ground. The Indians had taken possession of the bar above and below our fort--every tree had one or more behind it, while some were down behind large boulders which covered the bar in some places sufficiently to give good hiding places for large numbers.
    "Across the river opposite us the timber and brush were thick, affording better shelter for them, while back of us, and within 30 feet of the house, ran a ridge as high as the roof of the house, covered with trees. All of the shelter mentioned was occupied by Indians at the time of the attack, except the ridge close to the house. On that ridge we had always kept a guard, and the savages were smart enough not to try to occupy that place at first.
    "It was not quite light enough when the attack began to distinguish objects with any certainty, and as our ammunition was scarce we withheld our fire till we could see to hit an Indian every time. As we did not return the first fire they began to believe we would make no fight and that they would have a splendid time taking off our scalps and eating our bread and sugar. Acting in this belief, they came flocking along the ridge from both directions expecting to find us in no condition to resist an attack from that place. By this time it was light enough and Capt. Lewis told us to begin our part of the performance.
Needed No Urging
    "'Now boys give those fellows a full dose,' said the Capt., pointing to the Indians coming along the ridge. And we did, I assure you. It was not a long nor a hard job to clear the ridge. The other boys in the trenches had been, for a few minutes, firing stray shots at the Indians, whenever they could catch sight of them in the semi-darkness. In a few minutes the light was sufficient for all purposes and the fun began in good earnest.
    "The Indians were thought to be several hundred strong as they fired from far and near and over each other's heads. We could return yell for yell, we had enough of that commodity, but our ammunition must be carefully used. Every shot on our part told on the enemy.
    "Our breastworks enclosed a square of perhaps 40 feet, and all along the side and from out the house we poured a determined and destructive fire upon our assailants,, but they would not yield an inch. Contrary to their usual custom, they left their dead lying where they fell, and advanced slowly but steadily upon us.
Limpy, John in Command at Siege
    "Old Limpy bucked around from place to place, encouraging his men to advance closer by setting the example himself. Old John was there too, running from point to point yelling out his orders, equal to any civilized colonel or major. No cessation, the Indians crowded upon our defenses, all hands hoarse with yelling, the bullets zipping through our house and knocking the dirt from our breastworks into our eyes. Two men were killed, seven more wounded, two mortally, the others severely, yet it was early in the day.
    "Our defenses were not so strong as we thought, or the Indians never evidenced such dogged determination. The Indians across the river sent bullets in showers over our breastworks and it soon began to get too hot for us, exposed as we were to a fire we could not return, as the Indians were hidden in the brush on the hillside, and we were compelled to shoot at random in that quarter. But we did good execution among the Indians on the bar.
    "Thus things were until noon. We suffered by the fusillade from across the river, while we paid it back upon the Indians around our works. They climbed into the tops of trees on the bar and sent many a damaging shot from their perch among the branches, but one by one they were picked out and dropped to the ground by our boys until that kind of elevated warfare entirely ceased, and no shots came over and into our trenches except from across the river.
    "About 9 o'clock the Indians ceased firing and, as far as we knew, left for another field of operations. Not sure of anything except our deplorable condition, we concluded to occupy the night in strengthening our position, which we could only do by digging rifle pits inside our breastworks. Mustering all our able-bodied men, we divided into two parties. One was set to work digging the pits, while the other guarded the house and cared for the wounded, who by this time were enduring great suffering.
    "Relieving each other every two hours, the work proceeded very rapidly and by an hour before daylight we had four splendid pits dug and covered with a foot or more of earth, from which we could command the ridge back of the house and the country across the river and be, ourselves, completely out of sight.
    "'But how could you get to your pits from the house without exposing yourselves to the Indian's fire,' asked some one of the listeners.
    "Easy enough. Our first step was to run a ditch from the house four feet deep to the first pit, and similar ditches connected this with the others. The ditches were covered, as were the pits, with anything in the shape of boards, or anything else we could find suitable for the purpose, and over them we put the dirt dug from the ditches. So, you see, we had a covered way from the inside of the house to our pits outside, so there was not the slightest danger from the enemy.
    "'Why didn't you do this before the Indians attacked you?' 'Go on, Bill, don't mind him,' said someone.
    "I don't mind an interruption when it gives me a chance to explain. In the first place, I'll say that I've always observed that there are numerous strategists who do their work best while sitting before snug warm fires, criticizing the operations of those leading in the field, who have to contend against all the rapidly shifting circumstances of a campaign of battle.
    "In our case we were all young, inexperienced, knew nothing about the art of fortification, and very little of battle in the open field. But a short time from the States, and having been occupied most of the time in mining, critics must be lenient when overhauling our acts.
    "In a few days we are to start down to the Big Meadows, and there attack the Indians in their stronghold, and we will, if at all observing, gain a clearer idea of Indian warfare.
    "But to begin again. We had our works in a better condition than ever for defense, but the walls of our breastworks prevented our seeing the enemy on the bar above or below us, should they again renew the attack.
    "Daylight came, but no Indians. The boys who occupied the rifle pits were eager to have a few shots from their snug quarters, but if the savages did not return they would be happily disappointed.
    "We had laid our dead, with due care and respect, on the ground in the corner of the house. The wounded were placed on bunks along the sides. Our morning meal was spread upon a long table in the center, and running lengthwise of the building. The boys had been called from the pits, and there, in the presence of the dead, in hearing of the groans and labored breathing of the mortally wounded, sat down, with drooping spirits, to a meal of bread and coffee.
Men Breakfast As Reds Near
    "There was no one keeping watch; we could not be taken by surprise. We could be under cover all the time and did not care a fig if we did not see them begin the attack again, if indeed they intended to do so. The boys had about half finished their meal when our ears, which by that time were accustomed to it, were again saluted by the rising and falling yells of returning savages, and the pattering of bullets against the house.
    "'Come boys, no time to eat now,' said the Captain, 'out to the pits and give them h--l.' The most of them jumped to their feet, dived down into the ditch and went on the run, rifles in hand, and began another day's fighting.
    "One of the boys who was sitting at the table, a specimen Yankee, whom the boys had christened 'Nutmeg' and who had gained our respect and confidence by his coolness and bravery, and was one of the strong props of our little company, drawled out, as the Captain gave the order to man the pits, 'I d-on-n't s-e-e, Cap'n, as there is any use in h-u-r-rying matters,' at the same time raising his cup of coffee to his lips, but as he was on the point of taking the meditated drink, a bullet came snapping through the house and knocked the cup from his hand and sent it flying in fragments about the room.
    "'Wall,' he coolly ejaculated, and without another word rose from the table and with gun in hand stepped into the ditch, and was soon at work in the pits, dealing out his bullets to the enemy.
New Pits Thwart Reds at 'Fort'
    "The Indians rushed up to the breastworks but found none of us in sight. Instead, they found the boys shooting at them from under the ground, a defense that was new and unapproachable. They tried their old dodge of firing from across the river and some few climbed into the treetops, but they shortly saw that the only impression they could make on us was by firing at the house.
    "In an hour they had abandoned all their positions except the ridge back of the house and from there they sent a hotter fire than ever before, which lasted about half an hour. The damage to them was greater than it was to us. In fact we received no damage at all, while on their side we killed several and wounded a number more.
    "About 10 o'clock it became evident that they were weakening and intended to abandon the attack, and I assure you we felt as proud as one can imagine when we found that we were to be the victors. Outnumbering us more than seven to one, and with as good defensives as we had, and as good arms, we thought we had not done so bad after all.
Indians Lift Siege on Fort
    "By 11 o'clock the firing had become desultory on both sides and continued so until nearly 1 o'clock, when all was still. The Indians had withdrawn and the siege of Galice Creek had ended. But we were left in a crippled condition. No news from the upper settlements, not knowing if we would be able to get there without another attack, and we hesitated as to the course to pursue. Vannoy's ferry being the nearest point, we decided at last to go there.
    "We buried our dead inside of our trenches, carefully dressed the wounds of those who needed it and then began making stretchers upon which to convey such wounded as could not travel alone. We had but one horse and we packed him with our camp equipage and the little flour and coffee we had left.
    "An hour or so after dark we had all in readiness and set out upon our hazardous journey. After taking up our wounded there were but 12 men left for duty, that is, to guard the front and rear. If the Indians had attacked us, hampered as we were by the wounded, I don't believe that many of us would have been alive today.
    "We traveled about eight miles that night. We were so worn out, and the wounded were suffering so much, that we concluded to camp and get a little rest that night and be in better condition for traveling the next day. We had some bread baked, and well and wounded alike partook sparingly of it.
    "It would not do to build a fire to make coffee, so we ate the cold, tough bread and washed it down with cold water. Guards were posted and in a little while nothing could be heard but an occasional hoot of an owl, the incessant rippling of the water in the little brook on which we were encamped, and now and then a suppressed groan of some one of our seriously wounded boys.
    "We were all greatly fatigued, and the well ones and those who were not seriously hurt were soon sound asleep. Those whose wounds were serious passed a long and sleepless night, except one, he poor fellow, passed away silently, giving no notice of his dissolution.
    "He was observed in the morning lying as he had been placed in the evening. With open eyes he lay there as though alive, with his gaze fixed upon the winking stars above. The boys buried him as best they could, and we took up our slow and painful march, leaving him alone in his shallow grave near the bank of Rogue River.
    "We were compelled to stop often to rest the wounded and pour cold water on the wounds to allay the constantly rising fever. I won't speak of my own sufferings, but there are some of you here who may have recollected seeing me on my hands and knees crawling along the uneven trail, which I was often compelled to do, as my left foot might as well have been at the bottom of the river for all the good it did me in getting along.
    "At noon we stopped to make a pot of coffee, for we had none since we left Galice Creek. The coffee was boiling on the fire, and its rich odor was floating to our willing olfactories, when all were thrown into a state of consternation by the sight of a large band of Indians or volunteers slowly filing down the trail directly ahead and about a mile distant.
     "That they were coming to our camp there was not much doubt, and of our inability to defend ourselves successfully if they were Indians there was none. The only alternative instantly suggested itself. It was for a major part of our little band to go forward and engage them, while those who remained should carry off and secrete the wounded while the Indians were kept back.
Meeting a Joyful One
    "Without tasting the coffee, the boys seized their guns and started forward on the run, leaving six to carry off and hide the wounded. Our view of the newcomers had been only for an instant, and then they had descended into a bushy canyon. Our boys were soon out of sight, and we were all in a stir and bustle to get ourselves out of the way in time. I clung to old 'Hawkins,' and when it came to the worst I knew I was good for one or half a dozen of the infernal savages.
    "We had got most of the wounded up the creek inside of a dense thicket of brush, around which was almost a corral of old logs blown down during some bygone storm. I was just on the point of starting to the 'cache,' as the boys afterward called it, when we were startled by an uproarious and long-continued shouting, followed by renewed shouts. No firing. They could not be Indians. Of course they were friends.
    "We waited a few minutes and one of our boys came running back with the glad news, yelling at the top of his voice, 'Volunteers! Volunteers!' We were safe now, and for myself I can say that I actually felt a weakness in my knees and all over my body. We were soon joined by our boys who were accompanied by 50 volunteers from the upper settlements who had started down to assist the people of Galice Creek.
    "They had not heard of the attack on us but came down the river they were certain, and knowing that ours was the only company down there, they thought it best to come down and look into matters. Our wounded were brought out from their hiding places, their wounds were dressed afresh, and partaking of the universal hilarity they were greatly improved in health. The next evening we arrived at Vannoy's, where the wounded were well cared for, and boys, my story is done."
Massacre on Coast
    "I met Agent Wright," says Hillman, "in Crescent City about the first of February 1856, and had a long confidential conversation with him in relation to Indian affairs, and the most feasible and speedy way of bringing the difficulty to a close. He detailed at length his views of the situation and gave his method of keeping, as he thought, a close watch on the Indians and their movements in his department.
    "But it has proven to be the old story--he placed too much trust in his friend, [the] Indian. Instead of having an eye on the real intentions of the savages, he was gulled by the friendly savage, who told the Indians all that Wright himself intended to do. Thus the Indians kept a strict watch over him, while he knew nothing whatever of the real doings of his savage charges.
    "Wright returned to Rogue River about the 18th of February, and went on with his plans of surrounding, with the aid of the volunteers and regulars, the Indians and bringing them all down to the mouth of the river and keeping them prisoners there until the close of the war.
    "Wright's confidant kept the Indians well posted in regard to the proposed movement, while he as candidly told Wright a fictitious story of the good intentions of the Indians.
    "Another of Wright's confidants was a Canadian Indian called Enos, who spoke good English and knew all the phases of American and Indian life. This Indian lived mostly with Wright but spent a portion of his time with the Indians. Having a wife belonging to the Tututni tribe which lived at the mouth of the river and within a mile of Wright's house and office, he could thus be at both places daily and in undisturbed intercourse with both parties.
    "He was a smooth-tongued and smiling Indian, to all appearances an innocent and kind individual, but really deep, crafty and dangerous. He had obtained a partial control of the Indians in the immediate neighborhood and was looked to by them as a chief and guide when the proper time came for an outbreak.
Few Whites
    "There were but two or three white families at or near the mouth of the river, while there were many miners living in rude cabins from the mouth several miles up the river and on the beach, both above and below the mouth. The Indians would lie around these cabins in the daytime, doing little jobs for the miners, and in some cases even working for wages in the mines; while the few families employed them in cutting wood and other light work, paying them in old clothes and food.
    "The Indians were vigilant and had an eye to all that was said and done by the whites. Their wits were quickened by the reports they received by runners from up the river. The Indians in Rogue River Valley, and indeed, all the then hostile tribes, were sending messages to those on the coast, urging them to begin hostilities, to aid in clearing the country of the hated white man.
    "But the coast Indians were shy of their inland neighbors. They had learned in times past their treacherous character, and were backward in entering into league with them for any purpose.
    "Enos, who had lived in Rogue River Valley and at Yreka, bent his energies toward forming a coalition between the coast and upcountry tribes. His success was soon perceptible in the actions of the Indians around the mouth of the river. They became bold, in some instances quite saucy, and Enos himself, all placidity and affability, soon changed in a great measure his demeanor. Once calm and smiling, he now became nervous and sour.
Coast Indians Pretend Fear
    "Still, Ben Wright supposed that he knew the secret thoughts of the Indians, that whichever way they would turn he had a remedy to apply. He questioned his confidants as to the perceptible change in the Indians, and their answer was, 'They are afraid the Indians up the river will come down and kill us. We like you and the other white men but are afraid Old Limpy and John will come and burn our houses and take away our women and children as they used to do.'
    "Such were the evasions used to pacify and quiet the inquiries of Wright. The miners had confidence in him, and if he was satisfied, they were satisfied too.
    "It was the 20th of February, and Wright was anxiously looking for a company of volunteers from Crescent City with the aid of which he expected to accomplish his long-mediated coup d'état. The Indians, too, were looking for them and knew for what purpose they were coming, but they had determined on a counter coup de main.
    "The 22nd would soon be on hand, and the settlers and miners were busy in preparing for a grand dance in honor of the day. Enos knew that was the time, if ever, to strike the blow. Anxiously he watched the trail along the beach leading from Crescent City to the mouth of the river.
    "He knew that if the expected company should arrive before the 22nd he would be compelled to wait or strike the blow with a great many chances against him, and if he should fail, he must leave for other parts, as both the whites and Indians would kill him wherever found. He had assured the Indians that success was certain under his leadership, and if he failed to lead them to victory they might kill him if they chose to do so.
Enos Crafty
    "The 20th passed. The 21st wore slowly along, both whites and Indians scanning the trail along the beach for the expected volunteers. The day drew to a close. The Indians were jubilant. Wright was anxious, but had he known the true situation he would have been in a far more discouraged mood, and more watchful.
    "He did not dream that his cherished plans were known to the Indians. He did not know that he was totally in the dark regarding the true intentions of his savage wards. He had been on this coast since 1848 and had lived amongst and warred with nearly all the tribes of note from the Dalles of the Columbia, in Oregon to Shasta
 City in California and had always been successful.
    "But he had a more crafty and deep opponent in the despised Enos than he had yet met on all his warpaths, a chieftain equaling him in resources and excelling him in duplicity. While his knowledge of the whites and their manner of fighting was equal to Wright's, his intimate knowledge of his Indian allies and their intentions was superior.
    "The 22nd dawned, but still no volunteers had arrived. Preparations went on for the ball in the evening, and the Indians were also preparing their program. Evening came, but no company of volunteers. The Indians were around as usual, doing errands for anyone who asked, but it was noticed that they seemed immensely pleased about something. To inquiries as to their gleeful mood, the answer was 'Wake icta cultis nica he he.' ["Nothing bad me, heehee."]
    "Three miles above the mouth of the river is a large open flat. On this flat was a large log house, in which the ball was to be given. At dusk all the people of the neighborhood who wished to attend the dance were gathered at this house. Agent Ben Wright and a few others stayed at their houses, not caring to join in the festivity.
Geisels Thought Indians Friends
    "Among these were Mr. Geisel and his family, composed of his wife, a daughter 13 years of age, and an infant daughter. Mr. Geisel was a German who had been drawn to the mines at the mouth of the river by the alluring reports of their great richness. Soon after coming to the mines he sent to San Francisco for his family, and on their arrival opened a restaurant. [All other accounts describe the Geisels as "keeping hotel."]
    "To Mrs. Geisel, the Indians were a novelty, and, being of a brave temperament, she was not frightened at their paint and scant clothing, but employed them around the house in the capacity of cutters of wood and carriers of water. She was prompt to pay in the line of cold meat and bread, so they became her friends (for a time). Whenever any news of the war would reach her from the upper country she would question the Indians regarding their feelings toward the whites. They, of course, protested their great love and admiration for the settlers and miners.
    "She often asked them if they would kill her and her children, if they should go to war with the whites, to which they replied that they would not, but would take her to cook for them, for she was a fine cook, could beat all the squaws in the village. They assured her again and again that they would not go on the war path, and if they should she need not fear, for they were all agreed that she and her children should not suffer.
Geisels Warned of Massacre
    "On the eve of the 22nd an Indian to whom Geisels had shown particular favor told Mrs. Geisel that the Indians intended to begin a massacre of the whites that night, and that she and her family had better leave the place. To this she paid no particular attention, thinking the Indian only intending to frighten her.
    "Mr. Geisel told Agent Wright about it who said it was all bosh, that if anything of the kind were intended that he, Wright, would have known it long ago. This settled the matter, of course, but even Wright must have had some misgivings. He kept back his fears, however, and put a good face on the suspicious circumstances of the few days past.
    "Eight o'clock had struck, and the merry dancers were whirling to the music of a quick waltz--one--two--three. 'Did you hear that? Who can be shooting at this time of night down at the mouth of the river?'
     "The waltz suddenly ends. All rush to the doors to listen. 'Was that a voice, calling?' 'No. It's only your imagination.' All is still.
    "'Come, everybody, let's begin the dance again. Strike up there, fiddler, give us a lively waltz.'
    "At dusk all the houses on the beach and along the river were closed. Here and there streaks of light shine out through the cracks of some cabin, but the most of them are deserted for the ball room up on the Big Flat.
    "Agent Wright is sitting at his desk writing to Superintendent Palmer, while his Indian confidant is lounging upon the bed at one side of the office. [Many of these details of the attacks are unknowable and invented.]
Geisels Attacked
    "Mrs. Geisel sits alone with her children in their large front room. The clock has just struck seven, and Mrs. Geisel looks towards the door, for she hears a step. Of course it is her husband, for he should have been home before this time; he had only gone down the beach a mile or so to put some sluice boxes out of reach of the surf.
    "The step is heard again, but no one opens the door. Going to the door, she opens it and is confronted by the Indian who had warned her only a few hours before. The situation flashed upon her mind at once, and she made haste to close the door, accomplishing it just as a chorus of hideous yells burst upon her ears.
    "She seized her infant daughter in her arms, and calling to Mary to follow, fled into the kitchen, intending to go from there to the brush behind the house. As she opened the outside door of the kitchen she saw her husband running toward her, hotly pursued by Indians.
    "He rushed up to the door and fell headlong to the ground at her side, saying, 'I'm killed.'  Before she could move she was surrounded by savages, forced into the house and there tied, she and her daughter, Mary, to the logs of the wall. The Indians then left them there and went out to keep up the murder and pillage." [This version omits the most horrific details of Mrs. Geisel's testimony.]
    Our last quotation left Mrs. Geisel and her daughter, Mary, tied to the wall and the husband and father dead. The work of murder and pillage, as related by Hillman, continued as follows:
    "About 6 o'clock the Indians had gathered together under the bluffy bank on the beach, and, covered by the increasing darkness, separated into several squads and set out to begin their work of rapine and murder.
    "Geisel's restaurant and Wright's office were about half a mile apart, and while the first part of the massacre, which appeared in a former part of this narrative, was being enacted, a squad of savages headed by Enos had approached Wright's house and surrounded it, without creating any alarm. [All other accounts say that Wright lived and worked "at the mouth of Rogue River." The Geisel hotel was seven miles north.]
    "When they had completed their circle around the house Enos went to the door, and in his usual conciliatory tone called to Wright to come out, as he wanted to talk with him. Wright hesitated, but the confidant urged him to go out, asked if he was a coward, and when that word was used Wright sprang to his feet and, opening the door, stepped out.
    "Enos had purposely stepped to one side after calling to Wright to come out, the better to hide his movements. When Wright stepped out he was blinded by the darkness, and seeing no one, he asked, 'What do you want?' At that moment Enos stepped out from the darkness and answered, 'I want you,' adding a string of oaths, and struck him a blow on the head with an ax with which he had provided himself for that purpose.
Wright Slain, Is Victim of Traitor Enos
    "Wright was partially stunned by the blow, but received only a slight cut, and turning toward the door he made a step forward, when Enos dealt him another and fatal blow with the edge of the axe, which cleft his skull, and he fell to the ground with a groan, while his confidant leisurely stepped out and joined the band of murderers. Wright's body was brutally mutilated and left on the spot where it fell.
    "The other squads of Indians were, at the same time, industriously engaged in performing their allotted share of the tragedy. Going from cabin to cabin, killing the inmates, rifling and then setting them on fire. All was accomplished in a short half hour, and the savages then turned their footsteps towards the building where the ball was going on at its height of enjoyment.
     "About three quarters of a mile above the mouth of the river and on the trail to Big Flat lived a miner of a recluse nature, who did not attend the ball. Engaged in poring over some old dusty volume, oblivious of the turmoil of death and destruction going on at the mouth of the river, he was suddenly brought to a state of wakefulness by the sudden rushing of footsteps and a tremendous push and thump at his door, which shook the frail tenement from floor to roof.
    "Dropping his volume of ancient lore, he seized his double-barreled gun, and had hardly time to raise the locks when the door gave way and a crowd of savages rushed forward to effect an entrance. He let off one barrel and then the other and two Indians fell on the threshold and several more reeled and fell back into the darkness, while our recluse drew his revolver, which, according to the custom of the times he carried in his belt, and began a brisk fusillade out into the dark mass of Indians.
    "Taken by surprise by the sudden and determined resistance of the lonely inmate of the cabin, the savages, after firing a few random shots at the brave man, fled en masse toward the Big Flat, intending to attack the dancers and there continue the work of death.
Dance Revelry Is Broken
    "Do you recollect I told you that about 8 o'clock the dancers at Big Flat thought they heard three shots in succession down towards the mouth of the river, and that they also heard, as they thought, a cry or call for help; that some thought nothing of it, and they began dancing again?"
    "Yes, yes, we remember, but what of it?"
    "Well, some of the dancers recalled the few words of warning given to Mrs. Geisel by the Indian, and five of them, forsaking the pleasures of the gay dance and the charming company and conversation of the exquisite belles (nine-tenths of them rusty miners, who for the time were called Lizzie, Jennie, Polly, Kate, etc., etc. all for the sake of a jolly dance, you know) who graced the puncheon floor of the hall, seized their rifles and in Indian file started down the trail towards the mouth of the river, to discover the cause of the shots and call which they supposed they had heard.
    "It was dark, very dark, and the trail led through heavy timber and dense thickets of brush, and it soon became very difficult to keep or follow it. Carefully groping their way through a grove of wide-spreading myrtle timber about half a mile below their starting point, they suddenly became aware of a large number of persons coming directly towards them.
    "Halting and stepping carefully to one side and behind some of the thickly growing trees that lined the trail, they awaited developments. It was only a moment and they were convinced that the moving mass were Indians. The men had some knowledge of the Indian language, sufficient at least to understand that the Indians were excited and belligerent, and by the sounds they knew that they carried bows and arrows and guns.
    "It did not require much conjecture to convince the men that the Indians were on the warpath, and that the shots heard a short time before were the result of an attack on the people below. That the Indians had been successful was evinced by their coming up towards Big Flat, apparently for the purpose of putting a finishing stroke on the affair by killing those who were engaged at the ball.
Volley Retards Red Onslaught
    "There was no opportunity for the men to talk with one another, but they were tacitly under the leadership of Jim, and all the others waited to hear from him. He dare not speak for fear of endangering a plan which he was maturing for killing as many as possible of the Indians and stampeding the balance.
    "At last silence became intolerable and Jim called out in a loud husky voice, 'Every man kill an Indian and run like h--l for the mouth of the river,' followed by the crack of his rifle, and almost instantaneously by the shots of his companions.
    "The Indians had not yet recovered from their defeat and disappointment by the recluse miner, mentioned above, and this sudden assault by our five brave men completely upset their plans for the attack on the dancers above, and sent them scattering through the woods, brush and rock for a safer place.
    "As soon as the men delivered their fire they trailed arms and started down through the timber towards the mouth of the river. Some of the Indians, too, went pell mell down in the same direction.
    "Now was to be seen (it light enough) whites and Indians running from one another, side by side and in the same direction. Like riding on a railroad one has death often sitting by his side, and in this instance, each had for a companion in his flight one who, if he had known who was his companion, would have turned and dealt a death blow before many steps had been taken.
He Smelled Reds
    "Everybody on the Oregon coast knows Yates--'Hell Honey Yates' as he was usually called. Yates was one of those five fugitives, and while running at full head of steam he ran afoul of his nearest neighbor, and in the intense darkness could not distinguish who his neighbor was. But having a good nose for smelling, he thought his neighbor smelled rather strong of a rancheria. Not having the least suspicion that his companion could be any other than one of the five men who started with him from the Big Flat, he ventured in an undertone to banter the unknown regarding his strong Indian smell. No sooner had he spoken a word than he was startled by that mystic 'Ugh' and felt a sharp sting in his right arm while he heard the dull twang of a bowstring.
    "Brought suddenly to a realizing sense of his danger, he ejaculated his usual formula of speech, 'Hell, Honey, Hurrah for Yates,' and instantly fired one barrel of his double gun into the body of his Indian companion, who fell to the ground with a dull gurgle, and curled up in the last struggle.
    "When Yates and his neighbor made the mutual discovery and brought their companionship to a sudden termination, similar discoveries were made at other points of the race course, and not many minutes elapsed before a regular powwow ensued, mingled with the oaths and execrations of the five white men, while occasional shots were exchanged between the parties. In a very short time the parties separated by mutual consent. The five men kept on down the river while the Indians took to the hills.
Cabin Attack Is Recounted
    "Reaching the cabin of the brave recluse, the five men were delighted with his defense, and urged him to go on down to the mouth of the river, but he declined to accompany then. He did not want to leave his cabin to be destroyed by the savages. At last he prevailed on the men to stay with him until daylight.
    "Early next morning the men started for the mouth. In a short time they came in sight of the smoldering ruins of the many cabins which had been set on fire by the Indians.
    "Here and there a dead body was found, in all cases brutally mangled. Some seemed to have been tortured. One of their number was sent up to the Big Flat to carry the news of the massacre to those who had remained there and danced all night while the Indians were killing their [friends down the] river.
    "While standing over the dead body of a miner who had been ruthlessly hacked and mangled, they were joined by a man by the name of Charley Foster, who proceeded to narrate his experience during the night when the murders were going on.
     "'I was,' said he, 'sitting in that cabin there with that man, when the Indians came to the door and called to me to come out. I did not want to go, as I have made it a rule never to go out at night when called upon to do so, for I believe there is always more or less danger in doing so, but this man, who had come to spend the night with me, said that he would go out and see what the Indians wanted. I remonstrated, but he was bent on going at all hazards, so I told him to go if he must.'
    "'The Indians, thinking it was me, said to him when he stepped out, "How do Charley. You good man, come here," and the man stepped out still farther into the darkness. I had neither knife, pistol nor gun, or I would have gone out too, to see what was wanted. I had barely time to think when I heard a blow struck and the man said, "Oh, don't kill me."
    "'The door was shut and the Indians could not see me in the house, and as soon as I heard the blow and exclamation I knew what was up, for I had been of the opinion for a long time that we would have trouble before many months, and that was the main reason I would not go out.
    "'I instantly pulled the latch string inside and, tearing out the cloth that served for a window, I crept through the aperture and made one or two long jumps and dropped into a bunch of brush which was very thick and tangled. The Indians did not hear me, as they thought they had me on the ground before them, knowing that I lived alone.
    "'As I lay there not 30 feet from them, I could hear them hacking away on the poor fellow and saying in Chinook Jargon, "How do you like that, Charley? You are a good man, Charley, but I will make you better," and the brutes would strike that poor man's body with an ax or with their big knives.
    "'I lay there, unable, in my unarmed state, to render my friend any assistance. It would have been sure death for me to have attempted to offer help or to run for a more distant hiding place. All around me I could hear sounds of murder, and many a time I heard cries for help, but was powerless. For hours, I thought, the work of murder went on, while I lay there in that small patch of brush.'
    "During the night the Indians had returned to the place where they had bound Mrs. Geisel and her daughter, Mary. After brutally maltreating them, and tearing their clothes almost entirely from their bodies they drove them out into the cold night air of the ocean beach, keeping them there until the work of murder was completed. They then drove them back into the hills where the squaws and children had been sent as soon as the attack began."
Plight of Whites at Beach Unknown for Month
    The story of the Indian troubles at the mouth of the river continued as follows:
    Early the following evening the men gathered at the tent to hear a continuation of Hillman's narrative. Quite a number of settlers and quartermaster's employees were noticed among the gathered throng. Hillman was soon astride the pile of wood which the Lieut. Col.'s cook always kept on hand for cooking the morning meal.
    "Tell us first," said someone, "if the expected company of volunteers ever made their appearance at the mouth of the river?"
     "I intended to tell you about that shortly," said Hillman, "but I must first detail as near as I can what happened up the river, and how the few settlers that were left defended themselves against the Indians until the volunteers and regulars came to their assistance."
    "I did not know there were any regular troops that far down. I supposed that those of Capt. A. J. Smith at Big Bend were all the troops on that section of the country," continued the first speaker.
    "You were mistaken, then," continued Hillman. "Captain Jones was stationed at Crescent City in California, 65 miles below, with a part of his company. Agent Wright had made arrangements with him to come up the mouth of the river as soon as he could obtain orders to do so from the commanding officer of the department. But it was not till the first day of the following month (March) that he received orders to move. Capt. Ord was at the same time ordered to repair to Crescent City and join Capt. Jones, in the march to the mouth of the river to chastise the Indians.
    "Mr. George H. Abbott was busy, during the stay of Wright in Crescent City, in trying to organize a company of volunteers to accompany Wright to Rogue River, but was delayed in getting arms and horses for the men and Wright started up alone, while Abbott was to follow as soon as he could do so.
    "It was not till the first of March that Abbott was able to move from Chetco River, 40 miles below Rogue River. Captains Jones and Ord, of the regulars, did not leave Crescent City till the 8th of March, and did not arrive at Rogue River till the 20th. Thus it was nearly a month after the massacre before assistance came, in men or food, for they were in extreme want for both.
Dance Broken Up
    "We must now go back to the time when the five men sent one of their number up to the Big Flat with the news of the outbreak. It was not necessary to send him, for those at that place had become painfully aware that the Indians had been at deadly work at the mouth, but to what lengths they had gone, they did not know.
    "The dancers stopped as they heard the firing by the five men into the mass of Indians on their way to the Big Flat to massacre the dancers. Gathering together outside the building in which they had such a short time before been so merry, and with rifles ready, they stood guard until dawn of day. Then, starting three men ahead as scouts, they began a slow but determined march towards the devastated settlements at the mouth of the river.
    "They were not molested, nor did they see signs of Indians until half way down, when they received half a dozen shots from high up on the side of the hill, which did no damage, but which had a tendency to stimulate a more rapid movement toward their destination.
    "They soon stood beside those who had gone before, and those who had escaped the massacre, amid the yet smoldering ruins of many cabins, and over the mangled bodies of those who had been so ruthlessly butchered.
    "Gathering together all the dead bodies that could be found, they dug separate graves, and buried them side by side in a small grove of alders that grew by the side of a running brook, which a little further on dashes over a precipitous bank and, again gathering headway, sweeps gaily along over the pebbly beach, washing and hurrying the golden sands swiftly along towards the rumbling breakers where at last it is swallowed up in the mighty, fathomless ocean."
     "Why, Hillman, you're of a poetic turn of mind--didn't know that before," ventured Major Bruce.
    "I was not exactly thinking of what I was saying, but my mind was down there in that alder grove, listening to that energetic, earnest prayer offered up over the graves of those dead pioneers, and taking in those lofty soul-mellowing strains of that old impressive hymn sung when the prayer was ended:
Why should we mourn departed friends,
Or shake at death's alarms?
'Tis but the voice of Jesus sends
To call us to His arms.
    "While the graves were being filled a shower of bullets came snapping through the branches of the alder trees, but doing no damage. Those standing around the graves rushed out in the direction from which the bullets came, but no enemy was to be found, as they fled as soon as they fired, into the dense timber and hills which surrounded us.
Survivors Pool Resources
    "When the graves had been filled each proceeded to do his part in stocking up and bringing to a designated spot all provisions, bedding, tools and all kinds of useful articles that had not been destroyed by the Indians. Putting all these into a log house which they had fixed upon as their place of residence until relief came, or until they could leave for the lower settlement, they proceeded to build additions to it, and had the place of defense which the Indians could not, should they attempt to, carry by assault or by regular siege.
    "When their fort was completed they began to look around them for the enemy, but in all but a few cases were disappointed.
    "The Indians lurked around in the hills above the mouth, and along the trail leading down the coast, but were quite shy in showing themselves to those who were looking for them.
    "It was not long before the diet of bacon, bread and tea and coffee began to show its effects on the occupants of the fort. Fresh meat was only to be had by killing deer, and to kill them it was necessary to go out in force to save themselves from being killed by the Indians.
    "So one morning a number of the best shots in the fort were detailed to make an attempt to get some fresh meat. Coming down a long slope of the Coast Range, they could see the Big Flat above and the mouth of the river below.
Hunters Exposed
    "Heavily loaded with venison, they had sat down on a bare, rocky ridge to rest themselves. Busily intent on looking at the fine landscape spread out before them, and especially the Big Flat, where they could see persons standing and walking, here and there, they were not aware that they themselves were being watched.
    "Suddenly a heavy volley of bullets was fired amongst them. Springing to their feet and looking around, it was some minutes before they learned from what quarter they were being assailed. From the brush through which they had just passed, which formed a saddle over the sharp rock backbone of the ridge, the Indians were pouring bullets and arrows into the little squad of eight men.
    "Being in open view and sitting down when the Indians fired at them, it would be supposed that they would all have been killed or wounded, but they escaped with only five of them slightly wounded, none so badly that he could not still use his rifle, which each did with good effect. There was no way of retreat.
    "The ridge was bare of brush, trees or rocks ahead of them for half a mile; the sides were also bare for a hundred yards down each way, and so steep that one could neither run nor walk down.
Counterattack
    "When the men had taken in the situation, which they were but a few seconds in doing, one of them said in a loud tone, 'Charge them boys, it's our only chance.' And with a loud and defiant yell the boys charged 60 yards in open ground, up to and into the brush. It took but a few seconds for the brave and determined men to reach the brush and begin to deal death amongst their enemies.
    "Jumping into the brush at random, firing and striking with their revolvers wherever found, and in almost every instance with deadly effect, they soon cleared the thicket of the enemy and received themselves no further injury than that received at the first fire. The Indians, not accustomed to nor expecting such heroic resistance, and having suffered a loss of a third of their number in killed, fled with their wounded back along the ridge and then down the mountain towards Big Flat on the river, leaving our brave men to gather up the spoils of the fray, such as guns, pistols, knives, bows and arrow and…"
    "Didn't they scalp the dead Indians?" someone asked.
    "I can't tell you. I never heard that they said they did," replied Hillman, "but if they did they were not to be blamed much."
    "They now had no more fear of being attacked while on their way home. So, bandaging their wounds as well as they could with the limited means at hand, they gathered their spoils and game and made their way down to the fort. A staggering set they were. Two of them were wounded in the calf of the leg, and by the time they arrived at the fort, they were limping equal to Old Limpy himself, while those who were not wounded were carrying more than their share of the game and were drooping under their accumulated burden.
Fresh Meat Relished
    "After they had reached the fort and told their experience, the deer were soon dressed and as the hunters were very hungry, and the others were very anxious to have a taste of fresh meat. It was not long before the welcome aroma of broiling venison was working a salutary effect on the minds of all in the fort. Gaiety soon took the place of the dark somber thought which had filled, for a week past, the minds of the anxious persons.
    "While some learned doctor shall have said that gaiety is the bud and blossom of health, he will have said that which is as true as that gaiety promotes confidence, elevates courage and sharpens the wit.
    "In a brief half hour all bodiment ailment was forgotten and evil forebodings set aside. Even the brave recluse who so nobly defended his cabin against a horde of savages, ventured a skeleton joke.
    "'Hi!' exclaimed someone, 'wouldn't some potatoes go nice with this treat?' 'That's it, boys,' chimed in the Rev. M. B. Gregory, who was not an inch behind the bravest of the men in an affray with the Indians, 'We'll have some, too; there is a lot of them up the river, and we can have them if we have the courage to go after them.'
    "'All right, parson, if you will go along and point them out, we'll get them tomorrow.'
    "'I'll go. Ever since we buried those poor mangled bodies under those alder trees I've felt that I would just as soon as not have a shot at the murderous rascals of Indians.'
    "'You'll have a chance for that tomorrow, for we saw Indians by the dozens on Big Flat,' said one of the eight hunters. 'They seemed to be busy at something--probably they were carrying the potatoes away.'
    "'Then we must be off by daylight tomorrow morning and get our share, and I'll take the lead.' And the parson elevated himself to his full height, six feet, three." [The story of the disastrous foray for potatoes is widely recorded in contemporary accounts of Fort Miners, but none mention a venison hunt beforehand.]
    "Tell us," said someone, "all you know of the adventures of Captains Ord, Jones and Abbott while on their way from Crescent City to relieve those forted up at the mouth of the river."
    "As I told you a few evenings ago," continued Hillman, "Captain Abbott moved from Chetco River about the first of March, 1856 to relieve those at Rogue River. Pursuing his way up the trail he met no obstacles until near the mouth of Pistol Creek, 15 miles below Rogue River. [Click here for contemporary accounts of the battle at Pistol Creek.]
    "As his command descended the trail from the mountain to the beach they saw ahead of them a few Indians, who retreated as they advanced.
    "Cautiously continuing along the trail till near night, he became aware that the Indians were gathering in force in his front with 
the apparent purpose of disputing his further progress. Pushing on, the command arrived within a mile or so of Pistol Creek; then they found themselves confronted with a large band of Indians, who began an attack in their usual way, firing and giving that disgusting yell which is usually termed a war whoop.
    "Without water for themselves or their horses the soldiers were compelled to stop and fight. Corralling their pack mules and riding horses they settled themselves to the fray with real earnestness. The horses and mules, unused to such noise, became almost unmanageable, while a few escaped and were captured by the Indians.
    "Soon the Indians increased in number and their attack became more furious and determined. They were sheltered behind driftwood which lined the beach, and by the dense scrubby brush which grows at the end of the sand at the foot of the hills. Darkness was coming on and no hopes of water or assistance. The men had hitherto been only partially sheltered by the driftwood next to the surf."
Tides Are Aid to Red Attack
    Their situation was becoming each moment more critical, the Indians pressing from the land side and in front and rear, while the surf would soon rise with the tide and engulf the entire command unless they shifted their ground. It was becoming apparent to each man that his life hung by a single hair.
    Captain Abbott was a true soldier, and taking in the situation clearly, he gave his orders loud and clear above the din of rifle shots and the booming of the surf, which was by this time surging up and washing at their feet as a warning for them to leave their ground and seek a higher one.
    "A ridge about 100 yards away, although occupied by the Indians, offered the only safe retreat from the surf, and as the Indians were all around, it mattered little which way they went--death seemed to stare them from all sides. As soon as the captain had made up his mind as to the best course to be pursued, he shouted loud enough to be heard by all, 'Boys, do you see that ridge yonder? We must go to it or die in our tracks. Follow me and let the animals go to h---! Come on.'
Reds Routed
    "Clambering over the dense driftwood and logs, the men charged right into the nest of yelling savages who were as thick as ants on their way to the ridge. The Indians had the advantage in numbers and position, but the men must have shelter from both surf and bullets; some had been wounded at the beginning of the fray but none killed. Only one was wounded so badly as to need help, and many there were to help him, and soon all were safely on the ridge, busily engaged in piling up a breastworks of the small logs and sticks with which they were surrounded.
    "As soon as they were driven from the ridge the Indians were demoralized and ceased fighting. They had not expected to meet such stubborn resistance. Most of the animals fell into the hands of the Indians, but a few packed with ammunition and provisions were secured. Working hard in the darkness, the men soon surrounded themselves with defenses which made them secure from sudden attack, and then turned their attention to making themselves as comfortable as possible for the night."
Lack of Food, Water Taunted by Indians
    They had no water, and after a little while the thirst became unbearable, especially to the wounded. Water must be had at all hazards, and finally three men volunteered to go after it to a little brook about 100 yards distance. Laying aside their guns and taking such vessels as they could carry the three men went out into the darkness on their perilous errand. Orders were given not to fire until the men returned or had been discovered by Indians.
    A deep silence followed, broken only occasionally by a shot from an Indian and the continual sighing of the breeze through the tree tops. Five minutes, 10, 20, half an hour passed, and the waiting men peered anxiously into the darkness, hoping to catch a glimpse of their three brave companions returning.
    Suddenly the crash of many rifles came from the direction the men had just taken, and faintly the rush of hurrying footsteps could be heard. A few straggling bullets came pattering onto the logs of the barricade and then all was quiet again but the moaning of the wind and the roaring of the surf, and the breathless suspense in the camp was painful, as the men watched with rifles cocked, ready to welcome friend or foe.
    An hour passed and the three men did not come. Hope had almost fled, when a well-known voice was heard with the news that they had returned safe, and with water. They had a narrow escape, and after the burning thirst of the wounded had been assuaged and the others had each been allowed to drink a little, the men recounted their adventures to eager listeners.
Mission for Water a Success
    The men recounted how they safely and unobserved by the Indians, made their way to the little stream and were just beginning to fill their vessels, when a lot of Indians came towards them, carrying one of their number who had been wounded. They only had time to slip gently under a large log which was partially covered with small timber and sticks and sit quietly until the savages thought proper to leave.
    They had not yet tasted any water, being in too much haste to get back to their friends and were compelled to crouch under the log and listen to the Indians drinking their fill, not more than 10 feet away from them, while the water invitingly rippled past. Laying the wounded red [man] down near the water, the Indians, after satisfying their own thirst, went away and left him alone.
    Not daring to speak to each other as they crouched under the log, the three men each knew what the other was thinking of--the wounded Indian must be dispatched, and so quietly as not to alarm the rest. Nudging each other, and with a perfect understanding, the men drew their knives in preparation for the sickening work. As soon as the other Indians were out of earshot, they pounced upon the helpless savage and soon made a "good Indian" of him.
    But in the death struggle he had given a shout loud enough to reach the ears of his comrades, and by the time the three men had filled their vessels with water and had started off for the barricade a number of Indians had reached the spot. The Indians saw at once what had happened and started in pursuit of the men; but the darkness was too great to give them any hope of capture, so in their sheer desperation they sent a volley after the retreating men.
    The men had hidden themselves in the driftwood to escape their pursuers, and when all was quiet they ventured out and made their way safely into the barricade. The night passed without any more damage than they had suffered in the forepart of the attack. An occasional shot would vary the monotonous moaning of the wind and roaring of the surf.
Morning Brings Attack
    Morning dawned and the Indians were as numerous and determined as at first, and when daylight gave them a view of the situation they opened upon the command with renewed vigor. The men were fairly protected by their improvised breastworks and did not show any signs of weakening. Now and then as at other and similar encounters the firing would slacken and the hostile parties would engage in reciprocal badinage.
    In this case the Indians had the best of it, for they taunted the men with being hungry while they themselves had fared sumptuously on the captured flour and sugar. In this manner the fight continued for some hours, when one of the command, the bravest of them all, and an officer of the company, Buck Miller, was shot through the head and instantly killed. His body was dragged out of the reach of the bullets and placed under a large log. Several more of the men had been wounded and the Indians were pressing closer and closer as if determined to annihilate the command.
    The situation was now becoming more desperate than ever. Want of water and food had begun to tell on some of the men and all were more or less demoralized. Consulting with his men, Capt. Abbott was about to order an advance towards the river to cut his way through the Indians if possible, and thence on to Rogue River, when the Indians were seen to hastily leave their coverts on the lower end of the trail and scamper wildly into the brush and up the hill.
    In a few minutes three horsemen were seen to descend in a gallop to the beach, closely followed by a straggling band of blue-coated men. On they came, the officers, who were mounted, waving their swords and urging the men forward, onward along the beach until they reached to within 200 yards of the battleground when the Indians began pouring into them a heavy volley from the brush and timber on the right.
Rescuers Arrive
    At this juncture the volunteers raised a loud shout, and swinging their hats high in the air as a sign and welcome to their rescuers, who proved to be the commands of Captains Ord and Jones, and who came rushed pell-mell into the barricade. For a few minutes the hostile parties peppered each other, when the order was given to charge the Indians in the direction of the river, which lay but a short distance away.
    A guard, composed of soldiers and volunteers, was detailed to take care of the pack animals, while the remainder of the consolidated commands prepared to charge the enemy. It was necessary to charge in three parties, one obliquely to the left, one obliquely to the right and one forward in the center. Capt. Abbott took the left, Jones the right, and Ord commanded the center, while the wounded men, with the body of Buck Miller packed on a mule, and the pack train followed closely in the rear of the center.
    While the dispositions for the forward movement were being made, the firing continued as brisk as ever. The Indians saw the intention of the soldiers and seemed determined to frustrate it if possible. They gathered in front and flanks more dense than before, and with renewed vigor poured in their shots upon the equally defiant troops.
    Present a clear, ringing bugle blast was heard. The loud hoarse commands were given to "forward" and the movement began.
----
    Fidler again picks up the thread of the war story, now drawing all warring factions to the final climax and war's end.
    "Springing over the breastworks of logs, they yelled and fired, each man on his own account, now behind a log taking aim at an Indian, then up and forward, the officers doing equal duty with the men in all respects. The Indians slowly gave way as the troops pressed upon them, their chiefs giving orders in a peculiar and loud voice. Soon the river was reached.
    "From across the river in front, from the hill and brush on the right, and from the dense thickets in the rear harassing fire was kept up upon the small body of troops. While the wounded were being cared for by the surgeon and his assistants and the almost famished volunteers were slaking their thirst at the river, the soldiers kept back the Indians, who yet seemed determined to capture the combined force, or, at all hazards, to prevent their progress towards the mouth of the river.
    "Capt. Ord, who was the senior officer, then detailed a guard to protect the animals as they grazed around the camp and leaving the 15 men in camp as a reserve and to care for the baggage, crossed over the river and drove the Indians out of their hiding places. Having only 60 men to contend against two or three hundred Indians, he had a hard task but it must be performed. They must depend upon their own powers, and to show any signs of weakening would be a glad token to the Indians and would encourage them to press their advantage in numbers and superior knowledge of the country.
    "Knowing that courage and activity would alone save them, Ord, after having cleared the brush on the edge of the river, pushed on and drove the Indians further back over a low hill and sent them scurrying down its declivity into a small valley.
    "By this time a large party of Indians had placed themselves between the troops and the camp, and the captain was forced to turn his attention to them. In obedience to orders the men faced about and charged down the hill toward camp, plunging through the tall, tangled fern, yelling and firing whenever an Indian was seen.
    "The Indians gave way readily before the charge, and although those who had been driven over the hill returned and began a fusillade at long range upon their rear, the troops soon reached camp again with not a single man missing.
    "Those in camp had not been disturbed, except by an occasional shot from some stray Indian, or possibly a sentinel, stationed at some commanding spot to overlook the camp.
    "Night was now near at hand. The shifting clouds and dark banks of vapor which overhung the ocean horizon portended a stormy night. Early in the evening the camp was organized, patrols set out, camp guards placed, horses brought up and picketed, and by dusk all was in readiness for the night. A crude hut of driftwood and brush was constructed to shield as much as possible the wounded men, some of whom were now suffering severely, but there was not shelter for the others should the threatened storm come."
Sentry Challenge Answered
    About midnight one of the patrols saw an object approaching stealthily the place where he was for the moment standing. Presently another joined the first and both came directly towards him. The patrol was a regular soldier and he necessarily followed the military rules and challenged with the regulation challenge. "Who goes there?"
    "Friends" was the amazing answer, "and who are you?"
    "Dick Tudpin, member, Co. U.S. Infantry, Camp Jones, camped 200 yards from here. March to camp. Forward in advance."
    Marching to camp they proved to be Charley Brown, and another, whose name I do not recollect, sent out to look for the troops and volunteers, who had been waited for so long. Remaining in camp all the next day they were sent back, accompanied by four others, to Rogue River with the intelligence that succor would reach them in a few days--as soon as the Indians on Pistol River could be dispersed.
    A week passed and still the camp remained at Pistol River. Scouting parties were sent out daily but did no more than exchange a few shots now and then with some straggling band of Indians or perchance stumble on some deserted Indian camp, which they invariably fired.
U.S. Gold Coins
    A large Indian village which had formerly stood on a slight eminence near where the soldiers camped had been burned the autumn before. In front of the village and nearer the river was their burying ground. Some of the soldiers had accidentally found some Indian money (alaqua chick) hanging on a pole over one of the Indian graves, and the curiosity or cupidity of others was aroused, and those of a sacrilegious turn of mind began to overhaul the graves for more of the same kind of money. They were rewarded in one instance by finding nearly $300 in U.S. gold and silver coin in the grave of some celebrated chieftain, who had been slain in battle or had quietly given up the ghost in his native village.
    Eight or ten days were spent in camp and the Indians had apparently all gone away--scarcely a straggler could be seen. It was thought by some of the men that the Indians had only left Pistol River to gain the advantage of a more favorable position to attack the troops a few miles further on their way at Myers' and Hunters' Creek, at the former of which was a natural ambush just suited to the purposes of the savages. Here the trail runs along the beach under a high rocky bluff which ascends in one place by a steep narrow and difficult way. It was very probable that the Indians were only trying to draw the troops into ambush, but it was determined to move forward and test the situation.
Ambush Risk
    Leaving camp early in the morning, the commanding officer sent Capt. Abbott with his company in advance with orders to move slowly and carefully about the adjacent hills and gulches for signs of Indians. They had only crossed the river and penetrated [omission] spreads the river bottom when they were attacked on each flank and front.
    Ord and Jones came quickly up, and another fight as desperate as the first again commenced. It was a moving battle. The troops kept the trail and slowly pressed forward while the Indians lurked in the thickets and timber on all sides and kept up a straggling fire at long range. As they neared Myers' Creek they descended again to the beach, along which they must travel for a mile, exposed all the while to the fire of the Indians on the right.
    The bullets mostly flew over their heads, but occasionally one would knock the sand into their faces, but no damage to man or pack animal. Nearing the rocky bluff which overhangs the trail at Myers' Creek they saw upon its sides and summit a large number of Indians, ready to pour a destructive fire down upon them. Undaunted, though watchful, the command steadily pursued their course towards the creek and under the ominous rocky bluff.
Rifles Cover Beach March
    When within 150 yards of it, Capt. Ord ordered some of the best shots to halt and try to pick off the Indians who were the most exposed, while the remainder would hug the bluff as close as possible and get the pack train through safely, and then a detachment would return to their assistance.
    Ten good men were detailed who had good rifles, and under the command of Tom Sharp took their station among some large rocks, which are numerous at that point, and began to pick off the Indians so effectively that they found it advisable to change quarters, and in 10 minutes the bluff was clear.
    This was the last stand taken by the Indians, and the troops continued on their way unmolested, and at night encamped at Hunters' Cove.
    "Now boys, I believe I have told you all I know about the massacre at the mouth of the Rogue River. Adios."
Troops Equip
    Mr. Olney will again take the stand and he tells us:
    The listeners dispersed and silence soon took the place of the bustle and stir around the camp fires. The next morning at 8 o'clock Sergeant Major Dawes read to the assembled battalion the following:
    General Order No. 19, Headquarters of Second Reg. O.M.V.,
    Camp at Mouth of Applegate, April 12, 1856.
    Major Bruce of Southern Battalion, O.M.V., will see that captains or companies parade their respective commands on the parade ground at 2 o'clock p.m., this day, that they may be inspected by the commanding officer, and that they receive such ammunition and other supplies as may be necessary. Captains will see to it that their companies shall turn out in full, and that every man shall be present unless absent by special order.
    By order of Brig. Gen. J. K. Lamerick, Jr.
    At the appointed time the companies were ready in line for inspection. Gen. Lamerick, followed closely by Sergeant Major Dawes, came out from his tent and going to the left of the battalion, instead of right, stood a few seconds as if to give the boys a fair chance to cheer him.
Lamerick Described
    Now, while he stands expectant, let me describe the valiant general. The General, is, or was, an undersized man with a small head, forehead of ordinary size, and somewhat sloping backward, which slope continued until it reached the bump of self-esteem; features somewhat on the Grecian style, dark and commonplace; eyes dark gray with, when in good humor, an inclination to twinkle, but which, when the General's body was in danger from too close proximity of the Indians' bullets, seemed to sink away off, as if revolving some deep and mighty plan for the speedy termination of the war. The General wore at the time of which I speak, as the only insignia of his rank, a black felt hat which covered at the time a part of his face, and around his neck was wrapped a large red, white and grey comforter, the red largely predominating.
    As to his courage, I know but little; I was only near him in, or during, one engagement, and I assure all who wish for the assurance that he was at that time where the bullets were the thickest. I stood by his side part of the time and know whereof I speak. For I, as First Lieutenant of Company E. was detailed with 30 men of my company to guard the train at the battle of Big Meadows, on which was packed all the spare ammunition belonging to the regiment.
    The General and I were, during most of the time, standing side by side and I did not see him flinch, but on the contrary, he expressed fervent hope that the boys would whip the Indians.
Volunteer Companies Formed
    Immediately after the bloody uprising of the Indians in 1855, mentioned in previous chapters, the whites began preparations for the desperate war that now seemed inevitable. Fifteen companies of volunteers were organized to cooperate with the federal forces, which they proceeded to do despite the implied interdiction of Gen. Wool.
    The first engagement of any consequence occurred on the 17th of October 1855, near the mouth of Galice Creek, on what is Skull Bar. The battle lasted nearly all day, and when night closed in nearly one third of Company E were hors de combat. J. W. Pickett and Sam Saunders were among the killed, with B. Taft and J. D. Adams among the mortally wounded.
    While the forces were thus contending with the Indians down Rogue River, other depredations were being perpetrated along the main traveled road on Cow Creek.
    On Oct. 23, 1855, says Mrs. Victor, in her history of our early wars, "while a party of wagoners and drivers were at the crossing they were ambushed and attacked, Holland Bailey of Lane County being killed and four others wounded. The remainder of the party retreated with all the haste possible, pursued and harassed for several hours. On the same day the houses of Turner, Bray, Redfield, Fortune and others in Cow Creek Valley were burned."
    And this brings us up to Hungry Hill, one of the most notable battles of the Rogue River War. Mrs. Victor continues as follows: "On Oct. 28, 1855, Fitzgerald, being in the Grave Creek hills, south of Cow Creek, discovered an Indian encampment, and wishing to attack it sent a dispatch to Ross, who immediately ordered Captains Harris, Welton, George and Lewis to reinforce him. Bruce and Rinearson, coming in a little later, were also ordered to Grave Creek, where on the 30th were concentrated 250 volunteers, and 105 regulars, although on account of the illness of Fitzgerald, only a portion of his troops were available."
    "When Ross arrived at the rendezvous late that night, he found Capt. Smith of the First Dragoons impatient to attack. Spies from his own and the volunteer force had found the enemy's position to be on a hill difficult of approach, and well fortified. A map had been made for use by the officers, and Smith assumed command of the combined forces. Although it was already half past ten o'clock in the evening, orders were issued to march at eleven.
Smith Makes Attack Plan
    "Smith's plan was to plant howitzers on an eminence three-fourths of a mile from that occupied by the Indians, and having divided the companies into three columns, stationed so as to enclose the Indians, to open his battery upon them before he had been discovered. His design was frustrated through someone having set fire to a tree and after a toilsome night march he was unable to surprise the enemy. On arriving on the edge of a ravine in front of the enemy's position, instead of shelling the Indians at their stronghold, a charge was ordered.
    "The hill on which the Indians were fortified was bald on the south side, by which the troops were approaching, except for a short but tangled undergrowth with which also the ravine they had to cross was filled. On the north of the Indian position there was a heavy forest.
    "An unexpected reinforcement arrived during the night, consisting of two companies of a battalion called out by Gov. Curry, their captains being Joseph Bailey and Samuel Gordon. To these two companies was assigned the duty of flanking on the north to intercept the Indians in the woods when the charging force should have driven them from their fortification."
    "The captains who led in the charge were Rinearson and Welton, their companies being augmented by portions of others, and a part of the regular force also, all rushing with eagerness to fire the first shot. As had been anticipated, the Indians took shelter in the woods but were not met by Bailey and Gordon as designed, their men finding it impossible to penetrate the dense and tangled underwood in a body, and the Indians were not driven back upon the companies of Harris and Bruce, who were awaiting them in  concealment, as had been anticipated. These two commanders therefore joined the army in front. Thus nothing happened but the unexpected.
Hungry Hill Fought
    "The day passed in vain efforts to get at the Indians, who could not be approached without extreme peril, until three o'clock in the afternoon, when Captain Smith, with a small force of dragoons, made an assault. Several rounds were discharged with the short cavalry arms, which were wholly ineffectual against the rifles of the Indians, when the troopers fell back, having several killed and wounded. Firing continued until dark, when the whole force went into camp at a place named by them 'Bloody Spring,' where the wounded were being cared for and where they all went supperless to their blankets."
    The last part of the last sentence gives the key to the name of the battle, which has gone down into history as the battle of "Hungry Hill." On the part of the whites there were some 26 of the volunteers killed, wounded or missing, and of the regulars three were killed and seven wounded.
    Among the volunteers reported mortally wounded is the name of Charles Goodwin, but this was a mistake. He was wounded but not mortally. He lived many years afterward on Williams Creek, until he went in his old age to the Soldier's Home at Roseburg. Next morning after the battle the Indians renewed the fight, but being repulsed both parties retired, making it a draw.
Eulogy to Pedigo
    Mr. Sutton has left us an eloquent tribute to one of the men who fell in this engagement, as follows: "The object of this writing is to renew the memory of one who fell defending the hearthstones of Southern Oregon. I have in my mind's eye a few among the old pioneers of the valley, who will remember the name of Jonathan Pedigo. Few have passed the stage station on Grave Creek, on the O.&C. stage road, who have not noticed a row of mounds in an open pasture on the west side of the road, just north of the stage buildings. Beneath those mounds lie all that is left on earth of P. W. Miller, James Pearcy, Henry Pearl, John Winters and Jonathan Pedigo, a part of those who fell during the two fearful days of the battle of Hungry Hill, 16 miles from that point.
    "Jonathan Pedigo was a young man who had just passed his majority. During an acquaintance of six months in the mines, I did not learn anything of his former history in reference to his place of birth, parentage or relatives. My only intimacy with him was during our service in the war of 1855, from the 7th day of October to the time of his death, less than one month. Yet, during this short period, all his comrades had learned to love the name of Jonathan Pedigo for the great benevolent heart that beat within his bosom.
Pedigo Well Liked
    "Brave to a fault, ever ready to do his duty and more. The old men of our company, of whom we had several, were relieved by his ever-ready hand from much of the rigor of Indian warfare. He would attend to their horses, and occasionally take their place on guard on a cold rainy night. Being large and robust, his greatest pleasure seemed to be in relieving the hardships of those possessing in a smaller degree the power of endurance.
    "Some two summers since, while passing the little cemetery referred to, I halted for the purpose of visiting the grave of my old comrade. I stood beside the little row of graves that I found blended in one, although the mounds are yet plainly visible, and will remain so yet a little longer. No board or stone at head or foot is found; no one can tell these graves apart. In unity they met a common foe, in unity they fell, in unity they lie beneath these sods, and ere long in unity they will be forgotten."
    "In vain I sought to determine the grave in which reposed the mortality of my old friend; it was lost, lost among its comrades. After a short search among the weeds and grass that grew over their graves, I found a small fragment of half decayed wood on which I could quite plainly trace the following inscription, which my own hands had carved full 20 years before: 'Jonathan Pedigo: Killed by Indians at the battle of Hungry Hill, Oct. 31st, 1855.'
    "Poor boy, poor boy, were the only thoughts reiterated and reiterated through my mind for some moments as I gazed at the sad relic. A retrospective train of thoughts took possession of my mind, which occupied the entire time at my disposal by the side of the unknown grave of my friend. Vivid memories crowded past in panoramic regularity, sad memories of the distant past, such as we love to contemplate in the solitude where we can indulge the silent tear. Ah yes, and weep as in the days of our childhood to relieve the pangs of grief and make sorrow a pleasure for a reason."
    (Editor's Note--The cemetery referred to here was at the site of Old Fort Leland, on the west side of the road and nearly across from the Grave Creek house. It was in the corner of a field just across the Leland Road from the "little red schoolhouse."  No trace of the cemetery now remains except a few pieces of marble thrown against a fence. The field has been under cultivation for some years.--A.E.V. [Amos Earle Voorhies] 1953.)
    As showing how wide was the military field of operations in 1856, the battle of Upper Applegate now calls for attention. John S. Miller, who took part in that engagement, gave me some of the particulars, but as Mrs. Victor has preserved a pretty correct account of that fight I will quote from it first:
    "About the last of December 1855, Major Bruce, being informed by express from Sterling that a party of Indians had fortified themselves in three deserted log cabins on Applegate Creek, ordered Capt. Rice and Alcorn to prepare for a campaign in the mountains and himself proceeded to Fort Lane to ask the assistance of Capt. Smith with his howitzer. Obtaining the promise of this, he made a forced march up to the forks of Applegate with Rice's company of 40 men on the first of January, and on the second, 20 miles further up the creek, where he found an independent company of 50 citizens from Sterling surrounding the cabins.
Howitzer Awaited
    "Nothing could be done before the arrival of the howitzer on the afternoon of the fourth, the intervening time being spent in snow from six to twelve inches deep, with severe weather, the volunteers exchanging occasional shots with the Indians. In the three days of waiting and suffering, three Indians were killed and several wounded, while Captain Rice lost one man killed, and the citizen company three wounded.
    "On the arrival of Lieut. Underwood from Fort Lane with 40 regulars and the howitzer, a shell was dropped into one of the cabins, wounding one Indian and two children, when several were seen to retreat to another cabin a few yards distance. A few more shells were thrown without effect, when night coming on, the several companies were posted in a manner which was intended to prevent an escape; the regulars being between the Indians and the hills, and the volunteers and citizens on two other sides, the lines almost meeting.
    "With all this precaution about 11 o'clock the Indians crept up to the line of soldiers, firing and yelling. In the first surprise a number broke through the line and escaped to the hills, but the regulars recovering themselves turned a portion of them back towards the creek, across which they succeeded in escaping, the sentinels being unable to get at them by reason of the thickets along the stream, their trail being found by daylight to be stained with blood.
    "It was only the fighting men of the besieged, however, who had taken wing when the sentinels of the regular force, not liking the cold and perhaps not liking to fight an unseen enemy, returned to camp; and before their commander could order them back to their posts, the Indian women and their children, and a pack animal, also passed the line, and gained the hills."
Wounded Indian Boy Left
    On examining the cabins it was found that the Indians had burned their dead but had left a wounded boy to the mercy of his captors. From him it was learned that the party occupying the cabins belonged to Chief Joe, and the skill with which he fortified his camp would have defied the volunteer arms; it was only the howitzer which could dislodge him.
    A subterranean passage had been excavated leading from the cabins to the open country and pits dug in each corner of the cabins deep enough to stand in, with loop-holes under the bottom logs through which they could shoot without being exposed; all of which was surprising in savage military science, but was probably learned from communication with white men.
    "Bruce wished to follow the trail of the Indians, but Lieutenant Underwood declared his men unfit for traveling in the mountains and the citizen company were unprepared. They, therefore, returned to Sterling and Underwood to Fort Lane; while Bruce retired to Camp Spencer on the lower Applegate Creek to recruit the horses, and give his company a much-needed rest after three days and nights watching in snow and cold, remaining there until the 18th."
    On that date he was joined by Captains O'Neil and Alcorn with a part of their commands, making his available force 73 men, rank and file.
    "Alcorn, with 38 men, took the trail of the Indians up Applegate Creek, while Bruce with O'Neil and the remainder marched up Williams Creek. Scouting continued for five days, when Bruce fell in with two Indian spies, running them to camp, a distance of 12 miles. Sending an express to hasten forward O'Neil, the major dismounted his men, 21 in all, and stationing Alcorn with 11 men on the left of the canyon in which the enemy was camped, himself occupied the right with only 9 men.
    "It was discovered that the Indians were 60 or 70 strong. Firing became general, and both sides sustained losses. Wiley Cash was killed in this preliminary engagement, and Daniel Richardson severely wounded. Soon after these casualties, eight men were cut off from the little force, when Bruce collected the 10 left him and charged the Indians, driving them out of the canyon, relieving the 
men and securing a favorable position for himself, though surrounded and cut off from his horses. Night coming on, he was compelled to retreat towards these, but found that half of them had been driven off before the arrival of Capt. O'Neil, who was on the ground with the news that he had sent Lieut. Armstrong an hour before dark with 20 men to engage the enemy on the right, while with 20 men he had flanked their left and fought them until dark.
    "The night being very dark and cold, the whole force present withdrew to camp five miles distant when it was discovered that Lieut. Armstrong had not returned. Instead, he remained on the ground and renewed the attack at daylight next morning, the Indians giving way and retreating soon after daybreak. It was found they had burned their dead in the night, making it impossible to determine their loss."
At Steamboat
    The first battle here mentioned was fought where Steamboat City was afterwards located. Further particulars of that battle, as gleaned from Mr. Miller, follow:
    "The mule that was transporting the ammunition for the howitzer rolled down the mountain into the Applegate. The soldiers improvised enough, however, to startle the savages from their lair. The Indians could stand off the whites pretty well so long as rifles alone were used but when the soldiers got to 'shooting wagons at them,' as the Indians called it, demoralization was apt to set in.
    "One of the soldiers put his hat on the ramrod and set it out for the Indians to shoot at. He thoughtlessly stuck his head around the tree to get a shot himself, when an Indian plugged him through the head.
    "It was in this battle that Jacob Spores, son of old man Spores of Lane County, was mortally wounded. He was transferred back to Jacksonville, where he lingered for several days before he died. It was from Jacksonville that the troops started to make the fight on upper Applegate.
    "Some may have gone from Sterling, but Jacksonville was military headquarters.
Martin Angel Slain
    "After the troops left, Martin Angel and another man concluded they would follow and see the fun. They got a little ways down Poorman's Creek when they were fired on by some Indian scouts and Martin Angel ceased his troubling of Indians or anyone else, and the Indian boy he insisted on hanging was avenged."
    We will now let Mr. Olney occupy the center of the stage while he tells what he knew of Indian hostilities in 1856. He does not sign his initials and always speaks of himself in the third person, but evidently he was an interested participator in some of the events he so graphically chronicles.
    "Early in March 1856, an election of regimental officers of the 2nd Regiment Oregon Mountain Volunteers was held at all the company camps, which resulted in the election of John Kelsay as colonel, W.W. Chapman as lieutenant-colonel, Bruce and Latshaw as majors. Gen. Lamerick then issued orders to the Southern Battalion under Bruce to rendezvous at and in the near vicinity of Vannoy's Ferry on Rogue River; the Northern Battalion under Latshaw to establish camp at Grave Creek and vicinity, preparatory to a march down Rogue River to the Big Meadows, where it was believed the Indians were encamped, waiting an attack by the volunteers.
    "Major Bruce's battalion was scattered around Vannoy's Ferry, up and down Rogue River five or six miles, and one company was encamped at the foot of Eight Dollar Mountain, 15 miles from the ferry. Each company remained inactive in camp until the memorable 23rd of March 1856.
    "The Northern Battalion remained encamped in various places in the Umpqua Valley until early in the following April, when they began their march by way of Grave Creek to the Big Meadows, under the immediate command of John Kelsay.
Scouting Parties Sent
    "Scouting parties were sent out from time to time by each company to ascertain if any Indians were in its vicinity; occasionally a few signs would be discovered, but in all but one instance the signs were not deemed sufficiently encouraging for the volunteers to pursue. In the one instance mentioned above, Capt. Mike Bushey, a noted scout and captain of one of the companies encamped at Grave Creek, had been for several days scouting down the Illinois River with a part of his command and had succeeded in discovering, in his view, sufficient evidence of the near proximity of Indians to warrant general alarm.
    "Accordingly he dispatched a messenger with the important tidings to Major Bruce, at Vannoy's Ferry, who immediately issued orders to several companies to march without a moment's delay to Grave Creek, from whence an expedition would start the next day to attack the Indians.
    "Marching all night, the companies reported to Major Bruce the next morning at Grave Creek. In the meantime Capt. Bushey had returned to the locality where he had at first discovered the hostile signs. On his return to Grave Creek he informed the Major that the Indians had retreated down toward the Big Meadows, and that he did not think it advisable to pursue them, consequently the companies returned to their respective camps.
    "All now was quiet in the Umpqua, Rogue River and Illinois valleys until about 2 o'clock on the morning of the 24th of March 1856 a messenger arrived at Vannoy's Ferry with the word that the Indians had ambushed a small party of travelers on Slate Creek and had killed two of the party--Wright, a partner in Vannoy's Ferry, and Olney, a member of Capt. O'Neill's company, which was encamped at the foot of Eight Dollar Mountain--that after killing the two men and dispersing the remainder of the travelers they had pushed on toward Hay's ranch.
Hay's Ranch Attacked
    "Just before they reached the ranch they were met by five of Olney's messengers, who had come out to rescue his dead body, and the Indians had killed one of them, John Davis, and forced the others to retreat back to the ranch; that the Indians had then pushed on and surrounded the ranch, and that when they (the messengers) left, the firing was brisk and determined on both sides. Orders were at once sent to all the companies belonging to the Second Battalion to repair immediately to Hay's ranch, and at about 10 o'clock the same day the companies began to assemble at Vannoy's Ferry, for a start to the scene of the conflict.
    "It now becomes necessary to change the scene. To better understand what follows and to have a clear view of the situation, we will return to the morning of the 23rd of March. On that morning Olney, a member of Company E which camped at Eight Dollar Mountain, and who had been on a special mission to the camp of Capt. Abel George, five miles below Vannoy's, was on his return to camp.
Asks Company
    "Being of a cautious temperament, he concluded to go by headquarters, which was a little off the most direct trail, and see if he could procure company, as it was considered dangerous to travel along Slate Creek, up which the trail wound its crooked way to Hay's ranch. In answer to his inquiries, if anyone was intending to go down from there to Hay's, he was informed that a party of five persons had but a short half hour before started to the ranch, and if he would move briskly along he would be likely to soon overtake them.
    "This was good news, and off he went at a smart pace to overtake the party. It was a long chase but he was soon rewarded by a sight of the men slowly making the ascent of the hill, up which the trail ran before it reached the open flat just below the forks of the creek. The pattering of his horse's feet arrested the progress of the party and caused them to stop and await his approach, for at that time all rapid riding seemed to savor of something unusual. The party was composed of Wright, Willis Hay, Cox, Blake and Thompson. As Olney rode up to within 30 paces of the party he was saluted with: 'Hello. Any news? Have you seen any Indians? Where have you come from this morning?' To all of which he answered, 'No, wanted to overtake you, afraid to go through alone, horse nearly done for.'
    "'Come along then, we've got one more gun and revolver in the party; think we will have some fun before we reach the ranch; Willis says he thinks he smells Ind--!'
    "Bang! Bang! Bang! Followed instantly by a heavy volley of rifle shot on the left flank, front and rear, brush and trees filled with smoke and Indian yells, horses plunge and snort; but in a few seconds the party regained their self-command; the Indians showed themselves--half a dozen, 10, 50, 100--no use to show fight, it was better to run, and run they did; horses and men all willing.
Whites Run
    "So off they turned to the right, through the woods, scampered for dear life, for sure enough life was at stake, and they were making good time, all of them but Olney, whose horse would only plunge up and down, making no headway, and he saw the only course to save his life, and that was not a certainty, nor did it seem even to approach a possibility, yet it was the only chance.
    "It was to dismount and try his own legs, for had he not read how Daniel Boone, Davy Crockett and a host of other renowned Indian fighters had out-run, out-shot, out-witted smarter Indians that those after him. So dropping the bridle on his horse's neck he sprang to the ground, and in so doing he saw his horse's flank covered with blood, blood oozing from several holes in his side. All was taken in at a glance, and with gun in hand he started to run, but on each foot was strapped a large, heavy Mexican spur.
    "He could make no headway with such gear on his heels, they must come off; but it would not do to stop, sit down and calmly displace them; he had not nerve enough for that. But he took a zigzag course and would throw his right heel in front of his left toe and give a pull as he jumped, for he must keep his body in motion so that the Indians could not draw a bead on him, and he must keep going ahead, and, if possible, increase the distance between himself and his pursuers."
    "The right spur, boot and all, came easily off, and when he put his left spur under his right toe and pulled, the rowels of the spur cut through his stocking, penetrated the flesh, and caused him to stumble and fall. (The reader must bear in mind that all that has been described did not occupy more than a few seconds, and that the others of the party were not more than 50 yards distant, and the Indians only just starting from their hiding places.)
    "At the same moment Olney sprang to his feet, freed from his boot and spur, which he had kicked off while down.
    "Wright, the big-hearted and brave man, called out to the others: 'Boys, it won't do to leave that man; come, let's stay with him,' at the same time turning his mule toward the fleeing man, and facing the swarming, yelling savages.
    "'Let me take hold of your horse's tail and I can get away,' called out Olney, and Willie Hay, only 14 years of age, turned back with Wright, and they both rode toward him, right into the blaze and smoke of the hostile guns. As they met Olney, Wright turned his mule sidewise and said in a husky voice, 'Jump on,' and on he jumped behind the noble Wright.
    "Willie turned and away they went, the Indians firing as rapidly as possible. Still neither of the three men was touched, but bullets tore up the ground and knocked bark from the trees into the faces of the fleeing men. Willie Hay and the others were soon out of sight, leaving Wright and Olney alone.
    "While crossing a shallow gulch a bullet pierced the flank of the mule, causing it to drop its hind parts on the ground, which threw Olney over backward on his head and shoulders. The mule immediately righted itself, with Wright still in the saddle. Olney jumped to his feet instantly, and Wright asked him if he was wounded, to which he replied that if he was wounded at all it was in his shoulder, as he felt more pain there than at any other part of his body.
    "Wright seemed to have no care for himself, but thought how he could save his companion, and urged him to try to mount the mule again, seeming to think that was the only chance. Olney refused and told Wright to go on and leave him to his fate.
    "The noble man saw he had done all he could to save his companion, who was to him a total stranger until only a few minutes before, and with a sorrowful 'Oh,' he dashed down the gulch as fast as the wounded mule could go and left Olney to his apparent certain death.
    "The Indians were by this time close up to them and seemed by their exulting yells to feel certain of both of their intended victims. Olney ran over ridge and gulch, aiming to get into the brushy bottom of the creek, about a quarter of a mile above the forks. Many a time he thought to get behind a tree and stand his ground, if only for a short time, for he felt that death was certain.
    "The Indians seemed to know his thought, for every time he made for a tree the savages fired furiously at it, thinking that when he passed behind it some one of the many bullets would certainly hit him, while he, seeing their object, gave up the idea, but with no intent to fire, only intending to make them take to trees for shelter, which they did in every instance, thus giving, as he thought, a little advantage of them in the race."
    "But this kind of running would not do, for back behind him a few hundred yards he saw a squad of mounted Indians coming at full speed towards him. He had distanced the footmen, but he had no hopes of escaping from those who were mounted. Wright was out of sight. He was all alone save his pursuers. Suddenly stopping, he took deliberate aim and fired, with a splendid result; the savage fell sprawling on the ground.
    "But there could be no more loading and firing, and the gun was a burden, besides, he expected to fall any moment, and then the Indians would get a splendid gun. So cocking the gun, he struck it against a tree as he ran, and broke the lock, and then dropped it on the ground; his bullets he scattered broadcast; his box of caps were cast into a pool of water in the bed of the gulch.
Wright Dies in Saddle
    "As he descended into the creek flat, he came near Wright, who was still in his saddle, but was holding on to the pommel apparently to steady himself and seemed to sway from side to side. To Olney's inquiry if he was wounded, he answered with a groan. His gun, a double-barreled shotgun, was gone; the mule was still running, but slowly, no faster at least than Olney was, so they ran side by side up the creek bottom for nearly a quarter of a mile, the mounted Indians slowly gaining on them.
    "The Indians on foot were left far behind, and seemed to have given up the race, but still they sent their bullets after the fleeing men, in showers; the deathly ping, ping, zip, of the bullets gave a continuous and urgent stimulus to the pursued.
    "Across the creek bottom ran a line of thick stunted crabapple and chaparral. As they neared it Wright called out to his companion, as if to give him a fresh stimulus, 'Run now!' At the sound of his voice--for it was the first time he had spoken since the first separation--Olney looked towards him only to see him fall from his saddle to the ground with a dull thud and gurgle.
    "Life had fled, and the noble Wright lay on his back, his limbs quivering in the last agonies, while the Indians yelled louder and more hideously than before. Olney was alone now in the flesh, but still the spirit of his murdered companion hovered around him and completed in the invisible what was begun in the visible body.
    "Diving into the thick brush, he made his way as fast as possible up the dry creek for a quarter of mile and then, exhausted, almost at death's door, with a bullet through one foot, a sharp dry stick run into the flesh between the toes of the other, the bottoms of both frightfully lacerated by the sharp stones over which he had been running, he cast himself under a pile of driftwood and listened, with no hope of escape, to the approaching footsteps of his savage pursuers.
    "Let us now go up to the top of that low, sparsely timbered hill on the left, near the trail and we shall soon see five men of Company E, Olney's messmates--John Davis, Shellback Smith, John Gould, Charley Abrams and J. Sargent, who had been stopping at Hay's ranch as a guard, and who had been told by Willie Hay and the others who had succeeding in reaching the ranch that Wright and Olney were killed--come running up the hill as fast as their horses could be made to go, in the direction of Slate Creek.
    "They have come to recover the bodies of their murdered messmates. They rise the hill and descend at a rapid pace the steep ridge down which the trail ran towards the forks of the creek. Halfway down, and they are saluted by a hundred rifle shots from front and both flanks, accompanied by the too-well-known Indian yell. 'We're in for it now boys,' shouted John Davis, the leader of the party, 'jump off and take a tree and we will give them a fight if they are on it.'
    "Dismounting and aiming their horses to the brush, with the bullets and yells growing thicker and louder, the brave little party boldly went into the fight. Taking each a tree, they loaded and fired with good effect, as was plainly indicated next day when the battle ground was visited. Louder and fiercer grew the uproar; the Indians, numbering near 200, soon gained the rear of the little party, and poured upon them a hail of rifle and pistol shots.
    "'We must get out of this,' shouted Gould. 'They've got us in a tight place, come on.'
    "He ran to his horse, and all followed but Davis, who, seeing a number of Indians running towards them, shouted to his companions, 'Hurry up, boys, and mount. I'll keep those devils away until you are ready to start. Charley, untie my horse and hold him until I come, and, almost in the same breath, he added, 'Go ahead boys, I'm shot right through the tum-tum ["chest," "heart"].'
Davis Shot
    "As Davis spoke he dropped his gun from his hands and fell forward upon his face. Shellback Smith and Charley Abrams ran to him, but he was fast stiffening in death, and they left him lying on his face, for they could do him no good. And to take away his dead body was not possible, for the Indians were pressing around them, and retreat would soon be impossible.
    "As it was it was extremely difficult. They were on a narrow ridge which was quite steep on both sides, and as they dismounted their horses, that of Charley Abrams was shot through the body and rolled down the steep side of the ridge, rider and all, some 20 yards, until it struck the bottom of the gulch.
    "Luckily Abrams was on top and easily extricated himself. The animal regained his feet and Abrams again mounted him and turned his head up the hill to regain his companions, who had again dismounted and were bravely fighting back the Indians until they could ascertain the result of Abrams' tumble down the hill.
    "In the sudden change of affairs, Gould, who had secured Davis' horse, let him go so that he would better be able to take care of his own and use his gun in the fight. John Sargent had Davis' gun, and in the retreat carried it safely to the ranch. As soon as Gould loosened his hold on the bridle, Davis' horse ran 
wildly down the hill into the midst of the Indians."
    "Abrams had no sooner mounted his horse than it fell again, riddled with bullets. Abrams escaped unhurt and clambered wildly up the hill, where his companions awaited him, urging him to renewed exertions by repeated calls of 'hurry up, Charles, they're all around us,' and hurry up he did.
    "His escape was seemingly miraculous, but the most miraculous of all was, a large brown mule, saddled and bridled, all ready to be mounted, came running up the road towards the little party from the direction of the Indians, and reached them at precisely the same moment as Abrams did.
    "He ran gently towards the mule calling coaxingly, 'whoa! whoa!' which the mule well understood and stopped till Abrams had secured it and mounted it. Then away all scampered through a line of smoke and fire on each flank and forced their way through the savages who had formed a line in front. Holding their guns in the bridle hand, with revolver in the right, discharging rapid shots at the Indians, they streaked it up the hill and down the trail to the ranch, closely followed by the yelling and disappointed Indians, who were but a few rods in their rear, when they reached the gates of the palisades surrounding the ranch.
Call for Help Sent to Troops
    "When  Willie Hay and his companions made their appearance at the ranch with the news of the Indian attack upon them and the killing of Wright and Olney, a courier was at once sent with the intelligence to Capt. O'Neil's camp at the foot of Eight Dollar Mountain. As soon as the news was received, O'Neil ordered the horses and pack mules to be immediately brought up and saddled and packed, and at once set out for the ranch, endeavoring to reach it before the Indians did.
    "But in this he failed, as I shall now relate. Calling the roll, he found he had but 50 men fit for duty, and with a pack train of 15 heavily laden mules, he must spare three or four men for the special duty of attending to the packs. Forming a vanguard of 15 men, he sent them forward under the command of Lieut. Armstrong. The mules followed, and the rear was brought up by the remainder of the company under his immediate command.
     "Away they went at a sharp trot until they had crossed Deer Creek and had entered the heavy timber within two miles of the ranch, when they overtook a pack train, passing which with some difficulty they kept on their way, with the loss of two or three mules which had run into the other train and could not be easily extricated, so were allowed to remain and come along with the train, which was put to its utmost speed when the packers were told that the Indians were ahead.
    "On they go through the heavy pine woods, the bell on the bell mare tinkling out hasty music to the loaded train mules behind, while the 'hup-pah mulah' 'Caramba' and the everlasting string of Mexican epithets calculated to urge forward a train were being bellowed and hissed in a hasty and excited way. They have reached within half a mile of the ranch, and they hear an occasional rifle shot.
Pack Trains Slow
    "Soon comes a crash of reports, succeeded by the usual rattling reverberations through the timber of each separate but continuous report and the near yells of Indians. On they go, the vanguard, at a gallop, pack mules ditto; they are too slow. 'Forward faster.' Another train in the road--J. Lowery and Billy Sutherland's train--Billy on the bell mare. Jimmy driving up the train; trains at this time on the keen jump. 'Damn the train,' says the Captain, but it doesn't make matters any better.
    "The train behind is making good time, and its bell mare has overtaken the rear guard, so there they are, two pack trains and a company of volunteers surging together along the road through the woods towards the ranch. Volunteers have left their pack mules behind and gone pell mell through the line of Indians who have encircled the ranch and are firing from behind every tree and bunch of brush into the very face of the men. Each man with revolver in hand yelled defiance and sent shot after shot at the Indians, who in a few minutes turned their attention to the pack trains.
    "When the Captain gave the order to his men to leave the pack mules and make the best time they could towards the ranch, some of the men so far disobeyed him as to continue to harry forward some of the mules that were loaded with their own individual effects and succeeded, by loud yelling and rough whipping, in driving them in the palisades surrounding the ranch; while the remainder of the mules stampeded helter skelter in all directions through the woods.
     "As soon as the Indians saw the volunteers abandon their mules and flee towards the ranch, they left their coverts and made a rush towards Lowery and Southerland's train, firing rapidly at men and mules alike. Southerland, being in advance on the bell mare, increased his speed by a vigorous application of whip and spur, and made a bee line for the ranch, calling lustily to his partner: 'Let the mules go to--, Jimmy, and come along, they're bound to get them anyhow, save your scalp,' and with a 'go it old hoss,' and an additional slap with his tapajo, away he went closely followed by a part of the mules, while the others went scudding through the woods in all directions, except towards the ranch. Jimmy, seeing that he could not reach the friendly protection of the house, turned his mule off to the left and was soon out of sight and immediate danger.
    "On came the other train at full speed, some of the mules with packs askew, some with packs turned, drivers yelling, swearing and whipping; the bell on the bell mare jingling and clattering; Indians firing and yelling and all in a wild stampede.
    "Such an uproar, such excitement, such reckless riding, will never be seen again on that road between Hay's and Deer Creek. The packers scattered and rode towards the ranch, each on his own hook; over logs, through brush and mire and smoke and whistling bullets, now mixed up in a jam of crazy mules, again almost unseated by a crashing impetus of one that is running across cuts and strikes the fugitive horse amidships.
    "At last all have reached the palisades. Leaping from their foaming horses, and setting them adrift, they dart through the gate that has been opened for their reception and are once more in safety.
    "Safe indeed are they, but their horses, their friendly, noble preservers, are huddling and jamming one another outside the gate whinnying as if calling their faithless riders to open the gate and take them in, for the Indians were sending showers of bullets into the surging mass of horses and mules and dropping them one by one. The volunteers had taken as many of their riding horses into the stockade as possible, for the enclosure was small and many were necessarily left outside.
    "All are now inside the enclosure and are returning the enemy's fire with vehemence and successfully beating back the swarming savages who had twice rushed forward in a solid circle around the house with the apparent intention of taking it by storm, but in each attempt met with such vigorous resistance that they at last gave up the design of assaulting it, and retired to a distance of 200 yards and settled down to a steady exchange of shots and yells with its defenders.
    "Where is Alex Caldwell; has anyone seen him inside: He was with us just as we crossed the going the round when, 'What is that lying yonder partially concealed by a log?'
    "'See, he raises his head and looks this way as though asking for help.'
    "'See those two Indians running down towards him, they are going to finish him, poor fellow.'
    "Such were the various remarks of the men as they stood, their wounded companion lying in the road, silently appealing for assistance.
    "'He must be brought in. Who are the brave men that will go?' said the Captain. He was answered instantly by a dozen or more of men, for they were more than willing to go upon the desperate undertaking. Desperate it was; they felt that they were cowards to let their comrade lie so exposed to death without making an effort for his rescue.
    "'Remember boys,' continued the Captain, 'that I do not order you to go, but I want volunteers to go with me, for Alex shall not lie there alive five minutes longer, as sure as my name is Hugh O'Neil.' 'I'll go for one,' said John Gould, stepping forward; 'and so will I' was repeated by many more, and John Macklin, Samuel Cowels and John Sargent stepped out from the crowd first and were, of course, the ones to go upon the errand.
    "The four brave men then stripped off their clothing, save shirt and pants. Hay's boys brought out moccasins for their feet; and forming in line, about four feet apart, they stood before the gate, and when it was opened for them, they darted out and ran at their utmost speed--keeping in line and about four feet apart--towards their wounded comrade, who, seeing them coming attempted to rise, but fell back exhausted from the shock of his wound.
    "The Indians saw the brave men leave the gate and immediately divined their object. Rushing out from their coverts, firing and yelling, against the little squad of heroes, intending to capture them, and would, no doubt, have succeeded, had not the men inside rushed out to the assistance of their companions.
    "Now all is in a terrific uproar outside; from a siege it has turned to a battle. The Indians took to shelter and the volunteers fired from behind logs, stumps, horses and mules that were dead or alive. Some of the combatants on both sides took the open field and fired in true military style. During the melee, the four men ran up to Caldwell, and, taking him up in their arms--two under his shoulders and two under his thighs--they carried him safely inside the stockade, where they were received amid demonstrations of gratitude and praise by all and especially by the wounded man.
    "Unable to speak, for he was shot through the throat and lungs, he looked his gratitude. As soon as the wounded man was carried inside the Indians began to withdraw to a safer distance, for the volunteers had killed and wounded a large number of them, without receiving any other damage than a few slight flesh wounds. The volunteers retired inside the stockade and all then settled down to its former state of siege, with the exchange of shots and yells.
    "Mrs. Hay, well advanced in years, but still spry and courageous, urged them on, patting them familiarly on the back and saying, 'Give it to them, boys. That's the way to fetch them,' as she would see an Indian fall, and carrying bread and coffee to each. Instead of being a burden to the men she proved to be a blessing, for many of the boys said if it had not been for 'Mammy Hay' their courage would, in some stages of the fight, have slipped out at the heels of their boots.
     "Not only 'Mammy Hay' but her daughter, likewise, was an active assistant during the whole time. Elizabeth Hay, or 'Big Sis,' as she was commonly known during that time of slack politeness and rough manners, was going around among the men chatting pleasantly with them and telling them that she knew every man was a brave, that if she only had a half-dozen of such fellows she could whip the whole of the Indians.
    "No messengers had yet been sent out to give notice of the attack. It would have been certain death to have tried to leave the ranch in daylight, and the captain had prudently waited until night had settled down, so that under cover of the darkness the couriers would have a better chance to get safely through the line of Indians.
    "Darkness was fast settling down, and the landscape was becoming more obscure as the minutes passed, but yet the battle raged as loud and fierce as ever. Indians could be dimly seen as they ran from tree to tree, and occasionally a sprightly young buck would stop in some open space that could be seen from the house and go through with some of his distortions and utter peculiar yells from his (so it sounded) tin-lined throat, thus drawing upon himself the fire of all the besieged who were on his side of the circle.
    "Thus the time passed until objects could no longer be distinguished outside the stockade. Then a call was made for two men to run the gantlet and take the news to Vannoy's Ferry. Two were soon selected and, mounted upon the swiftest and best-bottomed horses, were placed in front of the gate, one six paces behind the other, each man grasping a freshly capped revolver in his right hand; thus they stood when the order was given to open the gate. As the gate swung open the plucky riders dashed out at full speed, and away they went, faster, faster, faster, still.
    "What an uproar--the Indians have scented the game and send a hurried line of fire after the rapidly retreating horsemen. The boys rush out and advance on the Indians, bantering them to come and take the ranch. 'Plenty of whiskey and tobacco, come and get it, you greasy cowards,' thinking to draw the attention of the Indians from the pursuit. The Indians replied in equally bantering terms. 'Miserable Boston man afraid to fight. Why did you run so far today, we have got your mules and goods. Going to live high for a long time.'
    "And thus the night was passing away, when suddenly the Indians ceased firing and all became silent, for the boys had been guided for their firing by the flash of the Indians' guns, and as soon as the Indians ceased the boys ceased also.
    "Time passed on, 10 minutes, 20, half an hour, and still no hostile sounds. Have the red devils abandoned the siege? Another half hour has passed, and the suspense must be relieved, so volunteers are called for to go out and endeavor to fathom the mystery; anything will be better than this ominous silence.
    "Carefully the gate is opened and a half dozen men step out into the outer darkness, soon followed by as many more. Cautiously and slowly they file around the stockade, intending to go and examine the old stable and other outhouses standing about 60 yards from the house, which the Indians had occupied as soon as it had become dark, and from which they had since been firing some damaging shots into the ranch.
    "They had advanced about halfway to the outhouses when one of the party proposed that two of them go in advance to the buildings and prospect them for the enemy, and if none could be found then all would go beyond to where there was a brush fence, which had been used by the Indians as a breastwork. If no Indians were to be found there, then they had undoubtedly raised the siege, and the party could return to the house with the good news. Dick, a very quiet but attentive Irishman, and another of the party volunteered to go on the forlorn hope.
    "The two had advanced to within about 10 paces of the old stable when Dick, who was in the lead, said softly 'whist, pard, the divil take me if I don't belave I schmell 'em.' They had both stopped and were listening attentively when Dick continued, 'And what is that now, a-leaning up agin the house?' 'That is a stump. You're afraid, Dick,' replied his companion, 'let me go ahead,' and made a step forward when Dick pulled him back with the remark, 'Don't now, be easy, there is another stump, for yez. Begorra, pard, just hold me hat, and I'll give them two divilish shtumps a blizzard wid my old soger (musketoon).'
    "His companion looked and sure enough there were two now, where there was but one before. Believing them to be Indians who were only waiting for a good chance to fire at them, he told Dick to blaze away, while he would watch and see what the result might be. Dick put the lock of his musket under his coat to deaden the click, and, cocking it, he raised it to his shoulder and fired.
    "The whole scene was lighted up by the blaze of the musketoon. Dick went over backwards like a wheel rocket, emitting from his throat a noise between a screech and a howl, while a terrific fire was poured into them from the old stable and from each flank, accompanied by yells no less horrible than the one given by Dick. Now was heard rapid tramping and cracking of dry twigs, and all seemed to be rushing toward the old stable, which for the once was to be made the center of the conflict.
    "Dick jumped to his feet yelling like a madman, "Come on, boys; Divil of a shtable shall they have to shoot from. Come on and we'll bate 'em out in a sicond."  The men who were behind waiting for developments were by this time up to Dick and his companion and were all yelling and firing away like wild men and rushed headlong for the stable, where there seemed to be the most Indians.
Hand-to-Hand
    "A line of fire now encircled the ranch; the battle was begun again in deadly earnest; the besieged are keeping up a continued blaze of light from every crack and porthole in the palisades; while at the stable there seems to be a struggle hand to hand.
    "Now the boys have the advantage and push the savages back, then they fall back towards the house and the Indians are masters, until one of the men called out: 'Boys we must take the stable, and keep it, and all who are not cowards come on.' And again they made a rush for the stable.
    "Pistol in hand, they rushed along keeping up an incessant pop-pop-pop, and their own peculiar yell, which was promptly and sharply answered by the hoarse guttural yells of the Indians and the clear crack of their rifles.
    "Now the struggle is harder than ever; the Indians have the advantage, for they are inside behind the logs, and do not intend to yield. The boys crowd them away from the end of the stable and from behind some stumps. Both parties put their guns between the logs and fire into each other's faces. A reinforcement comes to both sides and they meet before the door--the blaze of their guns gives sufficient light to see each other's position, and at last, the boys give an exultant yell, and are masters of the field, for the Indians are scampering away and have ceased to fire.
    "When the uproar ceased at the stable the boys became aware that a fierce encounter was in progress on the opposite side of the ranch, and soon they heard a call from the house, 'Come here boys, they are trying to get in on this side. Hurry along for they are making it hot for us.'
    "Off they go to the house to help drive back the horde of Indians who had concentrated there while the garrison was weak to try and gain an entrance while the fight was going on at the stable.
    "In front of the gate and on the south side were a number of large pine logs behind which the Indians had taken shelter while trying to fight away the boys from the palisades, before making their anticipated rush into the stockade.
    "As the men came running at full speed to the gate, they were met in front by a fierce fusillade from behind the logs. But it did not last long--the Indians ran, after delivering their fire, to the south side of the stockade, while the men ran inside. After a short time the Indians retreated to a greater distance and settled down to the monotonous firing and yelling.
Fight Lulls While Sides Eat
     "It was now about one o'clock and the boys were wolfishly hungry, so Mrs. Hay and her daughter Elizabeth with help from some of the boys began to prepare them some food. In a short time the stove and fireplace were in full blast, loaded with kettles and coffee pots, frying pans and Dutch ovens, and the savory odor of frying bacon and beefsteak mingled with the sulphureous smoke of burnt powder was wafted upon the night air--an incongruous perfume for the savage warriors outside, which seemingly cooled them off, for in a short time they built a large fire out in the woods a safe distance from the house and set their cooks to preparing a meal for themselves.
    "The fury of the conflict was perceptibly abated while these culinary preparations were in progress on both sides and while the contending warriors were satisfying their ravenous appetites. When the meal was ready and set out upon some boards, the men went to work by relays, some eating, some yelling at the Indians, who seemed to be doing the very same thing themselves.
    "When at last all were satisfied war broke out in stout earnest and continued after the same old plan, shooting and yelling, until one o'clock, when the fire of the Indians began to slacken, and at last was only maintained by an occasional shot, and then after a short time it ceased entirely.
    "Let us now take the track of Jimmy Lowery, who was forced to leave his train and take to flight. When his partner, Billy Southerland, called to him to 'Come on and let the mules go to--,' Jimmy struck his spurs deep into his mule and with vigorous strokes of his tapajo, forced the animal into a run. Bearing off to the left, he endeavored to pass the train and get to the ranch, but he had only started when a gang of yelling Indians pushed in ahead of him and compelled a rapid light towards the mountains on the left, followed for some distance by the speed-increasing zip, zip, zip, ping, ping, sput of the bullets, as he lashed through the brush towards a safer place.
Indians Leave In Dark
     "As stated before, the Indians ceased firing about 1 o'clock and retired from the attack and took up their line of march for some other field in which to operate, but it was not till the morning light had become sufficiently clear to distinguish objects far out in the woods that the besieged became satisfied that the Indians had actually departed.
    "They then came out and began an inspection of the ground surrounding the house. Here, one declared he saw an Indian fall, there another, another had shot an Indian who was just poking his head up above the log, when he gave him a deadly shot. Behind trees, logs, stumps and brush blood was found, plainly indicating that the Indians had suffered.
    "And at the stable many marks were found showing that the Indians had suffered more than the boys, who, with the exception of some slight bruises, had escaped unhurt.
    "As soon as breakfast had been served a strong guard had been sent out to recover the lost horses and pack mules, which were scattered for a mile around. A detachment under command of Capt. O'Neil was soon in readiness to go and care for the bodies of Davis and Wright, and when Olney's feet had been dressed by Mrs. Hay, who was kind and attentive to all, he mounted a horse and accompanied the command to point out the place where Wright had been killed.
Caldwell Dies
    "They were delayed a short time to ascertain the final result of Alex Caldwell's wound. He was carefully attended to by Mrs. Hay and her daughter, but his would proved fatal; he died about eight o'clock. He left a wife and one child in Franklin County, Mo. His body was buried near the house.
    "The detachment was soon on the march, where we will leave them for a short time, and follow the course of the two messengers, who started out from the ranch to take the news of the attack to headquarters. I am sorry that I cannot give their names, as they were heroes, in a military sense, and in general men who risk their lives for the benefit of others are not bad men.
    "As the two men sallied forth, the Indians, without doubt, divined their mission and determined, if possible, to prevent them executing it. The men took the road leading to Vannoy's, intending to ride down all opposition and make their way through the lines of Indians, thinking that by keeping the road they could get there sooner than by any other way.
    "But the savages ran from all points to frustrate them, and poured in such a hot fire that the men were compelled to change their course, so they ran down the creek a short distance, with a line of fire behind and in front of them, and on their left flank, over logs and stumps, through brush and scattering timber, expecting at every moment to be unhorsed, if not shot dead by the many and rapidly increasing bullets.
    "With set teeth, and every nerve its fullest tension, they scud along at a speed that would, even in daylight, have been imprudent, but cut loose from all hopes of succor, depending on their knowledge of the route and the good bottom and speed of their horses, and filled with that daredevil and almost unconscious desperation which all feel in time of extreme peril, they knew that it was too late to recede, if they had chosen, and the only course was, to use a vulgar but very applicable expression, 'to let 'er rip', and so they did.
    "Off goes a hat--no time to pick it up. A bullet has cut the bridle rein of the hindmost man--can't help it now, the horse will follow the others. 'Hurrah!' and they yell defiance, with a cold creeping of flesh along the backbone. Keeping down the creek half a mile or so, they turn to the left and make their way with less speed towards Deer Creek. Coming out into an open space they stop for repairs.
    "Mending the bridle rein and readjusting their cinches, they once more set out on the way, and at about 2 o'clock in the morning they made their appearance at Vannoy's.
    "Orders were at once sent off by Major Bruce, who was in command at that place, to all the companies near by to repair immediately to headquarters, and from thence to Hay's. A courier was dispatched to Jacksonville, also to Grave Creek where some of the volunteer companies were encamped, with orders to hurry to the scene of conflict.
    "By sunrise several companies reported to Major Bruce, who at once began his march to Hay's, leaving orders for the other companies to come on in haste. This was the morning of the 14th of March.
    "We now return to Capt. O'Neil, who, with a detachment, started towards Vannoy's Ferry on the Slate Creek Road to pick up the bodies of Davis and Wright. Proceeding to the spot where the body of Davis lay they found it at the roots of a large pine tree, entirely nude, for the Indians had appropriated the clothing.
    "A bullet had sure enough penetrated the heart. The head was scalped down to the ears and then literally sawed from the body; the knees and elbows were unjointed, that is, cut off at the joints and hung together only by a small strip of flesh which had been left for that purpose; deep ugly gashes were cut lengthwise in the thighs and fleshy parts of the arms, while knives had been plunged into various parts of the body--a ghastly sight to look upon.
    "Wrapping the body in a blanket, it was securely lashed on a pack mule, and on the party went to find the body of Wright. Half a mile above the forks of the creek, near the dense chaparral which crossed the narrow bottom of the creek, lay the body, stripped, but not mutilated, only so far as being scalped and a knife gash through the heart. One thigh bone had been broken by a bullet, while a bullet had hit the back of the neck and came out at the throat, breaking the neck bone and cutting the windpipe in two.
    "The body was covered with a blanket and packed similarly to Davis' body, and the command was again on the march to Vannoy's. Soon they met company after company on their way to Hay's Ranch. Each company must be told the particulars of the fight and it took time to do it, so they did not arrive at Vannoy's until nightfall.
    "Graves were soon dug and the bodies were buried side by side with military honors. The company secured quarters for the night and by daylight of the morning of the 25th they were on their return to Hay's. When about halfway they were met by four men at full speed.
    "'Hurry along, Captain,' they exclaimed, as soon as they came within speaking distance, 'more fighting for you. The Indians have taken Coyote Evans' train and killed one of the packers. Evans and Big Dave, themselves, barely escaped.'
    "On they go, and O'Neil quickens his pace. A few miles further another squad of fast riders come tearing down the hill. 'Hurry on faster, Captain, Bruce is anxious for your company to come up as soon as you can. A big fight is going on at Eight Dollar Mountain, right on your old camp ground.'
    "And they vanished down the hill while the company pushes its pace into a gallop. They raise the top of the hill a mile from Hay's and stop only a moment to 'cinch up' and then away down the hill at a headlong gait till they reached the ranch.
    "It was about 11 o'clock a.m. The men and horses were exhausted, and as there were at least 60 men loitering around the ranch seemingly in a somewhat demoralized state who ought to be in the fight, O'Neil determined to rest his men and horses before going to Eight Dollar Mountain.
    "On the morning of the 25th of March, as Coyote Evans' pack train, composed of about 30 mules loaded with merchandise for himself, was slowly ascending the trail leading from Reaves' ranch over a low ridge of the Eight Dollar Mountain, and then on towards Rogue River, they were startled by a solitary rifle shot from the direction of the mountain on their left.
    "The bell boy called back to Evans and Dave, who were driving the train, that he saw somebody up on the mountain and believed it to be Indians, but they paid no more attention to him than to tell him to go on as there were no Indians in the country. So on he went, but with many misgivings, as the air was solemn and dull as though death was lurking in it.
    "The tinkle, tinkle, tinkle of the bell sounded with apprehensive and warning tones; the mules even stopped their usual monotonous grunting and silently climbed the hill, as though fearful of arousing some undefined danger.
    "'I don't like the appearance of things, Dave,' said Evans, 'it's so still and awful. What did that shot mean anyway?'
    "'Didn't mean anything. Some of the volunteers are out hunting. There are no Indians around here, because they have all gone down to the Big Meadows, but--Good God, what is that? Indians as sure as you live.'
Indians Chase Packers
    "'That's so,' replied Evans, 'we must drive like H--l to get by them. Pedro, whip up and go by that crowd of Indians.' And he and Dave began to urge along the mules as fast as whip and Mexican oaths would do it, while down the hill on the left came a gang of yelling savages on the run. Away goes Pedro on the run, and the mules are getting a start too, while the two drivers are yelling and whipping them up.
    "Just ahead of Pedro is a thicket of scrubby white oak and chaparral, on the right, while on the left the little creek has cut away the bank until the trail is narrow, and still further to the left across the creek the country is open and slopes up to the foot of the mountain. The Indians coming down the hill have turned abruptly to the right, and are running down past the train on the left, as though intending to get to the rear.
    "They have not yet fired on the train--a strange proceeding for Indians to attack such a weak train in that way; they must be afraid, and Evans and Dave are encouraged. If the Indians should have confronted them, things would have looked a little more squally.
    "'Hurrah boys,' shouted Dave, 'we can save ourselves and the train yet,' and the two men renewed their flagellations and Mexican profanity. Pedro has reached the thicket and the mules are close up to him; some have even passed him and are scampering ahead, for they, as well as their drivers, know that legs only will count in the unequal game.
    "'Go ahead Pedro! What do you stop for? Go on you'--crack! crack! crack! and Pedro falls to trail through the Indians, as the ground.
    "From the thicket Indians dart out in crowds, mules wheel off to the left and fall headlong down the bank in wild confusion. Indians ahead, Indians behind, Indians all around, while yells and rifle shots drown the voices of the two men, who are still trying to urge forward the mules.
    "'It won't do, Dave, save yourself,' and Evans, who was in the rear, turned and went, as he afterwards expressed it, down 'as though the devil was after him with a pitch fork, tines foremost,' and did not stop till he had safely ensconced himself inside of Reeves' farm.
    "We must now divert our attention to Big Dave, whom Evans left in such a perilous situation when he dashed through the Indians and told Dave to save himself.
    "'Dave,' says Olney, 'thought the best plan for him was to jump his riding mule down the bank and take a tack to the left and try to get on the safe side of the Indians by making headway to Hay's. Turning his mule to the left, he tumbled down the bank like a stone running from a wall, and went off in beautiful style until his eyes (which by this time were the size of soup plates) espy a friendly face on an Indian body peering longingly at him from out of a cluster on his left.
    "'Hello Sam! Is that you? Glad to see you; you're a good fellow Sam. You don't want to kill me, do you?'
    "'Hello Dave! That you eh? Me no want to killee you. Me likee you! Injun there, no good. You hold on Dave, me come to you.' And the loving smile did not relax as he advanced towards his friend Dave, who childlike, had stopped and was waiting the approach of the good Indian.
    "Ah Dave, how little do you know the thoughts of that blandly smiling child of nature, 'whose untutored mind sees God in clouds and hears him in the wind.'  'Hold on Dave, me come.' He wants you to get off your mule, Dave, and sit quietly down on the ground and let him, with a flourish, lift your topknot, and he would say to you, still smiling blandly as you squirm under his tender caresses. 'Sit still Dave, me cut your throat too,' and suiting his actions to his tender words he'd split your wizzer as lovingly a he once ate your bread and sugar.
    "Dave begins to think is a quien sabe case, as the peculiar and funny glitter of Sam's eyes fall athwart his own optics, and jamming his bloody spurs into his mule's flanks he gathered headway for a fresh start towards a more friendly neighborhood, while Sam, believing that circumstances sometimes annul obligations, innocently changed his adopted program and said in an altered tone, while his fascinating smile fell down around his neck like a withered wreath.
    "'You s-- of a b----, I kill.'
    "But Dave had gone. The beautiful change was lost on him, but the words last spoken had the effect to cause him to jam the rowels a little deeper into the mule's flanks. He was making fine headway, but not fast enough to escape Sam's bullet which was sent after him as a parting gift. What is the matter, Dave? A bullet more or less which singes the cuticle of your side is nothing to speak of. Go on down the road now, the coast is clear.
    "On he went to Hay's and told the story of the attack to Lieut. Col. W. W. Chapman, who immediately sent Major Bruce to ascertain the position of the Indians and engage them.
    "The Major called out the companies and immediately began his march. A few men more anxious than the others galloped on ahead to have the first shot at the enemy, who were not seen until the venturesome men had begun to climb the sharp backbone of the ridge, when out from the brush on all sides a telling fire was directed at them that caused the men to hastily dismount and take to cover.
    "But Finly Collins, a fiery, hotheaded man, dashed at full speed up to the summit of the ridge, thereby drawing upon himself the fire of nearly the whole of the Indians, and the result was that he was completely riddled with bullets and fell in the road, while his horse ran madly over the ridge and away down over the uneven and stony ground, and was never seen again by anyone but the Indians.
    "John McCarty took cover in a small thicket from whence he did some execution. Being a good shot, and cool, he is reported to have tumbled several of the enemy in rapid succession, when the Indians concentrated their fire upon him and soon the cry rang out: 'John is killed, boys, we must get out of this,' and soon one near him ran to where he lay and secured his gun, and away they went on foot down the hill, for to attempt to mount their horses would have been almost certain death.
    "At this juncture the volunteers who are 200 yards behind are becoming hotly engaged with the Indians who are strung along the base of the mountain, parallel with the road. About 20 men dismounted at an old field, and tying their horses to the fence, climbed the side of the mountain next to Deer Creek, thinking to flank the Indians, while Capt. Williams with his company engaged them in front.
    "Major Bruce kept on the road with about 50 men, to where Collins and McCarty had been killed.
    "Now the battle of Eight Dollar Mountain has begun in mortal earnest. No broadsides were delivered, but a continuous, rattling pop, pop, pop of rifles and revolvers. The volunteers pressed the Indians slowly up the mountain, and for half a mile the smoke, at first in isolated puffs, gradually assumed a continuous line, and slowly ascended to and lingered among the tops of the pine trees and appearing like an immense conflagration.
    "The volunteers were compelled to uncover as they advanced up the mountain, while the Indians could retire from rock to rock, and from thicket to thicket, with but little exposure. For half an hour the battle rages, the boys advancing, the Indians retiring, until all are nearly half way to the top. The party of 20 who had intended to flank the Indians had been themselves flanked, and soon a shout was heard. 'See there boys, the Indians are running down towards our horses; come on, we must get to them first.'
    "And each man turned, and away they go down the side of the mountain--they and the Indians on a steeplechase down the rough and rocky decline, one to save, the other to gain some horses. The Indians had a little the start, but yelling, for all that was out.
    "The battle was still raging far up on the mountain, and this little side game was not seen by the other combatants. They had it all to themselves and were making it quite lively for each other. They were now within a hundred yards of the horses when--'See there boys.' And four horses began to vanish, each with a yelling savage on his back urging him along in the most approved Indian style. 'Keep the others off while we give those devils a parting salute,' and half a dozen rifles rang out sharp and clear.
     "Hurrah! One saddle is empty and away goes the horse down, away down yonder into that heavy timber, but one good Indian is left to fill the aching void. His scalp will be a legal tender for the lost horse. The boys have secured the remainder of the horses and the Indians have vamoosed; but not till they had given the boys a farewell salute, which was politely and promptly returned.
    "The boys mount the remaining horses, and, as the noise of the battle on the side of the mountain has not abated, but on the contrary has become louder and more clamorous, they turn their horses' heads and dash away at full speed--where to: Hay's ranch. They do not intend to run away, not at all, but is now noon and they have only gone to their dinner; they will be back soon--quien sabe.
    "Let us now go up the mountain to see what Capt. Williams is doing. Williams is a Scotchman, impetuous, brave, stubborn. The Indians are now coming down on him, for he is all alone with his little squad of 15 men, but they stand their ground. The Captain is reckless and calls continually on his men to give it to the enemy. His broad accent is heard loud and clear, and now and then he attempts to join in the mutual yells, which attempts, the boys said, had a surprising effect, as it sounded as though there had been a double broadside fired at the Indians, and they invariably became mute whenever they heard his wild and bloodcurdling yells.
    "'Jock, where are you?' shouts the captain to Jake Rhodes, one of his best men. "Now as I think on't we'd better git oot o' this,' and Jake thought so too, and so did they all. 'But what shall I do with Phillips?' asked Jake. 'He's not dead yet. I've put him behind a big rock. Bring him aloong, mon, bring him aloong, he'd better die with us, mon, than to be finished by them dirty hathen.'
    "Jake and another man seized Phillips, one taking hold of each arm, and started for the mountain, while Williams and the remainder brought up the rear. The Indians saw indications of retreat on the part of the volunteers, and began to press down closer and closer, and it soon became apparent to all that it was necessary to make better time in order to escape being surrounded by the Indians and cut to pieces."
Reds Held Their Own in Fight
    It will be noticed that in many of the battles heretofore described the Indians held their own, and many of the engagements were what might be called "draws."  Yet they were being gradually herded down the river, while other forces were driving them up the river from below. All of which meant their impending doom.
    One of the mysteries was as to how they managed to keep up their commissary department and their transportation facilities. For they carried their women and children with them. While they were near cattle ranches they could get plenty of beef, but down the river they had to depend on wild game. They seemed to always have plenty of ammunition; the whites were frequently short of that important essential.
Start for Big Meadow
    Olney continues, "Orders were now given to start to the Big Meadow on the morning of March 14, 1856. That morning having arrived, the tents were struck and a vanguard of 100 men under the immediate command of Lieut. Col. Chapman, with three scouts ahead under command of Capt. Billy Lewis, took an early start an hour or so ahead of the pack train which next followed, while the rear was brought up by Major Bruce.
    "First camp was made on a small creek emptying into Rogue River. It was early and the Lieut. Col. called the officers to his bivouac and enjoined upon them the necessity of care in executing the duty each would be called upon to perform.
    "The General had left us on the 13th to join Col. Kelsay at Grave Creek, therefore Col. Chapman was anxious that nothing should befall us which might bring censure upon him, or disaster upon his command. Col. Kelsay had started from Grave Creek with the Northern Battalion on the 14th and by reason of the shortness of the distance between his point of departure and the Little Meadows on Rogue River had reached that point by the time the Southern Battalion pitched camp at Peavine Mountain.
    "Kelsay's scouts reported to him that the enemy was encamped in force on a large bar on Rogue River opposite the end of the Big Meadows, three miles below the Little Meadows. The Col., wishing to crush the power of the Indians at one blow, deemed that the best plan to accomplish that end would be to order Col. Chapman to join him at the Little Meadows with his command, so as to make a combined and irresistible attack upon the enemy's stronghold.
    "But how to get the order to Col. Chapman was a difficult problem to solve. The distance was only 12 miles, but the country, and especially the trail, between the two camps was patrolled by the ever-vigilant enemy. He could not spare men from his command sufficient to fight their way through, as it was by no means certain that with forces divided he would not fall an easy prey to the Indians, who seemed to be well-up to all the movements, while their own were ever obscured from view.
    "The turbulent river lay between the two camps, with no means of crossing it. Col. Chapman had two canvas boats to be sure, but his camp was three to four miles from the river on the top of Peavine Mountain, and any attempt to call him would bring down a swarm of savages on the unlucky caller. The dispatch must be taken by one person, and that person must be well versed in the science of dodging Indians.
    "After a short search for such a man the Col. had the satisfaction to find him in the person of Tom Moore, a young man who had spent the first years of his majority on the Pacific Coast in search of gold, grizzly bear and fighting Indians. After a hard night of it Moore succeeded in delivering the dispatch and Chapman's command proceeded next day towards the Meadows.
    "At about the time the first load of men crossed the river they were met on the bank by a man named Wagner, who had started the day before from Grave Creek accompanied by a Mr. Harkness, intending to go to Col. Kelsay's camp at Little Meadows. While moving along the trail about 6 miles below Whiskey Creek they were fired upon by the Indians, and Harkness fell from his horse shot dead. Wagner received a slight wound, but turning back, succeeded in reaching a point in the trail on the ridge above the creek where he was gratified to see Chapman's command marching down the hill to the crossing of the river.
     "The next morning the command was in motion at an early hour, but with such a large following of pack trains and beef cattle it was 10 o'clock before the last man left camp. A few miles from camp the vanguard came upon the body of Harkness lying on the side of the trail. A light snow had fallen and covered it with a shroud of purest white.
    "The Indians had not only scalped the head but had perpetrated the most horrid butchery that one could conceive of. Their fiendish work was horrible to contemplate. The body had been cut and slashed in every part, as though the devilish savages could not satisfy their vengeance and hate with torturing the clay while the spirit remained.
    "Carefully the mutilated form was taken up and carried upon a mule to the Little Meadows, where it was buried with military honors. After the grave had been filled a large log heap had been made upon it and burned to ashes, as though a campfire had been made on the spot, that the Indians might not suspect it was a grave and dig up the body, as was their usual custom."
    "At an early hour of the day the Southern Battalion had joined the Northern in camp at the Little Meadows. The camp was on the upper bench of the Meadows, overlooking the river, two or three miles away and 1,000 feet below. Before the first camp was made, large pine trees formed a beautiful grove over the whole bench and for a distance below towards the river.
Trees Fallen for Breastwork
    "Relays of men were set to work felling the trees and forming a breastwork around a space of ground sufficiently extensive to contain an encampment of 700 men. The limbs served as fuel, while the trunks made an impenetrable barrier against bullets or a sudden attack by the Indians. Water and grass were abundant and of the best quality. A finer place for a military camp was not to be found in that section of the country; and it was decided to make the camp permanent until such time as a final move should be made.
    "The Indians were encamped on a large flat or bar three miles below on the opposite side of the river, and a daily scout would start out, to return at almost the same hour in the afternoon, which gave grounds for the suspicion that they only went far enough to avoid observation, and there remained the rest of the day and at near the same hour would return with the stereotyped report: 'Indians on the bar three miles below, some sign on this side but can't tell which way they intend to move. Think we will find out more next time.'
    "Thus days passed and no advance was made against the enemy. Leisure in camp was becoming irksome, and complaints were soon heard of the inactivity. At 12 o'clock at night Col. Kelsay was up and went to the tents of the Northern Battalion, and awakened the inmates and hurried them out. A detail of men with axes and shovels were set at work cutting a trail down the steep side of the gulch which ran along the west side of the flat to the bottom or bend of the gulch, sufficiently wide to drive down the pack train and beef cattle. Nearing the summit of the gulch bank, daylight began to send its tokens of gray to hurry up the now fatigued men.
    "They must be in front of the Indian encampment before daylight so as to be able to secure a good position for an assault. A mile and a half and they were in front of the enemy. The Indians' tents began to show plainly across the river 200 yards away. The Col. ordered his men to withhold their fire till he gave the signal. He placed his men, 300 strong, in a line fronting the encampment of the Indians, each man placing himself behind a tree, of which there were plenty, and awaited anxiously for the signal from their leader. About 50 men had slid down the bank and secreted themselves in the brush and behind the large boulders that lined the bank of the river at the water's edge.
    "It was not broad daylight. A few men, wishing to change their position, hurried from coverts and rushed further down the river. Their movements were seen by the Indian dogs who gave loud and angry barks and snarls. An Indian came out and looked around where the volunteers were secreted. Intently gazing for a moment he set up a howl, or ki-yi, and instantly the bar in front of the tents was covered with a mass of Indians who came out to see what was to be seen. The boys could wait no longer--why did not the Col. give the signal.
    "At last a rifle rang out clear on the still morning air, and 300 more followed instantaneously and the dark mass of Indians reeled and swayed. Those in front vainly endeavored to retrace their steps, but the augmenting numbers from the tents and brush shanties crowded then still further towards the now incessant shower of bullets poured into the writhing mass of unfortunates.
Rifles of 'Bostons' Do Duty
    "Screams, shouts and yells gave token that the accursed 'Bostons' were doing splendid work with their rifles. Those in the rear soon took a backward turn and the living current soon poured from the bar back into the brush, past the tents, beyond the brush houses, up the hill and lodged behind the tall pine and fir trees which lined the bluff back of the bar. Still the deadly rifles continued the fusillade. Shortly the Indians began to return the fire with vigor, and now we will leave the brave Kelsay and his equally eager men exchanging rapid and continued shots with the Indians, and return to the Southern Battalion in camp.
    "Two hours before daylight--the guards aroused the camp and in a few minutes the campfires were sending their long bright flashes far out into the gloom. As soon as the men were out of their blankets they rolled them up, took down the tents and by the time the cook had the morning meal of bread, coffee and meat ready the tents were ready for the packers. Hastily eating their breakfast, the men fell into companies and by the time daylight had fairly spread over the landscape, were far down on the trail towards the Indian encampment and were listening to the noise of battle while they hurried along, eager to join in the excitement of the melee.
    "The General remained with the rear guards and, taking a seat on a large stone by the side of the trail, had a clear view of the battle field which with his long spyglass he constantly viewed, from his lofty station, 500 feet above, and a mile away from the battle field. His men he saw constantly moving from point to point. The continuous rattle of firearms made his eye light up with grand military frenzy; his eyes showed the burning fires of strategic genius as they glanced through that well-worn spyglass.
    "Words of chagrin would now and then find vent from between his clenched teeth. If I were only there. The train at last make the crossing of the canyon and the General's way is clear. He advances to the high ground a half a mile from the still raging storm of battle, and surveys again the smoky scene. It was now 9 o'clock and the fire was slackening, but from across the river defiant yells were more numerous than rifle shots. At 10 o'clock the bloody battle was ended.
    "For two days the men remained in camp, with an occasional scout down the river towards Jackass Creek, and one back to the battle ground of the day before, when the Indians were seen to depart from their camp and climb the mountain back of the bar and disappear in the brush timber.
    "No other signs of Indians were seen, and on the third day the entire command was moved back to the old battle ground where they were formed in double lines on the bank of the river bluff and ordered to be in readiness to fire on the enemy if they should make an appearance. As soon as all was ready the two canvas boats were unpacked, put together, and launched on the river.
    "Capt. Billy Lewis and his company of scouts embarked and rowed across the river. Disembarking on the lower bank of the river, they hesitatingly and slowly climbed up on the bar. No Indians, no noise, no sign whatever, the valorous company began circulating around the bar, going from place to place like three overgrown calves in a strange barnyard. The boats were soon plying across the river and in a few hours men and supplies were safely ferried over and the field was won.
    "The men started out, each on his own account, on an exploring tour around the bar. Seven scalps of white men were found, some of them hanging on a tree, some on the ground. There were plenty of persons who knew from what unfortunate individuals each scalp had been taken. A few pieces of alaqua chick [Indian money] and some pieces of Chinese money, besides buttons, shells and some other useless articles were picked up. A good rifle was found standing against a tree, at the end of a track which seemed to have been trodden by a sentinel, who had set down his gun and forgotten to pick it up again.
    "The front and greater part of the bar was clear of brush, but the back and lower end were thickly covered with matted brush and slender young trees, interspersed with a few large fir and pine trees. Paths had been cut through this brushy undergrowth, and huts had been built of fir boughs in which the Indians had been living.
    "Bunks, or beds, somewhat after the style of those of the whites, had been made in these huts, on some of which food was found, while a few, and one in particular, was completely drenched with blood, as though the wounded had been carried from the bar while the volunteers were firing on them in the morning, and placed on these couches, and one or two had evidently died there, as the floor and bunks were strewn with hair cut from their heads. This is always done by some Indians when any one of their friends or relatives die.
    "The General took command of the regiment and in a few days started down the river in search of hostiles, who it was well known were at Big Bend, 40 miles below. While the General is on his march down there, we will go back and bring up Capt. Ord and Capt. Jones, whom we left in camp between Chetco River and the mouth of Rogue River. We will also, in the first place, follow Capt. A. J. Smith, with a company of dragoons from Fort Lane, near Jacksonville, down Illinois River to Big Bend, which will be preliminary to the march of Ord and Jones up the Rogue and of Limerick down. The meeting of all those forces culminates in the defeat of the Indians, and puts an end to the Rogue River War of 1856, and forever.
Smith's Dragoons March
    "Early in March 1856, Captain Smith with his dragoons left Fort Lane and proceeded down the river in search of hostiles. It was not his intention to bring the war to a close by fighting the Indians, but he intended, as did all the other army officers who figured on this coast in the various Indian wars, to accomplish that much-desired end by making a treaty with the Indians, whereby it would become the duty of the United States to feed and clothe them until such time as they should become sufficiently recruited to again begin their usual murders and pillage of the white settlers.
    "This thing had been done again and again until the Indians of Oregon thought and had boastingly said that the soldiers were here for them to scare and get paid for it. 'Soldiers! They are nothing; we'll shoot and kill a few, then the others will run away. Presently their chief will come to us with good talk, telling us that the soldiers like us, and that they do not come here to fight us, but to make the whites behave themselves, and that if we will be good again and not kill any more of them the big chief away off towards the rising sun will call us his good children and give us a great many good things--guns and ammunition, blankets, food, beads, paint, and a great many other very nice things.'
    "'So we'll be good and laugh and talk with the soldiers and white men until our things get old, then we'll talk angry again; if the soldiers come to us we'll make them run away again, and presently they will send us a great many ictas ["things"] again.'
    "Engaging Jimmy Dobson with his pack train to transport his supplies, the Captain left Fort Lane and began his march for the lower Rogue River. Instead of going directly down the river from the mouth of Applegate, he kept on up Slate Creek to Hay's ranch, from thence to Deer Creek and down that stream to Illinois River. Down this he marched to its confluence with the Rogue and down the Rogue River for a few miles, when he encamped at the mouth of a small creek.
Women Spy for Redskins
    "It was not long before his camp was visited by a few old Indian hags, for the ostensible purpose of begging something to eat, but really, though Captain Smith was slow to see it, for no other purpose than to spy out his camp and find the number of his troops preliminary to their attacking him and securing his extensive stock of supplies, which they felt confident of doing unless he was accompanied by a force of volunteers. Lieutenant Sweitzer and Quartermaster Fowler, who were of his force, urged the Captain to retain the old squaws until he had removed his camp to a more defensive locality.
    "Reluctantly he agreed to the proposition and next morning moved to Big Bend a few miles further down the river. Here he encamped on the wide bottom of a creek which close by empties into Rogue River. On one side of the camp was a ridge heavily timbered and destitute of water, on the other side was a dense mass of small trees and undergrowth.
    "Pitching camp on the bottom overlooked by the ridge and close to the dense undergrowth, the Captain gave the old squaws presents and food and sent them away to the Indian camp with nice words of love to the old chief and his band--that the chief of the soldiers wanted to talk with them, and if the said old chief would come to camp he would be well treated and fed.
    "Others came to Smith's camp to engage in the promised pow-wow and learn what chance of success there would be for an attack. Much as the Captain desired a peaceful adjustment of the difficulties, and he would sacrifice much except his personal honor, he soon saw that nothing but blood would satisfy the savage and reckless old chief and did not offer as much as he had at first intended.
    "The piratical Old John was indifferent as to whether or not he made friends with the soldiers. He did not hate them much, because he could whip them easily and as often as he wanted to, but the 'Boston man' he detested, and would not without an immense payment make friends with them. If the 'Bostons' would leave the country, the soldiers and Chinamen might stay, and as long as they gave food and clothing to the Indians they would not be molested. This was his ultimatum given much in the style of one boy towards another when about to finish a war of words--'Take that and if you say another word I'll lick you.'
    "The Captain saw nothing in it but the impulsive bravery of a much-abused Indian, and mildly told him he would do all that was right, and all that lay in his power, to satisfy him and relieve the Indian from the encroachments of the whites, but disclaimed all protection to the Chinamen. Old John was indifferent, while his companions grunted their approval of all that he said. Vainly the Captain endeavored to make a friendly impression on the much-abused chief, but it was of no use. The white man must leave or Old John and his band would never leave the field till the last man had offered himself up on the altar of his country.
Camp Moved to Ridge
    "The Indians departed, and to the suggestions of the officers to prepare for an attack the Captain only replied that he would move to the ridge and there await the arrival of Captains Ord and Jones. That evening camp was pitched upon the ridge, but no defense begun as the Captain did not believe an attack would be made. Lieut. Sweitzer was of a different opinion, and believed that the Indians meant to attack them, but being a good soldier was willing to be guided by the superior authority of the Captain.
    "The night passed without any alarm. At noon the next day a few Indians made their appearance on the ridge above camp and called for Captain Smith to come out and talk with them. The Captain saw the point and would not go. A few minutes after his emphatic refusal to go out the woods were filled with yelling Indians rushing toward the camp.
Scene Shifts
    "We must now go back to Captains Ord and Jones and bring them up to the scene of the attack by the Indians on Captain Smith at Big Bend. These officers had remained at their camp between Pistol River and Rogue River to recruit their animals and to further chastise the Indians, if any of them could be found.
    "The volunteers under Captain Abbott had been for some time at the mouth of Rogue River, whither they had been sent by Captain Ord to strengthen the forces at the mouth of the river.
    "Scouting parties had been sent out by Abbott, who was now chief officer, to ascertain the location of the Indians, and if possible find traces of Mrs. Geisel, the capture of whom and her children has been detailed in the story of the massacre of the settlers at the mouth of the river.
    "Charles Foster, an old miner and mountaineer, was, with four others, sent up the river toward Big Bend, where it was supposed the Indians were mostly congregated. They traveled after night slowly and noiselessly along the only trail. During the day they lay close in some secluded place off from the trail, yet near enough to hear anyone who might pass. Late one afternoon, while lying concealed under some dense undergrowth, they heard Indians.
Mary Geisel Seen with Red Group
    "One of the men, a Russian by birth, named Charles Brown, began to crawl out from his hiding place, saying at the same time that he intended to see who it was, for that was what they were out for. To the remonstrances of his friends he paid no heed but crawled out and straightened himself up when to his dismay he found himself in plain view of eight or ten bucks and as many squaws, who were drinking and bathing themselves at a little stream of water about 75 yards distant.
    "Dropping suddenly out of sight he told his companions of his discovery, and crawling a few feet he reached a position from which he could watch the Indians and be himself unseen. Sitting there and thinking how he would like to pick off one of them after another with his good rifle, he saw one of the smaller females turn her face full in his direction and in spite of her torn and filthy condition he recognized Mary Geisel.
    "As soon as he saw Mary Geisel, Brown crawled back to his companions and told them of the discovery. He wanted to attack the Indians at once, but they were not willing to fight with such odds against them in numbers, and while they heard loud talking among the Indians. Listening intently, one of the scouts, who understood something of the Indian language, discovered that the main camp of the Indians was but three miles down the river.
    "Upon learning this the scouts concluded that the best thing they could do was to return at once to the command and advise an attack upon the Indian camp for the release of Mrs. Geisel and her daughter. After a delay of a day or two, Captains Ord and Abbott made an attack upon the Indians at their camp, and killed a number of bucks and captured a number of squaws, but the Geisels had been taken off to another camp.
    "About this time a dispatch was received from Capt. Augur, who was further up the river, telling Ord to hurry; as it was, the Indians were concentrating to attack Smith's camp, still higher up the river.
    "Gen. Lamerick was now coming down the river, driving the Indians ahead of him, towards Smith, and there was great danger that a sufficient force of the savages would gather to overpower Smith's command. Quickened by the dispatch, Ord hastened to join Augur, and the two commands proceeded as fast as possible to the camp of Smith at Big Bend.
    "On his march down the river Lamerick came upon a large party of Indians and attacked them as they were attempting to cross the river. The Indians were routed and scattered. Several Indians were killed, the dead bodies of three being left where they fell. A few squaws and children were captured, from whom the General learned that the party to which they belonged were only waiting for those below to capture Capt. Smith's company, when they intended to come on up the river after being reinforced by those below, take in the General's situation, and then make a clean sweep of the valleys above.
    "They told him that the Indians were then engaged with Smith at the Big Bend and had probably killed all his company before that time.
    "We must now return to the attack of the Indians on Capt. Smith's command. His station was on the end of the ridge where it descended in three directions. The only place where he cold be attacked with any show of success was from above on the backbone of the ridge.
    "When the Indians saw the soldiers begin to pile up breastworks, they made a rush at the camp as if intending to take it by storm. The coolness exhibited by the officers and men, who met the Indians with a deadly volley, seemed for an instant to disconcert them, and they began to fall back.
    "But their leaders rallied them and they returned the attack. Several times they were repulsed with loss, when at last they desisted and began to pick off the men at a little longer range. Smith set men at work digging rifle pits in front of the camp, but they were soon driven from their work by the deadly onslaught of the Indians. Eight had already been killed and more wounded. The day was drawing to a close and still the murderous assault was kept up. No relaxation, but on the contrary, pushed with more vigor each moment.
    "The supply of water had been exhausted and one-third of the command had been killed and disabled, as night shut down on the desperate encounter. No water could be obtained, for the enemy controlled all the ground between the camp and the creek, and the wounded suffered extreme torture from their burning thirst. The men lay down in relays to rest while their companions kept up an answering fire, as the enemy still continued to pour their bullets in showers upon the apparently doomed command.
    "During the night the men began on the rifle pits, and before dawn had completed a sufficient number. Some of them several rods in advance of the outer line of breastworks had been strengthened as best they could by felling some trees on the outskirts of camp, and by break of day the pits were occupied and the breastworks manned in readiness for more desperate assault. During this time attempts were made to get some water, but without success.
    "The Indians knew that the soldiers were without water and left no avenue for them to get it. They had completely surrounded the camp and were determined to take it at all risks. They had suffered, too, in killed and wounded, but not to the extent of the loss of the soldiers. Besides outnumbering the soldiers five to one, they were fighting for their hunting grounds and for the supplies in the camp of the soldiers, and they were in all aspects eager and determined.
    "Smith's ammunition was becoming exhausted, and the men were ordered to reserve their fire until the aim was sure. Every bullet thrown away was a serious loss. As soon as daylight was sufficiently clear to distinguish objects plainly, the Indians made another rush for camp. They were met at the rifle pits with a fire from the whole camp more deadly than ever before, for the men had now become desperately in earnest, and every shot took effect.
    "The fire from the pits was a surprise to the savages who came swarming up to them. Not exactly comprehending the turn the defense had taken, they showed symptoms of falling back. Now was the opportunity for carrying out the plan the captain had formed of charging the Indians.
    "The bugle sounded the charge, but the men did not obey. No use, out of ammunition and outnumbered, a charge would be disastrous. Better remain in the rifle pits. The morning advanced and the sun was high above the eastern horizon. Thirst was consuming the men, while several of the wounded had expired.
    "About 10 o'clock the Indians seemed to have been reinforced and made another desperate charge. They did not attempt to scale the breastworks but rushed up to within short range and, sheltering themselves behind trees, poured a heavy fire upon the troops. For an hour, a long desperate hour, the fight continued at close quarters and two-thirds of the soldiers were killed and wounded. Many of the wounded, however, were not disabled, but continued to do good work with their rifles.
    "After a time many of the Indians retreated toward the river, leaving a few to do the fighting, with the intention, no doubt, of inducing the troops to leave their defenses and charge the few Indians left. But the soldiers were not to be decoyed from their position; it was a desperate one, but less dangerous than outside of their breastworks, and they were hoping and praying that they could hold out till help could come.
    "Suddenly loud shouts and furious firing are heard below, and the beleaguered troops are aware that friends are coming to the rescue. In a few minutes the retreating Indians began to reappear, coming back from the river. At the rear and right flank of the Indians blue coats are seen, and a long line of gray-shirted men come charging up the hill, in front of the enemy.
    "Ord and Augur swept down the ridge upon the Indians, while Abbott charged them in front and flank and, finding themselves thus in danger of being surrounded, the savages fled precipitously by the only avenue of escape down the left side of the ridge, and were soon beyond the reach of danger from the troops.
    "The newcomers flocked into Smith's camp and were greeted with rejoicing by the rescued men. Water was speedily brought and the wounded were cared for. Firing was now heard a few miles up the river, and within an hour all who were able were on the march to the scene of the conflict.
    "Gen. Lamerick having been informed by his scouts that a battle was in progress was hurrying down the river, and while halted for a short time was encountered by the retreating Indians, and a sharp battle ensued, which resulted, however, in little damage to either side. The Indians soon crossed the river and began to retreat, and by the time the troops from below reached the ground they had all disappeared.
    "As the Indians had scattered and it was impossible to know where they would rendezvous, it was deemed best to camp and send out scouting parties to find their next camp. Lamerick returned up the river about two miles and camped, while the regulars camped a mile or two further down. Late in the evening of the same day Lamerick's scouts brought to camp the news that the Indians were gathering a few miles back from the river opposite a point about midway between the two camps, where they appeared to be expecting an attack.
    "Lamerick sent orders to Capt. Smith, who was the senior officer of the regular troops to march at daylight with his command up to a designated point on the river and there await further orders, while he, the General, would cross over the river above the Indian camp and attack them, and should they cross the river Smith was to pitch into them wherever seen.
    "Before daylight the volunteers began crossing in their two canvas boats, and a little after dawn were all over and on a rapid march down towards the Indian camp, and before the sun was high above the horizon began the attack. The Indians were behind their last works, in their last ditch, and for a while kept the volunteers at a respectful distance.
     "Smith's scouts had by some means captured some canoes and that officer crossed some of his men below the Indian camp and soon after the attack above attacked the camp from below. When the Indians became aware that the troops were below them, they seemed completely nonplussed while the volunteers from above and the regulars from below were steadily closing in upon them.
    "After a short resistance they broke and fled wherever they could. Some plunged into the river and swam across, only to be shot by the soldiers as they emerged from the water; others were shot while swimming over. Some were killed outright and floated down the current until they sank, others were only wounded and managed to keep afloat by continually ducking their heads under water whenever they thought that a shot was fired at them.
    "The whole camp was soon surrounded. The greater part of the squaws and children were made captive, together with all the effects of the Indians. For an hour the killing continued whenever an Indian could be seen. Old scores were now being settled, as was plainly denoted by the continued rattling of musketry and the sharper reports of the more deadly rifles of the volunteers.
Troops Revenge Murders
    "At last all was over and the troops gathered at the now bloody Indian camp. A few Indians were captured and brought into camp, and it required all the authority that the officers could exert to prevent them from being immediately killed by the enraged men, who remembered the treacherous murders of their friends and would not have spared a single one of the heartless savages.
    "Gen. Lamerick knew the temper of his men, knew that many of them had had relatives killed by the Indians, and for the once was utterly incapable of seeing or knowing all that his men did. Capt. Smith was a noted protector and bitterly complained to the General on the waywardness of the volunteers. But how could the General watch all of his men?
    "No signs yet of Mrs. Geisel and her children, nor of Mrs. Wagner. To the inquiries as to where they were, the captive Indians would answer by pointing down the river. At last one young squaw said that she did not know where Mrs. Wagner was, but thought she was dead, had not seen her since they left the Big Meadows a month before.
    "Mrs. Geisel and her children were down the river with a small band of Indians on a creek on the same side of the river as that on which the troops now were. She did not know [if] they were yet alive, but they were a few days before.
    "The Indians were now scattered and the tribe utterly broken up. All that remained to do was to hunt them up and gather them together on a reservation. The combined force of volunteers and regulars now encamped together. Some of the squaws were sent out to induce the Indians to come in and make peace and to deliver up their prisoners, and account for those they had murdered; if any such there were.
    "At 10 o'clock the next day the squaws had not returned; but the ever-vigilant spies reported a squad of Indians four miles below; having in their possession Mrs. Geisel and her children. One hundred men under Captains Augur and Abbott started down to attack them but were met on the way by the returning squaws and several of the lesser chiefs who had been commissioned to talk for Old John and the other big ones.
     "With them an arrangement was made for the Indians to surrender and deliver up their prisoners. Upon this being reported to Old John, he objected vehemently, but was overruled by the other chiefs and by the threats of the troops to massacre them all immediately if they did not at once surrender.
    "Having nearly all the squaws and children as hostages, Charles Brown volunteered to go to the Indian camp and endeavor to effect the release of the prisoners and the surrender of the Indians. After a long talk to the chiefs, who refused at first to either surrender or deliver up the captives, Brown at last told them that all the prisoners in the hands of the troops would be killed if they harmed Mrs. Geisel and her children and did not deliver them up the next day.
    "At this point they agreed to the terms offered, but said they could not deliver up Mary Geisel, as she belonged to a young chief who said he would die before he would part with her. The next day Mrs. Geisel and her little daughter Anna were brought in to camp. To the demands that Mary be given up they steadily refused, without a heavy ransom.
    "Charley Brown made several ineffectual trips to the hostile camp to induce the young chief to surrender Mary, and not till he told the Indians for the last time that they would all be killed by the enraged troops unless they surrendered her did he succeed in escorting her into the camp of the volunteers and uniting her with her mother and sister under the protection of her friends.
    "A vote of thanks was tendered to Charley Brown and a written certificate to that effect given to him by the assembled troops for the heroism he exhibited in his efforts to secure the liberation of Mrs. Geisel and her children. Of Mrs. Wagner nothing has ever been definitely known, except that she is dead.
    "The Indians surrendered and were placed on reservations and the Rogue River war was ended."
    A. J. Barlow, formerly a resident of Grants Pass, has left us an addendum that needs to be quoted, in which Gen. Lane is again brought into the record. Mr. Barlow was Gen. Lane's nephew. His letter follows:
    "Uncle David Gilmore of Woodville relates an interesting reminiscence of pioneer history. In June of 1856, soon after the Rogue River Indians were subjugated and were being taken to the Siletz Reservation by Indian Agent Robert Metcalfe, about a dozen bucks and three or four squaws, who could not endure the idea of being forced by the hated whites on a reservation not of their own choice, concluded to desert and betake themselves to the mountains, which they did at Myrtle Creek in Douglas County.
    "They were unarmed and had but little provisions, just what they stole from the camp on the night before they deserted. They soon managed to make themselves bows and arrows with which to kill game.
    "Not many weeks after they went into the mountains the settlers along the Umpqua River noticed that they commenced to miss provisions and wearing apparel. These little thefts became more and more frequent, so much so, indeed, that the settlers laid all sorts of traps to catch the midnight marauders but to no avail, the redskins being too 'foxy.'
    "This business continued uninterruptedly until the summer of 1857, when, one hot moonlight July night, the Gilmores were awakened from their slumbers by the stampeding of their horses. When daylight came they went to the pasture to find that the Indians had shot their horses with arrows. Some had been shot through the bowels and afterward died. This so exasperated the settlers that they determined to hunt the red devils down.
    "Gen. Lane had just been elected to Congress and he was consulted in relation to the matter. He at once organized a searching party, consisting of himself, Col. Wm. Martin of Jacksonville, A. J. Burnett, David Gilmore, John Fitzhugh, and his younger son, Lafayette, a lad of 15 years, and three friendly Klamath Indians, named Sampson, Captain Chief and Joe Snakes.
    "The searching party set out in the direction of Camas Valley and the head of Coquille River. After they had been out about three or four days the General divided his forces. He sent Burnett and Gilmore, accompanied by Captain Chief and Joe Snakes, in the direction of Camas Valley, with instructions that if they discovered Indian signs to return to a certain place and report.
    "Burnett and Gilmore had not proceeded many miles until they found unmistakable signs of the close proximity of Indians. They at once wheeled about and joined Lane's party about sundown of the same day they started. The next day, bright and early, all hands were in their saddles.
    "The General cautioned the men not to make any noise, such as shooting at game, which was forbidden. However, about noon the party came suddenly in sight of an unusually large black bear. The temptation was irresistible, and the General sang out 'Let us give it to him, men.' In an instant every man in the party sent his leaden missile into bruin's carcass, killing him instantly.
    "One of the Indians wanted the bear's hide, and accordingly they skinned him. They were detained at this about an hour, when they proceeded to move along cautiously in pursuit of the Indians. They soon found Indian signs, but by this time the day was drawing to a close. The party concluded to return to the gulch where they had shot the bear, in order to get water.
    "When they arrived at the spot they were dumbfounded to find that the Indians had proceeded to the same spot and cut and carried the bear to their own camp, which evidently could not be far away. A guard was kept out all night. The next morning the searching party started down the gulch. Col. Martin discovered smoke on the left-hand side of the gulch.
    "The party cautiously crossed over and soon went unobserved into the Indian encampment, which was a genuine surprise. In an instant the Indians were in a fearful commotion. They evidently thought they would all be murdered. Gen. Lane, with characteristic coolness, informed the Indians that his party did not come to kill them, but to capture them and send them to the reservation where they belonged--that they had to submit at once, and that any resistance on their part would cause all of them to be shot.
    "The General ordered his men to keep their hands near their pistols and to proceed to gather up the bows and arrows of the Indians. Soon all their traps were gathered and loaded on the horses and the captors and captives started for the Umpqua Valley. They traveled all day and at night camped at a beautiful stream called Snowberry Creek. A close watch was kept over the Indians during the night.
    "In the meantime, however, it should be stated that two young Indians named Jim Burnteye and Bogus had, the day before, gone on a hunting tour. When they returned to their camp and ascertained that the whites had captured their comrades, their bewilderment and grief can be imagined.
    "However, they followed the tracks of the captors into the valley to ascertain what the whites intended to do with their friends. When Jim Burnteye and Bogus found that the whites did not contemplate killing them, they also came in and gave themselves up.
    "It turned out that the Indians, when they heard the shooting of the bear, merely supposed it was a hunting party out for game and little dreamed that they, themselves, were the game sought. They were taken to Winchester and there remained until officers from Alsea arrived and removed them unwillingly, as usual, to the reservation, from whence most of them doubtless, long ere this, have passed to the 'happy hunting ground.'"
    To the above it may be added that the Rogue River Indians, on being landed at Siletz Reservation soon became greatly dissatisfied with their location and wanted to get back to the country where "it's the climate," that lures both Indians and whites. The climate was so moist on the coast that the Indians dropped off [died] rapidly.
      "Old John, in particular, was so dissatisfied that the military authorities deemed it wise to send him to Alcatraz for safekeeping. On his way down there on the steamer Columbia, he and his son came near capturing the vessel.
    "Old John was so excited over it that he gave the war whoop, and that gave the whites warning to defend themselves. John's son got wounded and lost a leg in the melee. John was safely landed, however, at Alcatraz, and remained therer two or three years, when he was allowed to return to his family at Siletz. The adult Indians soon died off, but the younger generation grew up as wards of the government and became more reconciled to the lazy life of such an existence."
    I may also add here, that, in preparing these articles, I am merely compiling and not producing history. If I have succeeded in interesting the local reader in our local history, my ambition will be sufficiently gratified. If my readers want fuller particulars I would advise them to get Mrs. Victor's work, to be had at our public library. Her book is really a state document, printed by the State Printer, and ought to be reliable. The legislature appropriated $15,000 to have the archives of the state sifted and a history of all our Indian wars published. The Secretary of State was fortunate in getting so able a historian as Mrs. Victor to do the work.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, pages 1-12


----


Nearly Half of State's Victims of Indian Wars Were in Rogue Country
108 Victims Listed in Rogue Area
    Of the 242 Oregon emigrants who fell victim to the massacres of Indians in the territorial settlement period throughout the state of Oregon, 108 are directly attributable to the Rogue River Indians of Southern Oregon--or to immediate allies, who waylaid their unfortunate prey in the general area of Southern Oregon.
    The official reports of the Territorial Committee on Military Affairs is authority for the foregoing summary, and their complete record of the ill-fated settlers whose lives were lost is presented herewith, from official copies of the territorial records of [1858] now in the possession of Marjorie Neill Helms, Ardencraig, Grants Pass, Oregon.
    The entire report is given with a star (*) preceding each paragraph referring to the Southern Oregon Indian fatality incidents.
    "Your committee, to whom were referred the governor's message and resolution No.___, relative to the protection of immigrants--in 1854, with instructions to report, as far as practicable the number, date, places, and names of persons killed by Oregon Indians and their allies in times of peace, and those killed in times of war by Indians supposed to be friendly submit the following report:
    "The deadly hostility of the Indians inhabiting the extreme northern and southern portions of our Territory may be traced back to a very early period. As far back as [1828], a party of about thirty persons, under the control of Captain Smith, were massacred near the mouth of the Umpqua River.
    *In June [1834], George Gay, Daniel Miller, Edward Barnes, Dr. Bailey, Mr. Sanders, John Turner, John Woodworth and an Irishman called Tom were attacked by Rogue River Indians near where Mr. Birdseye now lives in Rogue River Valley and Mr. Miller, Mr. Barnes, Mr. Sanders and Tom were killed. The other four were badly wounded but made their escape.
    *In August [1835] as a party of citizens of Oregon were driving the first cattle from California to this Territory, they were attacked near the same spot where the party was attacked in [1834], by the same Indians, and Mr. Gay, who was of the party of [1834], was again wounded.
    *In the fall of 1846 a sick immigrant was killed on the Southern Oregon immigrant road, near Lost River, by Modoc Indians.
    On the 29th of November 1847 Dr. Whitman, a Protestant missionary, his wife, two orphan children, a Frenchman, and about eleven immigrants were massacred at or near the mission in Walla Walla Valley by Cayuse Indians. This was the commencement of the Cayuse War.
    *In 1851 an exploring party of eight or ten men were attacked near the mouth of Coquille River, in Southern Oregon, and six of the number were killed.
    *In 1851 two men were killed on Grave Creek and one or two more on Rogue River by Rogue River Indians for which they were chastised by Major Kearny, United States Army. It was in some of Major Kearny's engagements with these Indians that Captain Stuart, United States Army, was killed.
    *In May 1851 Mr. Dilley was killed near Camp Stuart in Rogue River Valley by Rogue River Indians; and
    *In October 1851 Mr. Moffitt was killed near the same place by the same Indians.
    *In June 1852 Calvin Woodman was killed in Scott's Valley, California by Rogue River Indians.
    In June 1852 James L. Treaner, John Brando, "Cayuse" Jackson and "Adobe" John, a Mexican, were killed by Pitt River Indians, in the valley of that name, while viewing a wagon road from Sacramento Valley to the southern boundary line of Oregon.
    *In August 1852 Mr. Coats, John Ornsby, James Long and thirty-three immigrants were murdered by the Modoc Indians on the Southern Oregon emigrant road.
    *In December 1852 William Gundage, Peter Hunter, James Bacon and brother, Mr. Bruner, William Allen and Mr. Palmer, were massacred by Rogue River Indians on Rogue River near the mouth of Galuse (Galice) Creek.
    *In 1853 August 4 Edward Edwards was killed by Rogue River Indians in his own house on Stewart's Creek.
    *August 5, 1853, Thomas Wills was mortally wounded by Rogue River Indians within three hundred yards of the town of Jacksonville.
    *August 6, 1853, Richard Nolan was killed by Rogue River Indi
ans on Jackson Creek one mile from the town of Jacksonville.
     *August 17, 1853, John Gibbs, William Hugdins and three others whose names are not known, were killed in Rogue River Valley by Rogue River Indians. (Ed. Note: Two of these were later presumed from other records to be John Hardin and William R. Rose.)
    *October 6, 1853, James C. Kyle was killed by Rogue River Indians two miles from Fort Lane and about six from Jacksonville. The actual murderer of Mr. Kyle and those who murdered Edwards and Wills were subsequently arrested and were tried for their offenses before the Hon. O. B. McFadden, in the spring of 1854, and were convicted and hung. These three Indians, with those chastised by Major Kearny in 1851, are the only ones ever punished for crime by either the civil or military authorities in southern Oregon.
    *In January 1854, Hiram Hulen, John Clark, John Oldfield, and Wesley Mayden were killed between Jacksonville and Yreka by Rogue River, Shasta and Modoc Indians.
    *April 15, 1854, Edward Phillips was killed on Applegate Creek, near Fort Lane, by Rogue River Indians.
    *June 15, 1854, Daniel Gage was killed while crossing the Siskiyou Mountains, between Jacksonville and Yreka.
    "June 24, 1854, Captain McAmy was killed at DeWitt's ferry on Klamath River by Shasta and Rogue River Indians.
    August 20, 1854, Alexander Ward, his wife, and seven children, Mrs. White and child, Samuel Mulligan, Dr. Adams and brother, William Babcock, John Frederick, and Rudolph Shultz, Mr. Ames and a Frenchman, name unknown, were massacred by Snake Indians on the northern emigrant road near Fort Boise.
    In September 1854 Mr. Stewart was killed by Indians on the middle route to Oregon via the plains.
    *May 8, 1855, Mr. Hill was killed on Indian Creek by Rogue River Indians.
    *June 1, 1855, Jerome Dyer and Daniel McKew were killed by Rogue River Indians on the road between Jacksonville and Illinois Valley.
    *June 2, 1855, Mr. Philpot was killed in Deer Creek Valley by the same Indians next above mentioned.
    *July 27, 1855, Mr. Peters was killed on Humbug Creek by Klamath, Shasta and Rogue River Indians.
    July 28, 1855, William Hennessey, Edward Parish, Thomas Grey, Peter Hignight, John Pollock, four Frenchmen, and two Mexicans, names unknown, were killed by the Indians next before referred to, at Buckeye Bar, on Klamath River.
    *September 2, 1855, Mr. Keene was killed by Modoc Indians on the southern emigrant road, near Rogue River Valley.
    In September 1855, Mrs. Clark and a young man were killed in Yamhill County by Coast Indians.
    In September 1855 Elisha Plummer and four others, names unknown, were killed at Grand Ronde, east of the Blue Mountains, by Cayuse and Walla Walla Indians.
    In September 1855 Indian Agent A. J. Bolon, ___ Matteese, and two others were killed by the Yakima Indians east of the Cascade Mountains.
    *September 24, 1855, Fields and Cunningham were killed by Rogue River Indians on the Siskiyou Mountains between Jacksonville and Yreka.
    *September 25, 1855, Samuel Warren killed by the same Indians next above referred to.
    *October 9, 1855, Mrs. J. B. Wagoner, Mary Wagoner, Mr. and Mrs. Jones, Mr. and Mrs. Haines and two children, George W. Harris, David W. Harris, F. A. Reed, William Gwin, James W. Cartwright, Mr. Powell, Bunch, Fox, Hamilton and White, were killed by Umpqua and Rogue River Indians near Evans ferry on Rogue River. This is known as "the Wagoner massacre."
    *October 10, 1855, Misses Hudson and Wilson killed by Rogue River and Klamath Indians, on the road between Crescent City and Indian Creek.
    *October 16, 1855, Holland Bailey was killed by Umpqua and Cow Creek Indians in Cow Creek Valley.
    *November 6, 1855, Charles Scott and Theodore Snow killed on the road between Yreka and Scotts Bar by messengers from the Rogue River to the Klamath Indians.
    *February 23, 1856, Captain Ben Wright, Captain John Poland, H. Braun, E. W. Howe, Mr. Wagoner, Barney Castle, George McClusky, Mr. Lara, W. R. Tullus, James Seroc and two sons, Mr. Smith, Mr. Warner, John Geisel and three children, S. Heidrick, Patrick McCollough and four others, whose names are unknown, were killed by Indians in charge of agent Captain Ben Wright, near the mouth of Rogue River.
    March 26, 1856, George Griswold, Norman Palmer, Mr. and Mrs. Brown, Mr. Watkins, James St. Clair, and eleven others, names unknown, were killed by Cascade Indians. This is known as "the Cascade Massacre."
    June 1856, Charles Green and Thomas Stewart killed on McKinney's Creek, near Fort Jones by Shasta Indians.
    January or February 1857, Harry Lockhart, Z. Rogers, Adam Boles, D. Bryan and "John," a German, killed in Pit River Valley by Pit River Indians.
    It will be seen by the foregoing list that prior to 1851 upwards of 50 citizens were murdered by Oregon Indians. Since 1851 upwards of 150 citizens have been murdered by the Indians of Southern Oregon and their immediate allies, and about 50 by the Indians of Northern Oregon and their allies since 1851. Many more names could be obtained from papers and living witnesses, but your committee have not time to investigate further.
    (A recapitulation of the fatalities by year dates is stated as follows:  Killed in 1834, 30; 1835, 4; 1846, 1; 1847, 16; 1850, 6; 1851, 6; 1852, 47; 1853, 8; 1854, 8; 1855, 51; 1856, 43; and 1857, 5--a total of 242 fatalities.)
----
Territory of Oregon:  
    I, B. F. Harding, Secretary of the Territory of Oregon, do hereby certify that the foregoing is a true and perfect copy of the original now on file in my office.
    In testimony whereof I have hereunto signed my name and affixed the seal of the Territory this thirtieth day of March, A.D., 1858.
B. F. Harding,
    Secretary of Oregon Territory
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, pages 1-2  Click here for more versions of the (white) casualty list, including the source of the above transcribed from the original manuscript.


----


"Indians Never Whipped," Gen. Lane Tells Congress in 1860
    "…They have never been whipped thoroughly in any fight they have had with the whites."
    These words, from none other than gallant General Joseph Lane to Congress on May 30, 1860, in the course of his discussion of the bill for "provision for the payment of expenses incurred by the Territories of Washington and Oregon, in the suppression of Indian Hostilities therein, in the years 1855 and 1856" may well represent the highest tribute ever paid, at official level, to the bravery and fighting skills of the Rogue River Indians and specifically to the great fighting chief, Chief John.
    The plea of General Lane, then serving as territorial representative of Oregon in the United States Senate, resulted in the passing later that same day of the bill for payment of the Indian wars debt, in the amount of $3 million, by a vote of 31 to 17:
From Congressional Record
    The larger statement of Gen. Lane concerning the Indians is as follows:
    "But sirs, the Indians of Oregon and Washington are not inferior even to the Indians whom our fathers fought in Kentucky and the West. They are able in war. They are as brave as any people on the face of the earth. I have never met men of more courage than the warriors of that country. They are rich in property. Many of the Indians engaged in this war owned a thousand horses apiece and many cattle. They are men of character, men of much knowledge and of great treachery. They are bold in war.
    "These Indians are famous in war. They have always been at war. They have been at war with one another for centuries, and they are the most artful and skilled people that I have ever had anything to do with. I learned a little of war in Mexico, but I am willing to confess to the Senator from Kentucky and to the Senate, that I knew but little of the stratagems and arts of Indian warfare until I participated in it. I recollect in one battle, fought by a portion of my command with the Indians in 1853, we lost just one half of the command, killed dead on the ground; and the balance were very glad to be rescued.
    "Upon another occasion, at another battle, subsequent to that day, every officer in the command but one was killed or wounded. I received a severe wound and then we were not able to defeat them. I tried everything I understood, every plan that I had learned in war, and everything I could think of to drive the Indians from their positions, but we were not able to do it. However, they asked for a parley in the evening, when the battle had raged for four or five hours, which resulted in a talk; and there, upon the battlefield we made a peace; and we were very glad to get off that way, for it was the hardest day's work I ever saw, save the battle of Buena Vista.
Chief John United Tribes
    "Well, sir, the chief who managed to bring about this war, and formed this alliance with all the tribes, for he had been two years engaged in bringing about peace between the tribes that had been at war with one another, in order that he might make this organization with a view of destroying the entire settlements, the great leader, the great chief that conducted that affair, and brought about the organization and managed the whole plan of attack, and had much to do in fighting the battles--met Captain Smith, as gallant an officer as there is in the Army, or in the world, upon a mountaintop, where he had no water, and for three days he besieged him there, and shot his men down in spite of all the energy and all the skill of that gallant officer, Captain Smith caused his men to dig holes for themselves in the ground as deep as their own height and to stand in the holes with their heads just out of them so that they could see, and in that position the Indians managed to kill a large number of his command. [The fortifications at the Battle of Big Bend were very shallow scrapings in the earth. The soldiers had no digging tools other than a few metal dishes.]
Men Thirst Three Days
    "For three days they had not one drop of water, until the arrival of some volunteers who were passing through the country seeking these Indians. [The soldiers were besieged only overnight until rescued by regular army Captain Augur.] I will say, before I mention the good fortune of the arrival of the volunteers, that the chief approached the captain every day near enough to speak to him. The captain understood his language well; was personally well acquainted with him. The captain had entertained him at his quarters many times, giving him dinner and treating him kindly; and in this action, he would come near enough to speak to the captain, and hold up a rope, and in the Indian tongue, tell him:
    "'Look here; see this rope; tomorrow I intend to take you and hang you under a limb; I will kill the last man of your command; but you will not be dignified with a shot; you shall be hung to the limb of a tree.'
    "The old chief told me afterwards that if the volunteers had not arrived the captain would soon have been in his power. Such was his opinion.
    "There was no more gallant man than Captain Smith. In that extremity, however, the volunteers arrived, raised the siege, and saved that gallant officer and his command.
    "Such is the character of the Indians we have had this trouble with. I will mention another fact. I will extend the history of this great chief a little further.
    "He agreed finally, after twelve months' struggle, and when the northern tribes dropped off, and would no longer prosecute the war--he did not come in but sent a messenger to the colonel commanding and proposed to him that if he could be taken and treated as he suggested, and placed upon a reservation, and fields cleared, and men hired to work them and many other things that he proposed--that he would quit the struggle and go to a reservation.
    "We were very glad to get him in upon any terms, and I believe everything was promised him that he required, and he was taken on a reservation, the most beautiful spot that I know of, in as fertile a valley as there is in the world, where the agent last year succeeded in raising 80,000 bushels of potatoes, and wheat enough to bread them for a year.
Chief John Reneges
    "This chief took it into his head, after being on the reservation two years, that he would not stay away from his old hunting grounds any longer, that he would kill all the whites, and commence another war. So skillfully did he lay his plans that but for the disclosures of a young squaw, who thought the agent ought not to be slaughtered, he would have executed them.
    "The agent was at that time in the Willamette Valley purchasing supplies for the Indians 30 miles from the reservation, and there were very high, almost impassable mountains between the reservation and the settlements. He made his plans to waylay and kill Metcalfe, the agent, on his return and then kill all the white men employed there, take their arms, and rush into the mountains, and in those mountains it would be almost impossible to find a man. The brush and chaparral are so thick that you could not see a man in many places 10 feet to save your life, and in such a place the Indians have a great advantage.
    "Metcalfe was informed of it, through the kindness of a young squaw, who sent a runner across the mountains, that met him and notified him of the danger. A lieutenant was sent with some 20 men, on the trail with him, and on their way they passed the place where the Indians were in ambush for the purpose of waylaying and murdering him.
    "The Indians, seeing him accompanied by troops, did not show themselves till the command had gone on some distance, when they fell into the trail behind them and, coming up, expressed great pleasure at seeing them.
    "On arriving at the reservation, the Indians were invited to go into the council house to receive some presents and when there the guards rushed in and seized John and his son.
    "They took them to Fort Vancouver. They were kept in prison or as prisoners, for the safety of the settlers and for the purpose of maintaining peace.
Two Captives Fool Guards, Seize Steamer
    "Finally the commander of the post concluded that it would be better to send him to California, and accordingly he and his son were put on board a steamer, with a guard of 12 men, and on their way to California, they arose in the night, when everybody was asleep, and possessed themselves of all the six-shooters and arms of the 12 men who were guarding them, for they were asleep and never dreamed of the Indians rising 200 miles from the mouth of the Columbia.
    "They seized the arms of the guard and took possession of the ship, and held possession of it for two hours, in spite of the captain, who is as brave a man as any, though he had a full crew and many passengers.
    "That is his history and it is absolutely true. He had possession of the ship for two hours and they could not retake her, for he had the arms, and if the captain or any of the people attempted to go down the hatch into the cabin he would fire and drive them back. He killed or wounded several persons, men and women, for he commenced with a view of an indiscriminate slaughter. They succeeded at last in breaking the leg of the young one and knocking down the old man.
    "The captain said he was too brave to be killed and he should not be. He took him to San Francisco, had the leg of the young one amputated and they are both there now. I conversed with them on my way here. I shall call and see him on my return. I intend to propose to him, as I believe now we have satisfied him that it would not do to go to war, to come home and live with me so that we can talk over the struggles we have passed through then in Oregon.
    "This is the character of the people we have had to deal with. It was not a trifling matter. The honorable senators will recollect that only two years ago one of the most gallant Army officers we have, in attempting to travel through the country with 150 cavalry, with two or three pieces of artillery, was attacked in the open prairie. The Indians drove them away, killed Captain Taylor, Lieutenant Gaston, and several men, chased them for 90 miles, and, but for friendly Indians, would have scalped them all.
    "They made their escape by leaving behind everything they had. The Indians captured the artillery and everything else. They have never been whipped thoroughly in any fight they have had with the whites."
----
    The Courier is indebted to Mr. and Mrs. Thomas F. Williams, living at 1233 Redwood Highway, and to the Oregon State Library for the loan of their volumes of the Congressional Record, two each, of 1860 from which is obtained this foregoing official record of the Oregon war debt action and more particularly Gen. Lane's tribute to the great Indian Chief John and the entire fighter group in the various Rogue River Indian tribes.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, pages 1-2


----


Umpqua Joe Killed and Died for His Dog; Was Whites' Friend in Wars
    Long remembered by many early settlers in Josephine County was Umpqua Joe, an Umpqua Indian, who during the Indian wars befriended and aided settlers in the vicinity of Fort Vannoy. He was the father of Indian Mary, one of the last of the Indians known locally.
    An account of the death of Umpqua Joe, who was killed in a fight with his daughter's husband, Albert Peco, because the latter had killed Joe's fine dog, was first set forth by George R. Riddle. His account of the incident was featured in the Courier's Golden Anniversary Edition in 1935.
    Because of his befriending white people during the Indian uprisings in 1855, Umpqua Joe was given a piece of land on the Rogue River below the present site of the Taylor Creek bridge on the Galice Creek Road, Mr. Riddle recalled. There Umpqua Joe operated a ferry known as the Umpqua Joe or Indian ferry. The ferry was used as a crossing for pack trains taking supplies to the Galice mining district. Mr. Riddle's recollections continue:
    "I recall Umpqua Joe visiting in Grants Pass to get supplies. At one time he met my father at our store and recognized him as "Jode" Riddle--my father's boyhood nickname, and the name by which he was always known to the Indians. Joe was at this time quite under the influence of liquor and kept repeating to my father "tell ola man"--meaning that he wanted to be remembered to my grandfather, known to the Indians as "Lomptu," their name for old man.
Given "Boston" Names
    The Indians in turn were given "Boston" names, hence such names as Umpqua Joe, Chief John, etc. Eldest of the children of Umpqua Joe was Mary, who was married to Jacksonville Pete or Jackson Petus, hence her later name of Mary Peters as recalled by long-ago Grants Pass residents.
    Mary's sister was Betsy, married to Joe Trinity, an Indian who came as a boy from the Trinity River country. Umpqua Joe's only son was known as Kelsay Joe, who, it is recalled, was killed in an altercation which started in a saloon on "G" Street. Kelsay Joe's slayer was sent to the penitentiary after a hotly contested trial.
    The deaths of Umpqua Joe and his son-in-law, Albert Peco, were the result of a quarrel over the killing by Peco of a fine dog owned and much beloved by Umpqua Joe. Peco shot the animal on his return from town on a drunken spree. Among Indians the worst insult that they could pay another was to kill their adversary's dog.
Dog Returns
    The dog, a beautiful St. Bernard, had been owned by Mr. and Mrs. Walter Simmons, parents of Mr. Riddle's wife, the former Marguerite Casey. Mr. Simmons at that time owned and operated a mine in the lower Rogue River country. With the family's removal to Grants Pass around 1884, the dog was brought along, but was never happy "in town."  He made frequent trips by himself down to the Galice country, and finally took up his home with the old family friend, Umpqua Joe.
    It is recalled that the dog, "Faust" by name, had unusual intelligence, and he could be sent to market with a basket and a note to procure needed supplies for his mistress at home. If molested by other dogs en route, he was known to put down his basket, administer the necessary thrashing to his canine tormentors, take up the basket, and continue on his errand. This example of his intelligence well demonstrates the reason for the high regard felt for him alike by his white owners and later his Indian master, whose sorrow at his untimely death brought about a double tragedy.
    During the quarrel between Umpqua Joe and Albert Peco over the killing of the dog, Umpqua Joe went into his house, closed the door, seized his rifle and shot through the closed door at the exact moment that Peco fired from the outside into the house through the same door. Both shots found their marks and brought instant death to each.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, pages 1-2


----


Terrific Odds Against Whites
    Of the terrific task confronting the whites as they prepared to organize a practicable defense strategy following the October '55 massacres of the 9th and 10th, Bancroft comments as follows:
    "To meet a savage enemy, well-armed and prepared for war, knowing every mountain fastness, and having always the advantage of chosen positions, was not practicable with anything like equal numbers. Estimating the fighting men of the enemy at no more than 400, it would require three or four times that number to engage them, because of their ability to appear unexpectedly at several points; at the same time to disappear as rapidly; and to wear out the horses and men of the white forces in following them."
    "J. B. Wagoner was employed as express rider from October 13 on, five days after the murder of his wife and child, as long as the first volunteer service lasted…a service full of danger and hardship." (Dowell's Oregon Indian Wars, MS, i. 63)
    "The armed men that were mustered in Rogue River Valley between the 9th and 11th of October amounted to only about 150 men, not from any want of courage, but from a want of arms."
    A footnote in the same paragraph, quoting Ambrose, notes "As in the war of 1853 the Indians have all the guns in the country. Those Indians have each a good rifle and revolver and are skillful in the use of them."

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 1


----


Bareback Ride by Caroline Niday Saves Life, Fortune from Indians
    (From Josephine County Historical Issue, the Courier, of Dec. 31, 1927)
    Caroline Sexton, whose maiden name was Caroline Stumbo, was born in Ohio, May 1, 1826. At the age of 18 she was married to Hiram Niday, and in 1852 they crossed the plains with ox teams, arriving in the Willamette Valley at the old Foster place in October 1852. The following spring they came south to Applegate and located a farm. That summer the Rogue River Indians, under the leadership of Chief John, Sam and Limpy, went on the warpath. Mr. Niday took his family to Fort Vannoy, a few miles down Rogue River from Grants Pass.
    The morning following their arrival at the fort three men, Tom Frazell, Tom Mungo and a friendly Indian, went out from the fort to get their horses. They were attacked by Indians, Frazell being killed and both the other men wounded. Mungo crawled into the brush and fought the Indians off until his companion could get to the fort and send out a company to his rescue. Mrs. Niday dressed Mungo's wounds, but he died the next morning. The friendly Indian recovered.
    As there were not sufficient men to properly defend Fort Vannoy, the Niday family and others at the fort were taken to Fort Ben Halsted, located a few miles above the present city of Grants Pass. Soon after their arrival at Fort Ben Halsted, the volunteers captured a young Indian chief name of Taylor who had killed seven miners on Galice Creek. He was tried and condemned to die. He was led back of the fort, tied to a tree and shot, the women at the fort witnessing the execution.
Left with Three
    In 1854 Mr. Niday located the Niday donation claim near Jumpoff-Joe. In the spring of 1855 Niday died, leaving his widow and three small children, one of them only eight days old, together with an orphan boy they had taken to raise.
    On October 9, 1855, the Rogue River Indians went on the path again. On that morning Mrs. Niday's three hired men were working in the field and she was washing.
    She glanced down the Jumpoff-Joe Valley to see smoke arising from the farms in the valley, and she realized that the Indians had gone on the warpath. She called the men to the house and prepared for defense. Just as she was getting ready to fight four men came riding as fast as their horses could carry them. They had met Indians at Jumpoff-Joe and had been fired on, one man's hat having been shot through and another's bridle rein being shot in two.
    One of the men was Mr. Walten of Eugene. He asked, "Have you any way to get out of here?"
    "No, my pack train has gone to Crescent City and I have only one saddle horse--a race horse."
    "So much the better," replied Mr. Walten. "You will need something fast to outrun those red devils."
    The other three men were frightened and started to leave. Mr. Walten drew his six-shooter and threatened to shoot any man who left.
     "Each of you take a child, and it will not be good for the man who fails to take his child to the fort. I will bring the woman or the Siwash will get my scalp," he said.
    After all the others had left the house, Mr. Walten asked, "Have you any money in the house?"
    "Yes," she replied, "$2,000 in buckskin sacks."
$2,000 in House
    The money was in a trunk, which was locked. She could not find the key so at Mr. Walten's order she broke the lock and secured the money while he kept a sharp lookout for the Indians. She gave him the money and was told to get on the horse "squaw fashion," and start for Fort Leland, five miles distant.
    "Do you see those Indians? There must be 500 of them," said Mr. Walten.
    Mrs. Niday's horse started running and soon was running away. She overtook the men with the children and finally reached the top of the Grave Creek Hill before she succeeded in controlling the horse. She got off to tighten the saddle cinch. It broke and by this time the men had caught up to her. She asked them to fix it for her, but the Indians were so close that they began firing. She threw aside the saddle and rode bareback, the Indians in full chase.
    All gained the shelter of the fort. The Indians surrounded Fort Leland and kept up an attack all night. Just before daylight a company of volunteers came from Jacksonville and drove off the Indians. When it was over Hank Brown, a scout, asked Mrs. Niday, "Was you scared yesterday when the Indians were after you?"
    "Yes, Hank, and I wish they were all dead."
    Hank threw seven long-hared Indian scalps into her lap and said, "Well there are seven good Indians."
    After staying at Fort Leland a few days Mrs. Niday and the children were sent to Fort Elliff on Cow Creek. They were there only a few days when the Indians began to murder the settlers in Cow Creek Valley, and as there were only four men at Fort Elliff they all went to Fort Levens, a distance of three miles. They had only just arrived at the fort when the Indians began the attack. There were only about 12 men to defend them.
Mrs. Niday Aids Defense
    One of them, Mr. Miller, a minister, being so frightened he could not shoot, Mrs. Niday took his gun and helped the men defend the fort. While she was fighting the Indians, her little daughter, Mary, took suddenly sick and died in the room that her mother was helping defend.
    After shooting nearly all night the Indians began throwing firebrands onto the roof. They probably would have succeeded in burning the fort, but just at daybreak a company of volunteers from Rogue River Valley came to their rescue and drove the Indians off. After this fight Mrs. Niday returned to Fort Elliff and remained there until the war was over.
    In the spring of 1856 Mrs. Niday returned to her farm only to find the Indians had stolen her stock and burned her buildings, leaving nothing but the bare soil. She went to work courageously to build new buildings and fences and began life over again.
    In 1857 Mrs. Niday married David H. Sexton, with whom she had become acquainted during the Indian war, and they lived on the old farm at the foot of Sexton Mountain until their death.
    Mrs. Sexton died May 20, 1911, at the age of 85 years and 20 days. Her husband preceded her in death, dying at the age of 80 on February 3, 1908.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 2


----


Two Killed by Indians at Rock Point in 1836
    The banks of Rogue River, at Rock Point, near the mouth of Foots Creek, were the locale for the second Indian and white encounter, as is credibly recorded in a number of manuscripts which Walling has reviewed. His own report follows:
    In June 1836, as is credibly told, a party of whites, including George Gay, well known in Oregon's early history, Daniel Miller, Edward Barnes, Dr. Bailey, J. Turner and his squaw, ___Sanders and ___Woodworth, and a man known only as Irish Tom were attacked near the mouth of Foots Creek below Rock Point on the Rogue River. Miller, Sanders, Barnes and Irish Tom were killed while the others, badly wounded, made their escape.
    J. W. Nesmith in his Transactions of Oregon Pioneers, 1882, is credited by Walling for specific details of the attack.
    The party was under leadership of Turner and was on a trapping expedition. About the middle of June they were encamped at the Point of Rocks (Rock Point) on the south bank of Rogue River. Several hundred Indians dropped into camp, but Turner, thinking there was no danger, took no precautions, and the natives most unexpectedly attacked the party with clubs, bows and knives.
    They got possession of three of the eight guns with which the whites were armed, and for a time the trappers fought them with firebrands, clubbed guns and whatever came handy. Turner, a big Kentucky giant, seized a fir limb from the fire and fought lustily. He released Gay, who was held down by the savages, and finally the assailants were driven from the camp. Dan Miller and another trapper were killed on the spot, while the six survivors were all more or less wounded. The latter took to the brush, and without horses and deprived of all the guns but two, traveled, fighting Indians by day and walking by night, making their way northward. Four of the survivors, Turner, Gay, Woodworth and Dr. Bailey, ultimately reached the settlement on the Willamette.
Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 2


----


Indian Mary's Homesite on Lower Rogue West of Hellgate Bridge Said Smallest Reservation
    Indian Mary was the daughter of Umpqua Joe, of unidentified tribe, and his wife, a Rogue River Indian. It was Umpqua Joe who gave the alarm that saved the whites from a planned massacre. Mary was born soon after that episode. In recognition of the debt of gratitude, Umpqua Joe and his family were permitted to remain in the Rogue River Valley when the other Indians were sent to the reservation at Siletz. Their home was on a tract on lower Rogue River not far below the present steel bridge on the Galice Road. Here Umpqua Joe operated a ferry.
    Mary was married to Albert Pico, believed to be a French-Canadian Indian. It was Pico and Umpqua Joe who in a drunken brawl fought a duel, each one being killed by a bullet from the other's gun. Mary must have witnessed the duel, for late at night residents of the lower river were startled by unearthly shrieks coming from a girl riding a white horse and hurrying to Vannoy's to give the alarm.
Married Again
    Mary afterward became the wife of Indian Joe Peters and was known as Mary Peters. Joe was associated in hunting and fishing with a German of a covetous nature, who, it was reported, made Joe leave the country, and he became owner of the home and Mary. Mary reported to friends "Me no like Joe--me love white man." Mary was the mother of four children, one of them half white. The white man cared for the family, provided food and necessities for a time and finally disappeared.
    In 1885 the government of the United States gave Mary a grant to the home she had occupied on Rogue River, and the tract was known as the "smallest reservation ever created." It was considered a valuable property.
    In 1896, Mary, then in her 30s, rented the reservation and with her children, Rosetta, called Rose, about 7, Richard 5 and a small boy 3 and baby Lillian 1, came to Grants Pass and lived in quite a comfortable house out beyond town in the direction of Pine Street. As the years passed the children were in school. They attended the Presbyterian Church, Sunday school and Christian Endeavor, and particularly enjoyed the bible stories and occasional special programs in which they took part. People were kind to them, remembering the service Mary's parents had rendered the whites.
    When Richard was about 11 they all had diphtheria and Richard and the younger boy died.
Children Marry
    Rosetta was married to a Mr. Johnson, an Indian carpenter, of Eugene, and later Lillian went to live with them, going to school. Some years later Rosetta came to Grants Pass with her five children and secured work in the Lempke laundry at Fourth and F streets. Several people were interested in placing the two older children in the Indian School at Chemawa, which they attended for some years. They were bright and good looking. In 1922 and '23 Lillian and a girlfriend came to Grants Pass driving a fine roadster, both beautifully dressed. Lillian told of the death of her mother, who had gone to Eugene to live. She and Rosetta were determined that their mother should have a "beautiful funeral." She said they spent $500 or $600 for casket, robe, flowers and service.
    During her later years Indian Mary and her little daughter were familiar figures on the streets of Grants Pass. They finally joined the Salvation Army and marched with them nightly to the corner of Sixth and G streets for the open air service.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 3


----


Harkness Inn Was First Establishment in Sunny Valley Area,
Near Site of Grave

(From the Josephine County Historical Issue, The Courier, Dec. 31, 1927)

    First settlers on Grave Creek arrived there in 1852, the year after gold was discovered in Southern Oregon.
    There were a Mr. Bates, James H. Twogood and Barney Simmons, who were running a pack train to supply the miners of Jackson and Josephine Counties. They built the first house, a log cabin which stood in the pine grove about 150 yards west of the present highway (1927) and about 300 yards north of Grave Creek.
    Later McDonough Harkness, uncle of H. D. Harkness, bought the inn and Twogood put up more commodious buildings and kept a stopping place for travelers. At the outbreak of the Indian wars of 1855 a military post was established there called Fort Leland. It was headquarters for troops operating in that district.
    The post and creek took their names from a young lady who died there while encamped at the creek. Her name was Martha Leland Crowley. She was buried under a large white oak standing near the road and a few hundred feet north of the creek. Indians dug up the remains supposedly for the blankets and clothing with which the remains were covered and hung the body from one of the lower limbs of the tree. Some travelers who passed soon after took the remains and reinterred them near the creek in an unmarked grave, all traces of which have been lost.
    Seven Indians who were supposed to have been implicated in the robbing of the grave later were killed and thrown into the open grave they had excavated. Travelers passing and wishing to designate the stream would say, "The stream where the grave is," hence the name, Grave Creek.
Harkness Killed in Service
    McDonough Harkness was killed by Indians while carrying dispatches to General Wood, who was operating against the Indians at or near the Big Meadows, on Rogue River some 30 or 40 miles west of Fort Leland.
    A man by the name of Wagoner was the regular messenger but owing to the distance and danger necessary in undertaking the journey, he refused to make the trip alone. Harkness volunteered to accompany him. They set out from Fort Leland under cover of darkness. The night was stormy and they had almost completed their task when a number of Indians rose up from along the trail and poured a volley of shot at them. A bullet struck the pommel of the saddle on which Harkness was riding and glanced off, entering his body.
    The shot was not fatal at once. Cold and stunned, Harkness fell from his horse when it wheeled. He called to his companion that he was shot, whereupon the other, with a number of bullet holes in his clothes, turned and fled as the riderless horse rushed past him. Wagoner continued until he reached Fort Leland.
    Samuel Harkness, father of H. D. Harkness, took over the affairs of his brother and moved his family from Deer Creek, Douglas County in the summer of 1856, immediately after the close of the Indian wars. He and Twogood kept the Grave Creek house for a number of years, when Harkness bought Twogood's interests. Later the place was taken over by his sons. Later a portion of the place was sold to A. A. Porter and James Wright. Homer Harkness' interests were sold to Whitaker and Williams and he moved to Washington in 1889.
Walls Still There
    According to Bill McIntosh, long-time figure in the Grave Creek and Wolf Creek district, several interior walls of the large old house which today stands on the small rising elevation immediately north and east of the north portal of the covered bridge across Grave Creek, were portions of the original old Harkness Inn.
    Mr. McIntosh also declared that the line of tall maples which are admired there today on that property were planted during the early days of the inn and originally extended all the way to the creek.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 4


----


County's Only Covered Bridge Spans Grave Creek
at Site of Girl's Grave

By GEORGE CURTIS

    This is the only covered bridge in Josephine County. It came in for a little attention recently when the National Society for the Preservation of Covered Bridges, Inc., asked for more details and a picture, after receiving preliminary information from the Josephine County Court. More publicity through the society's bulletins is indicated.
    The bridge, as most county residents know, spans Grave Creek on the former route of the Pacific Highway (U.S. 99) through Sunny Valley.
     After receiving an inquiry from the society mentioned, County Judge Raymond Lathrop replied in part: "We have one bridge 12 miles north of Grants Pass on a county road which was formerly the Pacific Highway (U.S. 99), crossing what is known as Grave Creek."
    "This bridge has historical significance in that the creek got its name from the fact that a member of the original Applegate party, coming through the south route from the east to Oregon by wagon train, died and was buried at the site of the covered bridge."
    "This was a teenage girl and it was feared by the party that the Indians would dig up her body and scalp her, as was the custom of that time. Therefore, horses were tethered over the grave to conceal the fact that anyone was buried there." [The fear was that natives would exhume her and take her clothing. When she was exhumed, her exposed corpse was recognized by its flowing hair.]
    Lathrop did not mention it in his letter, but there is another version of the story, to the effect that the Indians were not fooled, that they knew what was going on, dug up the body, stole the clothing and hung the body in the oak tree under which it was buried.
    On the corner of the Sunny Valley school yard fence a short distance north of the covered bridge, there is an arrowhead-shaped sign reading: "Applegate Trail, 1846."
    The oak tree site of the burial once stood in the middle of the road north of the bridge, with traffic lanes running to each side of it, according to one version told by early-day residents.
    Another version is that the tree was so located that dividing the road to pass on each side of it was considered but that the plan was abandoned.
    All sources seem to agree that the tree in question was located in the flat north of the bridge and that it is no longer standing. The early-day ford crossing of Grave Creek reportedly was just east of the location of the present covered bridge.
    From the Grants Pass Daily Courier of July 28, 1959.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 5


----


Indian Hostility Against Whites Evident from Very First
When Jedediah Smith's Trapping Party Was Slain in 1825

    That the spirit of hostility against the whites was developed by the Indians "in the very moment of the first appearance of Jedediah S. Smith into Southern Oregon" is the contention of A. G. Walling in his history of the five counties of the south (chap. 21, page 184), who continues the point with the statement that "this spirit of hostility was kept alive until the Indians' expulsion from the country 28 years after." [This instant hostility is contensted. Peter Ogden's 1827 passage through the Rogue Valley was peaceful.]
     In 1823 Gen. W. H. Ashley, a St. Louis merchant long engaged in the fur trade, pushed a trapping party into the Rocky Mountains. His fur trapping operations widened in subsequent years until within three years he or men under him had explored the Platte to the Sweetwater, up that stream to its source, had discovered the South Pass, explored the headwaters of the Colorado or Green River, had gone to Great Salt Lake, which he is credited with having discovered, and at which point he left a permanent camp of a hundred men.
    From that camp base, the headwaters of the Missouri and its tributaries, the Green and Columbia rivers and their tributaries were searched out and became the trapping ground of hundreds of daring men, whose wild and reckless life, privations and encounters with the savages have provided source material for innumerable romantic tales of the American pioneer.
    It was the custom to divide the trappers into bands of sufficient strength to defend themselves against the attacks of savages and send them out in different directions during the trapping season, to assemble the next summer at a grand rendezvous previously appointed, the headwaters of Green River being the favorite locality for these meetings.
    Thus it was in the spring of 1825 that Jedediah S. Smith led a company of this kind, consisting of about 40 men, into the country west of Great Salt Lake, discovered Humboldt River and named it Mary's River, followed that stream and crossed the Sierra Nevada into the great valley in July.
    He collected large quantities of furs, established a headquarters on the American River near Folsom, and then, with two companions, recrossed the mountains through Walker's Pass, and returned to the general rendezvous on Green River to tell of the wonderful valley he had visited.
    Jedediah Smith must stand in history as the first man to lead a party overland into California, according to Walling, after his review of unsubstantiated accounts of several other earlier writers.
    Bitter winter months of 1825 prevented Smith from crossing the Sierra Nevada, whereupon he decided to penetrate north to the Columbia River and follow up that stream to the Rocky Mountains, hoping thus to join his partners at the Green River rendezvous. Near the head of the Sacramento Valley the party crossed the Coast Range to the west, reaching the ocean near the mouth of Russian River, and continued up the coast possibly as far as the Umpqua.
    While stopping there to construct a raft for the purpose of ferrying their effects across the stream, their camp was suddenly attacked by Indians, with whom they were holding friendly discourse, and all but three were slain. [The attack on the Smith party was in response to their harsh treatment of a thief who stole an ax.] Smith, Daniel Prior and an Indian were on the raft at the time of the attack, and when the signal yell was given the Indian seized Smith's rifle and sprung into the water, but the old mountaineer raised his companion's gun, and as soon as the treacherous rascal thrust his head out of water to catch a breath, sent a bullet through his brain. The two men then landed on the opposite side of the river and started on foot for Vancouver, which they eventually reached in safety.
    The evidence shows that Smith had followed the coastline in his first trip northward to Cape Arago in Coos County, and doubtless he with his two companions continued along the coast as far as the Columbia, for of the interior he could have known nothing, since even the Hudson's Bay people had not made explorations in that direction.
    Walling points out that while everyone accords to Smith the distinction of having led the first white men into Southern Oregon, that there is much left to conjecture in regard to numerous details of his passage. He makes the point that the exact spot where his camp was destroyed by Indians is not known, nor even its approximate situation, certain manuscripts ascribe an island in or near the Umpqua as the place of the tragedy, while others mention Cape Arago as the locality.
    At any rate the Umpqua Indians, who were well known to have inhabited the vicinity of the mouth of that river, were characterized as being indisposed to acts of violence, while the natives of Coos Bay, and more particularly the Coquille country, achieved quite a reputation as murderers of stray parties of whites . . . all of which argues for the likelihood that Smith's party was attacked at some point further south than the generally accepted locality.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 5


----


First Cattle Drive to Willamette From California Raided by Indians West of Foots Creek in Fall, 1837
    Third event of recorded Indian-white hostility in Southern Oregon has for its date the summer of 1837 when a party of Oregonians were returning from California where they had gone to purchase cattle for settlers in the Willamette Valley. This was the fabulous Ewing Young venture, one which, on its own, could well become a saga of western cowboy adventure, as it was the first drive of livestock on the hoof through the Northwest, much of it through country not even possessed of trails over which the animals could move.
    The returning party of riders and their animals had encamped at the Klamath, when, on Sept. 14, 1837, Gay and Bailey, two of the party of eight drivers, shot an Indian who had come peaceably into camp. This act was in revenge for the affair on Foots Creek, on the Rogue two years previous; but inasmuch as that locality had not been reached, and the Indians' crime of 1835 was probably unknown to the natives in the Klamath region, the revenge was therefore taken out on an individual who more than likely had no knowledge whatever of the previous attack.
    The act was deeply resented by the Indians throughout the whole section, and the white party met with the greatest difficulty in continuing their course.
    Their arrival on Sept. 17 at Foots Creek was followed the next morning by a serious attack by the savages, narrated thusly by P. L. Edwards, one of the riders:
    "September 18--Moved about sunrise. Indians were soon observed running along the mountain on our right. There could be no doubt but that they were intending to attack us at some difficult pass. Our braves occasionally fired on them when there was a mere possibility of doing any execution. About 12 o'clock, while we were in a stony and brushy pass between the river (Rogue River) on our right, and a mountain covered with wood on our left, firing and yelling in front announced an attack.
    "Mr. Young, apprehensive of any attack in this pass, had gone on in advance to examine the brush and ravine, and returned without seeing any Indians. On making further search he found them posted on each side of the road. After firing of our guns, the forward cattle having halted, and myself having arrived with the rear, I started forward, but orders met me from Mr. Young that no one should leave the cattle, he feeling able, with the two or three men already with him, to rout the Indians.
    "In the struggle Gay was wounded in the back by an arrow. Two arrows were shot into the riding horse of Mr. Young, while snapping his gun at an Indian not more than 10 yards off. To save his horse, he dismounted and beat him on the head, but the animal refused to go off and received two arrows, probably shot at his master.
    "Camped at the spot where Turner and party were attacked two years ago. Soon after the men on day guard said they had seen three Indians in a small grove about 300 yards from camp. About half of the party went, surrounded the grove, some of them fired into it, others passed through it, but could find no Indians. At night all the horses nearly famished, as they were tied up. Night set in, dark and clouding with rain threatening, so the guard could hardly have seen an Indian 10 paces off, until the moon rose about 10 o'clock. I was on watch the first half of the night."
    Here Mr. Edwards' diary breaks off, leaving untold much of interest to the general reader. As regards the skirmish at Foots Creek, just narrated, there is no doubt of it were it not succeeded by still more severe ones, as other records reveal further calamities to Young's company.
    The party was composed of Ewing Young, the leader; P. L. Edwards, the diary writer; Hawchurst, Carmichael, Bailey, Erequette, Despau, B. Williams, Tibbetts, Gay, Wood, Camp and about eight others, all frontiersmen of experience. It is more than likely that Gay and Bailey, referred to above, were the same two named in the Turner party survivors of the Foots Creek incident two years earlier.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 6


----


Rogues in Ten Bands in 1851 When Lane Picked
As Go-Between By Reds, Whites

    At the time of the arrival of General Joseph Lane on the headwaters of the Scott River around February of 1851, with his own party of Oregonians, who were there for a gold prospecting venture, the General's appointment as a mediator between the whites and Indians was accomplished with the tacit consent of both factions, according to A. G. Walling in his Southern Oregon history.
    "He kept both parties in harmony throughout his stay on the river," Walling reports.
    The Indians of that vicinity, belonging to the Shasta tribe, were very numerous, but were divided into several bands. They occupied Shasta and Scott valleys, and the banks of the Klamath River adjacent. They had been separated from the Rogue Rivers only recently, owing to the death of their principal chief. There is no doubt that these two tribes were one and undivided previously, but now they were broken up and formed several communities, each with its own chief.
Ten Chiefs
    At Yreka, old Tolo was chief, an always firm friend and ally of the whites; in Scott Valley Tyee John, a son of the deceased head chief, was supreme; in Shasta Valley, Tyee Jim; on the Klamath, Tyee Bill; on the Siskiyou Mountains and about the head of the Applegate, Tipsu (commonly called Tipsie) Tyee, meaning bearded or hairy chief.
     On Rogue River were gathered the Indians who bore that name, numbering, according to the best evidence, about 600 souls. They were broken up into tribal communities of greater or less importance, and, as before remarked, all owed a quasi-allegiance to Joe and Sam, chiefs of the Table Rock band, the main division of the tribe.
    On Applegate dwelt Chief John, a redoubtable warrior who properly fills more space in history than any other Oregon Indian, excepting, perhaps, Kamiakin, the celebrated warrior of the Yakimas, and Peu-peu-mox-mox, the great chief of the Walla Wallas.
    John's clan, the Ech-ka-taw-a, was numerically small; not more than 50 braves followed him to war; but these under such a leader more than made up for lack of numbers by courage, strategy and indomitable perseverance.
    Another prominent Indian was Limpy, so called by the whites because of a limping gait, who had a rather more numerous band swelling in the region drained by the Illinois River. His character was well known to the whites, by reason of his taking part in hostilities against them on all possible occasions. The acts of Limpy and John have become in a great measure confounded in most people's recollections, and to the Illinois Indians are attributed many acts and exploits of which the blame or credit should be given to the Applegate band.
    George, another and less prominent sub-chief, who was frequently known as Taylor, dwelt upon the Rogue River below Vannoy's ferry. His people united on occasion with those of Limpy, and together made up an active and dangerous force.
    In the vicinity of Table Rock dwelt the sub-tribe of Indians previously alluded to as the band of Sam and Joe, and which was known as the Table Rock band. Their home was upon the banks of the Rogue River, and in the midst of a pleasant country (Sams Valley today), was fruitful in game, roots, seeds and acorns, while in the river, at the proper season, salmon swarmed by the thousand.
Life Was Easy
    They derived an easy and abundant living from the advantageous surroundings and were the dominant band of the tribe. Their number probably reached at one time 500 souls; but in addition quite a number of Indians of other tribes were settled within the valley and through some consideration of Indian policy gave their allegiance to the Table Rock chiefs and were in effect a part of their people.
    This band was ever regarded with jealousy by the whites until their removal to a distant reservation in 1856; but with little cause…the comparative superiority of this particular band and of their chiefs in matters of civility, good faith, and regard for their engagements is stressed at this point by Walling.
    "The people of Jackson County still have lively memories of many of these Indians, particularly of the two chiefs. They tell that the twain were tall and stately men, Sam somewhat portly, the other of a more slender build, but alike in having massive heads and relatively intellectual foreheads. In the late years of their stay at Table Rock they dressed in 'Boston style' wearing tall hats, etc. Their manners were said not to be inferior to those of the ordinary miner or farmer. These comparatively intelligent and teachable Indians wielded a great influence among the surrounding tribes at a time when the utmost revengeful feelings had been excited against the whites."
    The Indian name of Joe was Aps-er-ka-ha, as is discovered on perusing the text of the Table Rock Treaty, and from the same source we learn that Sam's name was To-gun-he-a; and a less important chief named by the whites Jim was in Tututni (the Rogue River language) called Ana-cha-ara.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 8


----


White's Illinois Valley Homestead Named Century Farm
By George Curtis
    An Illinois Valley farm, its owners and former owners, were honored in an unusual way when the land and homestead were officially designated by the Oregon Historical Society as a "Century Farm," the only one in Josephine County to so qualify. The present owners have been given a highly prized certificate by the historical society.
    The present farm, 91½ acres occupied by Mrs. Raymond White, is a short distance south of the Caves Highway and several miles east of Cave Junction, part of Donation Land Claim No. 37, which contained 245.86 acres and was established in 1855 by the late Samuel Wilson White. The present farm qualified as a "Century Farm" by being continuously owned and occupied by the same family for 100 years or more.
     It had been the home of Samuel Wilson White, his wife, Cynthia McVey White, and their direct descendants for 103 years when it was entered in the Oregon Century Farms Program last year. The history of the farm was well outlined last July 23 in a letter from Harold White of Medford, one of Samuel Wilson White's grandsons and now superintendent of the Southern Oregon Branch Agricultural Experiment Station near Medford.
Letter Cites History
    The letter, addressed to County Judge Raymond A. Lathrop, follows:
    "In response to your request the following historical data is submitted to be used as you see fit in your effort to have our old home farm, in the Illinois Valley near Cave Junction, included in the Century Farm Program.
 More than a Century
    "That farm has been the home of some direct descendant of Samuel Wilson White continuously for 103 years.
    "My grandfather, Samuel Wilson White, together with his wife, Cynthia McVey White, and children, including a son, Alexander White, then 10 years old, left Coldwater, Michigan, on March 16, 1852, by ox team bound for the Oregon Territory.
    "They arrived at what is now Hillsboro, Oregon, in Sept. 1852. At that time what is now Jackson and Josephine counties was the metropolitan area of Oregon. Gold had been discovered around Jacksonville, Kerbyville, Sailor Diggings (later known as Waldo) and Browntown. These were settlements of 1,500 to 3,000 people each.
    "Being agricultural people, Samuel White felt the family would be better off if located in a more populated area where there would be a market for his farm production. So in the spring of 1855 the family moved again by ox team to the Illinois Valley.
Settlers Scarce
    "There were only a few families, probably not more than six or eight, located in the valley outside the mining centers of Kerbyville, Sailor Diggings and Browntown, so Samuel White had practically free choice of land on which to exercise his donation land claim right.
    "He selected a body of fertile land located about 7 miles from Kerbyville, 8 miles from Sailor Diggings and 6 miles from Browntown. Here he staked out his donation land claim (D.L.C. No. 37) in 1855, built a log cabin and a stockade for his livestock as protection from the Indians.
    "This donation land claim has been the continuous home of the White family from 1855 to the present time, passing from one generation to the next.
    "The original log cabin and stockade was built in the summer and fall of 1855. Then in 1862 a large two-story, six-room house was built. This was the family home for three generations.
    "It was constructed from sugar pine lumber sawed by a sash mill powered by a water wheel. The sawmill was owned and operated by Macklin Bros. and located on the banks of the Illinois River near Kerbyville.
    "The lumber was free of knots, purchased in the rough at $90 per 1,000 board feet. Incidentally, timothy hay cut from the farm meadows with a scythe and gathered with a pitchfork sold at $90 per ton. The old family home built in 1862 was destroyed by fire Jan. 25, 1955.
Irrigation Started
    "In 1858 Samuel W. White and Dr. W. H. Watkins, who then owned and operated Donation Land Claim No. 41, adjoining No. 37 on the west, constructed a ditch to Sucker Creek to bring irrigation water to their farms.
    "That ditch has remained in continuous operation and is still used to provide irrigation water for the farms which are located within the boundaries of the old original donation land claims No. 37 and 41.
    "The original donation land claim staked out by Samuel Wilson White in 1855 was divided prior to his death between two sons, Alexander White and James Richard White. Alexander White received approximately 182 acres, much of which was in timber which he slashed and burned."
    "Eventually his farm of 182 acres consisted of about 110 acres of crop land under irrigation and 72 acres of timber and brush land used for grazing.
Land Divided Again
    "Upon the death of Alexander White Jan. 18, 1916, his farm passed to his sons, Ralph W. White, Raymond F. White and Harold H. White.
    "Ralph and Raymond White operated the farm as a partnership until about 1946, when Ralph retired from the farm. It was then divided again and Ralph White sold his portion, leaving Raymond White as the sole owner-operator of 91 acres. On July 6, 1958, Raymond White died, leaving the 91-acre farm to his widow, Emma G. White, with a partial interest to Mr. and Mrs. Harold H. White.
    "This is the portion of the old original Samuel Wilson White donation land claim that has been operated continuously by him and his descendants for 103 years."
Other Land Added
    Not mentioned in the letter is the fact that the founder, during the early days of the farm, acquired 74.64 additional acres, giving him a total of 320½ acres.
    After the land was divided among the founder's two sons, one of them, James Richard White, eventually owned about 218 acres, including 140 from the original land claim and two other 40-acre tracts. That 218 acres has been broken up among some seven or eight current owners. Of Alexander White's share of the original farm, a share amounting to 182 or 183 acres, Bert Easterbrook now owns 91½ acres, purchased from Clyde Broeffle about two years ago.
     Like other residents of the area Samuel White and his family were under constant threat of danger from the hostile Rogue Indians during the Indian wars of the late [sic] 1850s
    During much of the period--especially when Indians were known to be raiding in the vicinity--farm women and children were taken to a community stockade at old Fort Briggs, near what is now the Bridgeview community.
    During the danger periods, the women and children never left that stockade. Only the men left it, and they only when necessity dictated. They managed to visit their farms--sometimes only at night--to feed and water their stock. Much normal work went undone; but those were rugged times and many of the white people considered they were doing all right if they stayed alive and kept their children and livestock safe.
      None of the White family was harmed by Indians, but at least one close friend was killed.
Trees Still There
    The first log cabin and stockade were located about a quarter mile north of the present home of Mrs. Raymond White, on what is now Easterbrook property. A big pear tree--in full bloom when the farm was visited last week--and an apple tree are still there. Both are 100 years old or close to it. Many of the trees planted in the Illinois Valley in the very early days came from a nursery near Waldo, operated by a man named Sibley.
    (From the Grants Pass Daily Courier of April 16, 1959).
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 9



----


Peace of First Truce Recounted
    Of General Lane's first encounter and confab with the Indians after assuming command of the white volunteers [on Evans Creek in 1853], Bancroft, in his History of Oregon, Vol. II (page 316) has the following to say:
    In the afternoon, the Indians called out for a parley, and desired peace; whereupon Lane ordered a suspension of firing and sent Robert B. Metcalfe and James Bruce into their lines to learn what they had to say. Being told that their former friend, Lane, was in command, they desired an interview, which was granted.
    On going to their camp, Lane, who had taken a rifle ball in his upper right arm, near the shoulder, in the final moments of the afternoon's fray, found many Indians wounded; and they were burning their dead, as if fearful they would fall into the hands of their enemy.
    He was met by Chief Joe, his namesake, and his brothers Sam and Jim, who told him their hearts were sick of war, and that they would meet him in seven days thereafter at Table Rock, when they would give up their arms, make a treaty of peace and place themselves under the protection of the Indian superintendent, who should be sent for to be present at the council. To this Lane agreed, taking a son of Joe as a hostage, and returning to the volunteer encampment at the place of dismounting in the morning, where the wounded were being cared for and the dead buried.
    A footnote in the Bancroft report of this meeting notes that the Indians' total arsenal included 111 rifles and 86 pistols, noting the San Francisco Alta of Sept. 4, 1853 as authority.
    Lane's expedition into the first Indian meeting included W. G. T'Vault as aide, C. Lewis, a volunteer captain, as assistant adjutant-general, whose illness a short time later brought about the substitution of Captain L. F. Mosher, who afterward married one of Lane's daughters.
    Although the camps were within 400 yards of each other for two days, the truce remained unbroken. During this interval the Indian women brought water for the wounded white men; and when the white men moved to camp, the red men furnished bearers for their litters. I find no mention made of any such humane or Christian conduct on the part of the superior race.
Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 10



----


Indians Sweep from Table Rock to Merlin in One Day, 20 Dead
    Of the 20 whites who fell victim to the horror of the Indian massacres which started in early morning hours of October 9, in 1855, their names, and a chronological listing of the acts of terror raging down the Rogue River and valley is quoted herewith from the A. G. Walling accounts.
    Their first act was to murder William Goin or Going, a teamster, native of Missouri and employed on the Table Rock Reservation where he inhabited a small hut or house. Standing by the fireplace in conversation with Clinton Schieffelin, he was fatally shot at two o'clock in the morning.
     . . . They reached Evans' Ferry at daybreak and here they shot Isaac Shelton of Willamette Valley, en route for Yreka, who lived only 20 hours.
    The next victim was Jones, proprietor of a ranch, whom they shot dead near his house. His body was nearly devoured by hogs before it was found. The house was set on fire and Mrs. Jones was pursued by an Indian and shot with a revolver, when she fell senseless, and the savage retired, supposing her dead. She revived and lived a day.
    . . . Six miles north of Evans Ferry the Indians fell in with and killed two men who were transporting supplies from the Willamette Valley to the mines. (Their names do not appear.) The savages took the two horses from the wagon and went on.
    The house of J. B. Wagoner was burned. Mrs. Wagoner being previously murdered, or, as an unsubstantiated story goes, she was compelled to remain in it until dead.
    Mary Wagoner, her little daughter, was taken to the Meadows on Lower Rogue River; some weeks after, according to the Indians' own accounts, she died there.
    Coming to Haines' house (at a site marked still by the family's old apple tree across the railroad track at Merlin), Mr. Haines being ill, they shot him to death, killed two children and took his wife prisoner. Her fate was a sad one and is yet wrapped in mystery. It seems likely, from the stories told by the Indians, that the unhappy woman died about a week later from the effects of a fever aggravated by improper food.
    At about 9 o'clock the savages approached the house of George Harris, about 10 miles north of Evans' Ferry, where dwelt a family of four--Mr. and Mrs. Harris and their two children, Mary 12; David 10. With them resided T. A. Reed, an unmarried man employed there in farm work.
    Reed was some distance from the house and was set upon by a party of the band of hostiles and was killed, no assistance being near. David, the little son of the fated family, had gone to a field at a little distance, and in all likelihood was taken into the woods and slain, as he was never after heard of.
    Mr. Harris was surprised by the Indians, and retreating to the house, was shot in the breast as he reached the door, expiring about an hour afterwards.
    . . . On October 25 the body of J. B. Powell, of Lafayette, Yamhill County, was found and buried. James White and ------ Fox had been previously found dead.
    All the houses along the Indians' murder route had been robbed and then burned, with two or three exceptions.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 10


----


David H. Sexton Fought Four Years with Volunteers
    (From the Josephine County Historical Issue of the Courier, Dec. 31, 1927)
As written by Charles D. Sexton, only son of David Sexton
    David H. Sexton was born in New York state and crossed the plains with ox teams, arriving in the Willamette Valley, Oregon in October 1847. He moved south in the spring of 1852 to Jacksonville.
    With Rogue River Indians on the war path, Sexton joined a company of Indian fighting volunteers under Captain Lamerick. The first Indian battle of the war of '53 was fought at the mouth of Williams Creek, on the Applegate River, on the 12th of August. In this fight two men were killed and Lieutenant Griffin was badly wounded; but fortunately my father, David H. Sexton, was unwounded, although he had three bullet holes through his clothing. This was the last active fighting in which he was engaged that year.
Was Massacre Witness
    In 1855 he again joined the volunteers at Jacksonville and started down the Rogue River. The first place they reached where the Indians had done any killing was the Jones Place, above where Grants Pass is now situated. They found Jones had been murdered and his wife was mortally wounded. She died shortly after they had rescued her.
    After burying Jones and his wife, they hurried on to the Harris place. The Harris family consisted of Mr. Harris, his wife, and one daughter, named Sophia, and one son, David, also a hired man by the name of Reed.
    When the Indians arrived there Mr. Harris was shaving shingles near the house. When he saw them he started to go into the house, but just as he got to the door the Indians shot him, and also wounded his daughter in the shoulder. Mrs. Harris and the wounded daughter pulled Harris into the house and fastened the door. Harris said to his wife, "I am mortally wounded. Get the guns and sell your life as dearly as possible."
    Mrs. Harris, having dressed the wounds of her husband and of her daughter, continued firing at the Indians until midnight, when Mr. Harris died. She then carried her wounded child upstairs, as she could better defend the house from there, and continued firing upon the Indians until they withdrew just before daylight. She then took her little daughter and slipped out of the back door and ran to a bunch of willows, where she hid until late in the afternoon when the company of volunteers arrived.
    The little son, David Harris, was out in the field with Mr. Reed the hired man. Their fate is unknown.
    My father and the rest of the company buried Mr. Harris while an escort returned to Jacksonville with Mrs. Harris and her wounded daughter.
    The volunteers next went to the Haines home, which was located about where the townsite of Merlin is now. The Haines family consisted of Mr. Haines, his wife and four little boys, and one girl named Mary, about 12 years old.
Fiendish Torture Here
    When the volunteers got to the Haines farm they beheld a sight never to be forgotten even by the bravest of men. Mr. Haines had been murdered and scalped and then his body thrown across a bench in the house. Three of the little boys lay near the door on the outside of the house, their heads split open with a tomahawk. The fourth boy, the baby in the family, lay at the east corner of the house. The Indians had taken him by the feet and had beaten his head against one of the logs of the house. The top of the little fellow's head lay at a short distance from the body.
    When my father beheld this sight he turned to his captain and said, "Captain, I have been on the frontier a long time; I have seen some hard sights, but I believe that this is the worst sight I have ever seen. Haines and I were friends; I promise his dead body I will get revenge on the Indians." 
    They could not find Mrs. Haines or the daughter. They buried Mr. Haines in one grave and the four little boys in another, in front of the house under three large pine trees.
    The Indians made Mrs. Haines and little [Mary] Haines prisoners and took them down Rogue River to Hellgate, where they scalped the little girl and threw her body over the bluff into Rogue River. They took Mrs. Haines on down Rogue River and then scalped her and threw her body also into the river, but my father was never able to find the point where this was done.
    After having buried Mr. Haines and his boys the volunteers took after the Indians and overtook them at Hellgate on Rogue River. The main body of the Indians had crossed the river, but there were canoes filled with Indians who were crossing when the volunteers came upon them. The volunteers killed the Indians in those canoes, except three who got away. There were two volunteers wounded in this fight, but not fatally.
    In the Indian camp at Hellgate my father and William Barton found the scalp of Mary Haines tied to a pole. My father took the scalp and buried it.
Was at Hungry Hill
    The volunteers, not having enough men to follow the Indians, went to Fort Leland, and together with Captain A. J. Smith of the United States Army fought the battle of Hungry Hill. This battle commenced on October 31. The soldiers fought for three days and nights without food or water. The Indians had them entirely surrounded. They named the place "Hungry Hill."  In this battle 34 men were killed or wounded, but it was never known how many Indians were killed.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 11


----


Indians Strike Seven Places in 12 Hours
    When the facts of the outbreak finally came to light, it was ascertained that the Indians attacked no less than seven different points within 10 or 12 hours, and within a distance of 10 miles down the coast on the south side of Rogue River, and also that a general fresh uprising occurred at the same time in other localities.
    Those who took refuge in the fort were kept besieged for 31 days, when they were rescued by the two companies under Col. Buchanan, sent by General Wool. A few days after the arrival of the troops a schooner from Port Orford effected a landing, and women and children at the fort were sent to that place, while operations proceeded against the Indians (Bancroft).
    The same Bancroft comment notes a total of 31 killed in the massacre at the mouth of the Rogue, additionally to which six seamen were drowned when a whaleboat they were bringing to the aid of the Whaleshead people capsized off the mouth of the Rogue.
    Bancroft notes that the Geisel family loss included the father, John Geisel, and four children, with Mrs. Geisel and three daughters being taken prisoners.

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 12


----


Waldo
    Waldo was first called Sailor Diggin's because a party of sailors, four in  number, tarried there while en route to Jacksonville, from their ship at Crescent City. [The many versions of this etymology don't agree in the details.] The place was the first county seat of Josephine County, but in 1858 Kerbyville became the county seat. Waldo was named for Judge Daniel Waldo, who held court there while he was a district judge under the provisional government. Waldo post office was established Sept. 4, 1856, with Lyman H. Guthrie as its first postmaster.
Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 12


----


Indians Friendly with Pioneer Jas. Savage Family
    A childhood in one of Josephine County's oldest homes--beautiful old "Three Oaks" which now counts 101 years in the passing of time and the flow of Rogue River where Savage Creek enters that stream--is the pleasant recollection of Mrs. Ardena Savage Kretschmer, 735 SW Burgess Street, Grants Pass.
    Mrs. Kretschmer was reared at Three Oaks by her paternal grandparents, James L. and Margaret McKenzie Savage, whose life in Josephine County began in 1853.
    That venerable pair had crossed the plains in their covered wagon, the journey the most important one of their lives, for it was their wedding journey, on which they had set out after marriage May 12, 1853, in Illinois. They crossed with 32 other emigrant families.
    But when the venturesome party rode along green slopes sporting a rich grass and fine native foliage, attesting the excellence of the soil, young Margaret refused to go any further--here was the place for the home she had dreamed of--with the cadence of a small creek's busy waters echoing in her ears as it plunged into the river to make the white water later to be known as Savage Rapids. All persuasion of others in the emigrant party was to no avail--the Savages had found the end to their rainbow.
    A log house was hastily put up, for winter was close upon them, and the happy young pair settled into a life on the Rogue River which was to continue the remainder of their well-spent lives--one of three brave young families to settle there. Their nearest white neighbors were the Birdseyes, likewise a newly wedded pair, settling into "Fort" Birdseye upstream a few miles, and the Schieffelins, yet beyond. After that, it was a long, lonely way to Jacksonville, off to the south and east, then the most important settlement in all of Oregon.
    James and Margaret were not slow in availing themselves of the benefits of the Donation Land Act and set about the clearing of 360 acres.
Trusted Indians
    Gentle in manner with all, they won the confidence and trust of the Indians, who were almost constantly at hand to help with whatever projects were under way. Never in all the terrible years of the Indian wars was this family threatened with the awful fate which was meted out to so many others. The same may be said also of the Birdseyes.
    Mrs. Kretschmer recalls her grandmother telling how the Indians gathered in sizable number when James Savage needed his barn built, and likewise how the Indian women learned much from Margaret even as she learned many beneficial ways of "make-do" from Indian women who lived in these wilds.
    Six years went and in the first week of January 1859, the young Savages, now five in number, were all set to move into a fine new home James had built--the same two-storied white house which stands in all serenity today almost exactly as he built it in 1858. The family was barely settled into their spacious new quarters when Clark Savage, fourth child in the family, which was to include 13 children in all, was born on Jan. 11, 1859.
    The new home was a joy to all because of the "from-the-ground-up" job of building which had gone into it. Wooden pegs went into the foundation of the house, and out of his own blacksmith shop Mr. Savage cut the square nails which were used for the remainder of the building.
    The family prospered, and good crops were yielding regularly from the fertile soil--wheat, oats and barley hay for the stock, and an early variety of alfalfa for the milk cows. Mr. Savage raised fine horses and numerous other types of stock, all of which added to the value of his excellent holdings on the river. Not too many years later, as Grants Pass became the important town nearby, Mrs. Savage was driving into town each Saturday morning in her one-horse buggy to sell butter and eggs to a regular patron list.
Schools at 'Woodville'
    The children went to school three miles up and across the river at "Woodville" (now Rogue River).
    The large family of youngsters was augmented by yet two others--the children of Clark, left widowed with two small fry when Ardena was only three years old, hence her own happy childhood in the home of her grandparents.
    Mrs. Kretschmer remained with her grandparents throughout her girlhood, leaving the home when it was sold in 1909. With her grandmother, then widowed, she moved into "town" to keep house for her Uncle Lincoln and the aging grandmother. Five years later she was married to Raymon Stevenson and six children were born of that union, including Carrelane Anabell, now Mrs. Wayne Hodgin of Portland; Donald R. Stevenson, now of Seattle; Orville Stevenson, in Grants Pass; Velma, now Mrs. Peter Haugen, 735 Memorial Drive, Grants Pass; Doriene, now Mrs. William Honer, Los Angeles, and Alvin Dale Stevenson, of Culver City, California.
    Of all of the children of the first Savage family the most prominently known was the uncle, Lincoln Savage, who for many years served as county school superintendent, and also as county treasurer.
    Mrs. Kretschmer's extensive picture collection includes many hearkening back to the pioneer years of her grandparents, among them the cherished picture of their golden wedding anniversary party, May 12, 1903--a typical family reunion dinner, at which some 40 gathered at tables set out under the three oak trees.
    For the past 10 years she and her husband, Charles Alfred Kretschmer, have lived at the Burgess Street address, and both are active in affairs of pioneer interest as well as in fraternal affairs of the Rebekahs and veteran bodies, such as the V.F.W. Auxiliary 2302, Gladiola Circle, No. 3, Military Order of the Lady Bugs, for Mrs. Kretschmer, and Mr. Kretschmer is quartermaster of the Veterans of World War I, Barracks 2.
Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 12


----


Illinois River
    Both the Illinois River and the Illinois Valley owe their name to the state of Illinois and were named in honor of their native state by the three Althouse brothers, Samuel, John and Philip, who had come west from Peoria. The three settled at Albany, Oregon, and from there traveled forth on exploring expeditions, gaining fame with their discovery of gold at Althouse.
Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 12


----


Hugo
    Hugo Garber, an early settler in that area, gave his first name to the community upon the occasion of the establishment of its post office in the spring of 1897. Graber had been instrumental in securing the post office. Hugo is located about 12 miles north of Grants Pass on the Southern Pacific railroad.
Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 12


----


Indians' Conduct Lulls Folks for Raid
    At variance with the engaging accounts of the Mouth of the Rogue incidents in which the treachery of the Indians upon the unsuspecting whites … the few miners and whites who had banded together there, as related in the Fidler stories, the following excerpts are taken from the Bancroft History of Oregon, Vol. II, pages 393-396
    "The conduct of the Indians under Wright had been so good since the punishment of the Coquilles in the early part of the winter, that no apprehensions were felt beyond the dread that the fighting bands might sometime make a descent upon them and for this the volunteers had been duly watchful."
    Collector Dunbar at Port Orford wrote, early in the fall of 1855, that "Wright could maintain peace in his district.… Ben is on the jump day and night. I never saw in my life a more energetic agent of the public. His plans are all good, there can be no doubt of it." From U.S.H. Ex. Doc. 93, 126-9, 34th Congress, 1st session; from Bancroft's History of Oregon.
    But what [is] so subtle as savage hate!
    On the night of the 22nd of February (Washington's Birthday) a dancing party was given at Whaleshead in honor of the day, and part of the volunteer company was in attendance, leaving but a few men to guard the camp.
    Early on the morning of the 23rd before the dancers had returned the guard was attacked by a large body of Indians, who fell upon them with such suddenness and fury that but two of 15 escaped. One, Charles Foster, concealed himself in the woods, where he remained an undiscovered witness of much that transpired, and was able to identify the Indians engaged in the massacre, who were thus found to be those that had lived about the settlement and were professedly friendly.
    While the slaughter was going on at the volunteer camp some Indians from the native village on the south side of the river crossed over and, going to the house of McGuire where Wright had his lodgings, reported to him that a certain half-breed, named Enos (who was formerly one of Fremont's guides, and who was regarded by Fremont as 'a very brave and daring Indian'), who was notorious in the Whaleshead camp as a bad man, was then at the village and they wished the agent to arrest him, as he was making trouble with the Tututnis.
    Without the slightest suspicion of treachery, Wright, with Captain Poland of the volunteers, crossed the river to look into the matter, when both were seized and killed. The bodies were then so mutilated that they could not be recognized.
    "The death of Wright is a sad commentary on these times" (the Bancroft narrative continues). "Wright was a genial gentleman, honest, frank, brave, the friend and protector of those who slew him. It is a sad commentary on the ingratitude of man, who in his earlier and lower estate seems fitted to be ruled by fear rather than by love. During those troublous times in Southern Oregon I am satisfied that the United States government endeavored to do its best in pursuing a moderate and humane policy; and it was singularly fortunate about this time in having as a rule conscientious and humane men in this quarter, determined at the peril of their lives to defend their charge from the fury of the settlers and miners, who were exasperated beyond endurance by having their houses burned and their wives and children captured or slain.
    "And to none is the tribute of praise more justly due than to Benjamin Wright, who died at his post doing his duty."

Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 12


----


Louse Creek
    Inevitably a subject for conversation by all travelers crossing its course on the Pacific Highway, Louse Creek is so called because of an Indian camp on its banks that was infested with vermin. The creek is located a few miles north of Grants Pass. Over the years sporadic attempts have been made to change its name to something more pleasant, but the name, picturesque, if not charming, has persisted.
    There is another story in circulation, but which has never been proven, that the creek once known as Grouse Creek challenged Chinese, who have difficulty with all r's, and their 'gLouse' creek soon became Louse Creek.

Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 12



----


Pioneer Scout Raised by Indians
    That part of supposed fiction which is based upon reality, and which has for its setting the pioneer days of the South and West, would be enriched by the life story of John Harrison Sowell, one of the honored early settlers of Josephine County.
    The narrative has to do with the border days of Texas and with the days which tried the souls of men in Oregon before conveniences or comforts were known here to any extent and when the struggle for existence made up the sum of men's work from rising to the setting of the sun and from the beginning to the end of many years.
    John Harrison Sowell was born near Fort Townsend, Ga., May 4, 1826. His ancestors on both sides of the family arrived in America at a very early day and in time to participate in the wars of independence from English rule.
    The paternal grandfather, John Sowell, was born in South Carolina as was also Joseph Sowell, the father of John Harrison and Louisa Rudolph Sowell. The Rudolphs were of German extraction, while the Sowells were originally known in Scotland. Grandfather Rudolph was an officer in the colonial army during the Revolutionary War and afterwards settled in South Carolina. Joseph Sowell and his wife spent several years of their wedded life in South Carolina, moving from there to Georgia, and when John Harrison was four years old took up residence in Tennessee. They moved later to Arkansas and from there to Texas in 1835, locating in the wilderness of Fannin County.
    Texas in those days was a precarious place to live, for the Comanche Indians viewed with misgivings the advent of the palefaces into their happy hunting grounds. Neighborly visits where the Sowells lived on Red River where is now Sowell's Bluff were almost unheard of, and the protection of life and property constituted the chief work of the settlers.
Boy Made Captive
    The year after the family arrived in Fannin County little nine-year-old John Harrison was captured by the Comanche Indians, and for two years was kept a prisoner in the Wichita Mountains along the Arkansas River. In the meantime operations for his recovery were instituted by his father, who in 1837 was made captain of his company by Governor Sam Houston. Through the continued interest of the governor a treaty was made with the Indians in 1838 whereby John was to return to his home. Two years later his childish heart was rent by the murder of his father by that same tribe of Indians, and young as he was, he forthwith shouldered a gun and relentlessly pursued the bloodthirsty and revengeful red men.
     The account of the capture and subsequent retention of John Sowell would fill a volume of readable matter, but a brief resume must suffice in the present instance.
    He was surprised in the tall grass in Fannin County in June 1835, and though he made desperate efforts to escape he was finally captured and placed on a horse behind one of the Indians, the other following on another horse. The procession avoided the roads and kept in the timber as much as possible, and at Caney Creek six miles from home were joined by four other Indians. These stripped the boy of all his clothing and threw him up behind a buck Indian and across a sharp-back horse.
    In this position he traveled up Red River to Choctaw and then crossed into Indian territory and camped for the night. After offering the lad a supper of broiled meat, which he refused, he was bound hand and foot, and laid out in the grass to sleep without clothes or cover of any kind. Needless to say the Indians took turns in watching the night through. After an early breakfast he was placed behind another Indian on an equally lean horse, and traveled up the river to Wichita where they met 40 highly decorated warriors, with whom they camped for the night.
    There was a violent discussion between the two parties, the first seeming to be the most animated and emphasizing their remarks by slapping the poor lad on the back in such a manner as to break the blisters made by the noonday sun.
Spartan Courage
    He was brave though, and did not flinch, and the fact probably appealed to their admiration for personal bravery. He recalled with pleasure one old buck who took him in his arms and befriended him and beside whom he was later bound and slept. However, the Indian who had amused himself by breaking the blisters did the binding and the little fellow's wrists hurt all night because of the tightness of the cords.
    The old Indian was not pleased with cut wrists in the morning, and after talking very loudly for a time cut the strings which bound him. He later formed into two bands, taking the tormenting Indian in his own company and placing the captive with a young Indian more kindly disposed. He also ordered a shirt put on the boy and upon parting gave him a friendly hug.
    This noble red man was called Buffalo Hump and was powerful in his time and place. That night when camp was reached over on the Texas side the boy was not bound as he slept with the big young Indian who seemed to take a kindly interest in him and covered him at night with a buffalo robe. The next morning they started for quarters on Trinity River in the southwest, and that night the Indian killed a young deer which was roasted in camp and composed the material for a highly appreciated feast.
    In the travel next day the party came to Denton Creek, where Captain Denton was killed six years later in an attack on the village.
    However, after an attack by an especially vicious boy he was ordered to hit back and did so in such an effectual manner that his reputation increased at a bound, and during his stay in the village he was often engaged in personal encounter or combat. In time he adopted the ways of his captors, learned the language and became more or less reconciled to his fate. He was renowned for his bravery, and many of the boys were afraid to meet him in an encounter.
Family Search
    In the meantime the lad's father was putting forth every effort to find him and on his own responsibility equipped a small company which searched the entire summer.
    Finally, through Governor Houston the Indians were treated with. For a long time they maintained that the boy was dead. This the father did not believe. However, they finally came to the conclusion that such was his fate and gave up the search.
    In the fall the Kiowas went to the village to sell a white boy which they had captured and which cost the lad's father $500. Thinking to gain some information about his own son, the elder Sowell sought them out, and was told that his son was alive and well. The father therefore renewed his effort to find him.
    Nothing was accomplished before spring though, and even then John Harrison was sent for three times before the old squaw and her daughter would consent for him to go to his father.
    By that time he had become quite an Indian and liked the life so well that he didn't care to give it up. The Indians were satisfied that their good treatment of him would bind his heart to them and that beneath the paint and war trappings his father would fail to recognize him. The boy disappointed them, however, for as soon as he saw his father he thought of his former life, of the folks at home and of all he had suffered at the outset of his life with the Indians.
    His father failed to recognize him until he heard his voice and he then warmly embraced him as did also Governor Houston, who was a member of the council. The council was held at Austin, Texas, and in time the party started with the boy for his former home, on the way meeting the chief of the tribe, his squaw and daughter with whom the lad had lived so long.
 Return Is Sought
    They followed the trail to the white man's city, intent upon seeing the little fellow, to whom so long they were sincerely attached. The squaw presented a new suit of buckskin and a breechcloth decorated with beads and porcupine quills.
    The reunited family spent days in rejoicing over the return of their supposedly lost boy. Finally the father, fearing that he would again be captured, took him to Fort Smith in Arkansas, and placed him in school. Eighteen months later he returned to the family home on Red River. Twice afterwards the settlement was raided by the Indians, in the second of which raids the boy's father lost his life.
In Mexican War
    In addition to fighting the Indians after his father's death, John Harrison Sowell served in the Mexican War as a private the Fifth Company of the 3rd Texas Cavalry under command of General Taylor. He participated in all principal engagements and was twice wounded by soldiers and thrice by Indian arrows.
    In 1846 he married, and the first child born to Martha, his wife, was Mary Ann, who was to become the wife years later of a Mr. Highlander of Cameron, Texas.
    In 1849 Mr. Sowell left his family in Texas upon hearing of the discovery of gold on the West Coast and journeyed alone to California with a wagon and ox teams, arriving at San Jose December 15, 1849, mining later in Sonoma County, and a general merchandise business proved successful there. In 1854 he returned for his wife, only to find that she had died in 1851.
    He again crossed the plains to the West in 1856 and in that same year he married Temperance Barker, who had journeyed from Kentucky to the West. Temperance's family had crossed the plains in 1856, and with the daughter and new son-in-law all came on to Oregon in 1857, locating first near Roseburg.
    Seven years later Mr. Sowell came to Josephine County and a year later, in 1865, he took up the homestead in Illinois Valley. Sheep raising and general produce were profitable for many years.
Copper Mine
    In 1893 John Sowell discovered a copper mine adjoining the old homestead and to develop it he formed the Sowell Copper Mine Company, which put up a 10-ton smelter in 1902.
    Mr. Sowell continued with the developing mining concern yet another year, selling out his share in 1903 at a gratifying profit.
    Two sons were born of his second marriage, John G. and Joseph L. Sowell, both farmers in Josephine County. The father was known as a staunch supporter of the Democratic Party in Josephine County, and for several years served as Justice of the Peace, and as an influential member of the school board. His varied and interesting life, with its highlights, its dramatic phases and its great opportunities for well-doing caused him to stand high among his townsmen as far as adventure and action were concerned. His high character, public spiritedness and unique integrity also commanded themselves as worthy of admiration and emulation, and his place was among the men whose lives have redounded to the credit of Josephine County, in Southern Oregon.--Excerpted from the History of Oregon by Gaston.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 13



----


This Was Fort Lane in 1854
    (Editor's Note:  The following is copied from photostated handwritten copies of routine army inspection reports under date of August 10-12, 1854, covering findings of military department officials at Fort Lane, newly established at the foot of Table Rock.)
    Fort Lane, 10th to 12th, August.
    This post was under the command of Capt. A. J. Smith, 1st Dragoons, by whom it was established 25th September, 1852, on a reservation of 640 acres very judiciously [omission?]. Attached to this post is an Asst. Surgeon, C. W. Crane. The force here consists of Company C, 1st Dragoons (Capt. A. J. Smith); two sergeants, one bugler, nine privates for duty, four rank and file sick, three privates on extra daily duty; total present, 20. Absent, 1st Lieut. W. W. Henton, on recruiting service 11 August 1853; 2nd Lieut. Geo. Stoneman on detached service as escort to Lieut. G. G. Parke; topographical engineers, since 27 Nov. 1852;1 rank & file on detached service; aggregate, 23 and 28 horses--Company E, 1st Dragoons (Capt. & Brevet Major E. U. Fitzgerald, absent on leave from 22 August, 1853 to 22nd May, 1854, but not since joined his company); commanded by 2nd Lieut. C. U. Ogle, who is acting Ajt. Quartermaster & Commissary & Adjutant of Post; one sergeant, four corporals, one bugler, 14 privates for duty; six sick, two privates on extra daily duty, aggregate presently 29. 1st Lieut. R. C. W. Bradford on recruiting service since 1st July 1854, three rank and file on detached service, aggregate 34 and 30 horses.--Thus showing an aggregate force present of 59 & 58 horses.
    The command here has suffered much by recent desertions. Company C lost 22 by desertion in July last, and Company E, 12 since last April and all of them recruits but two.--There is no reason given for this except the desire to go into the gold diggings and the facility of escape among the gulches and miners.
    The discipline of this post is good, and the post with all the departments of it well conducted and creditable to the service. The troops were in the old uniform and their arms and equipments in good serviceable order. There were, however, but nine pistols to Company C and 30 to Company E. The horse equipments were all new in inspection.
    I, however, condemned 20 saddles, 20 bridles, 40 surcingles, 34 girths, 7 halter headstalls, 41 blankets and 19 holsters as unfit for service, and to be turned over to the quartermaster's department. There was a farrier to each of the companies, but that of Company C was not very good, and the horses just were not in a good condition, and some of them wanted shoes and were badly shod. The musketoon here as elsewhere often out of order in the shackle of the ramrod. It is a worthless arm for mounted men, or the service, and has no advocates that I am aware of.
    Capt. Smith gave a handsome drill on horseback, as far as his recruits were instructed, but they had yet not been taught the charge, nor the sword exercise on horseback, nor as skirmishers. They were taken through the broad sword and musketoon exercise on foot and marched well. Capt. Smith is well qualified for this command.
Quarters of Logs
    The quarters of officers, soldiers, hospital and store rooms are all of logs, erected by the men, and as comfortable as could be expected. The public property well cared for. There is abundant grazing for the horses and hay and wood are had by the cutting. A good garden is attached to the post, but the grasshopper is very destructive and almost destroyed it. There is also good bathing for the men in the river.
    The Medical Department well conducted by Asst. Surgeon Crane and the sick cared for. This is a healthy locality. The thermometer here rises as high as 100 in the summer.
    The Quartermaster's Department has been in charge of Lieut. Ogle since 24th November. There are three citizens in his employ, two herders and the interpreter at $60 per month each and a ration. And the average expenditure is 3699 dollars the quarter.
    He had on hand at date 4,309.71 dollars which was on deposit in Rhodes & Co. Banking House at Jacksonville. His funds are obtained from major crop at headquarters. Barley and oats cost 7 cents the pound. Supplies are at present obtained by packing from Crescent City, 10 [sic] miles over mountains at a cost of 13 cents the pound. This post, however, should be supplied by wagon route to Scottsburg as before stated.
Beef 18 Cents
    The duty of Commissary of Subsistence is also performed by Lieut. Ogle. Fresh beef costs 18 cents the pound and flour 10 cents which will soon be reduced in price--other supplies obtained from San Francisco. There are two grist mills within 30 miles and the valley of Bear Creek (Stewart Creek) is very productive with corn, wheat, barley, oats and good grazing. We had on hand at date 1382.96 dollars, also in the private banking house of Rhodes & Co. This money I doubt not as there is no sub-treasurer would be safer in an iron safe which can now be imported via Scottsburg. He obtained his funds from Major Eaton at headquarters.
    The duty of recruiting is performed by Capt. Smith and he had on hand on this account 100 dollars in a Treasury draft.
Two Howitzers
    At this post there is one 12-pounder brass field howitzer and one 12-pounder mountain howitzer and 14,000 ball cartridges for small arms. The carriages of the howitzers require painting and one new wheel.
    The Indian Agent, Mr. S. H. Culver, resides here and manages the Indians well. He has planted several fields of potatoes on their reservation for them and to encourage them to settle quietly. By treaty the government agrees to put up several buildings for them which has not yet been done. The Indians within 50 miles number about 180 warriors, not more than half the number of last year, but they are intelligent and active and armed with rifles. The whole American population capable of bearing arms within the same limits may be 800 and most of them within 15 miles.
    The officers all keep together and are harmonious.
    For a sketch of this post, see "H" hereunto appended.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 13



----


Last Major Rogue River Battle at Big Meadows
By Charles D. Sexton
Only Son of David Sexton
    The last battle of the Rogue River Indian War was fought at the Big Meadows [Big Bend] on Rogue River May 27, 1856. Chief John and his Indians were on one side and Captain Smith with a company of United States soldiers and Mike Busby with a company of volunteers on the other side. My father was in the company of volunteers.
    The Indians attacked them on the morning of the 27th. Captain Smith realized that he did not have enough men, so he sent a scout to Fort Lane to tell Captain C. C. Augur to come to his relief. They fought the Indians all that day until dark.
    The next morning the Indians attacked them again, charging upon them and fighting a hand-to-hand battle. In this mixup, my father was shot by an Indian, and as he fell to the ground, another Indian struck him between the eyes with a tomahawk, making a very bad wound. The Indian raised the tomahawk to strike again, but before he could make the blow a man by the name of William Lewis rushed upon him and stabbed him to death with a knife.
    Lewis then grabbed my father and dragged him to one side by a rock. The soldiers drove the Indians back in this fight, which occurred in the forenoon. In the afternoon the Indians charged the white men again, with hideous yells, thirsting for the white men's blood. They rushed upon them and another hand-to-hand battle occurred.
    While this battle was going on Captain Augur arrived from Fort Lane and charged the Indians from the rear, soon driving them off and rescuing Captain Smith's soldiers.
    My father had lain all day long in the hot sun until dark, when William Lewis and Abe Cole came back to them. Mr. Lewis said, "Well, Dave, are you dead yet?"  My father replied, "No, but I am pretty weak."
    Lewis then told him to get on his back and he carried him two miles up a steep mountain trail. They reached the camp about midnight. The army surgeon sewed up the cut on his head and dressed his wounds.
    The next morning my father got on a mule and rode to Fort Leland over a rough mountain trail, a distance of about 40 miles. He stayed two days at Fort Leland, then went south to a hospital at Jacksonville, where he lay for six months before he was able to walk.
Vows Revenge
    Father knew which Indian had shot him at Big Meadow on Rogue River and said that if he ever to meet him there would be another "good" Indian.
    When he got over his wounds and was able to ride he started from Jacksonville to Kerbyville, a distance of about 60 [sic] miles. In the afternoon he was going along slowly on account of being weak and tired, when, coming to a sharp turn in the trail, he met the Indian who had shot him during the battle.
    The Indian got the first shot, firing at my father, but missed. My father sat on his horse and shot and killed the Indian. In his notebook he wrote, "A lucky shot for me. Another 'good' Indian to the credit of the Haines family."
    After the war was over and the Indians had been taken to the reservation there still remained several small outlaw bands who would not give up. These would hike in the mountains and watch the trails and then murder the white men. To get rid of these Indians my father organized a company of six men, one of them being Indian Joe, the trailer and guide, who lived a short distance down the river from Hellgate.
    When there had been a murder committed by the Indians, my father would get his company of men together and Indian Joe would trail them to their camp, where they would be surprised and made into "good " Indians.
    One day Indian Joe came to my father and told him that he had found an Indian camp on Taylor Creek below his house. My father got his men together and went with Indian Joe. They surrounded the Indians during the night and at daylight the next morning they commenced making "good" Indians out of them. None got away.
    Shortly after that Indian Joe again came to my father and said, "David, there was a white man killed by some Indians yesterday between my house and Taylor Creek. I have tracked them to their camp."
    There were 12 Indians in this band. They killed eight of them, but four got away.
    Press Frazell was one of my father's little company. He came to my father one morning and said, "Dave, I have found two men killed on Grave Creek. We had better look about for those Indians or they may kill somebody else."
    My father replied, "That's a very good idea. You get Indian Joe, and I will get the other boys and we will see what can be done."
    They got together and went to where the white men had been killed and buried them. Then they started Indian Joe after the Indians. He followed them down Grave Creek and across Rogue River and up on the Pea Vine Mountains, where he located their camp about dark.
    After dark my father and his men surrounded the camp and at daylight the next morning they commenced shooting Indians. There were nine Indians in this band and they got all except one. This one started running down the mountain and Indian Joe took after him and was about to catch him when the Indian turned and shot Indian Joe in the shoulder, making only a flesh wound. The shot did not stop Indian Joe, who caught the Indian and killed him with his knife. This fight about cleaned up the Indians.
    In 1857 my father married Caroline Niday and settled on his farm near Hugo, Josephine County, at the foot of Mount Sexton, which was named in honor of him. He died on February 3, 1908, at the age of 80.

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 13



----


Savage Creek
    This stream, situated in both Jackson and Josephine counties, together with Little Savage Creek in Jackson County and Savage Rapids in Rogue River in Josephine County, were named for a pioneer settler and not for savage Indians, as many have erroneously believed. James Savage, so honored, came to Oregon from Illinois in 1853, and took up a donation land claim near the geographic features now bearing his name. Long since Savage Rapids have ceased to be, with the development of the Grants Pass Irrigation District dam, which has raised the level of the river waters over the rapids.
----
Indian Census 2049 in Count at Reservation
    "In 1857 an accurate census of the Indians upon the reserve proved them to number 2,049 souls in 14 different bands. In 1869 there were half as many still keeping up tribal relations. In 1866 the greater part of the reservation was taken away from them and laid open to settlement by whites, and the comparatively few survivors were confined within the narrow limits of what is called the Siletz Reservation, which is a small portion of the former extensive tract. Grand Ronde is another designation for the same reserve."--Walling, History of Indian Wars, Page 284.
----
Kerbyville Slaying Scene
    One of the early incidents of Kerbyville was the slaying of Ephraim Hughey on July 6, 1864, and his murder called for the first arrest made by Thomas Floyd, one of the first sheriffs of Josephine County.
    This is a story of two rival merchants who had established in different parts of the town. Hughey ran a hotel in one end of the town and his rival had his business in the other end. Whenever Hughey saw his enemy in "his" part of the town he would proceed to chase him back across town. This went on for some time until one day a line of demarcation was drawn across the street, and this was supposed to be the deadline.
     However, such proceedings were irksome to Hughey's rival and he proceeded to sharpen a cheese knife. He stuck this down his pants leg and sallied forth into the other end of town. Hughey immediately started to make good his threat and chased the other around the billiard table.
    Hughey made a fatal mistake that time, for his quarry stopped and held out the cheese knife in front of him and Hughey plunged into it. He died shortly after.
    Hughey is buried in the old cemetery just south of Kerby.
    --From the Golden Anniversary edition of the Courier, April 3, 1935
----
Vannoy Creek
    James Vannoy took up a donation land claim near this stream, five miles west of what is now Grants Pass, in 1853. He operated the historic Vannoy Ferry across Rogue River at this point, which was also a stage coach stop.
----
Reuben Creek
    Reuben Creek is a tributary of Grave Creek at a point west of Leland. It is named for Reuben Field, who fought in the Rogue River Indian War.
----
Grave Creek's Name Persists
    Despite frequent attempts to change its name to something less funereal than Grave Creek, that name has persisted throughout the past 114 years as a memorial to Martha Leland Crowley for the beautiful stream which drains the entire north section of Josephine County and the hills and mountains as they surge to the Pacific a hundred miles to the west.
    Concerning the circumstances of the mapping of the creek, early files of the Daily Courier provide a statement by Thomas Crowley of Turner, Oregon made in 1932 concerning his sister, Martha Leland Crowley.
    "Martha Leland Crowley was the 16-year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Crowley, pioneers of 1846, en route to the Willamette Valley. Martha died on a creek in Josephine County. Coffin was made for her out of the side boards of a wagon box and the body was buried under a big oak tree, and cattle were corralled over the grave to obliterate all evidence of the grave," recalled Crowley in a statement made to J. A. C. Leland in 1932.
    "Indians found the grave, however, and dug up the body, stripped it of the clothing, and hung the body on a low limb of the oak tree."
    In 1848 Col. J. W. Nesmith reported he found the bones and reburied them but none knows just where.
    "My father, Thomas Crowley, my sisters, Matilda and Martha Leland, my brother, Calvin, his wife Elizabeth and their baby, and my grandmother, Mrs. Richard Linfield, died on the way out from Missouri, I was but two years old when the wagon train started for the West," concluded Mr. Crowley.
    Homer D. K. Harkness, a kinsman of McDonough Harkness, courier in the Indian wars in 1856, is quoted as having stated to Mr. Leland, "During the Indian war of 1855-56, Captain Owen induced a party of seven Indians to enter an old log house on the west side of the road. The Indians were told they would receive a feed. After they came inside they were fired upon by the soldiers and six were killed.
    "There was quite a depression under the old oak tree where Martha Leland Crowley was buried and later dug up by the Indians in 1846. The Indians in digging her up made quite a hole, as they had no shovels. That hole was made larger, and the six Indians were thrown into it, and a little dirt thrown over them."
    The old oak tree, which was marker point common to both the Martha Crowley and later Indian shooting incidents, stood in the center of the road a short distance from the north end of the Grave Creek covered bridge, until it was cut down when the North Pacific Highway was paved.
----
Williams Creek
    Captain Robert Williams, who, as one of the early-day Indian fighters, skirmished with Indians on this creek in 1853, has provided his name for the locale. Williamsburg, later Williams, was named for this creek.
----
Wonder
    Wonder, located 12 miles west of Grants Pass, on the Redwood Highway, gained its name in a peculiar manner. J. T. Robinson started a store at that point, which he soon called Wonder when his neighbors "wondered" where he would get his trade, as the territory was sparsely settled.
----
Democrat Gulch
    A historic spot southeast of Holland, it gained its name during pioneer gold mining days of the Illinois Valley because of the political convictions of some of the prospectors.
----
1856 Editorial Feared Outbreak by Indians
    An editorial in the Table Rock Sentinel of Saturday, May 24, 1856, published at Jacksonville:
Discharging Volunteers
    The volunteers of the 2nd Regiment, Oregon Mounted Volunteers are pretty generally discharged and being discharged, on account of the term of service for which they volunteered having expired. The last recruits are still in service; about 150 at the Big Meadows and some at Vannoy's and Grave Creek. We do not know what is to be the next military move, but much fear is entertained that the Indians will make an attack on some unprotected train or traveler or pitch into the settlements like an avalanche from the surrounding mountains.
    It does seem that this country is doomed to misfortunes and disasters. We had the Rogue River War during the summer and fall of 1853 commencing within 12 months after the country commenced settling. Many lives and much property was lost in that war.
    A partial peace was restored by the treaty of 1853; but it was only a cessation of hostilities on the part of the Indians, until they could be better armed and prepared for war, as they continued to commit murders all the time whenever they could do so without being caught in the act.
    In 1855 the people of Rogue Valley were compelled to take up arms in self-defense; but not until scores of their fellow citizens had been treacherously murdered by the Indians.
----
Politics in 1855
    According to Bancroft regarding the mounting war measures following the October '55 massacres, politics were early into the measures of consideration. He writes:
    "Meanwhile, communications from Democrats at Rogue River had reached the capital, and immediately the war became a party measure. It was ascertained that Ross in calling out the militia had made several Whig appointments contrary to the will of the ruling party, which had attacked the governor for appointing Whig surgeons in the northern battalion; so paramount were politics in ministering to the wants of wounded men!"
----
Leap Year 1856
    It may, perhaps, be interesting to all young ladies who are not already aware of the important fact, that leap year empowers them to do something more than "pop the question."  I am informed by a fair friend that, if in the course of the year 1856--which is leap year--she should so far forget herself as to suggest a union between herself and a bachelor acquaintance who should be uncivil enough to decline her proposals, she could thereupon demand from him the gift of a new silk dress.--From Vol. 1, No. 27 of the Table Rock Sentinel which was published weekly at Jacksonville by W. G. T'Vault and Alex Blakely.
----
Jones Creek
    This small creek is located about three miles east of Grants Pass and is a tributary of the Rogue River. It is named for John K. Jones, a pioneer settler, who, with his wife, made a home on the banks of the stream. This family was one of the families victim to the massacre by Indians in the terrible uprising on Oct. 9, 1855.
----
Bolan Creek
    Located between the Oregon Caves and the California line, Bolan Creek and also Bolan Lake and Bolan Mountain were subject of considerable controversy in early days as to approved spellings. Early usage noted both Bolland and Bolon, but these gave way to the recommendation of the U.S. Forestry Service and Bolan Creek was accepted by the U.S. Geographic Board. [They were most likely named after Andrew Jackson Bolon.]
----
Gold Beach Unprotected
    Of the completely helpless situation confronting miners and settlers in the Gold Beach settlement at the mouth of the Rogue River at the time of the engagements there, Walling makes the following comment:
    "Absolutely no protection, military or natural, existed for the community at Gold Beach, excepting that these people had raised a small company, part of whom were stationed at the Big Bend of Rogue River, some 15 miles above its mouth, and a strategic point, where they acted as a guard to prevent the hostiles commanded by John, Limpy and other chiefs from communicating with or annoying the Indians of Gold Beach district."
    The names of the small protective units organized on the coast included the Gold Beach Guards, the Coquille Guards, and the Port Orford Minute Men.
----
Proud Old John
    Walling records that "almost all of the hostiles were presented and awed, no doubt, by the impressiveness of the spectacle, most of them agreed to surrender on a certain day."
    Not so, however, with Chief John. This undaunted chieftain when called upon to speak said to Lieutenant-Colonel Buchanan:
    "You are a great chief; so am I a great chief; this is my country; I was in it when those trees were very little, not higher than my head. My heart is sick fighting the whites, but I want to live in my country. I will not go out of my country. I will, if the whites are willing, go back to the Deer Creek country, and live as I used to do among the whites; they can visit my camp and I will visit theirs; but I will not lay down my arms and go to the reserve. I will fight. Goodbye."
    And so saying, he strode into the forest.
----
Merlin
    Nine miles north of Grants Pass, Merlin is located on the Southern Pacific railroad, and around the turn of the century was one of the important mining communities of the county--and far larger in population than Grants Pass. It was named by David Loring of Portland, for many years civil engineer employed by the Southern Pacific Railroad in their construction of the rail route from Roseburg to Grants Pass. He is said to have reported naming Merlin as such because of the "merlins" he saw there in considerable numbers. The birds observed by Mr. Loring are believed to be pigeon hawks, which are well known in that locale.
----
Woodcock Creek
    Woodcock Creek, located five miles south of Kerby, and flowing into the Illinois River, was named for Horace Woodcock, a pioneer rancher.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 13


----


Copper Mine First Interest of John Vallen
    Although his own native land is far across the Atlantic in Sweden, there are few "old timers" in Josephine County better versed in the background and early beginnings of the county than is John Vallen, whose advent into Josephine County dates back to 1904.
    Mr. Vallen's first home in America was in Council Bluff, Iowa, followed by a sojourn in Omaha, and finally, his arrival at Ashland, Oregon on Feb. 14, 1901. Takilma, in Josephine County, was his first home here…the big smelter being built at the old Queen of Bronze copper mine at Takilma the important reason for his coming.
    Mr. Vallen, whose interest in mining in Southern Oregon has persisted in the years intervening, recalls that there have been four copper smelters in the Illinois Valley: the first three, all 10-ton smelters, being down Deer Creek below Selma, up the Althouse at the Kerby Queen Mine, on Page Creek above Takilma, and finally, the big 100-ton smelter at the Queen of Bronze at Takilma…this latter working many men in its operation.
    In his mining years in the old Queen and Waldo Mines, Mr. Vallen estimates he has put in well more than eight years underground. There are still huge slags to be seen from the old smelters out at Takilma and around the Waldo operations, he says.
3 Miles of Copper
    Location of the copper mines in the southern end of Illinois Valley can be pinpointed to just three miles, Mr. Vallen points out. Starting from Takilma and running northerly to Waldo, three miles away and over the hill, were the North and South Queen of Bronze, the Waldo, the Lilly, and the Tucker Mines…eight operations in all.
    Apart from his avid interest in mining, Mr. Vallen for many years shared ownership and management of a 300-acre ranch out on the Happy Camp Road with his brother-in-law, Don Cameron, long one of the representatives of Josephine County in the Oregon State Legislature.
    "When we sold the ranch, well, I had to live somewhere, so I bought the old Thrasher house here in Kerby"…and this has been home now for many years for the elderly bachelor, whose housekeeping would be a challenge to many a meticulous housekeeper. Mr. Vallen's hobby of Oregon history, with particular accent on the history of Josephine and Jackson counties, has brought innumerable incidents to his specific attention, and he has made a fine hobby of careful filing of all such material.
    Included among his valuable records are many which relate particularly to matters which were of special incident to him during the years he served as a commissioner for Josephine County.

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 14



----


Applegate River
    Applegate River, one of the most beautiful streams in Southern Oregon, rises in the Siskiyou Mountains and flows through Jackson and Josephine counties to merge with waters of the Rogue a few miles southwest of Grants Pass. The same name is also given to the large valley in the southwestern section of the county and is also noted at a post office in Jackson County. In each case the name honors the three famous Applegate brothers, Charles, Jesse and Lindsay Applegate, who came to Oregon from Missouri in 1843, each to become prominent in affairs of the state in the next several decades.
    Jesse and Lindsay Applegate were members of one of the first exploring parties into Southern Oregon, and Walling's History provides a complete account of Lindsay Applegate's report of that search for a wagon route into Southern Oregon from Fort Hall, Idaho.
----
Galice
    Galice takes its name from a French doctor, Louis Galice, who came into that area in 1852 and who is credited with the discovery of placer gold in that area. It is said that he is buried close to nearby Galice Creek. The town of Galice is located 25 miles down the Rogue River from Grants Pass, below the famous Hellgate of that river.
----
Browntown
    No longer even a ghost town, Browntown was once a mining town on Althouse Creek, about three miles south of Holland, in the southwestern section of Josephine County. According to A. G. Walling's Histories, it was named for one  Webfoot Brown, a pioneer in that vicinity. At one time it was said to have 500 residents.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 14



----


Mining Men at Browntown Were Rough and Tough Lot
By Wm. Mackey
    About five miles up the Althouse from Browntown is the famous Johnson's Point, a lofty bluff just below the forks of Althouse, and situated on the east side of that stream. It may be seen from afar, standing out in bold relief. This point is about 150 yards in length and ranked among the richest gravel deposits of Josephine County. This point was worked by Nels Johnson more than 70 years ago and bears his name.
    The continuation of the Johnson lead was a bar of gravel in the creek underneath, which paid extremely rich. This bar was sold by a man named Henry McVay to a Chinese company for $300, and the hilarious time which the Chinamen had while working this bar, feasting and drinking gin, indicated that Harry McVay had sold out too cheaply.
Gold Peters Out
    From Johnson's Point down the Althouse there again occurs one of those unaccountable things in the geology of the country. As at Grass Flat, the creek failed to pay for one-half, or perhaps three-quarters, of a mile.
    This narrative would not be complete if we failed to make mention of Bill Evans. He was a miner on Sucker Creek in the year 1856 and was afterwards a merchant in Browntown from the latter '50s until the early '70s. He was from the state of Indiana and was a man of fair education, who dabbled considerably in politics and political literature. He bore the reputation among the people of being a good fellow. He had a vein of mischief and fun-making and delighted in practical jokes. He kept a large barrel of whiskey of his own manufacture in a stone cellar in the rear of his store, which was called "terrible stuff."
    When the combative miners came to Browntown and went into Evans' stone cellar and partook of Evans' best from the glass at the bottom of the big barrel, several went on the warpath and set out like Alexander the Great to conquer the world.
Evans Calm
    Then they shed their linens, as they termed taking off their shirts, and went out in the street to settle their grudges and disputes by a fistic struggle. Evans seemed to enjoy himself immensely amidst those warlike scenes. He commented on the physical powers and prowess of the combatants. When those miners with Evans' brand rising in their brains cursed and berated the latter, calling him a scoundrel and accusing him of cheating them in bills of goods which he had sold them. Bill Evans coolly smoked his cigar and replied with a smile, "I know, boys, I am a d--d thief. I will beat you on every turn if I get a chance."
    In 1857 there came to Althouse an eccentric and combative Irishman named Patrick Rooney. He had crossed the plains the time of the first gold rush to California and had formerly been a mule driver in the Mexican War of 1846. He was a small man of slight build and light complexion, and for his size was a wildcat in a fight. When under the influence of liquor he would purposely take what he knew was the wrong side in an argument, to get the chance to insult or provoke somebody. He was familiarly called "Old Pat" by the miners. He had a cabin alongside of the Althouse trail about one mile up the creek from Browntown. Old Pat's cabin was a hanging-out place for the miners when coming home from Browntown with their bottles and little harvest kegs full of Bill Evans' fighting whiskey. Sometimes they spent days and nights drinking and carousing at Old Pat's before they resumed their journey through the tall fir trees up the Althouse canyon.
Set Miners Fighting
    While the miners stayed over at Old Pat's cabin, the latter, who was well informed on the current topics of the day, introduced arguments which caused the intoxicated miners to fight with each other, or they sometimes administered a good thrashing to Old Pat himself, before they left his premises. It is safe to say that Old Pat's cabin and its immediate surroundings had been in 10 years the scene of 100 fights.
    In the year 1859 Colonel E. D. Baker, who was afterwards killed at Balls Bluff in the Civil War, stumped the state of Oregon in the interest of the Republican Party, for which he received $36,000. In making his tour Baker came to Browntown, and Bill Evans, knowing that Old Pat had always been one of the most uncompromising of Democrats, resolved to convert him to Republicanism.
Made Him a G.O.P.
    Evans called some of his confidential men around him and said, "Now boys, we want to make a Republican out of Old Pat. We will get Colonel Baker after him."  Evans' friends, knowing the contrary disposition of Old Pat, shook their heads and said, "The thing cannot be done."
    Evans said, "Leave it all to me and you will see."  Evans knew that Old Pat's weak point was his great personal vanity. And as Colonel Baker had been an officer in the United States and Mexican War of 1846, in which Old Pat had been a mule driver, Evans instructed Baker to meet Old Pat unexpectedly in the midst of the crowd and suddenly recognize Old Pat as one of his old Mexican War soldiers. Old Pat was seen coming down the Althouse trail to Browntown and when he arrived Evans and his friends gathered around to see Colonel Baker try his powers of persuasion on Old Pat.
Singles Pat Out
    Baker, in passing through the throng of miners, stopped abruptly in front of Old Pat and said, "Well, is it possible that I meet one of my old soldiers here in the wilds of Oregon?" Baker then extended his hand to Old Pat and said, "Give me the hand, my fine Hibernian," and holding Old Pat's hand in his own, Baker turned to the crowd and said, "Gentlemen, here is a brave Irishman, who stood side by side with me on the plains of Mexico, where the bullets fell like hail, and was willing to spill the last drop of his life blood for the Stars and Stripes and for the land of his adoption." Bill Evans wore a very serious look and said, "You bet, Colonel, I know Pat. They don't make any braver men than he is." "And now soldier, as you have served me so faithfully in war, you will serve me, your old chief, in peace by walking up to the polls on the coming election day and voting the good straight Republican ticket."
    Old Pat was much moved and replied, repeatedly, "You bet your life I will, Colonel, you bet your life I will." And from that day forth, Old Pat was one of the staunchest of Republicans. It seems that Colonel Baker had convinced Old Pat, contrary to the latter's senses, that he, Pat, had been a soldier fighting in the ranks when he had been only a government mule driver.
Drew His Knife
    The most disastrous combat in Old Pat's career was his encounter with Daniel Kinney in the year 1859. Kinney was a young man of powerful physique and belonged to the old school of frontiersmen who believed in settling their grievances by the code of the lead and steel. Old Pat had spoken in a manner derogatory of Dan Kinney and the latter met Old Pat in Browntown and demanded an explanation. Kinney always carried a huge white-handled bowie knife, and a large six-shooter hung on his belt. When he interrogated Old Pat in regard to what the latter had said about him, Old Pat gave Kinney an insulting answer. Kinney then knocked Pat down and, jumping upon him, bit off Old Pat's under lip which was very large and protruding. Bill Evans was often heard to say that it made a handsome man of Old Pat to have that lip taken off.
    While Kinney was wreaking vengeance on Old Pat the latter's partner, Mike Riley, came to the rescue. Kinney jumped off of Old Pat and, drawing his big knife, pursued Mike Riley, who ran in swift retreat. Riley fired three shots with his pistol at Kinney but being closely pressed he could not take a correct aim and the bullets missed Kinney. After they had run about 200 yards, or the whole length of the street in Browntown, Kinney caught up with Riley as the latter turned around the corner of a house and drove his huge blade which was 10 inches long into Riley's side at the waist. The blade entered to its full length into the hollow space over the bowels. It seems that no member of the body was severed. Riley was taken to a hotel in Browntown, where he hovered between life and death for five weeks.
    Riley, wonderful to relate, recovered and afterwards he killed Dan O'Regan with a knife in Browntown.
Kinney Flees
    Kinney, after the fracas, fled into the Siskiyou Mountains but was followed by the officers, captured and brought back and was tried and sentenced to a term of years in the state prison. Upon being sentenced Kinney said that he had now only one thing to live for and that was to serve his time and then come back to Althouse and kill Old Pat.
    Kinney escaped from state prison and was on his way back to carry out his threat when he had a battle with the officers in the Willamette Valley and was shot and fatally wounded, dying at a farm house to which he was taken.
    In 1865, six years after his bloody encounter with Daniel Kinney, Mike Riley was the chief actor in a terrible tragedy in Browntown. Dan O'Regan was a merchant in that place and had what was then called the finest store in Josephine County. Dan O'Regan's wife and Mike Riley formed a strong attachment for each other and together they planned to elope. In order to pave the way for the elopement they found it necessary to cause Dan O'Regan to openly rebel against his wife. With the consent of Mrs. O'Regan Mike Riley paid George Wells, the old Texas Ranger at Waldo, $10 to write Dan O'Regan an anonymous letter charging the latter's wife, Mrs. O'Regan, with very improper conduct.
[The profane letter survives, in a scrapbook among the James T. Chinnock papers, Josephine County Historical Society research library.]
Scented Trouble
    Dan O'Regan learned the source of the letter which he had received and sent for George Wells to come to his store at Browntown. O'Regan also sent for Mike Riley. Wells scented trouble in the air. He sheathed his left arm with leather between the elbow and the wrist to guard against a knife thrust, carried the arm in a sling which was suspended from his neck and wore a large soldier's overcoat. Taking along with him his big old-fashioned dragoon pistol, he went to Browntown. The O'Regan store was thronged with miners. George Wells stood on the outside of the counter with his left foot upon a chair, and the left arm rested on his left knee. His big dragoon pistol, which he held in his right hand, he laid across his left arm, which was supported by the sling and concealed by the cape of the soldier's overcoat.
    Standing on the outside of the counter also stood Mike Riley about 10 feet from George Wells. Both men were facing each other. Dan O'Regan stood on the inside of the counter and, producing the trouble-breeding letter, said to George Wells, "Did you write this letter?"
    Wells coolly replied, "Yes, that is the letter that I wrote for Mr. Riley."  At the mention of his own name Riley flared up and excitedly exclaimed, "What!"
    It seemed as if Wells and Riley were about to clash, when Dan O'Regan, who was under the influence of liquor, took the quarrel out of Wells' hands. He called Riley a vile name and, reaching under the counter, pulled out an old rusty unused pistol in sight of all. Mike Riley said, "Well, self-preservation is one of the first laws of nature."  Drawing his huge bowie knife, he buried the blade in Dan O'Regan's body. He fell upon the floor and expired within a few minutes. Mrs. O'Regan rushed into the store and pretended to almost go into hysterics over the loss of her husband. Mike Riley and O'Regan's wife afterward left the country together.
    About the year 1857 a German Jew named Cohen kept a store in Browntown. He was the first owner of the famous Cohen Quartz ledge which bears his name. This ledge is situated about two miles from Holland up on the mountain southeast of that place. They say that it was very rich when first struck. There is a large amount of iron in the vicinity of the Cohen ledge and other things which indicated the presence of gold. There was also a quartz mill built down in the valley about one mile from Holland to which ore was hauled from the ledge. This quartz mine has been repeatedly abandoned and then relocated for 70 years.

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 14

    BRUTAL AFFRAY.--On Sunday last, at Althouse, Josephine County, a fellow named Dan Kinney provoked a quarrel with another man, whose name we have not ascertained. A scuffle ensued, and Kinney threw his antagonist. While prostrate, he bit off one of the unfortunate man's lips, and afterwards inflicted upon him several stabs before they could be separated. One of the wounds is supposed to be mortal. Kinney fled, and had not been taken at last accounts. Sheriff Hendershott offers a reward of three hundred dollars for his arrest. He is described as a short, stout-built fellow, sandy complexion, his face considerably scarred, and has one large scar across his forehead.
Oregon Sentinel, Jacksonville, December 3, 1859, page 3



----


Allentown Preceded Waldo, Says Native
    Tales of Josephine County's most colorful ghost town--Waldo--have been spun in the presence of John Egger for so long that he, too, has many to tell.
    "Some of these days when I feel just right I'll give you a story of one of our election days, when the kids would run and hide. They decided arguments quick and rough," said Mr. Egger recently, with a wise glint in his eyes.
Born at Waldo
    Mr. Egger was born at Waldo on September 15, 1884, to Samuel and Elizabeth Egger. His father had come there in 1868 to mine. His mother was a daughter of Mr. Fehely, a brickyard owner who supplied the material for a number of buildings still standing in Jacksonville. The local man's brothers and sister are Ed Egger of Sumpter, in Eastern Oregon, Sam Egger of San Francisco, and Mrs. J. E. Sowell of Medford.
    "I remember a story they used to tell of Billy Darkus, who raised fine horses. During a lightning storm one time he fell off his horse, and they called him dead--lightning struck. But he came to in a little while, and they found out Billy had just been knocked out by hitting a stone when he fell, and that he had been unseated when his horse was frightened by the lightning," Egger related.
Allentown First
    "Allentown preceded Waldo, you know. 'Malke' Bockman, the 'Hoosier boy,' was run out of Allentown one fall--that was long before my time--in 1853. They had a meeting in the fall and hadn't enough grub to last through the winter so they decided to get rid of some of the people in Allentown.
    "Bockman camped in Butcher Gulch, until along in February when he decided to make a call on the boys up in Allentown. He'd been getting along pretty well, hunting, getting his own meat and plenty of it. He found the miners in Allentown were pretty near starving, so he kept them supplied with meat the rest of the winter, and they were glad to have the 'Hoosier boy' around.
    "That winter Bockman discovered the Deep Gravel mine at Butcher Knife. He had several cap boxes full of gold. He and my father were partners sometime later.
Trailed Lucky Miner
    "When Bockman brought in the gold, the others used to try to follow him from Allentown to find out where he was getting it. He'd pretend to get drunk and lie down in back of the saloon until things thinned down, then he'd leave town and go back to his mine.
    "Fifty-seven was the liveliest year in that country. There was hand mining all over, in every little gulch. There were occasional robberies, and times were rough.
    "Homer White--he lives in Takilma now--was working at the Esterly mine in 1919. One afternoon a fellow passing through stopped and talked to White. He told White he'd been there in the old days, when the town was full of people, and he asked where was it those three cabins were, in a row. White pointed the place out to him. The cabins had been gone long ago. They looked the ground over, figured out where each cabin had stood. Then they got to talking about the time the sluice boxes were robbed, and although the fellows who did the stealing were caught, the gold was never found. Pretty soon they said, 'so long,' and White went home and the other fellow went on down the road.
    "The next morning White got to thinking about that, and he went over to take a look at the place where the three cabins had stood, and there where the middle cabin had been was a hole, freshly dug. He knew then that the fellow had been one of the robbers, and that he had used him to find the place where he had buried the stolen gold, years before."

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 14



----


Convictions Strong on Mining Here
    One of the finest methods of mining in flat open country for placer mining today is that of the elevator system, invented right here in Josephine County by Mr. Ruble, for working his placers up Sexton Mountain way.
    This information, volunteered by Bill McIntosh, 84 year old mining man of Wolf Creek, started a good hour's worth of talk on the mining situation over the past seven decades in this county, right up to the present time.
     A man of strong conviction on any subject with which he's familiar…and Bill McIntosh knows something about most any side of the mining game around these here parts…his comments on present-day gold situations left no one in doubt as to how he feels about all that.
More "Fluid" Gold
    "Money sharks are buying our gold at $35 an ounce, smuggling it out of the country and selling it in other ports and countries for much, much more…with great profit to themselves…the country needs more fluid gold, right now…and there should be laws enacted now which would provide more benefit for the small operator and miner.
    Oh yes…we were talking about the elevator system of mining…why, it was the invention of S. C. Ruble, a cousin of mine…and it's still one of the best ways for working flat open country in placers around here yet.

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 14



----


Ghost Town Golden Well Named
    The mining town of Golden, located on Coyote Creek between three and four miles from the town of Wolf Creek, was so named in the early '90s by S. C. Ruble, inventor of the Ruble elevator, still extensively used in placer mining.
    At that time there were approximately 50 men placer mining on the creek and about 150 inhabitants in and about the town. There was a general store operated by S. C. Ruble, and later operated by Columbus Bennett. Golden had a post office.
    Placer miners had been operating on the creek for many years and in the late 1850s, when the white men left for Salmon River District during the gold excitement in that section, the Chinese came and worked the creek. There were about 500 of the Orientals placer mining on Coyote Creek, but when the miners returned from the Salmon River district they drove the Chinese out.
     Among the early miners were Henry Smith, who conducted a store, Jack Morris, Coyote Smith, who was justice of the peace, J. Robinson, who had a rich placer at the mouth of the gulch bearing his name. This placer is now being operated by H. McIntosh. Other early miners were D. Matthews, Lew Ash and McWilliams, Pat O'Shea and C. J. Bear.
    In the town still standing are several deserted cabins, the old fences, and the church building, long unused. The church, which was organized in the late 1890s, was a Campbellite church, with W. Ruble, Jr., as pastor. It was short lived. The Free Methodists organized later.
    There is no estimate of the amount of gold extracted along Coyote Creek, states M. C. Davis, now operating the old Ruble property, but it has been mined all down the years, and is still producing.
        From the Daily Courier, Apr. 3, 1935

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 14



----


Grass Flat Was Once Thriving Center with Saloons, Hotels
By Wm. Mackey
    About three miles up the Althouse from Browntown and on the west side of the creek is the old townsite of Grass Flat. The town received its name from the grassy bench of almost entirely level land on which it stood, opposite the south end of the famous Frenchtown Bar, which lies on the east course of Althouse Creek is from south to north. The bar lies parallel with the course of the creek. On Grass Flat in the middle and later '50s there were saloons, hotels, a butcher shop and corral.
    Cattle were driven in from different parts of the outside country and butchered and the beef sold to the miners. In after years when the town had been abandoned and the majority of the buildings had ceased to exist the writer and his sister, being small children, played around the corral where old steer heads and cattle bones and horns were scattered in profusion.
Saw Remarkable Horse
    The writer saw the celebrated horse, Ferguson, which was famous for his speed and endurance, and the many cattle drives to Grass Flat in which the horse had been. This remarkable horse when seen by the writer seemed very stiff and broken down.
    Here on Grass Flat in the year 1859 Martin Mackey kept a hotel in which the writer, his son, was born. Also, in 1859 in this hotel, General Joe Lane, the first governor of Oregon, made a speech to the miners on the political issues of that day. This year was also memorable for its great fall of snow.
    It was beautiful weather, clear sunshine, in the last months of 1858 up on the first of January 1859, when it began to snow and continued snowing almost constantly for 72 days. The cabins at the head of Althouse where the snow was deepest were buried and the snow was tunneled to get around the cabins. When it froze the miners walked on the crust.
Fell Down Chimney
    One miner who had been to Browntown and returned in an intoxicated condition fell down through the large chimney of his cabin and landed among the pots where his partners were cooking dinner.
    Even in prosperous times many men have not any money. A large number of miners whom weather conditions did not permit to work boarded at my father's hotel during this terrible snow winter and, to use the old expression, they ate father out of house and home.
    The writer saw a journal of accounts which his father preserved in which unpaid board bills for the winter of 1859 were recorded amounting to $1800. Peter Brown kept a hotel on Grass Flat at this time. He was afterwards killed by a rock falling upon him in his claim, where he was working about one mile up Althouse from Grass Flat. His daughter, Louisa Brown, then a little girl, lived with her father in Grass Flat. She was in after years the wife of the pioneer Al Adams, of Waldo. George Thrasher ran a butcher shop at Grass Flat in those times and subsequently at Waldo. He was very popular among the pioneer miners, being a good-natured, social fellow. He was a good scholar, was neat and rapid in figures and the best public reader in Josephine County.
    The gamblers and sporting miners went back and forth from Browntown to Grass Flat to gamble and carouse.
Frenchtown Bar Famous
    Frenchtown Bar, the greater part of which lies on the creek below Grass Flat, has been famous for the immense amount of gold which it yielded in the earlier and later '50s. A conservative estimate placed the sum taken from a strip of ground 1200 feet in length with the main pay streak 30 feet wide at $300,000. There was a log house built on this bar which served the double purpose of a hotel and store.
    Once a packer contemplated starting from this store over the mountains to the coast with a mule loaded with gold, designated for shipment out of the country. Three suspicious-looking characters armed with rifles hung around the store for several days, and it was strongly suspected that they intended to meet the packer on the mountain and rob him of his gold. The packer had recourse to the following ruse to foil the plans of the would-be robbers. One night while a number were sitting around in the store among whom were the three strangers, the packer pretended to be going to bed, entered the store and told the storekeeper to call him, the packer, at 4 o'clock in the morning, as he intended to start on his journey over the mountains. But instead of going to bed the packer went out through a window in the rear of the building where his mules were saddled and packed, mounted his riding animal and proceeded on his journey. When daylight came he was miles away. At the store in the morning and when they appeared later in the day it was observed that they wore a maddened and disappointed look.
    Strange to say, the big pay stopped or appeared to be cut off at the head of Frenchtown Bar opposite Grass Flat. One hundred yards from where it paid as high as $100 a day to the man, the yield of gold was so small as to hardly justify working. And for the extent of a mile upstream from Grass Flat the creek was almost a blank. On the west side of the creek was a low bar of gravel 800 or perhaps 1000 feet wide which was covered with a deep slide from the mountain about two-thirds of a mile back. As early as 1860 this bar was crosscut with nine tunnels for its entire width. The gold seemed very thinly and unevenly scattered. In some places two or three ounces of gold would be found to a set of timbers and then it would give out scarcely anything for weeks.
    Those tunnels ended in a deep muck channel at the back of the flat.
Lost Lead Still Lost
    At intervals for 50 years numerous miners came and went and tunnel after tunnel was run and fortunes were spent on this west side of the creek to find what they called the lost lead. This blank in the creek and the hills on both sides has been named the "Wonderful Spot on Althouse."
    In the year 1870 the late Newell DeLamater, of Grants Pass, spent $4000 prospecting to find the mythical gold lead. Finding a good prospect in a tunnel near Grass Flat, Mr. DeLamater dug and extended a long ditch to the place of his prospect and sluiced a deep cut, running the tailings through a long flume far down the creek. He at last abandoned the undertaking, leaving an ineffaceable mark near the old townsite of Grass Flat.
    At the upper or south end of the cutoff a mile from Grass Flat where the big pay again was found in the creek was the richest place ever worked on Althouse. It was called the Nulty [omission] who was an old Irishman named McNulty. The latter was much addicted to strong drink and would fall down while drunk in his claim and holding a handful of heavy bright gold in his hand, he would say, "What's here is yellow."
Mackey Kept On
    But the man who far outstripped all other miners in his efforts to find this lost lead was Martin Mackey.
    Various mining operations were carried on by Mackey, with only short interludes between, for a period of 30 years, until the mountain on the east side of Althouse Creek for the extent of mile was pierced with tunnels and shafts driven from the creek in front 1200 feet back into the hill.
    Mackey's career of prospecting on this claim is unique in the history of mining. In the opinion of miners this lead, if ever found, would be worth a half million dollars. Many practical miners said that according to all rules of mining Mackey should have found the lost lead in this claim, in which there are many lost underground workings.
    There are those, however, among miners who still think that the lost lead lies buried somewhere in that rugged mountain and they predict that it will someday be found.
    Soon after the first miners on Althouse and other camps departed for Caribou and Fraser River, there were hundreds of Chinamen on Althouse Creek and other streams through the county. There is no estimate of the loss that their presence meant to the white residents. The first miners took only the cream of the golden deposits, but the Chinamen who came after worked all the ground over several times and dug and cleaned the bedrock to the finish. And they found many rich spots, the wealth of which they never made known. The Chinamen were permitted to mine out all of the gold and take it back to China, and then they were expelled from the country after all of the mischief had been done.
    The Chinamen were much given to feasting and drinking gin, which was their favorite beverage. And it was an unfailing mark of prosperity among these Chinese  miners on Althouse when they indulged in this manner.

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 14




----



Water Important Factor in Development of Mines on Williams Creek
By DAN L. GREEN

    In the year 1858 gold was discovered along the foothills and draws of the east side of Williams Creek in Josephine County, Oregon. But by whom the writer of this does not know.
    During the winter of 1858-59, there was a large quantity of rain and snow. During this winter prospectors got into the little draws and flats and proved the new find to be of sufficient richness to justify the construction of a large ditch out of Williams Creek.
    Early in the spring of 1859 provisions were made for that purpose, with Colonel Murray and his associates in the mercantile business in Jacksonville, Oregon, as principal financiers of the project.
    In a short time a large force of men with all necessary equipment and a man by the name of Thomas as superintendent of construction were soon at work with pick and shovel, paying the men $50 per month and board.
    As was usual in those days, quite a big rush was made for the new Eldorado, and by the time the ditch was completed there must have been six or seven hundred miners in the camp.
    Mr. Thomas proved to be an expert at constructing ditches. Limiting his crew to 50 good ditch men, by the time rain and snow came in the fall of 1859 his job was completed and ready to turn on the water at the first raise in the creek.
 Water--by the Inch
    The general management of this enterprise was in the hands of J. T. Layton, an old pioneer gold miner of Southern Oregon, having been engaged in mining on Jackson Creek before coming to the new camp.
    A large reservoir was constructed at the lower end of the ditch where water was distributed to the different mines at a certain price per inch. This was managed by constructing a large shallow tank in front of the reservoir. Slots were cut at different points one inch above the bottom of this tank, one inch wide and horizontally with the tank, at any desired length. This slot or opening was checked off with one-inch spaces with a slide placed over it, to regulate the amount of water filtering through. The tank is then filled so as to give a six-inch pressure above the center of the slot, at so much per inch on a 10-hour run. I do not remember the price charged at this camp, but as there was no law regulating this matter in those days, customs of the different mining camps regulated the price of a miner's inch of water.
     This reservoir was constructed under the supervision of an old mining engineer by the name of Munger, who also acted as water distributor for some time.
This Was Williamsburg
    The old mining town of Williamsburg was situated on the bluff about opposite the bridge on the road leading to the present post office at Williams. There was only one street with business houses on either side and quite a large hotel at the extreme end of this street from the main entrance. This house had a large public or dance hall overhead and was constructed by John Bargdel, who kept the house for a number of years.
    Col. Murray and his associate Mr. Ben Davis built a large store room of hewn logs and put in a large stock of supply goods, there being no sawmill, although Sy Messenger was constructing one near the mouth of Williams Creek. Alex Watts and myself furnished a large amount of shingles, shakes and other timber for building cheap houses, there being no lack of fine timber all over the valley for that purpose.
    By the time that the demand for sawed lumber began to get up to a high pitch, Mr. Messenger was ready with quite a good supply on hand, although his mill was like most all others in those days, nothing but an old whip saw, but it was kept running day and night, with plenty of fine timber in the immediate vicinity of the mill, and a big fat ox team to haul the logs.
    The little Burg [short for Williamsburg], as it was called, had its share of saloons, blacksmith shop, a meat market and barbershop. The Burg also had its share of gamblers and toughs; consequently like all new gold mining camps, was the scene of many noisy and riotous nights.
    A man by the name of Dildine, on one of those occasions, was in a cowardly manner shot in the back and died in a short time, his assassin leaving the country, thereby escaping punishment entirely. His remains were interred near the mill and a short distance down the road from the old town.
    There were several others buried at the same place, most of whom met death by accident.
The Baltimore Company
    There was a company of eight men at the old Burg, a part of their names being Charles Goodwin, James Ringold, John Taylor, Jack Powers and John Gilpin. The entire eight men were all from the city of Baltimore, Md., and they were known as the Baltimore company. This company located mining ground in the immediate vicinity of the old town. At their own expense, and with their own labor, this company constructed a ditch to their mine that took in both forks of Williams Creek, a distance of four or five miles. This bunch of miners occupied one or two large cabins and seemed to live and work together in an agreeable manner. They were well respected by the entire camp.
    The old Baltimore ditch is still intact and is being used as an irrigating ditch. That part of the camp near the lower reservoir known as Bruskey, Markley and Whiskey Gulch seemed to be separate from that of the Burg, being quite an extensive camp, carried a saloon, store, boarding house and blacksmith shop to prosper there for some time.
     Captain Barnes, B. F. Holsclaw and I were associate miners in that part of the camp. A good portion of the diggings were very shallow, which made it quite easy to make money in these places. But it did not happen to my company's good luck to get a spot of shallow ground. Mr. Holsclaw was elected county judge of Josephine County in the year 1868. Capt. Barnes was one of the discoverers of the noted Steamboat quartz mine on the Applegate.
The First School
    There were several families in the neighborhood of this part of the camp. One day there appeared an old one-armed man in the camp who proposed to the miners that if they would get together and erect a schoolhouse he would teach a three months' school just for what the little camp might see fit to pay him.
    There being plenty of good carpenters in the camp, a neat little log house with fireplace and good desks was soon ready for school. The old man proved to be a good teacher. From that time on the little folks went to school instead of wandering around the camp in quest of some place of amusement.
    In a short time a debating club was started in the camp to meet at the schoolhouse every Saturday evening. There were a number of good talkers in the camp which made it quite lively at times. Not being of any use as a debater, I soon found myself in the chair [as chairman] to decide questions as best I could.
    No one made a fortune at mining on Williams Creek, and in the course of a few years the easy or shallow places were worked out. There was a large amount of deep ground that was worked by the slow process of ground sluicing. This was mostly carried on by J. T. Layton, he being the principal owner of the ditch and the water.
    There were also quite a large number of quartz mines discovered in the camp and its vicinity, some of which paid handsomely. Some quite rich strikes in the way of pockets were also made.
    It would seem quite barren to write about the old miners in this country and not mention a few of those that were instrumental in developing those mines. At Williams Creek J. T. Layton ranked first, having come to this camp from Jackson Creek, Jackson County, Oregon, where he followed mining for several years. Mr. Layton made placer mining a study as he went along and therefore through long practice became very well versed in the art. He constructed a pipeline ditch from Williams Creek to Farris Gulch, a distance of nearly 12 miles. Here he installed giants and iron pipe with many hundred feet pressure; mining at this mine with success for many years doing this mining during the forepart of the summer while the snow melted on the Oregon Caves mountain.
    Mr. Layton in the year 1868 or '69 was the first miner to install a hydraulic giant and iron pipe in Josephine County, Oregon for mining purposes. This was near Whiskey Gulch in the Williams Creek mine. I well remember that I walked from the Galice mining camp to Mr. Layton's mine, a distance of 30 miles, just to see the thing work.
    Alex Watts was also an experienced placer miner, spending many years as owner of the Horse Head mine on the west side of Williams Creek. Mr. Watts also engaged in other pursuits as well as mining; was a civil engineer; was elected county surveyor one or two terms. He changed and relocated many of the old roads where highways run at this time.
    Mr. Watts served as a volunteer through the Modoc Indian War, also in the Rogue River War of 1855-56.
    Earl Goodwin of the Baltimorem Mining company of Williams Creek was also a soldier in the Rogue River War. He was in Col. Kelsay's command and was wounded at Battle Bar near Big Meadows on the lower Rogue River.
    In the long run there was a large amount of gold taken out of the Williams Creek mining district. Unlike other mining camps of Josephine County, such as Galice, Althouse and Josephine creeks, the gold and marble mines of Williams Creek were situated along both sides of the very rich and fertile valley of Williams Creek, the entire valley being covered with comfortable homes.--From the Courier of Oct. 17, 1924.

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 15



----


Wilderville
    Wilderville is located 10 miles west of Grants Pass on Slate Creek, along the Redwood Highway route. The first post office there was called Slate Creek, and was established Sept. 30, 1858, with Oliver Evans as first postmaster. The name of the post office was changed August 12, 1878, its new name, Wilderville, honoring Joseph L. Wilder, who was appointed postmaster on that date.
----
Snows of 1916 Brought Death to Shan Creek
    Loss of life for an elderly miner in the record snows of 1916 has an ironic twist as one learns the tale of mining in the Shan Creek area.
     Hayden Dean, 60, had sought provisions from the William McCallisters on the Lower Rogue for himself and his mining partner during the great storm which had raged for days, and set out with the pack of food for his cabin at the Shan Creek mine on the afternoon of January 7, 1916.
    When he had not reached his cabin a few days later, his partner, a Mr. Carleton of Central Point, set out to find him and to obtain provisions, which had run out at the mine. He in turn was lost in the deep snow drifts and was out two days and nights before he finally reached Merlin
    There he learned that Dean had left McCallisters on the date that Shan Creek's heaviest fall of snow set in, with a measure of 10 feet recorded.
    The pack of provisions which Dean had obtained from the McCallisters was found by Carleton at a fork in the trail only a quarter mile from their own cabin. Dean's body was not found for days following until the great snow drifts abated.
----
Treasure Sought
    Forty thousand dollars in gold dust has been sought frequently over the years by many who have heard the tale of buried gold out in the Kerby area. Two robbers held up and murdered an itinerant peddler traveling through the mining camps of the valley as he left the mines bound for Crescent City. It was believed he had about that much gold in his possession when he met his untimely end at the crossing of the little bridge on Whiskey Creek where the old Waldo-Crescent City roads joined. The outlaws were captured and hung at Crescent City. As they were led to the gallows, one of the men turned and threw a Bible to a friend in the crowd. It was presumed that the Bible contained directions for finding the spot where they had buried the peddler's gold dust.
----
Slagle Creek
    This stream, situated in both Jackson and Josephine counties is a tributary of the Applegate River about 10 miles southeast of Grants Pass. It was named for Conrad Slagle, who took up a homestead nearby about 1879.
Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 15



----


Wm. Bybee Made History with Hog Drives Through Hills
By DAN L. GREEN

    There are plenty of people in Southern Oregon who well remember Mr. Wm. Bybee, the energetic and wide-awake old farmer and stock raiser of Jackson County, whose principal farm was about one mile north of Jacksonville.
    While writing of the early mining industry of Southern Oregon, we think it would not be out of place to mention something of the farming industry of the country.
    One of the very notable incidences was when Mr. Bybee was engaged in raising and fattening a large number of hogs and driving them through Josephine County to Happy Camp on Klamath River, a business that Mr. Bybee kept up for a period of 30 years, his droves amounting to 150 to 400 a year. When not able to raise the number on his own farm he would buy of his neighbor farmers to make the required drove.
    It was a long and tedious journey by Wilderville, Kerby, up the east fork of the Illinois River, thence over the Siskiyou Mountains by trail to Happy Camp on the Klamath River.
    There Bybee had the entire drove engaged to merchants, receiving his pay on the spot in gold dust at so much per ounce.
    It was a well-known fact by many of Mr. Bybee's old-time friends that he would at times when he felt quite sure that the long end of the pole would stay in his own hands, indulge in a game of poker.
    One time a pair of "poker sharks" who belonged in the then old, lively town of Jacksonville concluded they would meet Mr. Bybee at the also then lively old town of Kerby, getting in a game and relieve him of at least a portion of his hog money.
    The game went off and Mr. Bybee proceeded on his way home the next morning with several hundred dollars added to his hog wallet.--From the Courier, June 6, 1924.

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 15



----


Waldo Richest Camp
By DAN L. GREEN
    Waldo proved to be the richest mining camp in Josephine County in the early days. More miners made small fortunes there than at any other camp. The early mining in this camp was shallow and easily worked. There were no large boulders, as were usually encountered in the other camps of the county. It was in the early days of this camp considered not an unusual occurrence for an individual miner to make from ten to thirty thousand dollars in a few months, while the main company that owned the main ditches and water rights with large forces of men took out large fortunes.
    One company in Allen Gulch employed 50 men at one sluice--just pick and shovel--and kept up a number of years. A great number of foreigners were at this camp in the early days. It was a very usual occurrence to hear French, Spanish, German and Italian spoken all over the camp.
First Church in County
    There were many Catholics among them who erected and maintained a Catholic church in Allen Gulch, the richest place in that camp. It was the first church in the county.
    The principal water company sold water all over the camp to the miners, the water being brought from the east fork of the Illinois River. Colonel Preston, after whom Preston Peak was named, was general superintendent for the company, and was highly respected by all who knew him. Robert "Bob" Jordan was foreman in the mines for the company. Jordan was not so well liked. He was considered too hard and tyrannical by the working men.
    Some of the pioneer merchants were Guthrie, Crandall & Wertz, Logan & Thompson, A. B. McElwain (one of the earliest), also the three O'Regan brothers, Peter, Dan and John, who were early-day merchants at Althouse.
    In those days at this camp was a large, well-equipped livery stable full of fine rigs and horses (mostly Spanish) as soon as the roads would permit.
Filibuster Plot
    In 1856 Walker's Expedition to Nicaragua created a sensation all over the coast. Two men from this county, Bob Williams and Jack Driscoll, were rivals in getting up a company throughout Southern Oregon.
    This was a filibuster concern that planned to capture Nicaragua. Two ships were loaded at San Francisco, but the authorities stopped them from sailing.
    Those two men fell out. Williams killed Driscoll in Jacksonville--shot him down on the street. Williams rode out of town and was never molested.--From the Courier, June 6, 1924.

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 15



----


First Written Mining Code of Area Noted
(Copied from Oregon Observer of June 13, 1896)
FIRST MINING CODE
    A communication in a recent number of the Oregonian places Josephine County as the first in the Northwest to furnish a mining code. The communication was first sent to George H. Hines of Portland, Secretary of Oregon Pioneer Association, and was given public notice by him.
    Lewiston, Idaho, May 31, 1896--To the Secretary of the Oregon Pioneer Association: I claim the honor of being one of Oregon's early pioneers, having landed in Portland, Oregon on the 17th day of September 1851, having made the journey across the plains from Springfield, Ill. with ox teams that year.
    After a rest of four days at the Skidmore House in company with three others, I started to the gold mines. We went in a boat up the Willamette River, through the Umpqua Valley to the gold mines of Northern California; met Aaron Rose and stayed with him overnight at the first camp that he made, where Roseburg now stands; fell in with a pack train going to the mines and landed on Josephine Creek the 10th of October 1851. This was the only mining camp in Oregon Territory at that time, which included all of the country from the southern line of Oregon to the British line and east to the Rocky Mountains, where there are thousands of mining camps today.
    I thought you would be glad to learn where the first written mining law was made in this vast empire. This was on Canyon Creek a tributary of Josephine, on the first of April 1852, in a camp of 40 miners, the meeting being held under a large fir tree. As there have been many laws made since then, I send you a copy of the first mining law that was ever put on paper in this great empire.
    "Know all men by these present, that the miners in council assembled on this the 1st day of April A.D. 1852, do ordain and adopt the following rules and regulations to govern this camp:
    "Resolved, first, that 50 yards shall constitute a claim in the bed of the creek extending to high water on each side.
    "Resolved, second, that 40 feet shall constitute a bank or bar claim on the face extending back to the hill or mountain.
    "Resolved, third, that all claims not worked when workable, after five days be forfeited or jumpable.
    "Resolved, fourth, that all disputes arising from mining claims shall be settled by arbitration and the decision shall be final.
    "E. J. Northcutt, chairman.
    "Attest: Philip Althouse, clerk."
    Mr. Northcutt was a partner with A. G. Walling, the printer, in 1852, on Althouse Creek; was with General Lane at the Indian fight on Evans Creek where he was wounded in the arm in [1853]; was with General A. J. Smith (then captain) at the battle of Hungry Hill in 1856; was with the Oregon cavalry under General Crook.
    He has been in 18 Indian fights, twice wounded. I am a well and hearty man today; never have been sick an hour on this coast--Oregon Observer, 13 June 1896.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 15



----


Takilma
    A small early-day mining community located on the east fork of the Illinois River about a mile southeast of the old town of Waldo. It was formerly called Taklamah and is said to have been so named by Col. T. Wain Morgan Draper of the Waldo Copper Mining Company for an Indian chief. In 1904 the name was changed to Takilma to avoid duplication with another place so named in Oklahoma. The Takilma tribe was known to have lived on the middle course of the Rogue River.
----
Tycer Creek
    Tycer Creek is located about five miles southeast of Kerby and was named for James E. Tycer, who settled in Brownsville in 1853 and moved on to Josephine County in 1866, to establish a well-known ranch in that section.
Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 15



----


Chinese Customs Added Much to Romance of Mining Era in County
    No early-day history would be complete without mentioning the Chinese and the part they played in the history of Waldo, Althouse and the surrounding territory.
    According to the census, 3,500 Chinese were working in the mines around Waldo at one time. Everyone was required to pay a poll tax of $4.00. At that time their number never seemed to fluctuate. If some left new ones always seemed to take their place.
    The Chinese never worked alone but preferred to form companies of five or six men and mine together. They worked the bedrock and tailings (ore once mined by the white man and then discarded). They were slower and more methodical, and many of them found enough gold to go back to China rich.
    They built their huts in long straight rows very close together. One such row was behind the old Waldo Store.
Celebrations Amusing
    Some of the older residents of the Valley recall with much amusement the activities of Chinese New Year's. Sometime before they wished to celebrate they would send to China for immense firecrackers, hard candy and specially prepared coconut. While they were waiting its arrival, tin cans would be strung along the eaves of each house, side by side, from one end of the street to the other. Upon the appointed day a giant firecracker would be placed in each can and someone would go to the farthest house up the street and set the first one on fire. This would set off the next one and so on down the street to the end. This made just one big bang after another. They also liked to place a large quantity of firecrackers under pans and buckets.
     If you were invited as a guest on New Year's you would be met in the doorway and each of you would bow to the other and then turn around and bow the other way. This continued until each one had bowed to everyone.
    Then you were given a treat of this hard white candy that had very bright colors mixed through it and coconut.
    The white miners and families watched these festivities with much interest.
    The Chinese then continued their feasting, drinking and noise making. There were several Chinese who played an active part in the Valley history at that time. One was China Bow. He thought mining was beneath him so he discarded his queue and operated a pack train from Crescent City to Happy Camp. Much of the first heavy equipment used in hydraulic mining was packed in via his mule pack train. Several of the first giants used in placer mining were brought in by him. Also the fruit trees that comprised the orchard on the old Fulk place came by pack train.
Blacksmith
    Another Chinaman was China Jim Chow, who had a blacksmith shop at Waldo. China Jim had two children, Eddie and Susie, of whom he was very proud. Susie attended school with the white children of the Valley. China Jim would slip up to the window of the school and peek in to see how really smart Susie and Eddie were, but no amount of coaxing would get him inside the door. Their teacher was Lucy George Bragdon.
    China Fawn owned a large mine over the hill from Waldo. There was also China Get and China E-Long and China Le-Hang, deputy tax collector under first sheriff of Josephine County, Geo. Hendershot. Many other Chinese struck it rich and went back to China.
    Just below the old Waldo Cemetery is a Chinese cemetery. The Chinese buried their dead there and after a period of time would collect their bones and send them back to China. They also fed the dead on China New Year. This comprised of a small bowl of rice placed on each grave.
    Of special interest to the white people was the way a Chinese funeral was conducted.
    The casket was placed on a wagon and hauled to the grave. Behind the wagon marched the mourners, who each carried long sticks which they swing from side to side occasionally. This was supposed to chase away the devil if he was lurking nearby.
    After they arrived at the cemetery there was much bowing back and forth before the ceremony was completed. Then coins were placed by the body and the rites were over.
     The Chinese were considered honest, hard-working people and did not cause trouble if left alone. Of course, there were always a few that were troublemakers. But when you consider the fact that many of the miners were continually robbing their sluice boxes and tormenting them other ways, you perhaps cannot blame them.
    According to long-time residents here, a Chinaman is buried on a sandbar on the east fork of Sucker Creek near its head. His body was not taken to China, as were those of most Chinese who died here, because he was the victim of murder. It is said he was beaten to death by an enraged debtor when the Chinaman asked him to pay a bill.--From the Golden Anniversary Issue, Apr. 3, 1935, Sec. 3, Page 15, Col. 2

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 15



----


First Miners in Illinois Valley Were Murdered
    In the early spring of 1852 a party of five men, led by James Coy, left Jacksonville to look for mining ground toward the coast. Having discovered some good diggings on a tributary of Illinois River, now called Josephine Creek, they were following up the right branch when they discovered, three miles above the junction, the remains of two white men, evidently murdered by the Indians.
    Being few in number, they determined to return and reinforce. Camping at night at the mouth of Josephine Creek, they were attacked by a large force. They kept the enemy at bay until the next night, when one of their number crowded through the lines and hastened to Jacksonville for aid.
    All that day and the next, and until about 10 o'clock on the third day, the besieged defended their little fortress, when a party of 35 came down the mountain to their relief and, finding the country rich in mines, took up claims and made the first permanent settlement in Illinois Valley.
    --From Scraps of Southern Oregon History, in Ashland Tidings, Sept. 20, 1878, as excerpted from Bancroft's History of Oregon, Vol. II, page 238

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 15



----


Salt Was Costly
    Ounce for ounce, salt was weighed against gold dust one particularly hard winter in the southern mining country, and the lucky purchaser of any salt to be had willingly parted with $16 to get it.
    It is recalled that board that winter at one of the old mine hotels was $16 a day, the two meals consisting mainly of venison which the boarders supplied themselves . . . the hotel rate based on the privilege of having the meat cooked with salt.
    It was that same winter that the story started of one old miner, Mike Bour, who paid $16 for an empty five-pound salt sack; and when the craving for salt became great he would take a knife and cut off a small piece of the sack and chew it.

----
    Judge H. K. Hanna of Medford once washed dishes in the old Waldo Hotel.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 15



----



Finley Bend Was Mine Site
    Dragging the gold to the sluice is the plan on which Southern Oregon's only Chinese miner is operating his property on the gravel bar just below Finley Bend on Rogue River, about nine miles west of Grants Pass.
    Where once thousands of Orientals worked along the streams of this district in the gold boom days of half to three-quarters of a century ago, only the one family is now mining here. Until last March, when Wong You, former restaurant operator in Grants Pass, brought his family from California there had been no Chinese miners here for several decades.
    Wong, assisted by his two boys, Benson and Frank, installed his "patchwork" drag line outfit in March of 1936 and until three months ago operated at a good profit. For the past three months the mine has been closed while repairs, alterations and improvements are being made.
    An eight-cylinder automobile engine powers the huge winch that pulls the gravel from the bar 200 feet away. The travel is dragged in a V-shaped bucket to the sluices. Pulled up a steep incline to a large hopper directly over the sluices, the gravel is dumped and the large rocks separated from it.
Sluice Boxes
    The rest of the gravel tumbles down into the sluice boxes and is washed in the usual manner, except that like nearly every other miner, Wong You has some ideas of his own in the sluices.
    For the first 10 feet the gravel is washed over steel plates. Then for 25 feet there are six layers of screens are laid over burlap, and under that is a canvas. Next are layers of steel grid.
    At the end of the screen portion of the sluices there is a cutout into another set of sluices built especially to receive and hold the fine gold and black sand. In this set is three layers of fine screen with layers of steel wool between.
Six-Inch Pump
    Water is supplied by a six-inch centrifugal pump powered by a six-horse auto engine. This was set on a raft built at the river bank, but the danger of rising water threatening to wash the machinery downstream has caused Wong You to build a sump in the river bank. This is now being done.
    When in operation, Wong employs about six men in addition to himself and his two boys. They move an average of about 200 yards per day, he said, and the gravel averages 25 to 30 cents per yard in gold dust.
    At the plant, Wong has much necessary equipment such as a buzz saw, tools, forge, and a shop.
    Wong himself and all his children were born in this country. One daughter was born in Grants Pass when he operated the Mocha Restaurant on G Street and the Panama Restaurant on Sixth Street. The children are Frank, Benson, Carl, Bert, Lilly, Margaret and Frances. The younger children attend school at Dixie.
    Wong's family were pioneer miners in the Yreka district. The company was the Kee Hong Company. Wong himself mined there before coming to Grants Pass in 1918. Here he was in the restaurant business until 1925.--From the Jan. 27, 1937, Sec. 1, page 7 Mining Issue.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 15



----


Briggs Boy Strikes Rich Gold Pocket
Yields $32,000 in Two Weeks

    The most wonderful gold discovery ever reported in Oregon was made a week ago Sunday by Ray Briggs by pure accident. The boy, who is but 18 years of age, was out on the mountains near Thompson Creek hunting grouse and stumbled onto a ledge of almost pure gold, cropping out of the surface. The find was of such magnitude that the boy, miner [minor?] that he is, could not realize that he had made the record-breaking strike. He carefully gathered up a double handful of the best specimens and secured a chunk of the quartz about the size of a candle box, which he took home to his father's placer mine. When the lad reached home he left the large chunk in the yard, lest possible visitors at the house might see his find. There was, however, none but the family at home and he announced to his father, David Briggs, that he had handled his last boulders. The father was startled to hear the dutiful son make such a rash statement when his help was so much needed at the placer mine, but when the specimens of gold were displayed and finally the big chunk of quartz produced, the father agreed that there was a more profitable work in sight than hurtling boulders. The rock was quickly crushed in a hand mortar and yielded nearly $800 in value.
    Early the next morning found the Briggs families--David Briggs and two sons, George Briggs and Charles Howard and son--at the place where the find was made and three claims were quickly staked out. Then began active mining, the machinery, however, consisting only of a hand mortar. In two hours they had secured $2000 and by night they had rich quartz stacked up in piles.
    By Thursday night they had mortared out $25,000. On Saturday David Briggs reached Grants Pass with a part of the yield, about $4000, which was taken to the Grants Pass Banking & Trust Co. The news of the find quickly spread and scores of people called at the bank to look at the gold and to inquire if the report was actually true. Mr. Briggs called at the Courier office and showed us a specimen of the gold and gave the facts substantially as above stated. Mr. Briggs was born in Josephine County and the 50 years of his life have been spent in Josephine County and we can vouch for the truth of whatever he may state.
    All day Monday people called at the bank and cashier Jewell was kept busy showing the milk pan full of gold to open-eyed spectators who, used to gold finds as we are, were not expecting anything of this magnitude. In the evening a telephone message was received stating that an additional $7000 had been taken out on Saturday and the ledge was getting better the farther down they went.
    The ledge is about one foot wide and thus far they have made an excavation about 10 feet long by seven feet deep. The gold is found in decomposed quartz, in some instances the gold being in layers an inch or more in thickness and standing on edge with a layer of decomposed quartz sprinkled with chunks of gold alongside. One of these layers of gold weighed in the neighborhood of $1,500.
    The gold brought to Grants Pass Saturday was the first taken out and was from the surface with dust carried by the shifting winds still upon it, while some of the large pieces had grass roots entwined in the crevices of the metal. The gold is of a dark color and covered with dust as it was might easily have been traveled over many times without being discovered. But as they went down the color brightened and the quartz became harder. Some of the specimens were very beautiful with clear white quartz studded with bright yellow points and seams of pure gold finding its way through the rock.
    The find is located in the southwestern part of Josephine County near the California line and in the direct line of the mineral zone which touches the Steamboat country. Already prospectors are scouring the hills and a stampede is expected. We confidently expect to hear of other rich finds made in that district during the next few months, as that country has been neglected so far as systematic prospecting is concerned. In the early '50s, however, many rich finds were reported--From the Courier of June 23, 1904.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 16



----



Prospectors Make First Boat Trip Down Illinois River
By Dan L. Green

    Having been disappointed in finding pay in Rancherie Creek, a tributary of the Illinois River, we concluded to build a strong boat and go down the river in quest of better pay. Our party, consisting of myself, Captain O. T. Root and a sailor by the name of Fisher, about the middle of August 1857, with a good boat well loaded with supplies, embarked for the lower unknown river.
    Proceeding down the river, our first stop was a few miles above the mouth of Briggs Creek. We found a prospect that paid from four to six dollars per day with rocker for a couple of weeks. While there we learned that a party of Indians had robbed several miners' cabins on Galice Creek, getting quite a supply of guns and ammunition and provisions. The Indians were pursued by the Galice miners for several days in the direction of the Illinois River but finding that the Galice miners were in hot pursuit, the redskins separated and made further pursuit impossible.
    On arriving at Briggs Creek we discovered that the Indians had been there and gone down the river. Just below Briggs Creek we entered a canyon about 10 miles in length, at the lower end of which we found a large flat covered with grass and large pine trees. Capt. Root named the place Pine Flat. We found that the Indians had crossed the river here in an old battered-up Indian canoe.
     Our next discovery was what was afterward called Collier Creek, coming in from the direction of the coast. Here we found quite a large abandoned Indian camp, the Indians having evidently gone down the river. After spending two or three days prospecting this creek and the nearby river bars and finding nothing that would pay, we continued on down the river, soon entering into a terrible hell gate of a box canyon.
Water Placid
    The water was at a dead standstill the entire length of the terrible gorge, and in places the way was blocked with immense rocks so close to each other that we had to unload our boat and haul it over or turn it up edgewise in order to get it past. Being unacquainted with the river, we at times feared that we were trapped in this gorge, and perhaps a big fall in the river might be awaiting us, made the matter a very serious situation.
    After two days of this experience we found ourselves out of the canyon and could see in all directions instead of only straight up, as when we were in the gorge. We soon passed the mouth of Silver Creek, which later on proved to be quite a historic mining stream.
    Our thoughts now began to center on getting out of the place as soon as possible, as we had found nothing that looked like gold mines to us.
    Inside to two days the moccasin tracks of Indians began to increase at a rapid rate in the sandy places along the river.
    Captain Root noticed that I was not much pleased with the appearance of the situation, and he said, "If we can only get a hearing with them we can soon have peace with them."  Just at this time the river was a dead eddy, making it easy for us to move along with hardly any noise.
Indians Encountered
    Rounding a sharp bend in the river suddenly brought us within less than 100 feet of the Indian camp. Then rose the wild savage yells of the Indians, the bucks ordering the squaws and little ones to run for dear life. Captain Root and his glib use of the Chinook language proved to be of no avail whatever. The Indians had a dam constructed of willows the entire width of the river with intakes made of willow at intervals along the dam for the fish to run into. They seemed to be catching an abundance of fish.
    Pulling our boat over the dam we sped on our way down the river. Going but a short distance we ran into another camp, but no Indians were in sight, our coming having been signaled to them by the first camp we had encountered. So this ended our anxiety about the Indians, I for one being glad to have it turn out just the way it did.
    On the approach of winter this party of Indians, which consisted of about 20 in all, went up the river to Rancherie Creek and gave themselves up to a party of miners at that place.
    The river was a continuation of bad rapids for some distance and we had the misfortune to swamp our boat on one of them, and lost a good part of our supplies, had our ammunition damaged, so that we were unable to get any game of which there was a great abundance. Prospects for finding gold in paying quantities had by this time dwindled down to almost nothing.
    The country opened out now and we found ourselves in quite a good-sized valley. Captain Root and myself thought we would try for a deer, but soon gave up all hopes on account of our damaged powder. We saw plenty of evidence that at least 100 head of elk had wintered there.
Rogue River Reached
    Deer and elk and big black timber wolves could be seen at all times of day. Navigation became quite easy to what it had been, and we were soon gladdened by the sight of Rogue River. Crossing over the north side we soon found ourselves in the Goulders Camp, where in June [1856], Chief John and his entire force of warriors surrendered to the regular and volunteer U.S. Army. This spot is now the town of Agness.
    Navigating Rogue River was more like play than what we had been having. When night approached we camped for the night with no sign of ocean or tide water. I have heretofore neglected to mention that Capt. Root owned a large black dog that accompanied us on this voyage of exploration, and proved to be useless except at night when the big timber wolves would put up a blood-curdling howl and Fannie, as we called our dog, would venture out a little too far and find herself being chased on the dead run back to camp by a half dozen or so of the big wolves.
    The early morning found us speeding downstream at as rapid a rate as possible, having lost nearly all our supplies when the boat was swamped, except for a small amount of syrup and flour.
    We were soon gladdened by the near approach to the coast, as evidenced by the numerous sea fowls and the unmistakable pounding of the breakers along the beach. In the latter part of the day we landed on the south side of the river not having seen a sign of a human being all day.
    Here we found about 100 miners mining the black sand along the beach, and apparently doing well at it. We found Mr. Peter O'Regan was keeping a well-supplied miners' supply store. I will here mention that there were three of the O'Regan brothers--Peter, John and Dan--who were Josephine County's earliest merchants, doing business on Althouse and Sailors' Diggings.
Party Separates
    We were not long in discovering that the beach mines were quite limited, and that there was no room for us. So we broke up camp, Captain Root going back through the mountains to Rancherie Creek, an undertaking that I considered very risky, while Fisher and I went over to Crescent City, a distance of 70 miles.
    There was a Cherokee Indian at the mouth of the river who owned a fine and well-equipped whaleboat, and when the wind and waves were just right would make the run from Rogue River to Crescent City and carry express matter. He invited us to go with him, saying that he would be ready to go soon, and that he would land us in Crescent City inside of six hours, remarking that it would take us about three days to get there on foot.
    The mouth of the river was in plain view, with big white-capped breakers chasing each other in, did not make me hesitate long in declining to accept his kind offer, so Fisher and myself were soon on the road on our own way to Crescent City, with no road except the beach and Indian trails across the points of mountains that made into the ocean.
    Arriving at the Chetco River we found a man and his wife named Miller, where we stopped for dinner, and in a short time found ourselves partaking of the first square meal we had had in many days. After the meal was over Mr. Miller carried us across the river in a model-type of Indian canoe. Late in the day found us at the mouth of Smith River, where there was a large number of Indians engaged in fishing for salmon with apparently good success.
Wonderful Redwoods
    Traveling up the river a short distance we crossed and soon found ourselves among the mammoth redwood trees. In my mind the gigantic redwoods of Smith River were certainly the most wonderful of all trees. A few hours travel found us in Crescent City, a very lively and wide-awake little town made so principally because of its being a seaport where goods were being delivered to be packed on mules over the mountains to the mines.
Pack Train Profitable
    A man named Stateler was the principal wholesale merchant of the town. His house was a very busy place for the repacking of goods to go over the mountains. This packing was principally carried on by Mexicans, who came from Mexico with their pack trains already equipped to engage in this particular trade of packing from Crescent City. Their equipment was a Mexican pack saddle called "aparejo" which consisted of a pad made of good leather and canvas, and well made for packing all kinds of freight. It was not an unusual thing to see a safe that would weigh 400 pounds packed by a strong mule wearing one of these saddles.
     The year 1857 was the time that construction of the wagon road across the mountains was begun, leading from Crescent City to the Illinois Valley in Oregon, but not completed until the summer of 1855 [sic], an event that in a short time sent the Mexican and his pack mules to Eastern Oregon and Idaho, to do packing in the new mines of that country.
Return to Kerby
    My companion, Fisher, and myself, were parted, he going to work on the wagon road, I going back to Josephine County in Oregon. About the first person I met on arriving in Kerby was Captain Root, who came near losing his life in his attempt to reach Rancherie Creek from the mouth of the Rogue River over the mountains.
    The miners of Rancherie and Piersaul Bar said that when Captain Root reached them the emaciated appearance of the Captain and his faithful dog showed very plainly that they could not have gone more than one or two days more. The distance he had traveled was much greater than he had anticipated.
    I have written this story of facts as they occurred, as an example of what the early prospector and gold seeker had to endure in order to develop the mining resources of the Southern Oregon territory.--From the Courier of Friday, April [19], 1924.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 16



----


Greenhorn Luck!
    A favorite tale among miners recalling early days in Southern Oregon is that of the young man named Vaun who arrived in Browntown broke. With true greenhorn innocence he asked where there was a good place for him to do a little gold digging. Several old sourdoughs thought they would have a little fun, and with mock dignity directed him to a big pile by the side of the creek running down the side of a nearby hill. The greenhorn took off. Within a few moments the old hands heard his delighted whoops.
    They followed to the exact spot to which they had sent him, and found him excitedly regarding a huge nugget, later valued at $800.
    Declaring that so much money was more than the law allowed him, the erstwhile novice mined no more that day or again in those parts, departing on a horse purchased with the earnings from the nugget.
----
Final Rite Convivial
    Browntown in 1859 was setting for a brawl which brought death to one Sam Herd, well known in that area as a gambler. Miners and others of the dead man's fraternity crowded into town for his funeral, bowie knives at their belt, rifles in hand, and at least one flask of whiskey to each pocket.
    Herd's coffin was borne up to the miners' burying ground on Walker Gulch, whereupon the miners sat on the coffin, while others stood around, all drinking to the welfare of the departed Sam, with the final salute, "Good luck to you, Sam, old boy, wherever you are."
----
Was 'Stumped'
    And there's a story told of William Mums, once a surveyor in Josephine County, missing a nugget worth $100. Mums had mined all around one big stump, finally leaving that spot, and going further upstream. Another miner, named Saunders, removed the stump, and found the hundred-dollar nugget. It is said Mums henceforth "declared war" on all stumps.
----
Courier Publisher Visits Briggs Strike for Story
    The big gold find of southern Josephine County was visited by two Courier men,  A. E. Voorhies and Fred Mensch, for the purpose of seeing the place that has put new life into the mining industry in this section, and of securing reliable and certain information as to the value of the discovery. The journey by bicycle to Holland and thence 10 miles by trail on foot up Sucker Creek and over the mountain brought the newsmen to the Briggs strike. The Briggs families, five men and two women, were camped there, carefully watching their bonanza. The place where all the treasure, $50,000 to $75,000, was taken out is an insignificant hole some 12 feet in length from 12 to 14 inches wide and two feet deep. Along the hanging wall there is a seam averaging about the thickness of a man's finger which is filled with pure gold. If the discoverers had carefully excavated along the side of the seam and removed the quartz without breaking the gold they could probably have secured a piece several feet in length. Much of the gold is red and rusty and would doubtless be overlooked by an unpracticed eye. Other pieces are yellow and bright. The gold is porous and is light in comparison with similar bulk of placer gold, being worth in its crude state about $18 an ounce. Goldenview City with snow patches extending into the city limits has been staked out, and a 10-day option on the property had been given for cash sale of $100,000. There have been many visitors and some 30 claims have been staked out near the find. A surprising percentage of those who start for the mine never get there, as a few hours of perspiration on the trail is sufficient to abate their enthusiasm to such an extent that the idea that "there is nothing to see" finds ready lodgment in their minds. As the Courier men were toiling up the steep slope they met the old-time prospector with three pack animals coming down from Bonanza Peak. A look of pity and disgust came over his weatherbeaten face when told that the pedestrians were en route to the scene of the new discovery and he evidently considered them dupes of inflated newspaper reports. "Why, them newspaper men in Grants Pass," he said, "they surely never read the scriptures where the Lord killed Ananias for lying. He is surely a lot more liberal nowadays when he lets them newspaper men live."  It is not a difficult matter to reach the place. If it were, the 84 miles round trip by wheel and 20 by trail could not have been made in three days by the men accustomed only to office work.
----
Munger Gulch
    U.S. Surveyor Myron Munger is honored with the naming of this gulch, and likewise by the naming of Munger Peak and Munger Creek. Munger located at Williamsburg and ran the first government survey lines in Southern Oregon.
----
Leland
    Leland, located on the Southern Pacific railroad 22 miles north of Grants Pass, is on Grave Creek and is one of the pioneer communities of Oregon. It received its name in early days as the result of an attempt made in 1854 by the Oregon legislature to change the name of Grave Creek to Leland Creek. This was done in order that honor might be paid Leland Crowley, whose daughter, Martha Leland Crowley, died on Grave Creek, her grave later occasioning the name of that stream. The attempt to change the name to Leland Creek failed, and the old name of Grave Creek prevailed, but Leland as the name of the post office was retained. Leland is shown as a post office in the list published in the Oregonian Feb. 6, 1861. The original site of Leland was on the old Oregon-California stage road, now the Pacific Highway, but when the present railroad was put through, the post office was moved to the railroad, about two miles west.
----
Mount Reuben
    This peak, located in both Douglas and Josephine counties, is a prominent peak about 10 miles west of Glendale, on the divide between the waters of Cow Creek and those of Rogue River. It was named for Reuben Field of Linn County, who was a member of Captain Jonathan Keeney's company which fought Indians in this part of Oregon in 1855. While his company was trying to cross the Rogue River not far from this mountain, Reuben Field made the jocular prediction that the Indians would make an attack. The prediction was soon fulfilled and Mount Reuben and Reuben Creek nearby has borne his name ever since.
----
Powell Creek
    This stream, in the Williams District, is named for John L. Powell, who settled on a donation claim near the stream in 1855.
----
    It is said that the largest grizzly bear ever killed in the Illinois Valley country weighed a thousand pounds.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 16



----


Death Valley Scotty Mined Here in 1922
    Scott of Death Valley, spectacular figure of boom days in Nevada, is tramping Siskiyou in Josephine County.
    Alone, tramping the Siskiyou Mountains with a pack train, a dog and a gun for companions, Death Valley Scotty, one of the most spectacular figures in the mining world during the boom days in Nevada, has recovered from serious wounds suffered several years ago, and is seeking gold in this vicinity.
    While on a trip in the Sucker Creek District, George S. Barton, local mining man connected with the Boswell Mine, recently encountered the old-time prospector, whom he knew at the height of his prosperity nearly 15 years old. Barton refused to say where Scotty was prospecting, but it was while on the Sucker Creek trip that he ran across him.
    Death Valley Scotty was so named because of his mysterious trips into the famous Death Valley district, from whence he always returned with a large poke of gold, is not a man of middle age, for the old desert rat is to celebrate his 69th birthday April 3. In spite of his years he has lost none of the keenness of eye that caused men to hesitate before drawing a gun in the days that are no more.
    Reticent as to his activities, Scotty gave out no reason of his tramping the hills, nor why he should be in Josephine County, when the general belief is that all he has to do is make one of his mysterious trips into Death Valley and return with a load of gold. All attempts  to draw him out regarding his whereabouts since he was last before the public eye failed. Scotty admitted having been seriously wounded several years ago and is now regaining full use of one arm. Newspapers at the time carried an account of his death in a California dance hall, following the shooting.
    Scotty, who is a "dry-land" miner, having learned the game in desert country in 1867, still clings to this method. Water, applied to mining, has no attraction for the old timer. He pans as usual and makes his own assays.
    That his is not entirely unsuccessful is attested to by Barton, who saw samples of his ore.
    Men who knew Scotty would at first fail to recognize him, declared Barton, who says the prospector now weighs about 160 pounds. In the old days Scotty tipped the scales better than 200 pounds, but following his sojourn in a hospital, lost 75 pounds.
    Among many stories is that of his habit of chartering a special train upon returning from one of his trips to Death Valley, and spending two weeks or so at a time in New York, where his extravagance brought forth much comment. He is known to have spent thousands of dollars in a single evening in Nevada towns and in San Francisco. Upon reaching the end of his gold, Scotty would invariably disappear for a time, and then suddenly come back with a sack of gold.
    A story is told of his coming into a saloon upon his return from a trip calling upon all to drink to his health. A large sack was tossed carelessly into a corner. Those who were curious sought to learn of its contents. Upon being opened it was found that the wily prospector had caught a rattlesnake which lay upon the gold, guarding it from trespass.
    Scotty realizes he is not as young as he might be and indicated that he would retire from an active life upon making another strike. Commenting upon his exploits, he remarked "he thought he was old enough now to show better judgment."
    Mining men are at a loss to understand why he is interested on looking over this section, as it generally believed he has several rich caches in Death Valley, to which he alone knows the way. They cannot explain why the old prospector does not return to the fields with which he is familiar, instead of roaming the Siskiyous.--From the Rogue River Courier Weekly of Jan. 27, 1922.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 16


----

Exact Site of Grave on Grave Creek Located
     A cairn of rocks, of nondescript shape and size, half-heartedly stacked--and scattered over the little flat place, a spot about 25 feet immediately west of and below the south end of Grave Creek's famous covered bridge--this is the exact spot where Martha Leland Crowley, the ill-fated heroine of an 1843 emigrant train, was buried--her body later exhumed by Indians seeking grave clothes in which she had been laid to rest. This precise and positive information comes firsthand to this writer from none other than 84-year-old Bill McIntosh of Wolf Creek, who was taken to the gravesite by the man who discovered the exhumed body.
    The discoverer of that grim incident was Pvt. Bill Coffman, on his way home from his tour of duty in military service. Pvt. Coffman was the father of Bill McIntosh's brother-in-law, the husband of his sister, May Coffman.
    Well in advance of my scheduled research work trips up Wolf Creek way, I had been reminded by many throughout the county that Bill McIntosh could tell more about the Wolf Creek country than most anyone else. I was not disappointed.
Direct to Wolf Creek
    Bill McIntosh was born May 15, 1876, in southeastern Missouri, and with his parents and sisters crossed the plains direct to Wolf Creek, arriving on May 30 of 1882. The sisters, both living, are Mrs. Annie McIntosh Bacon, of Wolf Creek, and Mrs. May Coffman, currently in the Parkview home in Grants Pass, but whose lifetime home has been, and still is, maintained at Wolf Creek, as is Mr. McIntosh's.
     Bill's home would make an old sourdough miner, anywhere from the Yukon up Alaska way, down to Randsberg, on the Mojave Desert, feel right at home…tucked in amongst his housekeeping things are all the tools, maps, papers and other paraphernalia dear to the heart of any western frontiersman, who had to have his shop right here and now, wherever he was.
    Apart from the living quarters, a sizable building houses extensive woodworking equipment, wherein one may find anything from a pulpit piece to a modern furniture item in process of fabrication, for "just about half the furniture repairing, and fine cabinet work round these parts is taken to Bill McIntosh"--or so we were told.
    But Bill McIntosh's heart is really in the mines…and there's not much importance to any mining deal going on anywhere in the north end of Josephine County if Bill McIntosh hasn't been consulted about it.
    His avid interest in the mineral potential of the county was come by the most natural way in the world--for Bill McIntosh has spent his entire life, since he was six years old right there among those beautiful hills to either side of Martha Leland Crowley's Grave Creek.
    While we were on our drive over to the beautiful covered bridge and its neighboring place of interest, where Bill posed at the gravesite for a picture for the Courier, he also pointed out numerous other places of tremendous interest historically, in the Josephine County story.
Walls of Old Inn
    For example--the fine old homestead which now sits quietly atop the little knoll immediately to the north of the Covered Bridge and the junction roads--Bill is quite positive that within it still stand original walls of historic old Harkness Inn, which was even before it was Harkness Inn the famous old Fort Leland of Indian war days.
    The "Y" junction where the old highway route turns in a westerly lateral across to the new and present Highway 99 North--to the "inside" corner below--that, according to Bill, is the site of the old soldier burying ground, where Jonathan Pedigo and other heroes of the "Hungry Hill" and "Meadows" campaigns which wound up the Indian wars, were first laid to rest.
    An Applegate Trail sign, picturesque in itself, will call the passerby's attention to the spot, although it will tell none of the burial ground story.
    Mr. McIntosh pointed out several scrubby maples, obviously of very old age, standing at the north end of the covered bridge--originally these were a solid row of fine ornamentals, leading from the old fort atop the knoll right down to the creek, and they were set out in 1852, according to information given many years ago to Mr. McIntosh.
    When the McIntosh family made their journey west in 1882 it was to visit with Bill's grandparents, already settled in that obscure frontier country. The visiting family liked it so well there was no question about going back.
1882 Home Stands
    The white house still stands which Bill's father set about building. It is a pretty focal point on a beautiful sloping hillside setting across the "gulch" from the present Highway 99 within a mile as one travels south from the Wolf Creek community. The original had four rooms, and walls of these rooms are now a part of the present larger house, which now includes two bedrooms, a "front room" and a kitchen.
    Back in those days the only schooling available was in a small subscription school run by Sam Stockton, long settled in the area. Bill's father felt that there should be more school facilities available for children throughout the area and set about the business of petitioning for a district there. The first school resulting from that petition was located at his father's store building, the store having been closed up because too many people in the area never found it convenient to pay cash. Children rode horseback from as far as 15 miles away and others walked five and six miles "up the creek" to attend that first public school.
Tales of Early Days
    As we drove along, first one bit of interesting information, then another, made an ordinarily pleasant scenic ride of today a trip right back through history in Josephine County, as Bill McIntosh's sharp memory and flair for good story telling brought all into a clear time focus. "Old man Henry Smith had a thousand head of cattle here on the old Wolf Creek Ranch."  "Families we all knew as kids here together around Wolf Creek were the McMeikles and the Lollars…and from over on Grave Creek, the Makins, the Maloneys, the Goffs and Reeds."  "Wolf Creek Inn was quite a place even before my grandparents arrived in Wolf Creek, but contrary to all those tales, it was NOT built in 1857."  This later said with emphasis by storytelling Bill McIntosh, who went on to say, "My grandfolks told us it was started in 1873 and was finished about 1878."
    And did I know that back in the '80s there was no heavy timber on Sexton Mountain, such as is to be seen all over that prominent eminence today. "That was because the Indians kept it all burnt off--no underbrush--that is good forest practice and the country would be better if they were following the Indians' way of doing it today."  "There were thousands and thousands of deer running through the country then, too.
    "Remember the day we arrived, and my father went up the creek to hunt some game, bagged a deer before he came in and we were busy all that afternoon and the next three days hauling them out and dressing the meat down for the winter in salt brine with saltpeter, some of it we jerked. Got some horns somewhere here that my Dad shot when he was well up in his 80s, at a distance of better than a half mile.
    "All men carried guns with them everywhere those days--guns meant food--you heard nothing and seen nothing, only guns and pistols. Dad started right in making a good business out of gunsmithing.
    "Those days there were no roads through here because the timber was too thick. The village 'Old Wolf Creek' was then up on the flat where Keto's fabulous collection of old-timer cars is now. We called the place Almaden those days.
Chinese Toiled Hard
    "When the railroad came through the mountains to Wolf Creek there were 3,000 Chinese at work on the roadbed--Chinese labor was the bulldozer of that day--they put one in mind of ants, the way they worked. Dynamite was dangerous stuff so many of them [were] killed, tamping down the loads.
    "Proctor run a newspaper up at Dogtown over at the mouth of Dog Creek near Leland--he was killed later in a mill he built up there. That Dogtown post office was the one that later became Leland."
    The rowdy conduct of the construction workers and frontiersmen of those days--yelling and shouting as they'd leave town, headed back up the gulch to the mountain, past the same white house his father had built for them…"there was the time the rowdies were carrying on and father was home, they'd been pot-shooting at dogs along the way, and some of their wild bullets hit our house…that was too much for Dad…his old .44 Winchester fired several times in their general direction dampened their enthusiasm quick."
    And then, as we started up the grade, came Bill's best story of all, but come to think of it, it's such a good story, it's worth a head and spot all its own.--AFB
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 17



----


Waldo Mining Camp Days to Fine Gowns for Royal 'Friends'--
All Are Part of Nellie Streit's Story

    No matter what period one names in the life of Nellie Hart Streit, 92 years old this coming August 15, the stories she can recall of that era are fabulous. The challenge is not in the telling of her fascinating life but rather what to tell first.
    She was six years old when her parents returned to Waldo in 1874, coming in a covered wagon from Albany where she was born. Return is a word rarely applied to any arrival at Waldo as early as 1874, but it does pertain in the case of the Hart family…whose advent into the old mine country was long ahead of the outbreak of the Indian wars….by which time her father, Lucas D. Hart, had a well-established miner's supply store on the Althouse.
    But as the long-threatened Indian war outbreak swept the first Indian rampage up the creek to their very door, the young store owner urged his wife, Harriet, onto one horse, grabbed their 2-month-old son Charles in his arms and leaped onto another, barely outriding the Indians in an escape in the sanctuary of old Fort Briggs, down on the flat. They were "forted up" at Fort Briggs for the next 11 months.
Hot Bread Left Behind
    In the hour before their hasty departure from the store at Althouse, Mrs. Hart had just finished baking a batch of bread. It was too hot to take along, and with reluctance she left it, taking instead clothes for the new baby.
    Mr. Hart's business partner, a Mr. Hallsbrook, lingered behind the Harts but realized soon he would have to make a run for it also. The aroma from the fresh-baked loaves cooling in the kitchen convinced him it was "just too good" for the Indians, and he grabbed up four corners of a tablecloth, slung the bread over his shoulder, and departed on a run for Sucker Creek. Nor was he a minute too soon, as Indian shot began to pepper his legs. The bread impeded his running and he finally dropped it behind him, diving into the shelter of a washout in a bank of the creek behind an uprooted tree. For once the escaping Mr. Hallsbrook literally held his breath, as he listened to the Indians above him on the bank--so close he could hear their breathing. Later he too reached the safety of Fort Briggs, minus the wonderful bread.
    Right after the Indian war was over, Mr. Hart built a new 2-room abode for his family on a small knoll near Holland and set up a horseshoeing station at the foot of the knoll, alongside of the busy road over which hundreds of miners were traveling with their pack animals, bound for the gold country.
    Twin sons and a daughter were born in the next several years which were highly prosperous times for the ambitious father--so much so that as the rich mining years of the '60s continued he decided he would take the family back to Michigan to be reared in greater cultural advantage. Nellie was born soon after their return there.
Not Happy in East
    But the cold winters of Michigan convinced the Harts that they would never be happy until they were once again back in Oregon, so they turned west again. Nellie's youngest brother [was] born soon after their arrival a second time at Albany.
    But they soon found that it wasn't just Oregon they wanted to come back to--it was the exciting life in the beautiful hills of Josephine County out at the mines at Waldo, so another move brought them all, once again, back to the diggings. This time Mr. Hart turned to mining at the old Bybee mine right back of Waldo up on the hill, almost within hailing distance of the mine's boarding house, which Mrs. Hart took over.
    It was the thinking in her family that the later caving-in of the entire "business center" of old Waldo was caused by the extensive undermining of the gulch in which Waldo had been located.
    It was here at Waldo that the young Hart children had a glorious childhood, one marked with something new and exciting almost every day. But most exciting of all was the arrival of the trains of pack mules, their amazingly heavy burdens revealing a fantastic variety of articles brought over Oregon Mountain off ships at Crescent City, or from supply stations either at Yreka or up at Scottsburg.
Went Away to School
    She had one term of school at Waldo, with her older brother, Fred, as teacher before she "went away to school" at Jacksonville, where Judge P. P. Primm was the schoolmaster. This was quite a big school, she recalls. However, in her second year there occurred the terrible scourge of scarlet fever which was to bring death into almost every family in Southern Oregon, and which had a particularly telling effect among the young children. She was sent home to escape exposure to the dread epidemic, only to arrive at Waldo right in the midst of a tragic round of diphtheria.
    All six children in the family survived and lived on into advanced years. Her last surviving brother and kinsman died in 1955. Since then she has made her home with Mr. and Mrs. H. L. Dawes at 322 NW A Street in Grants Pass. It was there that she told the interesting story of her life.
    By the time she was ready for high school such facilities were available in Grants Pass, and she recalled with gratitude the special business preparation made possible for her by Prof. Benson--"He was a grand teacher" she recalled.
    She met her first husband, a Mr. Evans, who was a railroad engineer, while living at the old Jennings Hotel in Grants Pass…he was engineer on the passenger train, and as such was a "very important man" hereabouts. After he inherited a substantial property, they moved to Portland to live. His death followed two years later.
    Thirty years later she married another railroad man--John Wilbur Streit of Portland--and some time later with his death was again left alone.
    It was in the interim between her two marriages that one of the most interesting phases of this 92-year-old's life occurred.
    It was as Nellie Evans that she went to San Francisco and took charge of the imported gown room in the Emporium. The gowns she showed her fine patrons were rich and fabulously made, with prices ranging from $500 to $2500.
    Those were the days when great men, often royal personages, traveled "incognito," and frequently were accompanied by a current "favorite."
    One such (very hush-hush, but he WAS a king "incognito") came in with his lovely companion of the moment, selected a gorgeous gown in blue with sunburst décor, paid $1500 for it, and $7000 for a handsome evening wrap!
    The story has a sequel--the next day the "favorite" was back, inquiring for the manager, to whom she confided that while she was provided with trunkloads of fine clothes she actually had very little money--would the manager accept for return the fine gown purchased the day before, and which she had worn exactly one hour the previous evening?  After a show of demurring protest, the manager complied, discounting the garment considerably to make a later immense profit, for the garment had a quick sale in his local patronage, as its dramatic story was "whispered" about.
Knew Anna Held
    Mrs. Streit recalled as one of her favorite patrons tiny, petite Anna Held, long the toast of the continent, "so graceful that even an ordinary stand table was more than ample for her to dance on."  It was with a truly feminine sigh of nostalgia that the nonagenarian recalled Anna Held choosing a magnificent black satin costume, one embroidered with a dramatic gold dragon, its coils convincingly writhing right down into the long train of the gown. This costume equally delighted the six pretty chorus girls who comprised Miss Held's usual entourage as she made one of her spectacular shopping forays into some fine shop.
    And the Floradora Sextette, long the delight of early American stage life with their song and dance act, were also on her special list of favored patrons.
    All these were unforgettable moments in her life before San Francisco's great fire and earthquake…she had gone to the Lewis & Clark exposition at the time of that April 18, 1906 disaster. The hotel in which she lived in downtown San Francisco was demolished. She never went back.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 17



----


Snows on Mountain in '89 Turned Reynolds Family Back--
To Settle Near Waldo Mines
    When the parents of Ernest W. Reynolds, now 73 and living at 293 Walker Road in the Fruitdale District, picked up the reins on their several rigs and headed out of old Linkville to "go west" they were bound for the mouth of the Chetco River, their choice as a new homeplace they would make for themselves…that they would settle in the Illinois Valley and never go on to the Chetco would have probably left them undaunted in their move "west" is a story worth telling.
    The Reynolds were sickened at heart as times mounted in '89 and they saw a feud between two fine families raging throughout the Klamath County in Eastern Oregon, embroiling first one neighboring unit, then another and, in too many instances, bringing tragedy and death into families otherwise unrelated to the issues involved. There were three young blades in the Reynolds household, and the parents were determined that they were not to be drawn into their neighbors' quarrels.
    And so it was, on a fall day in '89 that Cora Reynolds tucked her tiny son Ernest in beside her as she "clucked" to the four horses drawing the family's new Bain wagon, loaded with most of the household things, and turned for one last look at the old homeplace at Keno which was out this way from old Linkville (which was the first name for Klamath Falls--because it was on the old Link River connecting Upper and Lower Klamath Lakes).
    As the wagon moved out, Ira Reynolds started out with the family's livestock, the teenage boys helping him, leaving their sister, Cora, to keep the loose horses in line in the caravan.
Many Weeks on Trail
    Mr. Reynolds recalls they were many weeks on the road, for it was up and then down as they climbed the steep grades of the Cascades, seeking out the rutted lanes which passed for highways leading ever on to the coast.
    But at Oregon Mountain, down at the southwest corner of Josephine County, the snow was a foot deep at Bain Station, and winter wasn't even yet upon them. They turned back into the Illinois Valley country, first to the old Harston place, just this side of that old homestead, and wintered there. To their surprise, they liked this wintering place so well, and the beautiful Illinois Valley spreading out beyond, that they decided to stay and set about the proving up of a 160-acre homestead. Nor was Ernest Reynolds to venture farther away from that point until he was 24 years of age.
     The point where that homestead was taken up was only five miles south of Waldo, along the route of the old stage road, then a flourishing thoroughfare, what with all the freighting of mining supplies into the Southern Oregon mines, and the shipping of gold out to Crescent City and the world beyond.
    It was natural, therefore, that the elder Reynolds would turn to freighting as a livelihood for his family…and a profitable one it proved to be. He first freighted from Crescent City for the famous Frenchman, Louis Gasquet, whom he always declared was "just as honest as the day is long."  The son Ernest remembers old Frenchman Gasquet well, when as a small boy, he was frequently permitted to go on the freighting expeditions with his father, his particular interest centering in the four mules which his father frequently included along with the four-mule outfit he ran for Pete Peacock.
Freight Reloaded at Waldo
    Those days, the freight coming in from the ships at Crescent City was hauled to Waldo, where it was repacked then onto pack mules for the more arduous (if such were possible, after the Oregon Mountain crossing) trip into the Siskiyou Mountains to the mines around Happy Camp, just over the line into California.
    Mr. Reynolds recalls many a time seeing the famous hog drives of old Martin Bybee…spectacular in size as 300 hogs, fat off the old Bybee ranch up near Bybee Bridge east of Central Point were herded along unmarked trails ever onward to the Happy Camp mines. There they brought fabulous prices as the hundreds of Chinese, as well as white miners, clamored for the rich fatness of the meat, always a rare item of diet in their fare.
    All kinds of freight was handled in those mule trains, Mr. Reynolds recalls, but there was always much whiskey in the load, as well as staples in food items, as was also routine camp and miner supplies.
    Mr. Reynolds well recalls when there were 500 Chinese working on the mines around Waldo, and that there were "two big stores and two big hotels" on Waldo's main street, on which the stage coach traversed the length of the town…and as for saloons, well--there were so many of them, he never did bother to count them all.
    He had his first schooling there at Waldo, in the little district school which set to the upper side of the stage road, at the top end of town. School days, and life around the old mining town were fun…no wonder he was always coming back, no matter where he went!
Range Bull Fights
    Childhood incidents which stand out in his recollection include his favorite of all pastimes when, along with his next older brother, they would set bulls to fighting out on the open range…"there were thousands of cattle running the range then" he recalled.
    He recalls too that his father once set out a sizable prune orchard below Grants Pass which he was to trade off, only a few years later, for a span of horses, as the bottom fell out of the potential market for such fruit in that area.
     He has ridden cattle many times right over to where the mouth of the Oregon Caves was discovered--"but never paid much attention to them, and never did get into the Caves until 1926."
    Mr. Reynolds is proud that both of his parents came across the plains in emigrant wagon trains…his father crossing to California in 1849, as the gold rush beckoned thousands of men west, and his mother the next year in another wagon train.
    Mrs. Reynolds, the former Lena Cornutt of Central Point, is a granddaughter of pioneer homesteaders settling on land where the main city of Portland is now located.
    Others of their family today include their children, Lester W. and Carol E. Reynolds, both of Grants Pass, and siblings of Mr. Reynolds surviving today are Cora, now Mrs. Leak, in Washington, Vallis Reynolds, now at Sawyer's Bar, California; and Lena, now Mrs. J. G. Houck, in Ashland, Oregon.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 17



----


Mrs. Gunning at 94 Is Oldest Pioneer on Courier Roll Call
    To Mrs. Gertrude Spencer Gunning, 506 SW Fourth Street, Grants Pass, goes the Courier's salute as its "oldest pioneer" this 1960. Over the nearly 200 pioneers which have been named on the Courier's Pioneer Honor Roll, Mrs. Gunning, nearly 94, leads the list in seniority of years. She was born July 29, 1866, near Chico, in Butte County, California, and came to Josephine County in 1893.
    When, for the first time, on her journey here, she looked down from the mountains to the north, over the Rogue River Valley and Grants Pass, she said "she thought we were going down into a hole--if there had been a lid for it, we would have been in a kettle."
    There were no paved streets then, nor even real sidewalks, only board planks--and they were along the main street only. What was most missed was the lack of water for a garden, as there was no irrigation facility yet established. When water was finally made available in abundance "how I enjoyed my home and flower garden…it was a field of daffodils."
Same House 60 Years
    Mrs. Gunning's interests have been mainly home-centered in her course of her 67 years residence in Grants Pass…the last 60 of them in the house in which she is now living. There she loves to do fancywork, particularly knitting, and does yards and yards of knit lace, using two needles. Over the years she has knit many dresses and sweaters also, and for diversion in fancywork has enjoyed both crochet and tatting.
    She is proud of her erect carriage "just never could allow myself to slump."  Prized treasures are 50-year pins from both Rebekah and Eastern Star lodges here in Grants Pass. She has been a member for many years of the Grants Pass Presbyterian Church and until a year ago walked regularly to service.
    Her husband was James R. Gunning, long identified with railroad work here. She has been widowed the past 30 years. Her only son, Perrie Gunning, now 66, lives in Portland.
    On the occasion of her 92nd birthday, a party honored her in the city park, at which congratulatory messages were received from Mrs. Eisenhower and from Gov. and Mrs. Holmes.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 17



----


Old Wheeler Log House Remembered
    This log house was a familiar sight to many named as pioneers in this 75th Anniversary Pioneer Edition of the Courier. The house stood in a grove of oak trees a short distance north of the present State Police headquarters. It was built by Louis Sullens, and it is believed the first logs were laid in 1855, and that the roof was put on in 1860. Gilbert of "Gilbert Creek" in Grants Pass is believed to have first claimed the land, with Sullens the next owner. John Patterson was noted as owner when the first land survey was made by [Sewell] Truax. The cabin was spared for some reason which will never be known as the Indians swept through that area on their awful day of massacre on Oct. 9, 1855--Courier engraving.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 18


----


Oldest Business in Same Place in Grants Pass
    While the birthplace in 1896 of Charles A. ("Ole") Hansen, 1019 NE 8th Street, was at old Althouse, the site of the county's first good strikes, Mr. Hansen's lifetime interests have turned towards a more urban way of life, most of it spent in Grants Pass. There were a few years of school at Corvallis, shipyard work and war service during World War I, and then…back to Grants Pass.
    Mr. Hansen believes that he operates today the oldest business in Grants Pass "in the same place of continuous business operation," the firm known these past 20 years as "Ole's Hamburger" having been continuously at the Sixth and C Street site.
    There are several other firms in business which were here when he started, but they have changed their addresses…among them the Golden Rule and the Rogue River Hardware, as Mr. Hansen recalls business days in Grants Pass back in the late '30s.
    When he had been in business only two weeks a chance patron stopping by for a hamburger presented him with his own highly prized formula for making chili--one which his chain of chili stands in the Southwest had used for years. Mr. Hansen has followed that formula exactly over the years…except that he has cut the hot chili ingredients to one-eighth of the original!
    As for any other secret of the business, Mr. Hansen opined, "There's only one way to fix a real hamburger--let them put their own fixin's on!"--and in his thinking there's no place for other than mustard, lettuce, pickle and onion.
    Mr. Hansen was a charter member of Josephine County's famous Cavemen, and continues an active interest in its affairs, as well as in the Masonic fraternity, and in his war service organizations.
    His parents were Charles and Elizabeth Hansen, who lived many years at Holland. Others of their family are Alice, now Mrs. C. A. Winetrout, Medford; Ida, who is Mrs. Cliff Jenkins, in Portland, and Fred Hansen, in Cleveland, Ohio.
    Mrs. Hansen, the former Esther Olson of Newberry, Michigan, is on the teaching staff at Lincoln School. Her interests mesh nicely with those of Mr. Hansen in the fine garden they maintain at their home, and in their choice collection of antique china and glass.
    Their children are Hanna Sue Harvey, now in San Antonio, Texas, Joyce Fugit, at Hermiston, and Bill Hansen, now at Sacramento, Calif.
----
    The first donation land claim on Deer Creek is said to have been taken up by William Guss.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 18


----


Seyferth Family Still Large in Illinois Valley
    Among the largest of the early-day families settling in the Illinois Valley were the Seyferths, whose advent into the valley dates back into the 1870s…where nine daughters and three sons were reared, several of them surviving today to review lives spent almost completely in that section.
    Three sisters of that large family have homes alongside of each other in Kerby. Mrs. Alice Seyferth Hogue, born March 2, 1889, at Holland, who wrote the Courier the pioneer roll call of her family, is neighbor at either side to sister Lillie, the widow of Samuel White, long a prominent family in the valley; and on the other side to Miss Lucinda Seyferth.
    Yet others of the large family surviving today are Anna, now Mrs. Joe Black in San Francisco; Martha, Mrs. Conner, living in Seattle; Margaret, now Mrs. Zell, at Medford and Fred Seyferth, at nearby Holland.
    Mrs. Hogue's husband was the late James Delbert Hogue, member of another early-day family in the valley. Their children are Dorothy, now Mrs. David White; Alice, now Mrs. Jack Wilson, these two sharing the home with Mrs. Alice Hogue; and Evelyn, whose husband, Clem Sauer, is likewise named on the Courier's 1960 pioneer roll.
Son-in-Law Too
    The Sauers live less than a mile distant on the old Sauer homestead up Reeves Creek. He is the son of Caroline and Nicholas Sauer, and his sons are Larry, living at home, a grandson, Hollis, now in Alaska, and another, Gary, at home. Mr. Sauer's sister is Mrs. Fred Linkhart, now living on Seventh Street, in Grants Pass.
    At the time of the Courier visit in the Alice Seyferth Hogue home last fall, with numerous of the large family. Mrs. Hogue brought out a large parchment scroll on which an early historical record of the large family had been started many years ago. Today it is filled with numerous names of the many branches of the large family.
    The Hogue home at Kerby is the one to which many of the kinsmen come at holiday times…each bring some part of the family feast. Such was being planned last fall, when "all would be home for Christmas, even the one grandson in Alaska."
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 18


----

Stagecoach Robberies in Sexton 'Gulch' Early Crime Events
    "Sure there were stagecoach robberies here along the gulch," was the emphatic answer of Bill McIntosh, Wolf Creek's 84-year-old "Mr. Miner," as we drove along Highway 99 on our way to Grave Creek to find Martha Leland's grave.
    "Pull up your car right THERE"…and "there" was the spot, as Bill developed his story, of one of the most bizarre holdups known to have taken place along the "gulch," which is, more properly, the canyon winding up the precipitous slopes of Mount Sexton.
    "Robbers' trick those days was to shoot one of the horses pulling the rig--that would stop the whole team, and then they could take their time about robbing the outfit, knowing their victims would have to walk out for help. [I've never found mention of this strategy is contemporary news accounts.]
    "Well, there was one robber who found an old crooked fir limb angled like a gun--and he worked it so well, he got away with the booty out of one stage coach.
    "Well, with this sham gun--all he could manage to do after he'd got his swag was to frighten the horses while he made his getaway the other way…so the team tore off helter-skelter into 'town' (Wolf Creek) racing at breakneck pace down the grade as they passed our old place. Folks knew something had happened and went back up the 'gulch' as soon as they'd stopped the horses, sure enough…there was the phony gun."
Buried Gold
    Why, there were three or four other robberies between right here and the bridge going to Wolf Creek…one over there on the loop across the drop--about half way up--there's got to be about $17,000 still buried up around there somewhere…The robber on that one was sent to the pen for 20 years, and was offered his freedom if he would recover the gold…he refused, and served out his full time; when he got out, he went back to find it, but had lost his guiding landmarks…he just shrugged it off--"knew of another one he'd buried, and he'd go down and git that up--down in California.
$80,000 'Take'
    "And there was the one over on Louse Creek about three miles above the highway--they got away with $80,000 on that one, and despite the beliefs that the pursuers had headed off and killed all of the robber band, the gold was never found…could have been that one, wounded, got back to the gold, and somehow got it out to a waiting rig."
    This was the robbery which, with its substantial take, has had Bill McIntosh out on more than one search with present-day Geiger counter [sic] gold "hunters " But the little clicking cricket of modern-day mining has yet to set up its telltale chatter atop some moldy leather coach bag, with its golden hoard…but "it's nice to think about," opines this doughty old man of Mount Sexton's gulch.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 19


----


1st Nat'l. Bank Was Here in G.P.
By James Chinnock
    The first bank building in Grants Pass was erected north of the railroad in 1892 and was called "The First National Bank of Oregon." I believe it was the first national bank in either Jackson or Josephine counties.
    The bank was organized in November 1889. I have the printed letterhead used by the bank as early as the spring of the year 1893, on which appears an engraver's picture of the bank, apparently from an artist's drawing, showing a two-story brick structure with two towers, one in front and the other at the rear of the building.
    At the time the letterhead was printed, it was stated thereon that J. C. Campbell was president, H. C. Kinney vice-president, and R. A. Booth cashier of the bank. I believe that the towers or turrets were removed from the building before I arrived in Grants Pass. The bank building was completed in 1891.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 19





----



Woodshed Survives 80 Years
    When Mrs. Malinda Williams Rose of 1518 N.W. "B" Street has a chance to drive out into the Applegate country nowadays one of the most interesting spots along the way to her is an aged woodshed on the Amos Smith property out from Murphy. For all its tumbledown weather-worn appearance, the old woodshed has a special meaning for Mrs. Rose, for it is the last building yet remaining of the homestead built on that site by her parents, John and Virginia Williams.
    That goes back quite a ways in time, before the Williamses came west with one of the emigrant trains, first to Redding, California, and then on by hired team and back to Williams Creek, with the family furniture following by slower wagon travel.
    Mrs. Rose was born in Applegate Valley in 1883, and of the ten children in the family, only two others now survive--William Martin Williams, of 1611 S.W. "G" Street, born in 1876, and Mrs. Ella Williams Pernoll, of 547 N.W. "B" Street, who was born there in 1885.
    Their schooling was at the old Laurel Grove School, which Mrs. Rose recalls was located "between the Haberman and Hyde places." Some of their school mates were the Johnsons, the Days, the Knoxes, the Carsons, Hydes and Caldwells.
    The surviving members of the family will recall the start of the post office at Murphy as an important event out in the valley. Mrs. Rose recalled the frequent times she drove the team of horses for her father, because he had an injured hand.
    For the past ten years Mrs. Rose has made her home in Grants Pass.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 19



----


Williams' Mrs. Johns Was Inspiration to Many in Early Days
    Any story of old pioneer days at Williams can get only a short ways along in the telling before mention is made of Mrs. Johns…beloved by the whole valley from the day of her arrival on Christmas Eve, 1859, until the day of her passing.
    Mary Johns had about as terrifying experience as any properly reared eastern girl could imagine, as she and her small child set foot onto Southern Oregon soil that gay Yule eve. To her horror she found that the only rooms her young husband, James Godfrey, had been able to procure for her were right upstairs over one of the two saloons the town boasted. As she frequently said in years following. "I thought I had come to the end of perdition."
    But she hadn't, she would hasten to assure one, and after that first awful night in old Williamsburg at the old Cal Caldwell hotel, she made up her mind that she would do all things possible to like these strange western people, and to learn and understand their ways.
    She succeeded far beyond her fondest hopes and made herself a place of love and trust which completely identified her with old Williams.
More Than a Half Century
    Two years later her husband, James Godfrey, was drowned in rising waters of the Applegate. His is one of the 15 graves now almost forgotten on the hillside slope over by the Holsizer place.
    The young widow was courted and won by David Johns, a popular young blacksmith in the community, and with him she continued a rich and full life which carried her well into her 90s. She was the mother of Dora Johns, who was to marry Grants Pass' first young merchant, J. H. Howard, in years to come.
    A story has only recently been recalled regarding her passing. With the years of her advancing great age, Mrs. Johns would quite frequently sleep "the clock round," and often she was not aware of the passing of several days.
    Her final Christmas arrived and with it many, many gifts. But Grandmother Johns was asleep and was not to be disturbed. Several days later, as she aroused to an awareness of the season she brightly asked for her Christmas gifts and spent several happy hours opening them.
    An hour later she was gone, a quiet happy smile still lighting her face, several of the little gifts still clasped in her hands.
    Another of the delightful stories in which Mrs. Johns was one of the important characters has to do with Williams women's World War I knitting project.
    The Red Cross had appealed for knitters. Dozens of women at Williams responded, ready to count stitches and turn heel and toe on socks as they had done in girlhood days once again. The response was met overwhelmingly from all sides of the valley. Then the awful fact was faced…dozens of pairs of hands ready to knit for American doughboys overseas, but no yarn was to be had.
    Williams women stumped?--not they--their beginning had been in years when there were no stores from which to buy hanks of yarn. Together they pooled their money and bought a whole fleece from Molly Hall--whose grandfather, Hawk McGee, a great Indian scout, had settled in the valley long, long before their time.
    The wool was washed by many willing hands and the burrs removed. Then under the tutelage of Grandmother Mary Johns, and of Alice Hartley, Josie Vineyard, Stella Stratton, Lottie Blodgett, Grandma Hare, and Addie Pence, the carding and spinning proceeded.
    As fast as one hank was wound, as it twisted out of the old spinning wheels, there were another dozen or so pairs of hands ready with knitting needles to make socks and sweaters, which were dyed after they were knitted into garments.
Red Cross Recognition
    The resourcefulness of these Williams Valley women was given wide recognition in war-morale-building stories by the Red Cross, and the busy spinners, weavers, and knitters were invited to put on a demonstration in Grants Pass.
    Into town they came with their spinning wheels, wool cards and knitting needles, and a gala event was made of their show, right on downtown Sixth Street in Grants Pass.
    Pictures were taken and given a wide coverage, to urge others elsewhere on to greater industry.
    And of the wool that was worked up in its washing, picking, carding, and spinning processes that day, and then on the many sets of knitting needles…enough was done on that one day alone during the demonstration to make a sweater which was later sent to the only motherless boy overseas in World War I ranks from Williams Creek.
    Donations and money earned with the demonstration of their wool working at Grants Pass that day provided the Williams women with sufficient funds to buy all the yarn they needed, "and they kept right on knitting."

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 19



----


Fish Cycle in River Recalled
    Things have changed a bit in the years Emil Gebers has lived in Josephine County. That takes him back to Feb. 24, 1892, when he was born at the old Gebers homestead which is now the site of the present Redwood School at Annabelle Lane and the Redwood Highway.
    Looking back over the years, Mr. Gebers, who now lives at 1402 Lawnridge in Grants Pass, finds it interesting to reminisce on the things that stand for the progress which has been made in his generation.
    "First, let's talk about what grew on the land in its native state, and also about some of the people that lived here in the county. This will refer particularly to the territory between the Junction of the Redwood and Pacific highways and the Applegate River down Highway 199, as well as out on the Leonard Road and into the Jerome Prairie district, too.
    "The countryside was covered with trees and brush. The trees were, as we called them, sugar pine, yellow pine, cedar, fir, oak--both white and black. in the early days it was a case of self-preservation, so these trees were valuable.
    "The sugar pine was used to make shakes to cover our buildings; the pine went into lumber; the cedar was used to make fence rails and the oak and manzanita were for fuel. Chaparral brush was just a nuisance, and just more work for us when we set out to clear the land. The pine and sugar pine were beautiful trees. Some of them were six feet in diameter and very straight.
Early Neighbors Recalled
    "There were very few families living in this territory in early days. I think I can name most of them.
    "The first house at the junction of the present Pacific and Redwood highways was a two-story house and was owned by Fred Schmidt. This man also owned a wagon shop on the corner of West Sixth and J Street. At the junction of the Murphy Road and Union Avenue a family by the name of Holmes lived; then next in line down the present Redwood Highway was the Gherke family, where Daisy Lane is now. Next the Claus Schmidt family, where the community church is now located. Then the Gebers family, where the Redwood Grange is.
    "These three families had their houses close to the river--next was Joe Neighbor just east of Boundary Lane, then the Shattucks, a Stewart family and also the George Younkers.
    "Then about one-half mile west of the present Jerome Prairie School a Mr. and Mrs. Taylor lived, and that was all that lived on the Redwood Highway this side of Applegate.
    "On the present Dowell Road lived the Stephen Jewell family, and the Dowells, and their daughter and family, and Mr. and Mrs. Belding and son Don. On the Leonard Road were the Fitch Miner family, the Benton Burroughs, and next came John Neighbor, then the Whipples, and next Sam and Wes Stringer. Then up the Applegate lived the Charles Smith family.
    "In the Jerome Prairie district lived the Joe Brown family, Cap Simmons, the Bolt family, Swan, Armstrongs and the John Robinson family.
    "So one can see that there were not many people living in this territory at that time.
Knew Good Fishing
    "As I grew up along the banks of the Rogue River I should know something about the fishing then--and now. Rogue River was called one of the best fishing streams in the West and it was just that.
    "This river had fish in it the year around, and plenty of them. January, February and March we could catch steelheads; March, April and May, it was spring-run Chinook salmon, and I would like to say that these fish were red-meat fish and as good a meat fish as one could find anywhere; then May, June and July, we would catch cutthroats. These fish would be from 12 to 16 inches long, and the males had a rather pointed nose and their fins were red and they also had a red stripe on their gills, and the females had a more rounded nose with the same stripes on them; and these fish were also red-meated.
    "And then, in June, July and August, we could catch what we called a summer run steelhead, and these were the steelheads that made the steelhead fishing famous on the Rogue. These fish were not as large as the fall run of steelheads--a large fish of this species would run five or six pounds, but what they were short in weight they made up for in fight.
    "I would hook one of these and he would take out 50 feet of line and jump up out of the water three feet and shake himself, and hit the water again, and take some more line, and do the same thing all over again, and I wouldn't know what he was going to do next until I had it in the bag, and a real sport all of that was!
    "Next came the silversides along about the first of September, and next to the spring run of Chinook salmon, they were our favorite eating fish. Then, in October, November and December, the Rogue was really full of fish.
Best Stream in State
    "There would be silvers, fall run of steelheads, fall run of Chinook, and also what we called dog salmon. So one can really see why Rogue River had the name of being the best fishing stream in the state.
    "All of these fish spawned in Rogue River. Just one more item might be mentioned on fish--that was the crawfish. Rogue River had just as many crawfish as it had fish. Now let's see what has happened to the fish today--the same thing that happened to the buffalo. Civilization took care of that and here is how it came about.
    "In early days there was more water in Rogue River than there is today, and all these fish I have named spawned in the river. There, as I have already pointed out, were only a few people living along the river, and they didn't all fish, whereas there are more people living on Annabelle Lane today than there were living on both sides of the Rogue from the Caveman Bridge to Applegate in early days.
    "The people on Annabelle Lane are not all fishermen today, but they all use water from the Rogue, and so do thousands of other people along Rogue River, and in the valleys and cities, both for domestic and irrigation purposes. So today we have less water in the river, more fishermen, and only a sprinkle of salmon spawning.
Irrigation Hurt Fish
    "Now let's see what happened to the crawfish. Before the days of irrigation the river was extra well supplied with crawfish and fish feed on crawfish, and especially when the crawfish shed their shell. My family farmed on the banks of the Rogue and we were some of the first to use irrigation and we found that in order to get the most from the land it was necessary to use commercial fertilizers and so did everyone else that was farming. So, very soon, we found that where the irrigation water came from the land and ran back into the river, the crawfish were dying, and after that it was only a few years until the crawfish were all gone. So that was the last of the crawfish.
     "I have one more true story about what has happened to some of the Rogue River fish. I was irrigating one early morning and was walking back over the land that I had irrigated and discovered many little minnows on the field. So I went to the house and came back with a one-gallon bucket with dead minnows for the chickens."
    "Fishing in early days was at its best in Rogue River and I enjoyed many of them, but I am not living in the good old days. I like these modern days much better, with modern dams and irrigation systems and think there should be more dams on the Rogue--dams for irrigation, power and flood control and then stock the fish behind the dams, and then we could have fish, power and irrigation, too.
Sugar Beet Factory
    "As I have stated before, I have seen this territory grow from a few families to many families, and irrigation is responsible for its growth. I remember before the days of irrigation a sugar beet factory was built here and a large plant it was, but when it was all completed and ready for operation, there were not enough sugar beets raised here to keep the plant in operation, and the reason they couldn't raise the beets was due to no irrigation. So the sugar beet factory was dismantled and moved to Washington.
    "I remember when a promoter came out here from Kansas City with wonderful ideas of raising grapes. So he planted some grape vines on Tokay Heights and promoted many more sales to his friends in Kansas City, or someplace else he could promote a sale, and in due time they all found out that even grapes were not a profitable crop without water, so this project vanished--likewise for lack of irrigation. One other promotion was the country club orchards. These promoters came from St. Louis and sold everyone that would buy a share in a fruit ranch and after spending their money and time, they also found out that the fruit trees were not a paying investment without water, so that venture went back to chaparral brush, for the same reason--no irrigation.
    "So now let's see what irrigation has done for the country. First, there was an irrigation district voted by the land owners. Then next was the building of the dam and ditches, and this was a costly project, and as there were not many people living in this country then, and the land was covered with brush, trees and stumps, it made clearing this land costly, and lots of hard work. So people were at first slow to buy the land, and in a few years, the taxes were $10 an acre and the uncleared land was being offered for $25 and $35 an acre, and no buyers; and soon everyone realized that the district couldn't pay out, and no one knew who the land belonged to--whether it was the land owners or the bond owners.
 Other Benefits
    "So now the land was not selling at all and the cost was still increasing. Finally the government came to the rescue, and paid the bond owners something like 20 cents on the dollar, and then the land began to sell, and today it is a territory of many small tracts of land with many homes, and from my past experience I must say I don't think anyone is going to get rich on farming a three- or five- or ten-acre ranch, but if they have it paid for, and have an income besides, they can surely raise a good part of their food from it, and even if we have lost the good fishing and hunting of the bygone days, we have gained much in better living for many, many more people."
    Mr. Gebers and his wife, the former Josephine Palmer of Grants Pass, are parents of one son, Keith Gebers, now radio news editor for Station KERG at Eugene. His homesteading parents were H. F. George and Emma Gebers.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 19



----


Birthplace Was 3 Miles Away
    Less than three miles away from the comfortable large ranch house in which she lives on the Quartz Creek Road, close to its junction with the Galice Road, is the birthplace of Lucy Green McNeill, who was born there in 1888. She was a daughter of Thornton and Susan Green, newcomers from California. Her father was one of the many hoping to find a big strike somewhere in the gold ledges "down the Galice."
    Home in the Merlin country was always the nicest place Mrs. McNeill could think of being, and it has therefore been a happy choice that has provided her residence there throughout most of her 72 years.
    Mrs. McNeill called our attention to the magnificent fall coloring in the trees about the place, commenting that never in her life had she ever seen such fine color as prevailed in the fall of 1959.
    Her husband built for her the house in which she has lived all of their marriage years, the while they have operated a stock ranch on the 190 acres spreading out on three sides of them. With his passing, she has continued management of the ranch on her own, with the help of her son, Norman Clifton, who makes the ranch his headquarters.
    A daughter, Mrs. Veryl Ward, is up frequently from her home in Medford, and Mrs. Ward's daughter, Joan, 14, enjoys a weekly visit to her grandmother.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 19



----


Wild Animals Begged Refuge in House as 1890 Flood Raged!
    Wild animals clamored at their doors begging for refuge as the terrible waters of the 1890 flood raged about their house near old Fort Vannoy, recalls Fredrick D. Eismann, of 312 SW "L" Street, Grants Pass. He was 16 years of age at the time, and the awful flood of that winter happened only a few months after the arrival of his family from Germany--in response to glowing letters of Josephine County's wonderful climate.
    Those letters had come frequently in the years before the family's removal to America from the sister of Mr. Eismann's mother, Mrs. Ahlf, he recalls.
    The Eismann family settled at the Fort Vannoy place on arrival and the Eismann children had their first American schooling at the district school there. The son, Fredrick, was able to cope with the new language at school and to help others of the children with their lessons because, ahead of the family's departure for America, he had been commissioned to study English, that he might serve as their interpreter on the adventurous trip across the sea to Oregon.
    The later home of the family was established ten miles up Rogue River between Foots Creek and the Birdseye place, where the elder Eismann put in a huge apple and pear orchard. His success with the fruit is reflected in Mr. Eismann's favorite hobby today, which is grafting trees--"you can put anything on a seedling plant," he contends.
     Mr. Eismann has now been retired from business 15 years, and lives comfortably in a duplex home in Grants Pass. He was reading from Mark Twain's writings when interviewed, and this famous writer of Americana remains today his favorite of all American writers. His library is extensive.
     Mr. Eisman's wife was the former Vina Handelin and their son is Fredrick D. Eismann, Jr., now living in Medford, married, and father of one son and one daughter.
    Brothers of Mr. Eismann, who made the momentous trip into Oregon from the family home on the Elbe River near Hamburg, are C. H. Eismann and H. D. Eismann, of Grants Pass.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 19


----


Winter Rain Mining Time for Lee Yokums on Lower Grave Creek
    "There's gold in them thar hills" is not idle talk at the Lee L. Yokum place way up at the top of one of the mountains far below Leland and Grave Creek. This point quickly proved, as one scans the sizable hydraulic placer work which each rainy season develops within a quarter mile of their old homestead.
    Lee and Lillie (not Pansy) Yokum (height 4 feet, 7 inches) have spent the last 34 years atop that high mountain, the first 18 years in a log cabin which they built. Chestnut trees they planted when they first settled there are now two feet in diameter, and other trees in the fine family orchard have been producing fruit for their pantry many years past.
    The beautiful mountain setting has been the home place for three children, Myrtle Burch and Loy Yokum, both at Sunny Valley, and Mattie Huffman, now living in Grants Pass. Their children, grandchildren and 15 great-grandchildren are always reason enough for Mrs. Yokum to start yet another of the dozens of lovely quilts which are treasured by surviving members of her family.
    Spring and summertime find the elderly couple happily occupied with the usual routine of ranch interest, but it is when the water starts rising in their ditches each winter that they really go to work, for as the water reserve develops the requisite pressure for their hydraulic giants, then comes the busy time of sluicing out yet another lead on their mineral-laden mountain ranch.
Store in 'Jerusalem'
    Mr. Yokum was nine when his parents, the J. L. Yokums, moved into a small house near his harness and shoe repair shop located at a point between the old Palace Hotel and the old laundry buildings. "Pop ran a good store in Jerusalem on West G at Gilbert Creek."
    He went to the old Washington School on Fourth Street…and what sidewalks there were were all board planks. "G Street was the only street that amounted to anything…its board planking went floppity-flop as the horses trod heavily along, here and there a board flying up on an unbalanced end…our cow and pigs were on open acreage right back of the alley back of that old hotel."

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 19


----


    McMullen Creek was named after a man by that name who, with two other men, were the first to settle on Deer Creek.
----
Flourishing Business
    The Hotel Josephine, under the management of J. O. Booth, has become known as the great headquarters in Grants Pass for traveling men, transient families and everyone who enjoys the comforts of a good home at reasonable cost. The Western Hotel, with its wide balconies and well-furnished rooms, is now used as an annex to the Josephine.--From the Rogue River Courier of June 3, 1897.
----
    The first record of contempt of court was on June 23, 1859, when C. P. Sprague, eminent attorney of the day, was fined $50 for "interrupting the proceedings and impairing the dignity of the court by using insolent language."
----
Taxes Drop, Sometimes
    The city tax rate will drop from 29 mills to 28.7 mills on valuations increased by $44,518.16 to meet a city budget increased from $79,296.61 to $79,790.60, County Assessor James J. McFadden announced Thursday. An increase of seven mills for the Grants Pass School District, however, will more than wipe out the three-mill drop in city taxes, which is the first drop in city taxes in the past five years.--From the Daily Courier on Nov. 27, 1937.
----
    In 1884 coal oil, now more commonly known as kerosene, cost a dollar a gallon. [Coal oil is distilled from coal; kerosene from petroleum.]
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 19



----


Old Ways Mingle with New at Grable Home
    The most beautiful modern kitchen we found anywhere among our Josephine County pioneers was a challenge to our love of the old and appreciation of the new. While the top-surface electric cooking unit was tabletop and all that--with the modern new oven one strategically mounted into the walls of the room, the food under preparation at the moment was being cooked on a wonderful old wood-burning Home Comfort kitchen range…and it was just rainy and cold enough outdoors to revel in its hearty warmth and the wonderful smell.
    This paradoxical accent on the old and the new finds little occasion to quarrel in the beautiful new home of Homer and Osa Grable going out the old highway route north from Merlin, past the old Antlers station.
    Mrs. Grable, member of a real pioneering family of early settlement days up Jumpoff Joe Creek, is determined to keep alive the fine old customs in cookery and preserving, despite having the newest of everything to work with.
    She was shelling summer wax beans out of their drying pods for a later canning session, and busy as she was with the job it became an interesting activity as we took her picture for the Courier's edition.
    "If I were just six women I might get all this work done," she commented, and if one didn't know that she really didn't have to do any of it if she didn't want to, but rather that she was doing all from choice, sympathy might have been in order. Instead, only downright envy of the determined enterprise of her chosen project was our motivating response.
Pantries 'Brim' Full
    There are simply enormous fruit cupboards, store rooms and pantries built all around the beautiful kitchen, and each is bulging with the provender which Mrs. Grable has garnered from a huge large garden, tended even with hoses, the while the new house was being rushed to completion.
    One of the large family of William Henry and Mary Pollock, up Jumpoff Joe at Winona, Osa Grable learned early in life the wisdom of thrifty treatment of foodstuffs, and the conservation of all such against the lean months of the winters. A wise patient mother taught her the ways of concocting tasty syrups in which she might drop this or that extra bit of fruit…its resulting crystalline jacket a toothsome confection on many a special occasion for that large hungry brood of children. Great rows of sparkling crystal-coated rinds of citrus fruits and melon and even the melon meat itself, so treated, of apples, peaches, all of them "extra" fruit and surplus sometime or other the past summer, awaited only an appreciative hungry horde of grandchildren to prove her point of conservation paying off today.
    Yet other jars held fruits she had carefully dried, then ground to tiny bits to become the zestful extra-fruity flavors for her homemade mincemeat and fall fruit cakes.
    All of these in view were almost as enchanting as was the wonderful old-fashioned fragrance of the huge kettle of beans, slowly simmering atop the old wood stove.
    Nor does the conserving of materials at hand stop as Mrs. Grable steps forth from her lovely kitchen.
Built Own Home
    Easy focal point in any brief glance about the lovely living room were the two enormous rag rugs she has just finished to adorn the beautiful floors of the new home on which she contributed many a day's work alongside her husband, George Homer Grable, long-time Grants Pass fire chief, as they built the structure together. The walls further reflected their appreciation of things home-grown, as a glance swept in fine panels of matched-grain woods, the lovely designs of such making their own interior decorations.
    For the Grables, doing things for themselves is just as much fun today, even in so modern a setting, as it was probably for the first homemakers of that family settling here back in the early 1850's. And if a hungry brood is required to complete such an olden-day picture, the Grables have no lack of that either, what with visitations constantly from children and grandchildren.…Fannie, now Mrs. Merrill Annis of Grants Pass; Louise, now Mrs. Robert Whitthorne, and Mildred, now Mrs. Albin Duda of Napa; Beulah, now Mrs. Joe McShone, on East "A" Street in Grants Pass, and George Homer Grable, Jr. now in Nichols, Iowa. There are 16 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.
    Nor does visitation within the home stop there, for Mrs. Grable is one of 10 surviving of the family of 12 in which she was reared up Jumpoff Joe. Siblings still in the immediate area are Leta P. Reynolds, William G. Pollock, Mary V. Fall, Minnie M. Husen, Joseph Elmer Pollock and at only a little distance, Estella M. Payne at Brookings, Nola A. Wilson at Klamath Falls, Harold H. Pollock at Manzanita, and Ida V. Kolkow in Vancouver, Wash.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 20


----


Pigs' Grunts Tempted Regulars
    One of the favorite stories of the large Pollock family up Jumpoff Joe, told often by their 1852 plains-crossing grandfather, William Pollock, was of his soldiering years in the Indian wars here…with a small unit of soldiers he was crossing Sexton Mountain in a field marching unit, when all heard the grunting of pigs, very close at hand. Hungry long since for fresh meat and precious pork more than any else, the soldiers pleaded with their commanding officer to allow them to break rank and kill a wild hog or two for fresh meat. Dire mutterings ranged through the unit on his refusal.…Arriving at camp that night, they learned from other returning units of the Indians' convincing porcine grunts--a decoy, which would have brought massacring death to all, had the commanding officer yielded to their demands.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 20



----


1st Drayman Began, 1912
By James Chinnock
    The Courier published an interview it had with the late Frederick G. Isham, Grants Pass pioneer drayman, on April 13, 1959, and in the accompanying news story it was said that Isham, then 87 years of age, was born in the Leland election precinct in May 1871, the son of S. E. Isham and Kate Isham. He was, at that time, believed to be the oldest person then living who had been born in Josephine County.
    However, I think that Fred Isham referred to the county as it was bounded after Leland precinct and the other precincts in the Grants Pass area were annexed to Josephine County in 1885, thereby enlarging the area of the county. There were probably other residents of the county in the Kerbyville and Illinois Valley precincts who had resided longer in the county, as it was bounded before Leland precinct was annexed to the county.
    According to that article in the Courier about Fred Isham, he had worked as a bridge carpenter for the railroad as it was extended south from Leland station to Grants Pass.
    In January 1912 he bought "two two-horse and one one-horse wagon" from Bert Kenyon, and with Charles Morris and Harry Mills as drivers began business. His place of business was "anywhere along G Street he could find a convenient place to stop and wait for patrons." According to the Courier article, he traded his "biggest team" for a motor vehicle and was the first, I believe, to establish a general trucking and moving business in Grants Pass. A storage warehouse was established in the old brewery building west of Fifth Street on G Street by Isham or his successor.
    Fred Isham's father, Southwick E. Isham, was one of the election judges appointed by the Jackson County court for the Leland precinct when it was established by the Jackson County court at the time in 1885, when the election was held on the question of relocation of the county seat.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 20


----


Lifetime Interests Varied
    "When Grants Pass was first started they had schools and churches and stores and saloons, but they had to shoot a man to start the graveyard!" opined Chester Arthur Erickson, 76, whose fine state of health would do just as well as any other circumstance to back up this compliment to Grants Pass' longevity record.
    Mr. Erickson was born June 28, 1884, in a tent pitched at a site where the second house west of the Three C Lumber Company now stands--his father, a carpenter, was rushing a house to completion for his growing family, but in this instance the stork won.
     "There wasn't much to Grants Pass those days, not even on 'G' Street.…For that matter, much of that part of town was better known as Jericho or Jerew-salem," recalls Mr. Erickson of his very young years here in town.
    He well remembers J. W. Howard's building, the first brick building in Grants Pass.
    Among his own diversified interests in this community over the years have been logging, a livery and feed store. He had the first garage here by three years; and from 1924 to 1942 a garage, cabin and store business out at Mt. Sexton, until the change of the highway route moved the road away from his business.
Those Bike Races!
    "Don't exactly remember much interest in auto racing, around here, but Boy!, those bike races were big events…track was down about Fifth and J streets, and the half-miler races there on the Fourth of July were something to remember!"
    Mr. Erickson enjoyed a fair portion of his boyhood out at Wilderville and attended grade school there. His father had an early orchard in that section, located about a mile south and east of the old Jacksonville stage road. The father was a carpenter and was favored as the community's handyman…on occasion, he even officiated in the pulling of teeth…mainly because he possessed a pair of forceps, a holdover from his jack-of-all trades days when at seas as a young man.
    Mr. Erickson well remembers he and his sister "digging crevices" in new rock below low-water riffles….."could figure anytime on from 50 to 75 cents any day we wanted to take an old spoon and work at the exposed rock surfaces."
    But the Erickson children were not too interested in mining and found more pleasure in ranch interests at Wilderville…they had a happy place in the affairs of the young people in that community, and what with their father's "handyman" propensities, and their mother being called constantly as a midwife, the Ericksons were amply and early concerned with the domestic life of most of those about them.
    Mr. and Mrs. Erickson, she the former Fern McK. Larson, a nurse in Grants Pass, have lived since '46 in the comfortable home they built near the large store building at Hugo. A fine garden with many flowers, music interests and a wide circle of friends are diversions today which count pleasantly for the passing of time.
----
    Alonzo P. Turner is named as teacher of the first schools in the county, the school at Kerbyville, started in 1856. It is said that Turner had failed at everything else, so he tried teaching, at which he apparently was able to make some success.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 20


----


Sister's Burns Marred Arrival of Goff Family
    The moving of the old Goff family from Sams Valley into the Leland country in 1878 was occasion for one of the most disastrous events to ever occur in the family, according to John Goff, who will be 87 years old this coming Sept. 29. He was born at Sams Valley in 1873.
    As the family made one of their final overnight camps along the way at long-since-forgotten "Brimstone"…where Mr. Goff recalls "there was a large group of poplar trees," his sister fell into the campfire, and was badly burned. The family's business of finding and settling the new home site was therefore hampered because of needed attention to the unfortunate sister.
    John helped his father for many years with his mining ventures around Red Hill, in the lower Grave Creek country, then went out on his own in mining…but in 1897, elected to quit this venturesome type of a livelihood.
    "I'd have starved to death at mining," declared Mr. Goff, who went on to tell of his turning to railroad work instead.
    He signed on with the Southern Pacific to work at old Tunnel 9 on July 1, 1898, and was off less than 11 months, "all told" in the 41 years to follow, part of that time in the Douglas County run on the track maintenance crew.
    John and Etta Goff have lived the past 14 years in the comfortable house he built well up the mountain on the north side of Grave Creek, near Leland, seemingly well removed from neighbors…but the well-tracked road up to their place indicates a pleasant exchange of visitation with many about them. They are parents of one son, Eugene Guy, now at Medford, and are proud of both grandchildren and one great-grandchild.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 20


----


Pear or Maple Woods Work Best in Fiddles
    Bill McIntosh, erstwhile miner, cabinet maker, historian and authority always on things in early-day Wolf Creek, had as his "learned trade" the fine art of cabinet making, and particularly the delicate business of making violins.
    "…there's only two really good woods for a violin--pear tree and maple tree wood…although there was one pretty one I made once out of myrtle; and then there was another, out of Port Orford cedar…the myrtle tree one (myrtle is a kin of the oak tree, you know) was wonderful to look at, but not so good in tone quality.…"
    "Yellow fir sometimes makes a good fiddle too, and the once in a while you'll get a good piece of spruce or maple…"
    "Strads--sure, I've copied lots of them…that Stradivarius was the master craftsman…the way he figured the measurements that should go into the making of a fine violin…right down to the thousandth of an inch!"
    All this said, just in passing, as we paused along the way through Bill's crowded and cluttered workshop, and the 84-year-old lightly fingered one fine-looking violin he then had in vises.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 20


----


Hungry Hill, Grave Creek Stories All Wrong,
Says Native-Born Bob Goff

    The solid tenets of more than one time-honored tradition belonging to Josephine County may wobble ever so slightly as echoes reverberate on opinions voiced by Robert (Bob) Goff, 603 SE "K" Street. Mr. Goff, born Dec. 28, 1883, out in the mountains from the old Alta post office, now known as Leland, is a man with convictions…and a good memory.
    From his pioneer parents, John and Jenetta Goff, whose arrival in Oregon dates back to 1852, the surviving members of that family have their own stories of early county happenings. Take the well-known Grave Creek incident…which generally names the ill-fated girl, Martha Leland Crowley, as its heroine--
    John and Jenetta Goff told their children, avers Bob Goff, that, in the first place, the girl's name is all wrong…"she was not Martha Leland Crowley, but was, rather, Josephine Leland, and the town of Leland was named for her father--the name "Crowley" coming into the picture because that was the name of the emigrant train leader." [The Goffs' theories are completely at odds with the recollections of those who were on the train with Miss Crowley.]
Grave Not Desecrated
    Furthermore, Mr. Goff opines, his parents told them the Indians neither found nor exhumed the girl's body, as the current story goes. The somber name "Grave Creek" pertains, instead, because from an oak tree, which once stood in what is now the junction of the upper Grave Creek Road and the old stage road, there was once a mass hanging--three Indians and two white men. [I've found no record of this hanging--or of any hanging involving both Indians and whites.] Near the old oak tree, Mr. Goff recalls, "there was, for many years in the early days, an old barn, which had been first a 'fort,' and which often served as sanctuary for early emigrants encamped there overnight."
    Early emigrants into that section usually camped in a small clearing there near a group of maples which for many years stood just north of the creek--but there was not enough cleared area for them to camp and quarter their animals, too, so the animals were usually turned out to graze across the creek on the south side. Mr. Goff states the creek has long since moved its general course somewhat to the north.
    The little town of Leland, down Grave Creek, was named for the dead girl's father, a Mr. Leland, Mr. Goff contends. That name supplanted an earlier post office name of Alta, as it was known at the time of his own birth in 1883. He recalled his parents telling them of a Mr. Pettingill, long the postmaster of Alta, and also of Ira Olds, who was the postmaster at the time the name was changed to "Leland."
Hungry Hill Wrong Too
    And as for the "believed" site of the Battle of Hungry Hill, an important engagement in the final days of the Rogue River Indian wars--"it just can't be right," declares Mr. Goff.
    The site is generally located, and as Mr. Goff believes, erroneously, high on the mountain between Reuben and Poor Man Creek.
    Instead, boyhood hunting days and the finding of many relics he believes to have been from that siege have served to convince him the site was above the head of Rock Creek between Wolf Creek and Poor Man Creeks, in a basin on what is known as the Sandy Birch place…a basin with a surrounding ridge, broken at only one place, where falls drop off in a series of bluffs into a little bushy creek below…those little bluffs, dropping off, one into the other, realizing a total elevation of 700 feet in about a quarter-mile distance.
    Mr. Goff's father contended, as the men of his family hunted frequently in that area, that it would be quite possible for one of the 13 besieged men penned in there in that little basin to have slipped down one of those bluffs, work his way down to Grave Creek, up its course, and on the eight miles to old Fort Leland, from which rescuing forces were dispatched.
    The elder Goff backed up his argument in favor of this site with the contention that at the site of this basin there are many bullet-scarred oak trees; that history records the besieged men resorted to acorns as food as their starvation travail lengthened into 13 long days; and furthermore, that there are no oak trees in the area generally credited in later years as having been the Hungry Hill battle site. [Goff's description must apply to another, unknown, battle. Hungry Hill, as recorded at the time and later by actual participants, did occur on a ridgetop, involved hundreds of natives and whites and only lasted two days.]
Recalls Leland Falls
    As a boy Mr. Goff recalls many hunting forays, making use of the old Indian trails, worn deep with years of travel by the Indians and their ponies…these were especially prevalent leading from Cow Creek over to Grave Creek, to the falls at Leland.
    Of these falls, Mr. Goff spoke with regret--that the beautiful splashing waters, challenging thousands of sporty salmon to a seven-foot jump over the rocks, are no longer there. Incredible as it is, the falls are gone long since--erosion by the fast water at that point carrying hundreds of tons of placer gravel down its races have cut back the rocks 15 feet through sheer diorite.
    Mention of the salmon making that spectacular leap at the falls brought Mr. Goff on to another topic on which he has strong conviction.
'Placer' Not Harmful
    Nobody is going to make him believe that placer mining ever hurt the fish life of those days, all arguments of "the fish and wildlife crowd" to the contrary--"why I can remember placering up Poorman Creek, using 100-130-pound pressure and of live salmon forced through the 4½-inch nozzle swimming off unharmed!"
    In Mr. Goff's thinking there is not half so much danger of damage to fish from placering and the muddy waters resulting, as there is to be feared from the too-warm temperature of too-low waters--river waters now low because of the lack of dams "which aren't being put in fast enough to supply a calculated gauged amount of cold water to sustain natural body temperatures of the fish--thousands are dying in all of our streams because of this 'too-warm water.'
     "That's where conservation of our fish and wildlife should be starting," Mr. Goff declared vehemently. That brought up another conservation recollection of a near-century back.…
    "Why, I can remember my father going down to the falls below Leland many a time and bringing back salmon--he could just as easily have brought back a wagonload as the single large fish which was the rule of our family--a rule we learned early from the Indians--'take only what you need, that the rest may be there for another day when it is needed'…and because we respected their careful conservation of their food source, we got along with all of the Indians."

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 20


----


Courier Writes Story Forbidden Famed Novelist
    A 90th birthday is ahead this coming August 17, 1960, for Sam Weyman, of 346 Pleasant View Road, Grants Pass, who owes his life, he declares, "to doing just about everything that I shouldn't do." By that, Mr. Weyman means his ways of livelihood…for "there's no worse thing on a human being than copper mining or smelting…and I did some of the first copper smelting in Southern Oregon.…
    "Smelter men are the biggest drinkers in the world…if it wasn't for the drink, they would be dead…why many's the time I recall smelting outfits' hiring arrangements were 'board, room, pay and whiskey'!"
    Mr. Weyman is proud that he was "born a pioneer and has been a pioneer ever since."  His parents were Samuel and Castena Chapman Weyman, from Virginia and England. Longevity has been a frequent incident in the history of his family, his great-grandmother, credited with 107 years, as was her eldest son. Mr. Weyman refers with pride to his eldest uncle, Joseph Weyman, who fought for the North side in the Civil War, later making a fine business of guiding emigrant groups crossing the plains to Oregon.
In War of '98
    Mr. Weyman came first to Grants Pass in 1890, stayed a short time, then went on to mining interests elsewhere, returning a second time in 1894 to stay. He referred with enthusiasm to his two years in the Spanish-American War, first at Cuba, and late in the Philippines, and still later in the Boxer campaign in China.
    But his interests in mining and smelting brought him home again to Josephine County, and "there's a few landmarks in buildings around here that have his mark."  He was on Pleasant Creek when the mill of that name was started by Kesterton.
    An interesting side venture in guiding hunting parties brought Mr. Weyman one famous patron, the writer Zane Grey, whom Mr. Weyman thoroughly disliked.
    "Zane Grey found the story of my family so interesting he wanted to make a novel of it…but I disliked him so much that I told him I'd sue him if he developed the Weyman name in the plot…that man, Zane Grey--why, he was just as difficult as hell!"
    The Courier is proud, therefore, to record for posterity the personal history of this nonagenarian!

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 20


----


Dollie Paine Duncan Arrived at Althouse in 1875
    One of the really old pioneer women of the Illinois Valley is Mrs. Dollie Paine Duncan, who arrived in the Althouse country in 1875, coming at the age of 3 years, from Phoenix in Jackson County with her parents, [Mr. and Mrs.] James Monroe Paine, who homesteaded in the valley.
    One of the early incidents in which Mrs. Duncan figures relates to her school years while at Kerby. She and her brother Andrew Paine, also in school, kept house for themselves in the little old building which was built first to house Josephine County's official records. This very small building was built just east of the old Knaucke house, which today is the county museum, and which is in charge of the county historical society.
    Mrs. Duncan recalls among her early-day schoolmates at Kerby, Nellie Hart, who is now 94-year-old Nellie Hart Streit, subject of another of our Courier pioneer stories in this edition. Nellie was living at the old Pioneer Hotel while she was going to school "in town" at Kerby.
    Ed Hathaway was their teacher, and both he and his brother Frank are recalled by Mrs. Duncan as "awful good teachers."  There were about 20 in the school district.
    With her marriage at 22, she and her young husband went back out on the Althouse to a homestead of their own…there were cougars and bears known to be in the hills all around them "…but all such never bothered nobody."
Folks Went Visiting
    Mrs. Duncan's recollections turned in nostalgic vein to the pleasures of visitation in days long gone by. "In those days people were sociable and went visiting…the whole family and all going along to visit in each other's homes.…"
    Another recollection called to mind with passing lumber trucks "…I think when the lumber trucks go by how my father had to cut down the fir trees to clear the land, and then burned the trees to get rid of their being trash on the needed  land…what that timber would be worth today…!"
    The aged woman recalled happily the pleasure of school-day parties, many of which were held in various homes in the district.
    She recalled that her own wedding, in 1894, with the Rev. Hampton officiating, was occasion for a gala wedding feast, prepared from start to finish by her sister in keeping with a time-honored tradition in her family.
    Despite the frailties of her 88 years, Mrs. Duncan was emphatic in her longing to go back once more to the old home place out on the Althouse…"but, well anyway, I don't see very well anymore, and I can remember it all--it's right here in my head--and I can think about it and see it all in my mind's eye…and that's more important, I guess."
    Mrs. Duncan now lives in the home of her son, George Alton Duncan, on Highway 199, just east of Kerby. His family includes his wife and three young children.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 20


----


Joseph E. Verdin Had Many Interests
    If anyone is interested in knowing when construction was started on the old brick building which now houses the National Drug store on Sixth Street, it was June 11, 1888…a date important in the recollection of Joseph E. Verdin, who arrived that day in Grants Pass.… "Old Man Fry was in charge of the job, and doing a right good job of it, too."
    Mr. Verdin, whose home is now at 924 SW 5th Street, has made Grants Pass his home ever since. Frequently known as "Cap" Verdin, he has had numerous interests here in real estate, mines, timber and farm lands, retiring from active business in 1943, when his home was sold to become the first site of the old Parkview Rest Home on East Park Street.
    Mr. Verdin remembers there were 800 persons eligible to vote at the first election after he came in '88--he was not yet old enough to cast a ballot, but after the fashion of those years, was deeply interested in the election campaigns being raged throughout the township. He was born Jan. 25, 1872, in Washington.
    The great flood of 1890 has been a vivid memory for Mr. Verdin, who recalled that all bridges went out except the old bridge crossing the Applegate at the mouth of Thompson Creek--the same bridge still serving traffic there today.
Beef at 6¢
    His parents had by that time settled at Wilderville, and the need of most families of the countryside for staples was acute, he recalls. His father operated a wholesale cattle business, and after slaughtering, Mr. Verdin was delegated the job of "peddling" the meat…forequarters at 5¢ and hindquarters at 6¢…DeArmond and Kesterson were their best buyers, but the Kelly brothers, John and George, logging with oxen out on the Applegate on the old Bull ranch were also good customers. There were no real roads then…and he recalls many times when the slow-moving freight teams would mire down as they struggled to transport their heavy loads out to the mines.
    Mr. and Mrs. Verdin, she, the former Mrs. May Cochrane, spend much of their leisure hours today at checkers and other table games, because of Mr. Verdin's failing eyesight. He does, however, manage the headlines daily of the Courier, of which he has been a constant subscriber nearly 70 years.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 20


----

Notes on Williams Valley Recall Early Settlers, Important Events
    Though not a native either of Oregon or Williams, there are few living today in "the valley" who may be considered as a more loyal booster than Mrs. Elizabeth Bigelow, whose advent into the valley as Elizabeth Lemmon dates back to 1902. In the course of her years in Williams, followed by a later removal to Grants Pass, and only last year back to Williams, Mrs. Bigelow has compiled a tremendous scrap file of bits of interest about the Valley. Much of her material was the source for a series of talks given in Williams community groups during 1959, the centennial year of Oregon.
    The notes, which are herewith introduced at random, form a frame upon which many a conversation in nostalgic vein may be started among pioneer families of that first settled section of the county. Woven in among them, as Mrs. Bigelow developed her notebook, is an outline of the early beginnings of her husband's family, and of numerous other of the families who now date their Williams background back a hundred years.
    The notes, gleaned at random, follow:
    Williamsburg started in 1859 as a community, taking its name from Captain Robert Williams, who led a battle with the Indians fought on a creek named for him, and thus the name for the whole valley. Skeletons of victims falling in that battle were discovered as late as 1907 on the George Sparlin place.
    The first judge to sit in court in this county, Judge Baldwin, lived in a log house on what is now the Norman Webb place.
    John Powell was established in the valley in 1850, and Alex Watts in 1853. (Stories elsewhere in this edition relate to each of them.)
    Russell Bigelow and his two sons and two daughters came to Oregon in 1852, settling first in Oregon City. Mr. Bigelow came to "the burg" in '62 and took out a donation claim at a site across the road from the Holsizer place. (The death of three of the four children during the terrible winter floods of '62 is a featured story apart from these notes.) The youngest son who survived was Osfer, long known as Oz Bigelow.
    Children of a second marriage, the first wife having died at Salem, were Grace, Bert and June Bigelow. Again death claimed the wife, and a third marriage was to the widowed Mrs. James Gibson, an aunt to whom Mrs. Bigelow, then Elizabeth Lemmon, came to visit accompanied by her younger brother, Bill Lemmon. There she met and married her aunt's stepson, Bert Bigelow.
Post Office in 1860
     According to research done by Mrs. Bigelow, records in the postal department at Washington, D.C., indicate that the first postmaster at Williamsburg was P. C. Wood, named in 1860, and the next was David John, named in 1881, to serve the following 26 years.
    The Sparlin Cemetery was named for Hiram Sparlin, the Gotcher grave plot for the early settler family of that name, and the Hartley plot for the Taylor Hartley family.
Anyway--He Celebrated
    There have been many tales told about Bill Philpott, who is alleged to have met death with exploding fireworks one Fourth of July out at Williams (and such were always 'big blowout' events)--but Mrs. Bigelow's research indicates that this is not true of Mr. Philpott's demise…rather, he was celebrating the election of Grover Cleveland.
    Powell Creek was named for John Powell. There have been five generations of Powells on the place, which is more currently known as the Topping place, for kinsmen who now operate it. Four generations of Cougles have likewise been counted in the valley. Bigelow Lake and Bigelow Creek honor that family name, and Kincaid Road honors the early-settled Kincaid family.
     A parenthetical note inserted in Mrs. Bigelow's notes, "There are so many more who should be named in this Williams notebook--but I am taking from Provolt up, as Provolt yet remains in Jackson County, with Williams included in Josephine County…Provolt was named for pioneer Samuel Provolt, and Elza Provolt, his wife, was the first postmaster."
'Proud Heritage'
    Another paragraph verbatim--"From what I have observed with the passing of years, you people of Williams have a proud heritage in Oregon history…When I came there was a little Baptist church on the corner in front of Mrs. Lindquist's home, a little Methodist church over by the Hartley Cemetery, later a small Church of the Brethren up by Nellie Moorman's place, and also a small school there. That small school up on the road going to Bill Lewman's place was called the Baltimore School and was where the old Cougle store stood…it was part of the Sparlin place, now where the Collins live. They had three months each fall and spring for school then. I am glad that my two oldest children started to school in the little Sparling school and then later went to the consolidated school. I well remember the Sunday school and preaching at the school where today you have one of the best primary grade schools in Josephine County.
Grange Had Two Starts
    Williams Grange No. 1399 was organized in 1909, and there had been a flourishing grange out at Williams in 1870, organized by William W. Fidler (Ed. Note--author of the Courier's featured section of the Rogue River Indian Wars in this Pioneer Edition). The grange was known as the Washington Grange, and Mr. Fidler was the master. The hall at that time was up above the Varner store on the right side of the road. The later hall was built where the fire guard station is now, and it was there that the first Josephine County Fair was held…it was a huge success, so good, in fact, that Grants Pass took it away from us. Then we had our own celebrations and parades. That was something to be proud of.
    World War I brought all of us together in many community efforts, one of the nicest of which was our knitting project (See separate story).
    "This joy in being together and working together which we had known all over again during World War seemed like early pioneer days, so important to us that we hated to disband, so after the war was over we organized a club and called it the Williams Improvement Club. We all worked together for the good of the community, gave plays to raise funds for things needed in the community, bought and paid for a piano, and improved the building, all the time having a good time, as we did things for our mutual benefit. The men always had a baseball tea--there players from 17 to 50 on those teams, and what fun they had.
Honored Cave Tender
    "Stella Stratton and I always dreamed that we might have in some way a part in putting up a memorial to Elijah Davidson at the Oregon Caves, so we started the ball rolling. We met with many organizations all the way into Grants Pass in the spring of '39 and in September 1930, we too, Mrs. Dick Lewman, participated in dedication ceremonies when that fine big block of plain simple marble from 'his own Marble Mountain' up here (the old Davidson homeplace) was unveiled up at the entry to the Oregon Caves which Mr. Davidson had discovered back in 1873.
    And you should be especially proud of another piece of marble quarried out here at the old Jones quarry up the hill above Powell Creek--a four-ton block of the old mountain's finest marble, which was sent to Washington, D.C. in 1883 as Oregon's donation to the Washington Monument.
Three-Species Tree
    And did you know that you have a tree right here in Williams which is the only one of its kind in the world…it has been featured in the National Geographic and also in Ripley's Believe It or Not?  That is the fine big tree still standing right out in front of the old Hiram Sparling place, now called the Collin place…its singular interest lies in the fact that it is three complete trees in one body. Branching out are easily-defined oak, maple and fir trees…nurtured, all of them, from the one mammoth main tree trunk.
    You have had a lot of folks here who have been important right down to present day, one way or another. There was Mrs. W. H. Lemmon, who was the first woman school bus driver in the state, and who drove for 25 long years with never an accident. That she was the wife of my brother, Bill Lemmon, now living across the road from us made her all the dearer and important in our own particular family.
    And Dick Rowley, now up in his 90s, living in his little cottage across from the post office store--was the first official guide at the Oregon Caves--a post he well served the government for 45 years…and did you ever see his wonderful fine carvings?  And there's Winter Davidson, the surviving son of Elijah Davidson who discovered the caves. And the two Applegate sisters are here, too--their grandfather, Lindsay Applegate, who crossed the plains first in 1843 with his brothers Jesse and Charles, and Lindsay gave his name to the Applegate River and the Applegate Trail, when he and 15 others rode through our uncharted frontier of Southern Oregon to find a route east to Fort Hall, in Idaho.
600 in 1862
    The first population count I can find for Williamsburg was in 1862 when 600 were credited with living here. And did you know that Jede Caldwell and his brother Cal, who were here in '59, and Jede's sons started the first furniture factory in the state…chairs made in that old factory are still serving in many homes in Southern Oregon, and several other fine pieces of furniture turned out there are known to be in existence yet. One grandson in the Caldwell family was particularly sought after for the excellence of the fine violins he turned out.
When They Came
    Arrival dates of some of the families here are as follows: The James Gibsons homesteaded on the creek in 1864, and that same year in 1867, coming down from Willamette Valley, where they had first located near McMinnville. The Oscar Toppings came in 1859, and the James Hartleys in 1872.
    Elijah Davidson discovered the Caves in 1873, according to every note appearing in any of our family records, and the Davidsons were very close friends of our family. The Albert Shoemakes came in '85 and George Bunch brought his family in 1890, the year of the big floods.
    The Gotchers, parents of Arthur Blodgett's wife, started the first cheese factory at the old home place, where Mr. Blodgett and his sons still operate a fine dairy.
1st Sawmill at Williams
    The first sawmill operated in Southern Oregon was out here, and lumber from it went into the first store building in Grants Pass--that was the J. W. Howard store, which was built on the corner of Sixth and G Streets, and which has since been succeeded by a 2-story Howard Building, and more recently by the present Wing Building at that corner. Mr. Howard's wife was Dora Johns, a daughter of dear old Mrs. Johns (separate story on her). Other early family names included the Naills, the Pences, Vineyards, Kincaids, Cougles, Si Messengers, Kennedys, Sowells, Webbs, among others.
    Mr. Kennedy was great-grandfather to Connie Sowell and Wilma Webb. Drusilla Mae Kennedy Mansfield was the grandmother of the two Lemmon girls, Connie and Wilma, just mentioned. She was a wonderful nurse and went any time no matter where…no matter how black the night…I venture to say there were few children born in the early days here who were not ushered into this world without her present. Even before her another pioneer nurse here ready for any mercy service was Aunt Dicey Bryan.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 21


----

Childhood a Busy One at Wolf Creek
    Paint-spotted slacks were proof that she had been painting--but one was scarcely ready to credit that small body with the job of repairing the whole interior of the house--repapering of those high walls and ceilings to boot--that is, until you watched that small figure travel up and down that ladder, which she obviously hated to leave off doing--"…for the job has just got to get done."
    This was Annie McIntosh Bacon, aged 76, that fine day early last autumn when we stopped by her home just north of Wolf Creek--because the McIntoshes were among the really oldest pioneers to settle in this Wolf Creek country.
    She had killed a rattlesnake, right there at the back door, only that morning--she had to--there wasn't time to get anyone to help her do it, and she just had to get it before it got into her woodshed, where she had already stacked 30 tier of wood, getting ready for winter…but first she had to go and lock her dog up--"no use taking any chances of his getting bit.…"
    "And what did we really want to know about Wolf Creek"…she queried, as she bustled about firing up the old Home Comfort--for "of course you'll stay for a cup of tea and a bite to eat with me"--and such a gracious bid found happy favor as we reveled in the colorful sparkle of her lovely kitchen.
    "Well, there's not much to tell about Wolf Creek itself but I can tell you this--it's always been the place I've longed to get back to, every time I've been away from it for even a very little while.
Spin, Weave, Knit
    "And I can remember way back when I was just a very little girl, how much joy it was helping Grandmother spin and weave the things we had to have for our family to wear--why, we always knit our own stockings for the winter…we thought nothing of such effort those days--all women and girls all around were doing the same--it was the natural way of life…necessity kept us busy and always at some such task.
    "But they were such happy times, and I always feel so happy as I remember how much we loved each other, and how lonesome we'd be for each other, if we were apart for any reason…I remember how desperately homesick I was the first time I went away as a youngster to visit--to stay with an old lady while others of her family were away. I could hardly stand it waiting for them to come take me home.
    "And our wonderful Christmas parties--always a whole-community effort and accomplished then mainly by subscription and contributions coaxed out of every miner and logger happening along, with the kids in each family fairly bursting with anticipation as they strung popcorn and cranberries, and helped get ready the things which would be for the eating part of the party…kids today…there's nothing left to satisfy them!"
    Mrs. Bacon was one of 14 children, only two others of whom yet survive--they are her brother, Bill McIntosh, at Wolf Creek, and their sister, whose home is not too far away in the Wolf Creek country, but who, with her husband, has spent much of the past year or so in a rest home in Grants Pass.
    Their father was author of the petition for a school at Wolf Creek--which resulted in the first school house for that district. It was located in a defunct store which had to close because overdue credit had strained a trusting merchant past a breaking point.
    Mrs. Bacon's husband, long identified with the building and maintenance of the railroad through the Wolf Creek mountains, built her the house she has lived in these past 30 years…a home in which they reared their two sons, Harold, now a district manager of Safeway stores in Portland, and Glenn, with the State Department of Highway Construction for California, with headquarters at Sacramento.
    Although she has been alone now for some years, the days just aren't long enough for this busy woman--what with her house refurbishing, her beloved dog, the good fellowship of nearby friends and neighbors, and always work of one kind or another…you just GOT to keep busy."
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 21


----

Old 'Meadows' Ranch Famous for Fruits
    Few hillside ranches in Southern Oregon can present a lovelier distant view than does the old "Meadows" homestead, which, since 1887, has been the family homeplace of the Petersons, John and Roy Peterson, now 74 and 73 years of age, respectively. Roy, the younger, still maintains bachelor quarters in the old homestead, whereas John, likewise a bachelor, is settled in a small cottage at the foot of the hill, built there years ago by an older brother, Dan, now dead.
    Between them they carry on to the best of their abilities the culture of an excellent fruit ranch, one from which in years gone by carloads of apples and peaches have gone each season.
    But, according to Roy, "Daddy didn't want to bother with spraying" so as the trees yielded up their gnarled old boughs to the inroads of orchard pests, the family just chopped them down. And those were the same years in which the going price being paid for cattle was two cents per pound…those were hard, lean years for the family and in one such, they lost $12,000 on their cattle.
     "Daddy" to these two surviving sons of the old Peterson family was Daniel Peterson, and their mother was Rosanna Eggenberger. The elder Peterson brought his family to that section from Salem late in October of 1887, as he transferred his railroad endeavor to the Leland section as section boss. The two sons recall with pride that their father never had a derailment the whole time he "had the Canyon". Their sister is Mrs. P. C. Lind of Portland.
    Originally "The Meadows" was the 160-acre homestead of the Tripplett family, of which two brothers, Harry and Clabe, were prominent. It was this family which set out the once-famous fruit orchards.
    The two Tripplett brothers, Harry and Clabe, were the builders of the fair-sized old homestead, a two-storied frame house for which they hand-whipsawed the lumber. The kitchen section of the building was the first section built, and markings on the lumber are those of the old 10-foot saw which they used.
Knew the Sextons
    Both of the Peterson "boys" recall both Dave Sexton and his wife, the dashing widow Caroline Niday Sexton, heroine of two of the stories featured in the Indian section of this Courier Pioneer edition. Both recalled the day when Dave Sexton killed two large grizzlies in the little gulch just beyond their own homestead. The Sextons, whose own donation land claim was only a short distance nearer the mountains, ran cattle, sheep and hogs over the rolling hills of the area.
    The graves of both David and Caroline Sexton in the old Pleasant Valley Cemetery are known to both of the Petersons.
    Not only is the old Meadows homestead a lovely ranch site to view from Highway 99 North, but the view from its wide front porch is truly magnificent, as one eyes Ritchie Range, Mt. Sexton, Elk Mountain, Walker Mountain, and finally the dull red earth of Snake Mountain.
    Then as the gaze drops back to terrain near at hand, it is easy to envision the fine reds of the famous cherries which that same soil brings forth from the dry-hill orchards on the slopes below.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 21


----

First Cave Guide Recalls Their History
    His hands guided the woodworking tool with painstaking care along the top "floor" of the many-storied castle tower he was carving--slowly and with painstaking effort. His next birthday would be his 90th, and his movements were those of a man of such years.
    His guest turned the random talk to the Bigelow Cave, located on the far side of Mt. Elijah, to which fame has come as locale of the Oregon Caves. She made the point that thought persisted among many close to her that the Bigelow Cave was a through-the-mountain entry to the Oregon Cave.
    Dick Rowley, erstwhile official guide of the Oregon caves over 45 years, laid down his woodworking tool with an emphatic gesture--it was not a 90-year-old man who turned to face his guest full view--Dick Rowley was once again the Caves' first official guide, a trusted position he accepted back in 1911, to hold for the following 45 years. Only the dark green garb of the "official guide" and the peaked hat of the National Parks System were lacking.
    Tall and erect and with the proper authority of a man who knew his particular subject better than any other alive, the "official guide" of 45 years' service replied:
    "No, I don't think the Bigelow Cave, over the other side of the mountain, is another entrance to the Oregon Caves. You see, entries to both the Oregon Caves and the Bigelow Cave are at elevations of 4000 feet, and on the mountainside in between there is Brushy Gulch and Limestone Creek. If there were any connection between the two caves, the passages would certainly be filled with water from that creek."
Was a Miner
    That Dick Rowley was chosen to open the Caves and be the first guide was no chance affair. Years behind him was a record of being a careful and dependable miner--one who knew and used good mining practices. As Dick puts it, the Caves administrators knew he was a miner who knew how to get along underground.
    The veteran guide of the Oregon Caves is proud of his record--45 years of exploration of the caves, of developing a safe, proven route through its corridors and chambers and of guiding thousands of visitors through those labyrinths with never a single accident, moment of panic or 'bad time'…nearest thing to the latter was the time two men brought along a pint and sneaked a stiff drink or two as they trailed along at the end of the line--finally to fall by the wayside, there to sleep it off in Stygian darkness, until Dick came through on the next round with another tour party.
      Given the task and privilege of being the first man to set foot inside many of the cave's great chambers, Dick Rowley made use of a simple trick brought along from mining days.
    Each time he entered the caves his pockets were well filled with leaves stripped from huckleberry bushes on the mountainside. As he traversed the new and unfamiliar corridors of the cave, he carefully placed one single leaf, its stem pointing the way he had come from, and on top of it, a small pebble to anchor it. Those little pebble-topped leaves, waiting at every junction of passages, could tell him the way he was to go, in the event a candle or carbide lamp should fail, which they rarely ever did.
    "Shucks, I could go for miles back in the caves with just a pocketful of leaves," he recalled.
    "It would be foolish to say there are no more passages than those now located and used--there will always be new efforts by other guides to search out new features of the cave," the veteran guide went on to say.
Classics Lend Names
    There's the reverence of a poet in Dick Rowley's makeup--thus it was easy for him to name his favorite cave "Paradise Lost," and his next choice among the beautiful caverns is the lovely churchlike room he has named "Joaquin Miller's Chapel" after the great poet of the West.
    When Dick Rowley began the arduous task of opening up the Caves in 1911, he had to make the ladders and steps which led first from one level to another. There was much climbing, and access to a chamber above was gained often only with considerable effort.
    Before his retirement in 1956 he was to see the way through the magnificent labyrinth simplified to a delightful 90-minute trek, with no retracing of steps. Tunnels put in or recommended by him had cut hours of hard effort and climbing off of the route, and too, electrification of the main corridors had made for greater ease of movement.
Still Goes Back
    And now Dick Rowley works each day on his many-storied castle towers which he has contrived from a single log. Behind him on the wall of the little cottage at Williams, to which he came first in 1907, is a great picture of the Caves interior, in its foreground himself as guide to a party traversing its caverns.
    The woodwork is just to fill the time in between…the important day each year now is the one when he goes back early each summer to his beloved Cave.
    There he is welcomed by all who are now attaches of the Caves staff and the younger "new" guides, many of whom Dick has trained, stand respectfully aside as the "first official guide" strikes out at the head of the next tour party.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 21


----

Amanda Decker Heads Five Generations Here
    Rare among the counting of our Courier pioneers this 1960 are members of two generations in the same family…but remarkable in this instance is that Mrs. Amanda Orr Decker, born in 1872 in the Willamette Valley, has close about her the members of four succeeding generations.
    The 88-year-old names as "fellow pioneers" in this edition her son, Tom Maloney, and her daughter, Lillie Maloney Reed. Mrs. Reed maintains her home in the Radio Park cottages at Sunny Valley, overlooking Grave Creek. Mr. Maloney, until recently hospitalized, lived with his mother at their home on Fifth Street.
    The early beginnings of her five generations in Josephine County for Mrs. Decker date back to 1885, when she came to Grants Pass as a girl of 13. Her parents were John and Martha Orr. A short time later her family moved into the remote mountainous canyon back from Leland, and for many years to come ranching was their way of life, until the years of retirement have settled each of the elder three into homes closer to others of their friends.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 21


----

3 McBreitys Came from Old Erin to Mine
    One of the early family names in the old mining country around the Takilma Flat, then open Indian country, was McBreity…the name stemming from the arrival of three young Irish youths from their old home in Ireland. Their first mining ventures centered around the Democrat Gulch diggings, long famous as the home operation of A. G. Walling, well-known Southern Oregon historian and author.
    All three of the first McBreitys are now at rest in the old Catholic cemetery on Allen Gulch up the hill between Takilma and Waldo…one was killed on a ranch, when a team of horses stampeded with a load of hay as it entered a barn; the second brother lost his life while on a journey into Mexico.
    The third, John McBreity, claimed Mary Vallen as his wife in 1906, and they lived in the Takilma section for many years before his passing. Their son, Mike, a nephew of John Vallen of Kerby, and now married, is identified with the Oregon Bureau of Public Roads.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 21


----

She Sawed Lumber for Home
    There are few women anywhere in the West who can boast that they sawed every board and piece of lumber which went into the building of their home…such is the commendable point Mrs. Winnie Mansfield Shade stands ready to make and prove at her home at 738 SW "K" Street.
    Mrs. Shade, who was born in Grants Pass in 1891, has lived all but 10 years of this 20th century in the 700 block of Grants Pass…at either the corner of L or K streets…and with her settling of the house built with her own lumber, "I've moved for the last time."  That was in 1920.
    Mrs. Shade and her husband, the late Henry Shade, shared all of their interests jointly…when he operated pack trains out to the Eureka mine for 10 years, his wife was not only a companion on the trip…she was an able handler of the pack animals.
    In mining and lumbering she found as much interest as he, and in turn, her love of nice things in their home was as ably considered by the husband…who found equal pleasure with her in fine needle work and knitting, as well as culinary efforts in preserving season.
    The house today contains hundreds of beautiful handmade items turned by the husband to better furnish their home.
Easier to Saw
    It was while they were out at the old Eureka mine in Illinois Valley that Mr. Shade took over the running of the sawmill…Mrs. Shade went along a few hours each day, found the wood work so interesting that finally she proved her point that it was actually less arduous for her to run the saw than to lift the lumber, so the cutting was turned over to her.
    Mrs. Shade points with pride today to the fine grain she brought out in the hand-picked stock which the couple set aside for their home when they were to come back into town.
    She is the daughter of the late Mr. and Mrs. G. B. Mansfield, early-day settlers in Grants Pass. She has one brother, Rolland Mansfield, now living in Crescent City.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 21

----

Start of RFD Met Obstacles in 1906
    That "it's a funny world--but the people in it are all good" is a sage philosophy, one which has provided James J. McFadden a continuing sense of honor probably since infancy right through to this, his 79th spring, as he holds forth from his home at Williams "just sitting in the sun and waiting for folks to stop by for a visit."
    And folks certainly do stop by for an hour or so of visiting with "Jim" McFadden, for he's always ready for at least half dozen "remember when…?" stories, and as many laughs to follow.
    James J. McFadden was born on March 23, 1881, on Missouri Flat about four miles up the Applegate from Murphy, which was the mailing address those days for his parents, Dr. and Mrs. J. S. McFadden. He is the sole survivor of that family. His own includes three daughters, Elsie White and Ruth Green of Richland, Wash., and Aranda McFadden, at Redding, Calif.
    Most of his entire life has been spent in the Williams and Applegate setting, and most of his active years were dedicated to public service.
Was Assessor Here
    He was Josephine County Assessor for two terms and in all was identified with that office for 17 years.
    Another of his early public interests was the development of a rural free delivery route in the Murphy section…back in 1906. The postal department required at least 72 boxes must be established for a route to qualify for such service.
    That such a facility offered homesteaders and ranchers along that route would meet with resistance seems surprising today--but back in 1906, the farm folks along the Applegate were just plain skeptical!
    "Do you really think they would deliver the mail?" was the incredulous rejoinder much of the time as he developed the idea at some new homestead along the way. Some of them just knew it could not work.
    Actually it was not easy to tote up the final figure of 72 boxholder signatures because of such skepticism…Mr. McFadden and his fellow partner in the canvass had to spend an entire winter batching up at the old Oscar Creek mine the while they continued their survey of possible boxholders along the route.
    Finally the 72 signatures were obtained.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 22


----

Gravestone in Farm Yard for 3
    Standing quietly in the small clearing at entry to the drive of the Holsizer place on the southside road into Williams, is a slender shaft of granite, a grave marker, which somehow seems not at odds with aging farm equipment, and mobile units currently in use about the old farm.
    So it has stood, much of the past 90-odd years, a silent guard to the graves of three small children, the children of young widower Russel Bigelow, who had arrived with a brood of four only a few months earlier, that terrible winter of 1862, to make that place the first homestead home for his little family.
    The little girl had gone first, and as Williams Creek was rising fast, the grieving father rode his horse well downstream to find a safe place to cross on Powell Creek to go back the other side to Si Messenger's, who made coffins for all the folks in the valley.
    By the time the little casket was ready the next day, both creeks had risen so much that there was no hope of anyone crossing in a wagon to the Bigelow home.
    The problem was met in a matter-of-fact way by Mr. Messenger, who got into a small boat and towed the tiny wooden casket behind, as he pulled heavily on oars thrashing the raging waters of the creek.
    When the child had been prepared for burial, again the flooding stream was a barrier, and again a practical solution was accepted…the large fir tree out at the far end of the first homestead…what more fitting spot for a final resting place could be found?  And so the little child was interred.
    Nor was she alone for long…the two next younger than she were soon to join her. Thus the slender granite shaft marks the final resting place of three of the first Bigelows to arrive in the valley.
    As years went by, frequent thought was given to removing the children to one or the other of the nearby burial sites, but the kindly indulgence of those who have since lived on the old place has been one of fine respect for the little grave site.
    Only a hundred yards or so from the little graves on a rising knoll there was once another burial site, and at one time some decades back, as many as 17 markers were visible. Today only one remains.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 22


----


Family's Name for 'Speaker'
    Josephine County's prettiest ghost town, Golden, was the birthplace of Bertha Eva Speaker Binkley, her family name, "Speaker" bringing up yet another name, which about qualified as a ghost town too. Speaker, "just over the ridge" was named for her father, Lem Speaker, who built the store there.
    Although Speaker, even in its heyday, had only one store, which was also the post office, it was the buying center for many miners working in gold all over the hills roundabout.
    "They were mostly pocket hunters," recalled Mrs. Binkley, when visited in her home on the Upper Grave Creek Road, a mile or so above the famous covered bridge.
      Other than the one famous "hole-in-the-ground" from which $50 nuggets were frequently taken--"And there was one time when one horse could not carry all that came out of that glory hole"--most of the pocket hunting yielded very little to the men who searched out the gold, according to Mrs. Binkley.
    Mrs. Binkley was the eldest of three children, siblings being Mabel Speaker Espy, out from Grants Pass near Murphy, and Henry Speaker, now at Wolf Creek. They were born at Wolf Creek.
    All three went to school at Speaker--school then was a half-mile away, and there were never more than a dozen in the several classes.
Quieter These Days
    Times were quieter those days--you could take off a day and rest most anytime you wanted to--whereas nowadays--and the shrug of her shoulders left no doubt as to her opinion of current distractions.
    Treasured documents in the Binkley home are diaries dating back to 1882 kept by Charles Pettingill, who recorded all U.S. Registry of mail going through the little Grave Creek post office, now known as Sunny Valley. In more than half of the entries the figure is approximately $150--which was apparently the going monthly wage for miners in the larger operations in that day.
    Mrs. Binkley recalls the old stage coach road went "straight over the mountain back of the old fish pond," the latter still to be seen below the present highway route.
    "Going to Grants Pass those days was a great big event--and Grants Pass was a long, long ways away."
----
    Changing of Kerbyville's early-day name to Napoleon by the young Oregon territorial legislature in 1858 was considered by many as a jesting coupling of the names of the historically great man and his Josephine, the latter's name identical with the name of this county.
----
    Materials for the first Union flag ever raised in Josephine County were purchased in Jacksonville. The flag was made by the mother of Freeling Sawyer, now of Cave Junction, who had the aid of a neighbor, Mrs. Morris. Mr. Sawyer cut out the stars. The flag was rushed to completion in time for a memorable flag raising on Independence Day on July 4, 1862.
----
    The first two buildings in Kerby were those of Dr. D. S. Holton and G. T. Vining, the latter a hotel. They were built in 1857.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 22


----

Tales of Long Ago--'Up Thompson Creek'
    Having Dick Hoffman recall his boyhood in the isolated hill country "up Thompson Creek" provides a story which is a prelude to much that has already been told as graphic tales of early-day life and the hardships which were common to the adventurous young families willing to face up to the hardships of pioneer life that was young Oregon.
    There was a time, according to Mr. Hoffman, when the beautiful ranchlands and dairy lands up the Applegate Valley were considered of so little value that hillside lands farther "up Thompson Creek" were chosen in preference…that was because those days, before irrigation systems were developed, such lands were seen only as "gravelly," therefore worthless.
    Such were the reasons which motivated the choice of young George Hoffman, newly arriving from Germany to make his way in the new young Oregon country. He chose for his own home place a squatter's site, paying $400 for same, some six miles up the creek from the Applegate. The same $400 would have bought all of the land down below which today is valued in tens of thousands as fine dairy and ranch settings.
    But those days--back around the Civil War years--folks settled "up the creek," and the families were numerous there even then…soon giving rise to need for a school. The Thompson Creek school was old long before later schools were developed down the valley.
    George Hoffman chose as his wife Ella Bolt, from the family whose name honors Bolt Mountain near Jerome Prairie. Ella went to the Thompson Creek school, later to the district school at Ruch, and finally "finished" at the fine convent over at Jacksonville. But, first, she had had to "board out" for school at Crescent City, making the long trek over Oregon Mountain on stages past old Waldo.
    To the same Thompson Creek school came her son, Dick, who was born in 1873. There, too, was much of his preparation for a life, which, all of its 86 years, has centered around the ranching and mining up old Thompson Creek. His home today is a part of the old original home place, settled by his German-born father.
    The more vigorous years of youth were usually given to mining ventures among the young men of Mr. Hoffman's era…little mining ventures here and there throughout the hills which could be counted on to yield some small bit of cash money return, the while the hard business of living on a frontier homestead continued for all members of the families.
    "Always there was the hope that some 'outsider' would come along, unsuspecting, eager to buy into a mine, and that we could sell out quick for a good price and profit," recalled Mr. Hoffman. "But when they too would find the work so hard and sent back word of how poor the mines were, we soon found bad repute of the potential of our land was becoming the rule.
    "And, as bad as it is to admit it, too often the same idea governs the hopes of the long-time settlers today…hoping always that some rich outsider will come along and want to buy…only to learn how hard the work is, and always has been, what with coping with needs for water, for expensive mechanized equipment, and for more working hands. Families in the old days were large, and many hands made up for the lack of major equipment…today that is not the case, and that is why one sees once-fine barns and ranches just plain run down."
    But if there were heartaches, and hard work, and disappointments, there were also numerous undertakings and adventures which contributed generously to a well-rounded life on the Oregon frontier.
Fine Things Too
    "There was honor and loyalty and justice among the folks all along at the mining camps…they had respect for each other, and helped each other whenever it was needed," Mr. Hoffman recalled.
    "Why, if any family lost the breadwinner in a mining accident, it was just common practice, and was expected…we'd each pledge a day's pay…I remember one such time, when they started a collection for one family…no one had a piece of paper to write on…we found some packed between some of the candles…and our names on that scrap of candle packing were all that family had between them and real desperate need for the next few weeks."
    Mr. Hoffman's able memory has provided a number of delightful tales that are literally the creek's own property. Take the story of Old Tallow Box Mountain for example.
    "When folks first came into the country, they used a 'slut,' a wick of cloth, soaking in melted tallow for light. Hunters went frequently into the mountains on mass hunting expeditions to replenish their needed tallow for light. Among them were all too few containers, so little split cedar boxes were fashioned, in which the tallow, rendered from venison, would be poured, to harden, for easier transport back to the homesteads.
    The story goes that Indians came upon the hunter group on one occasion, their murderous intent persuading the hunters to depart off the mountain with scant ceremony, leaving behind many of their filled tallow boxes. Years later another group of hunters, chancing to camp at the identical site of the Indian attack, found one of the little cedar boxes, still intact, and filled with tallow--"just as good as ever it was, years before."
    And that is the story of the naming of the high peak immediately back of the Hoffman Ranch.
Lead for Bullets
    Another of the stories which belong out there has to do with the dearth of lead for bullets…Abe Lowden's dogs treed a bear in a tree overnight; next morning along came old Bill Herriot with his muzzle-loader gun hunting the dogs. He fired all his available bullets but failed to take the bear. Finally he sent his wife back to get another bullet…there was not enough lead at the house for one, so Mrs. Herriot melted down the lead "mending" which her husband had dribbled across a hole in one of the family's utensils, added it to the bullet mold, ran back with the bullet, still hot from the mold, and the husband killed the treed animal…then the family cut out the lead bullet, melted it up and again mended their needed utensil.
    "Why, those days, any man would walk a mile to chop a single lead bullet out of a tree trunk for the sake of the lead.
    "Old Herriot was real handy as a blacksmith, too--they had their share of trouble in hard years, too. But, as I said before, folks helped each other, and Bill had been helped out by others, too. So when better times came along for him and he set up his blacksmith shop, he went out among his friends and squared accounts with all of them by offering to do all their needed blacksmithing for a year."
    Another tale of blacksmith Herriot recalled by Mr. Hoffman concerned the frequent loan of the Hoffman family's old 45-70 degree Ballard to the blacksmith. Then he would borrow a saddle for his horse; load on needed provision, and off to "Tallow Box" he'd go for deer meat. On his return, venison in generous cuts was left off at each home as he returned either saddle, gun or other borrowed item. One August, such a hunting expedition for the doughty blacksmith yielded 13 bucks and does for the larders of his willing-lender friends…"But that's the way we managed for each other those days--up Thompson Creek."

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 22


----

Has Always Been in 'These Hills'
    An entire lifetime in the Illinois Valley is recalled only with pleasant reflections by Lucy Louise Hart Woodbury, who was born right in the heart of old Kerbyville on Oct. 7, 1897, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Charlie Hart. Mrs. Woodbury and her husband, Herbert Justin Woodbury, are living today at O'Brien. Their son William Herbert Woodbury and his family reside in Grants Pass.
    Mrs. Woodbury's mother was Hattie Floyd, a daughter of the early-day Sheriff Thomas Floyd. The mother, Hattie, was born in Salem, and when only six weeks old was taken back to Michigan, making the long trip in her mother's arms, atop a saddle horse the mother rode all the way across the continent.
     Mrs. Woodbury's parents operated one of the two old hotels at Waldo for a number of years, and she was living at Waldo in her teens at the time of her own marriage.
    Her first school was at the little district school at Holland, and later at Kerbyville.
    Today her interests center to a large extent in the activities of the Blue Star Mothers, and she has attended numerous of their conventions in this state…her farthest venture into California has been to Crescent City…"but these hills right here are where I'm glad to be!"

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 22


----

Famed Davidson Gun Was Old
When Elijah Davidson, Sr. Acquired It in 1830s

    No museum could pay greater respect to its most cherished possessions than is provided in a small cottage up Williams Valley for the personal effects of Elijah Davidson, Oregon Caves discoverer, by his eldest son, Winter Davidson.
    The fortunate guest will gain an insight into the very heart and home patterns of that early-day Oregon pioneer, whose chance quarry of a deer being chased by his hunting dog one fine day in 1874 led him in the portals of the great Oregon Cave--probably the first white man to ever set foot within that great cavern.
    An appropriate interest evinced by the guest is the "open sesame" to a delightful hour and the privilege of seeing and handling the very things that were the cherished day-to-day household goods of Elijah Davidson.
    The son Winter--and two other sons were named "Summer" and "Autumn Forest"--reaches for a fine set of horns, the same three points which topped the head of the deer his famous father was chasing the day he found the cave. Those horns are accorded an appropriate place of honor on the wall of Winter Davidson's cottage.
    Out of the corner in the tidy living room comes Elijah's gun--the same he carried the day he found the caves--for that matter, the only hunting gun which he had known in his whole life, and likewise, his father for decades before him.
    The Davidsons have no idea how old the gun is--it was an old gun when Elijah's father, Elijah J. Davidson, Sr., acquired it, back in the 1830s or '40s, long ahead of Elijah's birth in 1849.
Probably Hand Made
    That it was probably a hand-turned weapon, devised of sheer necessity by some intrepid pioneer pushing forward into the wilderness that was later to be Illinois, is well evinced in that there is no manufacturer's seal or identification of any kind.
    It is an enormous gun by any standard--weighing well close to 25 pounds, and quite a load for small-statured Elijah as he lugged it up and down rugged mountainsides in search for game needed for his family. It is almost as tall as its present owner, the son, Winter. The barrel alone is 40½ inches in length, and its rifling spins forth only "homemade" bullets, since loss, more than a hundred years ago, of the powder horn and shot with it when first Elijah Davidson traded for it.
     In all the years that it has served the Davidson families--years which have marked their travel by ox team from Illinois to Portland in 1850; years of proving up the donation claim at Portland which they sold later for $500 ("because Portland wasn't ever going to amount to much"); and the years which followed their moving to the head of Williams Valley, there to carve out a new home for the growing family--the men of that household have molded bullets for use in that gun.
    The son, Winter, refused to even guess at the caliber size, but a visitor guest has pegged it at an approximate 50.
    The door opening into the master bedroom reveals a large black bearskin on the floor--and that is the skin of a bear which Winter found near the entrance to the cave years ago.
Britt Pictures Too
    Too, there is a little album which was once Elijah Davidson's--its lovely silver clasp and lock opening to reveal pictures now upwards of a hundred years old. One most treasured (and loaned by Winter Davidson to the Courier for this edition) is the wedding picture of Elijah and his bride, Minerva Farras, taken by the famous Peter Britt at Jacksonville.
    Elijah and Minerva set up housekeeping in Williams Valley, and Winter, their eldest son, was born Oct. 11, 1873, within a half mile of his own little cottage, to which he returned "for keeps" in 1933.
    Only one other child of the 12 born to that union now survives. She is Mrs. William Smith (Pearl), living at 1634 NE 49th Avenue in Portland.
    A lover of his home and of home things, Winter Davidson maintains his little home in a way which would do credit to the most exacting of homemakers. The pictures and books, many of them once the property of his father, are tidily arranged in proper manner; his culinary department draws daily on a vast store of fine preserves and canned foods which he puts up each year in season--most of them gathered from the garden and orchard he set out long ago, and a deep freeze all but bulges with carefully wrapped and labeled packages which can yield forth the makings of a mighty good meal in short order.
    An erect carriage, quick step, and fine clear eyes well argue the notations in the family records that he was 87 years old last October 11, 1959, and one feels that perhaps he'd be right pleased to set out this evening for another dancin' party somewheres down in the valley--for it is said he taught most of Williams' successive younger generations their first dance steps.
    (Winter's best story, and one heretofore unpublished, we believe is saved for the last…and for a special heading all its own, alongside, to better tell the fine points of the family's own firsthand knowledge of their father's finding of the Oregon Cave.)
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 22


----

75 Yrs. All Up Deer Creek
    "Never had time to get married" contended 75-year-old Art Harmon, going right on about the business of getting 20 gallons of honey jarred against the winter. An earlier busy session of getting the honey in from 14 trees just cut down on the place had just taken place.
    All that was early fall business last year almost at the top end of Deer Creek, where Mr. Harmon was getting things done up at the Harold Messenger place, where he has made his home…and been busy…almost all of his entire life. He was born June 18, 1884, on the old homestead, just a little more than a mile down the creek, the son of Tilman G. and Lydia Hathaway Harmon.
Last of 11
    The parents came into that country in 1876 and there made a home for 11 children. Art Harmon is the surviving member of the family. Sheep and cattle were early stock interests of the family outdoors, while within the house the busy mother directed the daughters in the spinning into yarn of their own wool, knitting of all the family's socks, and even the braiding of straw, from which she turned out the hats which protected all on hot sunny days.
Had $10 Only
    When Mr. Harmon's parents arrived "on the creek" the elder Harmon's total cash assets were exactly $10, which he spent in one single purchase for fruit stock from the famous Llewellyn fruit tree nurseries. It required a whole week to travel to Ashland to make the purchase, but his return was prelude to the planting of apple, pear, prune and plum trees which nurtured nursery stock lines still bearing at many sites in the lower end of the county.
    Mr. Harmon's first schooling was at the site of what is now the defunct Dryden Post Office, several miles down the creek. Reviewing the changing times he has noted over his years, Mr. Harmon summarized--"Sometimes wonder if we didn't have a better time than folks have now…I believe with all my heart that if youngsters could grow up today, just having something to do, there would be few juvenile problems…why, when I was only two or three, I had to bring in a stick at a time, the wood my mother wanted for the stove…her way of training us to have and take responsibility."

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 22


----

1866 Land Deed in Her Effects
    A donation land claim deed, signed by President Johnson in 1866, is one of the treasured documents in the possession of Miss Josephine Topping, a member of the fifth generation of the Powell and Topping families, early in prominence in old Williamsburg and on down the valley along the Applegate.
    Miss Topping's home at 1133 Bridge Street in Grants Pass contains a delightful blending of the best of the old, with well-chosen new things…her beautiful double-decker desk from the famous old Caldwell furniture factory out in Williams is as cherished as her own lovely new piano.
    Like others of her family she was born at Williams, and most of her school years were in that valley. She has numerous mementos of the play parties and social incidents which made the stay-close-to-home activities of young people of her time remembered always with delight.
Fourth Was 'Big'
    "We always made a big thing of the Fourth of July, and had fun also with our community club, plays and socials, and the dances were always wonderful."  Miss Topping was among the young ladies long serving as organist in the churches at old Williams.
    Her parents were Frank and Mary Gill Topping, and her surviving brother is Ray William Topping, subject of another story elsewhere in this edition.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 22

----

James Tuffs, Early Settler Here, Epitome of Pioneers
Who Founded Good Way of Life in So. Oregon

    James P. Tuffs was one of the oldest pioneers in Southern Oregon and especially in Josephine County. Out here in the West, where he was far removed from the home of his boyhood, his identification with Oregon was so complete and his belief in the growth and prosperity so strong that he counted his removal to the West one of the most fortunate acts of his long career.
    The family of which he was a member were English Quakers, but early settled in Pennsylvania. His father, John Tuffs, was born in Philadelphia, and removed to Eastport, Maine, where he was engaged in shipbuilding. Here he married Katherine Fitzgerald, of Irish birth. of the family of this union there were 12 children, James Tuffs the seventh, and the only one to come to the Pacific Coast. He was born at Eastport on Jan. 12, 1825.
    James Tuffs learned the ship carpenter's trade, and following the inclinations fostered by early associations, he worked in the shipyards of East Boston, Charleston, Medford and South Boston, Dec. 28, 1848, and after a stormy voyage around Cape Horn, which consumed six months to the half hour, he landed in San Francisco June 28, 1849.
    During this summer he worked on the streets of San Francisco, where he assisted in putting in the first paving ever done in that city. His wages were $9 per day, which were paid in Mexican dollars that accumulated so rapidly that very soon he had a bushel, which he exchanged for gold.
    It was his original intention to return to the East, but as he had been back once since leaving home, and in those years of his absence things had changed, he decided to remain here. The country suited him and the West had seized him with a powerful grip. It was not long before he became interested in mining, and for a time worked around Yreka.
Was Early 'Packer'
    In the following year he ran a pack train between Eureka, California and Sailors Diggings, in Oregon. At the time of the discovery of gold on Canyon Creek, Josephine County, Oregon, he came with the throng of fortune seekers, and during the next two years he made $5000 in mining. This was in 1851. His next venture was with his partner, Lewis Barnes, with whom he bought a ferry and put in a stock of goods on Rogue River. Afterwards they sold out to James Vannoy.
    In 1853 he located a donation land claim two miles further up the river. This is now the Sebach place at present (1937); broke up the land, and planted an orchard of apples and pear trees, some of which are still standing. These trees were brought from the Willamette Valley.
    While living on his place beside the Rogue River he met Miss Margaret Croxton, the daughter of Thomas Croxton, a family of pioneers, who crossed the plains in 1851 from Vairelston [Charleston?], Ill. Margaret Croxton came from England with her people in 1843, being at that time four years old. Mr. Tuffs and Miss Croxton were married at Ten Mile Prairie on Dec. 11, 1854, by a Methodist minister, Mr. Dillard. The little village of Dillard, in Douglas County, is named for him
    After the marriage ceremony Mr. and Mrs. Tuffs gathered their bundles and started for their home. This trip had to be made by horseback through tangled forests and rocky canyons, there being no roads at that time. Arriving at their home, Mrs. Tuffs, then a girl of 16, took the home in charge, and how bravely she met all the difficulties no one will ever know.
Indians Outwitted
    During the Indian outbreaks, which were frequent in early days, Mr. Tuffs made a policy of never letting an Indian enter his house. The savages feared him and always endeavored to avoid him. The nearest neighbor was two miles away. John F. Jones lived three miles distant.
    One day some Indians came to the house and were unusually impudent and determined to come inside. Mr. Tuffs insisted that they leave their guns outside; let them in, and while Mrs. Tuffs attracted their attention he put the breech of their guns between the logs of the house and bent them.
    On another occasion they stole a yoke of oxen from him. He traced them to where the cattle had been slaughtered, and then made complaint to the agent, but the Indians could not be found. Determined to settle the matter, he kept on until he found the chief, two of whose braves he took to avenge himself for the theft of the cattle.
    October 9, 1855, the Indians started on a massacre, first killing Major Lupton and then hastening down the Valley, killing J. F. Jones and fatally wounding his wife. [Lupton was killed while engaged in an unprovoked massacre upon an Indian village.] Mr. Tuffs and wife could hear the reports of their guns but were totally unprotected, as all the gun they had was one muzzle-loading rifle. The Indians being so closely pursued by the soldiers, followed the foothills, and so they escaped the massacre. [The natives weren't pursued until 24 hours later.]
    Mr. Tuffs lost heavily in the floods of 1861, and in the spring he and his father-in-law, Thomas Croxton, took what cattle they had left to Walla Walla, Wash. They did not get much money down, and when it was sent them later they were paid in greenbacks, worth 50 cents on the dollar. But, nothing daunted, these sturdy farm pioneers worked hard, raised plenty of farm produce, and took it to Kerby and Sailor Diggings, the nearest markets.
    In the summer of 1862, he agitated the building of a schoolhouse. He and a neighbor built it on the west line of his donation claim. This is where Mr. Sebach now has his home.
    On the sale of the Jones estate Mr. Tuffs bought 320 acres for $3.25 an acre, and in 1865 moved his family into the commodious and comfortable residence he built there. Other improvements were added as the years rolled by. More acres were bought until he finally owned 612 acres.
    In 1864 he was the leading spirit in the organization of a school district and was chairman of the board for many years.
    Mr. and Mrs. Tuffs were practically the doctors of the neighborhood. If anyone was sick they were sent for. Mrs. Tuffs never refused a call to the side of a sickbed. Many times she has gone when called in storm and sleet with a babe in her arms as she rode horseback.
    On occasions of death Mr. Tuffs took coverings and linings for a casket.
    In 1864 the stage station was moved from the McDonough place on Louse Creek to Mr. Croxton's place on the site of Old Grants Pass. Authorities at Washington, D.C. wrote for a name.
Grants Pass Named
    In a meeting of neighbors to suggest one, Thomas Croxton, John Wheeler, Ben Mensch, and James Tuffs were the ones chosen to select the name. A new road over Merlin Hill being in the course of construction at that time, and General U. S. Grant having been put in as commander in chief of the Union forces, it was unanimously decided to call the post office Grant's Pass (not that General Grant was ever near the historical city that bears his name).
    Mr. Tuffs and his wife struggled hard to give their children an education, but educational facilities were poor. A small district school conducted six months in the year was all that could be maintained, but as the children grew up the daughters followed teaching and the sons finished business college. The elder son, James T. Tuffs, took to the mercantile business and opened a store on Sixth and H streets, where the Odd Fellows building stands now.
    The old home place was at that time in Jackson County, and Jacksonville was the county seat. Mr. Tuffs made many hard trips on horseback in the wintertime to serve on juries and other court business.
    The Southern Oregon Pioneer Society numbered him as one of its staunchest members. They relied on his every word, and his decisions were always just. He took a warm interest in all the matters pertaining to organization, as might be expected of one so long intimately associated with the growth of Oregon.
    Mr. and Mrs. Tuffs had a large circle of friends throughout the state, particularly among those who came west in early days. Honor and principle had ever characterized their acts, and integrity had been one of their dominant traits.
    Among the local offices in the city of Grants Pass is that of councilman, which he held for two terms. For a similar period he was a member of the first board of county commissioners. In 1881 he, with his son, James T. Tuffs, erected the Tuffs building on the west corner of Sixth and H streets, now occupied by the Barnes jewelry store and Pardee Grocery (1937).
    Fraternally he has been a Mason since 1858, when he was initiated in the Blue Lodge at Kerby, Oregon; later transferred to the Grants Pass Lodge No. 84. He was made a Royal Arch Mason in the Reames Chapter, No 28, and is a Knights Templar, Melita Commandery, No. 8, in his home town of Grants Pass.
Family of Seven
    James and Margaret Tuffs raised a family of seven children, two of whom passed away in 1889. Those living are James T. Tuffs, Minnie Tuffs and Mrs. Lydia Dean of Grants Pass; Mrs. Jennie Sessions of Woodland, Calif., and Mrs. Maude Kane of San Francisco.
    In the autumn after the crops were gathered Mr. Tuffs would take his team and wagon and drive to Scottsburg, a town on the Umpqua River, for his year's supply of groceries and other needful things. This trip would take from a week to 10 days. Out of his crops he supplied the Oregon and California Overland Stage Co. with feed for their stock. His cattle were sold to buyers who drove them to Northern California or Nevada.
    Their first chairs were brought from Crescent City on pack mules and put together at the house. They had the first carriage in this part of the county--that was in 1860. Mrs. Tuffs was a proud woman when a sewing machine was brought to her home. This was a Willcox and Gibbs, and the ladies came from far and near to see it work and do their sewing.
    In 1889 Mr. and Mrs. Tuffs built them a home nearer the city on a portion of their farm on East D Street, where they spent the remainder of their days.
    Mr. Tuffs passed away in 1906 and Mrs. Tuffs in 1914. These people were a large part of the life of the lower Rogue River Valley, and the name was one honored and identified with the progress and material advancement of the country they loved. There cannot be too much credit given these sturdy and persevering pioneers, who came here and faced the wilds and hardships of frontier life and made the country possible for the following generations to live in peace, plenty, comfort and security. (Reprinted from the Josephine County Historical Issue of the Grants Pass Daily Courier of Dec. 31, 1927).

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 23

----

Mrs. Maurer Here 65 Yrs.
     Her advent into Josephine County included a journey across the Atlantic, and then across the continent for Mrs. Katherine Nessle Maurer, as the German-born Wurtenberg girl faced into the new ways of a strange land to make a new home in 1895.
    Mrs. Maurer now 84, recalls the adventurous trip with interest, as one of the party of emigrating kinsmen seeking a new home life all on the recommendation of two enthusiastic young countrymen, who had visited others of their friends at early-day Selma.
    As a result of their glowing reports of the beautiful land in the new country, Mrs. Maurer's father, Gottlieb Nessle, consented to move away from old Wurtenberg, along with the Krausses, and the Hermanns. With the children of these families, she survives today to tell of their adventure in traveling to become pioneers in the new land.
    Mrs. Maurer is the widow of the late George Maurer, who had preceded the party westward in '94, and was married to him in Grants Pass. Their family included Louis Maurer, living right next door to her own cottage beyond the Holland Loop, Kenneth, next place adjacent to Louis; Martin, only a short ways the other direction on the Loop, and two daughters, Karina, now Mrs. Caldwell, and Ida, now Mrs. Pilgrim, both in Portland.
    She had "loved it here always," she summarized, with quiet enthusiasm, recalling her happy life in America.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 23

----

Came to Visit in 1888; Still Here
    When the emigrant trains were running across the continent back in the 1880s the parents of William R. (Uncle Bill) Weidman decided to make a visit out west with kin in Oregon and California. So his mother packed things for herself, and the two children, Billy, and his sister, and they departed from Rockford, Illinois, in 1886 on the big visit.
    They arrived at Marysville, Calif. in due time, and after California visitations, elected to sail from San Francisco to Portland then travel overland once again, back to Oakland, Oregon and Yoncalla. By 1888, with those visits over, they started back once again to the Marysville train point of embarkation, but decided to stop off at Grants Pass to visit yet another relative.
    The visit has continued all these years. The Weidmans never went back, and it was left to the father, John E. Weidman, to supervise the closing of the Illinois home and the transport of the family's belongings to the West Coast, direct to Grants Pass, where his family had chosen to settle.
    The mother was in business here as one of the early-day milliners, the while others of the family found work which fitted them into the growing community. The son, Bill, finished high school here and has worked in numerous of the projects which have done their part in the development of the area over the years.
    Mr. Weidman has long since retired and lives in quarters at 141 SW J Street, where numerous friends stop by to recall old days in Grants Pass. He well recalls the incident of the city's first fire bell…the city hall had not yet been built, so the bell was hung on a tower outside, and later moved to more permanent quarters.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 23

----

Not Happy Long Way from Home
    John Hilton Smith happens to be a dedicated man…where his home county, Josephine County, is concerned. He has rarely ever even wanted to leave it…"Got as far away as Springfield once and I about drove myself to death to get back…when I got as close as Salt Lake, I drove straight through, with never a stop."
    Mr. Smith, one son in the large family of the Harry Smiths, who lived for many years at 615 South Sixth Street, was born at the old family home on Nov. 1, 1889.
    Others in the family, his brothers, yet residing in the county are Amos Smith, living out at Murphy, and Fred Smith, up in Sunny Valley.
    Mr. Smith's wife is the former Eunice Myrle Cruse, and their children include Stella L. Metheral, in Bellevue, Wash; Floyd F. Smith and Eleanor A. L. Garner, at Murphy; Della L. Hall, Medford, and Lewis L. Smith, Leonard Road, and Dale M. Smith, N. Hawthorne Avenue, in Grants Pass.
    The John H. Smith home today is in an attractive setting near the Applegate River, in the Jerome Prairie section. Both Mr. and Mrs. Smith have an active interest in one of the markets on the Redwood Highway, Mr. Smith handling all of the meat department.
    He recalls the old blacksmith shop which his father had for many years before 1902 up on Sixth Street near J, and many of his boyhood memories center around the old Centennial School in the Fruitdale District.
    During earlier years Mr. Smith served as pressman at the Daily Courier, his 20 years there dating back to the times of the old Goss Comet which pressed papers there some years ago.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 23

----

Down 82 Dim Lit Steps to Featherbed
Gave Myrtie Wilson Homesick Blues

    Of all the things that Myrtie Wilson and her husband, the late Homer Lee Wilson, may have hoped to find at the end of the rainbow "way out in Oregon" in 1900, running a railroad hotel at obscure and isolated little Leland, in Josephine County, was not one of them.
    And to arrive there on a cold rainy night, bag and baggage, with three small children, be led down 82 steps (that's right, eight-two steps) behind a sputtering railroad lantern, to a hastily made-up featherbed--knowing that on the morrow she would have to "take over"--well, right then and there Myrtie Wilson had about the worst attack of homesickness that was ever to beset her. Not that it was the last taste of homesickness, mind you--but it was certainly the worst.
    Frankly, Leland didn't have much to offer a young mother and her small children--land of promise that it may have seemed to Mr. Wilson all to the contrary.
    "I got so lonely to see people--there was only one other woman living at Leland--the wife of the section boss--they lived in a house car up on the tracks--82 steps above us.
    "Oh, how wonderful it would seem to come down on the train--there were four a day then--to Grants Pass, even if we could only spend the day.
    "I'd dress the children and we would come on the early morning train--and how wonderful it was to walk along and look in the windows of the business houses and see all the people who passed by on the sidewalk. We would usually make our rest headquarters at the old Josephine Hotel--that's the Redwoods Hotel now…and it was so nice to eat luncheon where we could see other people.
    "But we always had to go back--and always there were those awful 82 steps to descend or ascend, from the tracks down the steep hillside to the old hotel."
    As hotels go, the old Leland Hotel was not, nor was it intended to be, on the "must list" for resort reservations. But it served a need, long felt, by railroad men and miners--for Leland was the stopping point for numerous men with mining interests in the northernmost section of this county. The old Greenback Mine, probably the most consistent producer in the county, was not far away in the hills, and all cargo for the Greenback went through Leland.
    Actually, the hotel was a sort of "tacked-on" condition to an investment deal negotiated by Mr. Wilson when he had set out in Portland to find some worthy place in which to set up a business and home for his family. He had to take the hotel, along with the store he was taking over, as he picked up a bankrupt stock and business listed in Portland.
    Both the store and, amazingly enough, the hotel, proved to be moneymakers, and in the eight years the family spent at the remote little railroad point the investment paid them a handsome return.
    Dreary as the picture was on the rainy day she arrived, time soon came when quarters were made over into family quarters of a suitable nature for the family. Pictures taken there which the Wilsons have today reveal more than ample of the comforts and niceties of the average home at the turn of the century.
    One great dormitory-like room capably provided the night's requisite of a bed (50 cents was the rate) for the miner in town for the nonce, to which he retired after evening hours spent probably in the town's one saloon--which never did have a name.
    Chinese help but resolved--and complicated--the operation problems. Early enough, Mrs. Wilson learned that her Chinese cooks could be mighty temperamental and had to be handled "just so." Unless some desperate emergency demanded it, you left them alone, and kept out of their kitchen, although Mrs. Wilson does recall that they did, probably with reluctance, permit the ironing girl to work at one end of the kitchen, heating her sadirons on the big wood range.
    Rarely was there ever other than a glint of downright rebellion in the eyes of such an Oriental who at that moment master and lord of the kitchen if he were asked to prepare a meal for some tardy arrival. But they did the job--and meals, at 25 cents, served family style, were fine fare.
    The while Mrs. Wilson maintained the family quarters and ran the hotel, Mr. Wilson devoted his time to the ever-increasing business of packing cargo into the mines throughout the northern end of the county. Any stray miner arriving "in town" was almost sure to have with him a list sent along by his mine cook or foreman for foodstuffs and mining supplies, which they knew they could "bank" on Mr. Wilson packing in to them within a day or so. This was a business which paid truly handsome returns.
    Time for schooling for the three children coincided neatly to the waning of the mines' top production, and in 1908 the Wilsons' career in hotel management and grocery and mining supply came to an end with their removal to Grants Pass.
    There they built the comfortable two-story brick house at 746 NW Sixth Street in which Mrs. Wilson is still resident, confined much of the time to her room following illness in 1958, since which she has had the faithful attendance of her daughter, Mrs. Alva Wilson Twohy, who lives with her.
    Most important mail arriving each week at the home is from "the family"--Homer Lee, Jr., who may be writing from New York City of news of his son, Homer Lee III, or of his son Homer Lee IV, or the sister, Kim. Or perhaps from Mrs. Wilson's second daughter, Maria, now Mrs. Robert Bishop--and her news may well be of her son and daughter, or the mail may have foreign stamps as Mrs. Wilson's four are heard from--one daughter in New York City, another visiting with her brother, now in business in Spain, or there may be an Oriental stamp, as mail is received from the other son, now teaching in Tokyo.
    Their pictures were admired and once again the pictures of the old hotel were passed around for a second look. Surprisingly enough, numerous were the items to be noted therein which even then made the spacious living room downstairs in the fine old brick house one of good taste and appointment…which goes to prove that home--no matter where--is how you make it.   A.F.B.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 23

----

Kindergarten in '90s Is Memory
    A large dog was "guard" to Arthur E. Sampson when he went forth to Grants Pass' first kindergarten class as a small lad early in the 1890s, becoming thereby one of the first memories of this 73-year-old who was born here in 1887, the son of the C. H. Sampsons, who lived on D Street between 4th and 5th streets.
    Mr. Sampson completed nine grades of schooling here, then was sent off to Manzanita Hall, prep school at Palo Alto, followed by entry at Stanford, from which he received his degree with the Class of 1910.
    In the years following, Mr. Sampson has served much of the time as a railroad fireman…both in the States and in Canada and Alaska. He has also done considerable freight expediting in government service during both World War I and II.
    One of his prized pictures of early-day entertainment events here is of Grants Pass' own "Black Pearls," in which he was one of a dozen who put on a fine show on Feb. 11, 1897, according to dates noted on the back of the picture. Another he recalls from that picture was G. E. Vrow, who installed the first electric lighting system for the town.
Yellow Roses
    One of Mr. Sampson's favorite early-day memories is of the lovely yellow roses which bloomed on a very old bush in the yard of the famous old Wheeler log cabin, which stood at the top end of Sixth Street for many decades, dating back to the early 1850s.
    Mr. Sampson's home at 1410 Maple Lane contains many tanks of exotic fish, and his extensive library has numerous volumes relating to them.
    His children are John Arthur Sampson, now at Oswego, and Dorothy, now Mrs. Allen Reynolds living at Brookings.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 23

----

Home 44 Years at Same Place
    Following a pattern set of necessity that the womenfolk of the family remain at home back in early settling days in the Selma section, Mrs. Rika Krauss Morrison today turns within her home for her daily interests.
    Her arrival in Oregon, and, for that matter into the United States, dates back to 1895 when her entire family, the Krausses, migrated from their home at Wurtenberg, Germany, direct to the beautiful country section up Deer Creek from Selma, all because her mother's two brothers had fallen in love with the country while visiting there.
    Mrs. Morrison recalls that the general condition of isolation of all the families, one from another, in early settlement days made it a matter of prudence that the women remain close to their homes for safety's sake.
    It is not surprising, therefore, to learn that she has lived all but one of the 44 years since her marriage in the same house, which is her home today, at 135 SE L Street. She is the widow of the late Charles M. Morrison, and the mother of Fritz Morrison, now in forestry work in Washington, Charles A. Morrison, local auctioneer in Grants Pass, and of Eleanor, now Mrs. Wesley Bridges. Her sister is Mrs. Pearl Snively, living on East Park Street.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 23

----

Jas. Kendall's Cat 'Friend' 10 Feet Long!
    When young James Kendall, aged nine, and newly arrived from Cornwall, England, back in October 1899, went out camping with his parents to mine property on the Applegate, he promptly went fishing.
    A slight movement claimed little attention, and the next thing he knew a "big cat" probably near 10 feet from tail to nose, padded out of the brush, drank from the creek, walked across the open sward near the boy, stopped to shake itself, and walked on. The boy, delighted with the grace and enormous size of the cat, sat motionless, reveling in its beauty.
    He fished at that "secret" place all summer long, a secret shared only with his wonderful huge cat friend, and as the long summer days proceeded the cat got so used to him he finally came almost within hand's touch and ate the small trout which young Kendall laid out for him.
    He never told his family about his feline friend, which, boy-fashion, he wanted to keep as a secret all to himself.
    It was not until three years later that he learned of the dread havoc the great cougar had wrought among domestic animals and the terror it had struck in the hearts of numerous people.
    "It just isn't so!" he declared, vehemently, in denial of usual allegations of the ferocity of such beasts.
    With his British background behind him, the Kendalls' interests as they have considered foreign travel has centered chiefly on the British Isles, where they have returned several times to visit.
    The Kendall home at 310 NW A Street contains numerous bibelots and antiques of definite British accent, among them exquisite China bric-a-brac.
    One of the most valuable of their British collection is a 16-bore black powder muzzle-loading gun, made in 1831, with 28-inch barrel. The handsome velvet-lined case for the firing piece carries a silver plate which notes the gun was from the famous gunsmiths James Purdey and Sons, Ltd., of London.
    Mrs. Kendall, the former Margaret M. Scott, came with her family from Roseburg in the late '90s. Their children are James H. Kendall, Jr., of San Pedro, Calif. and Carmen Kendall, now Mrs. Neil C. Bowman of Vancouver, Wash.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 23

----

Home Has Always Been Near River
    Home since long before she can remember has always been right by the Rogue River, as Mrs. Nancy Brooks Ward recalls her life. She and her husband Charles, together with their beloved cat, a very important member of their family, are today almost within a stone's throw of that same river, at 1234 Plummer Avenue, just west of Caveman Bridge.
    The only sojourn Mrs. Ward has ever had away from her favorite river setting was a brief time at Orland, California, and she "so glad to get home--why, it was so barren and dry there, there wasn't even enough wood roundabouts to make a fire for coffee!"
    Mrs. Ward is one of four surviving children of Archie and Elmira Brooks who made their first home here in 1889 for their children in a house which was located on the exact site of the present Riverside Motel, by the Caveman Bridge. Mrs. Ward was then three years old and has practically no memory whatever of the family's earlier life in Cloud County, in Kansas.
    Her sisters are May Yokum, 101 Elk Street, Medford and Stella Brooks Day, living with their brother, Sam Brooks, at 735 SW Bridge Street in Grants Pass.
    Mr. and Mrs. Ward's only daughter is Josephine, Mrs. Ben Brockman, on Azalea Drive, Grants Pass.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 23

----

Raymond Baldwins Are of Pioneer Stock 'Way Back'
    Pioneer stock on both sides…their beautiful log house--in which they have lived always since the day they finished it back in 1905--seeming added proof of the point of such pioneer beginnings, as if such was needed.
    There on the beautiful winding road at a point where the grade really starts climbing up to the famous Oregon Caves is the place which has been called home these many years by Raymond and Daisy Baldwin. Nestled in a curving vale just below the present highway, its rustic appearance invites more than one tourist party on their way to the Caves to pause and revel in the beautiful setting.
     When George Baldwin's mother rode into the Illinois Valley in 1891, it was 11 months before she saw another woman. But pioneering experience didn't begin with her in the Baldwin family…his Grandmother Forbes' arrival in Forbestown, California back in the 1850s was such a momentous event for the 300 miners then working these diggings that they promptly named their hitherto unnamed community Forbestown in her honor as the first woman to arrive in their new mining camp. That grandmother's trek to the California gold mines had been via the Isthmus of Panama--which she crossed on a burro.
    Her son, Raymond Thomas Baldwin, of our story, was born at Challon's Mill, near Oroville in 1885. Oregon soon called the George Baldwins up our way to the Louse Creek country, but after a year there, and two more in Grants Pass, the young family was off to the Illinois Valley. After two years at Waldo, the home they had always dreamed of was found, up the old road to the Caves…and as Raymond's needs for a home of his own came up, the father and son cut the timber, then hewed the logs for the house which serves them today.
Herveys Early Arrivals
    Mrs. Baldwin's parents were the Herveys--Charles Abe Hervey and Mary Hogue Hervey, among the earliest settlers in the valley. She was born near old Waldo on Dec. 8, 1883. Surviving in her family are Fred E. Hervey, now living at the home place with them; Charlie Hervey at Kerby, Roy and Glenn Hervey at Holland, and William Hervey now at Prospect.
    Surviving from the Baldwin family are his sister, Clara, now Mrs. Ralph Spencer in Medford, Margie, now Mrs. Chet Leonard, also at Medford, Elma, now Mrs. Elma Albright, at Jacksonville, and Hattie, now Mrs. William McCall, in New Orleans.
    Two sons were reared in the beautiful old log house--George, who gave his life in service to his country in World War I, and James Edward, who with his wife and three youngsters is not far away over at Bridgeview, on the rural mail route out of Cave Junction.
    Mr. Baldwin recalls serving as an extra guide at the Caves many times in the early years before the Caves were developed as a national park, and much of his extra pocket money was picked up there Sundays, holidays and summertime. Today they feel that the Caves have been a definite benefit to that entire end of Illinois Valley and of the southwestern corner of the county and state, and that the need for roads into that area has done much in opening up that part of the country.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 23

----

Native Daughter Recalls
    Catherine Gray of 314 NW Fourth Street has seen a heap o' living during her 82 years of living in the Rogue Valley. (Editor's Note: Mrs. Gray was 90 years old last Dec. 22, 1959.)
    Born in Phoenix in 1869, Kitty, as she is called by her host of friends, was the eldest daughter of Henry and Josephine Thornton. Her father had come by oxcart from Iowa in 1853 and had first settled in Scottsburg and then moved to Elkton where he met Josephine Haines, 17-year-old daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Albert Haines. With her parents she had come west by wagon train from Illinois. Thornton signed up as a member of Co. 1, Second Oregon Volunteers and saw action during the last of the Indian wars in the late '50s. In 1865 he married and after living at Elkton for a few years the family moved to Jackson County where Thornton and his brother, James, purchased the Siskiyou toll road from the pioneer Applegate brothers, Jesse, Lindsay and Charles.
    Two children had been born when the family moved to the toll house. They were Charles, born in Elkton in 1866, and Kitty, born in Phoenix in 1869.
    The toll road had been built at government expense in the '50s and leased to operators who maintained it. The overland stage coach from Redding to Portland came through twice a week. The toll road started on the southern end at what is now Hilt but was then Cole's station. It wound up the mountain close to the route of the present highway and ended on this side seven miles below the summit. The remains of the old toll house, built by the Applegates, which burned years ago, may still be seen from the present highway. The house was located about four miles this side of the summit.
    The life of a toll house keeper was not one of ease. The toll operator had to maintain at least four oxen at all times to pull the heavily laden wagons out of the mud and to drag the deep snows off the road. Horses were stabled at the toll house for the stage, which changed teams every 12 miles along the route.
    During the time in which the Thorntons occupied the toll house the first overland telegraph between San Francisco and Portland came through the Siskiyou gap and a telegrapher was stationed at the toll house.
    Provisions for the winter had to be freighted in by wagon each summer. It took a large stock, too, for at the toll house, driver of the stages were fed on contract and passengers purchased meals. The toll house operated also a sort of wayside inn for miners who traversed the road on foot or horseback.
    At the toll house two of Kitty's brothers were born, George on May 17, 1872, and Fred on Sept. 24, 1873. The winter of '74 left Henry Thornton in broken health and the following spring he sold the toll road franchise and purchased a ranch and stage station near Selma, later known as the Anderson ranch. The old log house, which was used as a fort during the Indian wars, burned to the ground last year. There the family prospered for 10 years. The stage house, serving stages on the Grants Pass to Crescent City run, was a popular stopping place for travelers, miners and adventurers. Kitty Gray recalls, "There wasn't any question of turning people away in those days. If you had no more room they slept on the floor; if the floor was full they slept in the barn."
    The frantic days of the early gold rush that crowded the trails and roads in the '50s and '60s had dwindled. Men still worked the streams, and mines were being developed through the use of hydraulic methods, but more and more families came out west merely to "settle."  They brought oxen and chickens and a loom and prepared to make their livelihood from the soil.
    When Kitty and her brothers were growing up on the ranch the town of Grants Pass, what there was of it, was located on the north stage road a mile north of the present location. There was no railroad and no bridges across the Rogue. Kerbyville in the Illinois Valley was the county seat. Not till 1883 did the railroad come to Grants Pass and it was not until the following year that it was completed through to Ashland and the town of Grants Pass began to spring up along the tracks.
    Henry Thornton's family had increased by two during the decade. A son, John, had been born in 1876 and 1880 a daughter, Alice, was born.
    Intrigued by the possibilities to be found in the new community springing up at the railhead, Henry Thornton sold the stage station in 1885 and purchased two lots in the new township of Grants Pass. The lots were in a quiet section away from what was determined would be the main street which fronted the tracks. They were on Sixth Street, all of two blocks south of busy "Front" (now G) Street. The site is now occupied by the main salesroom of the Rogue River Hardware Company.
    When Henry Thornton bought his lots, there were but two homes within the limits of the township proper, that of Dr. W. H. Flanagan at Sixth and I streets and a farm home of Ben Mensch. Mr. Thornton built an ample home for his family and an additional number of rooms which were operated as a boarding house by his wife and Kitty, then 16.
    Thornton took over the operation of a livery stable which stood where the present Tuffs Building is located at 6th and I streets. However, his health continued to decline and he suffered a great shock when in July 1889 two of his sons, Charles, then 23, and Fred, then 15, were drowned in the Rogue. The boys  and their brother John had gone swimming at "White Rock" near the C&OC Railroad bridge. The two older boys waded a shoal and went into the deep water of the channel. John, then 13, called to them to be careful but just then they slid into a hole as sand caved in beneath their feet. Neither came up and John, horrified, raced to town for help. The bodies were recovered the following day.
    About a year later Henry Thornton decided to give up the livery business and to build a better building on his property. He had the big house moved east on H Street and began construction of a large brick building. The lower portion was designed as a store building and the upper floor made into a rooming house. There Kitty and her mother assisted by Alice continued to rent out rooms and provide board.
    In 1898 Kitty married E. L. Gray, an engineer with the Southern Pacific Railroad. The wedding took place in the family home and the pair went to Roseburg to make their home. A few months later, Alice was married to Claude Grimes and left with him for Alaska. The remaining boys, John and George, had also left home to seek their fortune.
    The next few years were a time of trouble for Kitty Gray. Her father died in July 1904 and shortly afterwards her mother was stricken with cancer. Then in November 1905, Kitty's husband died and just a month later her mother died, leaving her with the responsibilities of the Grants Pass properties and virtually alone, as her sister and brother had scattered.
    For the next 10 years she operated the rooming house above the business building, which was at the time leased to the White Hemenway General Merchandise Company. In 1912 Mrs. Gray sold the building to George Riddle of the Hair-Riddle Hardware concern.
    She then purchased the former John Howard home at the corner of Fourth and D, where she has resided to this date. Howard was the man who erected the first building in Grants Pass, which he replaced by a brick building on the site now occupied by the Wing Building.
    Mrs. Gray is an active member and past regent of the Rogue River chapter Daughters of the American Revolution and a past matron of Josephine chapter Order of the Eastern Star. She recently visited the historical museum in the old Jackson County Courthouse in Jacksonville and found there some record books kept by her father when he operated the toll road. Many of the family treasures of Henry Thornton and his family have been loaned by Mrs. Gray to the museum along with other articles of historical interest loaned by the DAR chapter here.
    Other members of the Thornton family still living are George Thornton, who lives in Mt. Shasta, Calif., John Thornton of Red Bluff, and Alice Thornton Grimes of Oakland, Calif. (From the Grants Pass Courier of Nov. 14, 1951)

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 24

---

Bert Hogue Was There Before Selma Was P.O.
    When Bert Hogue was a boy out Selma way, folks had to walk six miles over to Kerby to get the mail, putting all that was there into a sack, and stopping along the way to deliver it to all the neighbors…that meant 12 miles of walking…and neighborly goodwill.
    Then the Andersons, later Mrs. Churchill, was named postmaster to serve everyone closer to home, and because of her own nickname of "Selma" from her real name of Thelma, the post office of Selma was so named.
    That was much more convenient; and instead of a six-mile hike over the hill, Bert widened out a cattle trail through the woods to make a quarter-mile hike for the mail--that little trail he tramped out long ago is today the location of the present county road leading south of Highway 199 out the Deer Creek Road.
    The road was just the beginning of Bert Hogue's location of roads in the years to come…he developed quite a name for himself as a youth because of his knack of figuring out the easiest grades on which the logging roads could be located for hauling the virgin-cut timber out of the mountains in the lower end of Josephine County.
42 Years for Schmitts
    Those were the years he was working for the old SH and W logging outfit, operated then by old Lew Schmitt, who later owned Anderson stage station. Bert worked for that outfit 42 years, and from the time he started at age 19 to his retirement at age 65, the roads Mr. Hogue located for the Schmitts were so engineered that there was never a fatal accident in the hauling of their logs.
    When he first started with the Schmitts, logs were rolled onto the rigs with horse teams, and much of that time Bert worked with his brother-in-law, the late Robert Lowden, the husband of Etta Hogue Lowden, another of the Courier's "Pioneers" of this edition.
    He recalls that his introduction to the logging woods work was under the tutelage of old Tom Wimer…after two days he was made chief loader for the outfit, seeing the handling go first from pine and then to small fir.
    Near the present Hogue home today there is a parcel of land which the Schmitt brothers cleared for the timber, then deeded half of the plat back to the county--there has been more timber cut off that property they deeded back to the county in the years intervening than they cut originally to clear the land.
Taft Signed Patent
    When we visited with the Hogues at Selma--there a lovely rose-clad house by the side of the road, among the cherished records we were shown was the handwritten homestead patent, No. 44572, signed by President William Howard Taft on July 29, 1909…the second homestead patent issued in this area.
    The Hogue beginnings date many, many years back of that homestead date, however. Mr. Hogue's grandfather, Ebenezer Hogue, came into this country in 1861, and cleared the land on which Mr. Hogue's home now stands. Bert, whose proper name is William A. (Bert) Hogue, bought the old place settled by his grandfather from the Hiatts in 1904, they having owned it many years previously.
    Bert's parents, W. J. and Sara Hogue, settled nearby on Deer Creek, and his boyhood on the creek there ranged between the two Hogue homes.
    Mr. Hogue's family today includes his wife, the former Freda Haslock, London-born, and her teen-age daughter, Sheila, now adopted into the Hogue family.
    His brothers are Frank Hogue, 629 N. 9th Street, Klamath Falls, and Charlie Hogue, 205 1st St. Gold Beach, Oregon. All were born on the old "home place" on Deer Creek, almost within hailing distance of the present home of the family.
    Mr. Hogue recalls a delightful incident out of his boyhood when, as a small lad, he had gone with his father from Selma to Kerby by way of Eight Dollar Mountain, at which place the elder Hogue stopped to sell some hogs to Chinese working a placer there. The little boy, seated high on the old farm wagon, saw heads of Chinese miners pop out from numerous windows of their cabins and as his father entered the place to do business with them, the lad is reported to have said "Oh, Lord, that's the end of Pop!"
    As a young householder on his own, Bert collected the poll taxes and supervised the road upkeep on the road in that county district and in one year he recalls, with some ire, he had only $400 to do all road work, culvert and bridge repair, chuckholes, and all other maintenance. His response therefore to this following letter from the County Court in 1908 was punctuated perhaps with a few emphatic comments all his own.
---
May 15, 1908
    Bert Hogue, Selma, Ore.
Dear Sir:
    Some parties have complained to me of a metal culvert near Selma that is not in good shape. They say that the culvert is not sufficiently covered, and that several teams have been frightened in consequence of its defect. Of course there is always someone to find fault with road work, but still it is well to prevent as little as possible.
    We are expecting an unusual amount of good work this year by our road supervisors. It is hoped that each supervisor will take a special pride in putting the roads of his district in first-class shape.
Yours Respectfully,
    (Signed) Stephen Jewell
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 24

---

Mines, Post Offices, in Merlin Memories
    One doesn't talk mining in Josephine County very long with Jim Dean out at Merlin before they are made well aware that mining in Josephine wasn't the "glory hole" sort of miner's luck which fabled the days of the Mother Lode…rather, it was a good way of life, making a good living for any and all who went in for it…nobody got real rich, but, on the other hand, families of miners knew a reasonable sense of well-being.
    Jim Dean, who was 80 years old the day we happened by to get a pioneer story for the Courier last July 11, leaned back in his favorite chair--one made in the old Caldwell chair factory out at Merlin probably even before he was born--and settled for a good talk on mines.
    That's how he happened to mention his old chairs…in '96 when Jim was mining down "on the Galice" he had the only chair in camp…made it of hard driftwood which floated downstream from somewhere up above on the Rogue…today that chair still does good service in the front yard there at the Dean home in Merlin.
    "Galice was quite a town those days. I had the Dean and Dean mine then," recalled Mr. Dean. "There was the Old Channel Mine, a big concern…they hired a lot of help, but we always did the work ourselves at our mine."
    The Deans have an excellent collection of pictures, many of them featuring the early mining era, and many of them of hydraulics and other mining methods down the Galice. The Courier is indebted to them for the loan of many which are featured in this edition.
First Commissioner
    Mr. Dean's grandfather was Nathaniel Dean, the territorial commissioner of Jacksonville. His romance and marriage to Annie Huston, a determined young woman out to make a home and place for herself with the liberal proposition of the Donation Land Act, their homesteads, side by side, adding much advantage to their romance, which developed as they came west in the same emigrant wagon train, is a story in itself.
    Mr. Dean was born at his grandfather's fine house near Jacksonville, which still stands on the old road leading across to the present Highway 99, and has spent most of his life in either Jackson or Josephine County.
    He recalls Willow Springs as quite a mining camp, evidence of which is now long gone…one of his most interesting recollections of those days was of great long lines of Chinese, single file, carrying their load in baskets balanced at either end of long poles they centered on their shoulders.
Post Office Service
    Mrs. Dean, the former Mattie Guild Dean, was a tiny slip of a girl when her parents came to Merlin, her father, George A. Guild, to serve as the second postmaster at Merlin and she, Mattie Guild, as the third
    Mrs. Dean has a list of all who served in the Merlin post office, an official record the department provided in November 1952. John G. Lanterman served from age 40 to 80 years, passing the post on Jan. 22, 1906, to her father, George A. Guild, who in turn turned over the postmaster's keys to her on July 3, 1915. She continued to serve until Sept. 8, 1921, when, with her nearing marriage to Mr. Dean, the department named George Elsey her successor. Etta Elsey was next on the postmaster list, taking over Jan. 16, 1923, and Ruth I. Lindberg, the latest, who has so served since April 11, 1929.
    Among the prized possessions in the interesting museum room Mr. and Mrs. Dean have arranged within the old home, which Mrs. Dean's father built years ago, was a tinners' square…the same used by old John Lanterman, the first Merlin postmaster. Mr. Lanterman was a tinnerman by trade and made a good living at the business on his settling at Merlin.
Remember Spelling Bee
    Mrs. Dean was a pupil in the old Merlin school at the time the "gun-totin'" professor was wielding a heavy hand frequently upon the more obstreperous students and well remembers the spelling bee incident which Jerome Powers, subject of another story elsewhere in this edition, has recalled so graphically…and the stern lesson many learned in the spelling of "c-r-a-w-l."
    There are pictures, too, of the early members of the Guild and Dean families…one featured herewith of Lydia Tuffs Dean, his mother, who wrote one of the interesting long-ago pioneer stories the Courier has reprinted in this Pioneer Edition. It is interesting to note that the mother, Mrs. Lydia Tuffs Dean, lived to be 91 years of age.
    Surviving in the family are Jim Dean at Merlin, James N. Dean and Fritz Dean at Portland, and Joe C. Dean in Grants Pass.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 24

---

Childhood Home Near Mrs. Tycer
    From the windows of her pretty white cottage on the Caves Highway out from Cave Junction, Mrs. Jennie Gibbs Tycer, 77, can look across to the first ranch home she lived in when she came to the Illinois Valley in 1889. Her entire life since has been spent within the shelter of those same hills which make the ever-changing outlook a lovely one in the Illinois Valley.
    Mrs. Tycer was the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Herbert Gibbs, who settled briefly in Grants Pass on their arrival in Oregon, before moving on to the valley. Mrs. Tycer is the mother of five, all born at the home place out from Kerby.
    The family includes Lena Tycer Payne, Lorna Tycer Bryne, Ronald Gibbs Tycer and Kate Tycer Turner, all of Cave Junction, and Verda Tycer Nealy, living on the Lower River Road, out of Grants Pass. She has 11 grandchildren and several great-grandchildren.
    Mrs. Tycer has her own cottage in the yard at which is also the home of a widowed daughter, and the five children in the neighboring house are her frequent companions each day.
    Like her husband, the late Edward Tycer, her interests have centered most of her life in the busy domestic affairs of ranch life. Today she enjoys extensive reading of newly published books and has a fine collection of tea pots.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 24

---

Baird Killed in Fight With Grizzly Bear
    B. H. Baird was killed by a grizzly bear on October 24, 1864, and was buried in the old Croxton Cemetery located on the ridge between North Ninth and North Tenth streets. The incident was related by Mr. Appleton, who was a member of the party on the ill-fated hunting trip.
    James Appleton, the father, and John, who was then seven years of age, were hunting with Baird on Grave Creek, about a mile and a half south of the present Grave Creek bridge on the Pacific Highway. Baird had seen bear signs in a clover meadow and went early on the morning of the 24th to look for the bear. Sure enough, he ran onto the big fellow. He first located a tree to climb and fired. At the sound the grizzly whirled and started for Baird, who dropped his gun and climbed the tree. He had two dogs with him, and these attacked the bear and attracted his attention. The big fellow was about to get away with the dogs, so Baird descended from the tree to get the gun, but before he could regain his tree, the bear "ketched" him. Baird fought him with his hunting knife but in the fight the bear tore out an eye, clawed the side of his face and stripped the flesh from one side of his ribs. Baird finally got away and reached camp but died that same evening. The next day the Appletons went to the scene of the fight and found the bear dead about 200 yards from the spot.--Courier July 25, 1924.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 24

---

Grandfather Was First Postmaster
    Right back to the very beginning of "official" community life in Josephine County can J. Ross Bailey, 215 NE Meade Street, Grants Pass, trace his family's advent into this county's life. Mr. Bailey's grandfather, J. T. Layton, was the first postmaster in Josephine County, according to records confirmed by the Postal Department at Washington, D.C.
    Apart from his postmaster duties in the bustling young mining camp, Mr. Layton built and operated the old Layton Hotel, one of the two hotels which flourished there in those days. The "Layton" was located almost directly across Williams Creek from the post office.
    "Williamsburg was the oldest town in the county, and much older than Kerbyville," according to the stories that his postmaster grandfather passed on to his son and grandson, Mr. Bailey, who today cherishes many records and relics of that time a hundred years ago. His mother, Lora Layton, was the eldest daughter of old Jack Layton.
     An interesting note stressed by Mr. Bailey was the coming of his grandparents, direct to the old Sailors Diggings at Waldo from their home in the far east--the move west as some of the state's first emigrating pioneer settlers prompted by glowing accounts of the gold discoveries at Waldo, of which the Laytons heard in newspapers.
    "After realizing a substantial 'poke' from the mines in the Waldo country, Mr. Layton set about the making of a real ranch home near Jacksonville for his family, using the lucky returns from his mining ventures at Waldo to finance his ranch investment. His was considered one of the first ranches to be developed in the Jacksonville section of this state," Mr. Bailey added, as he reviewed the family background and arrival in Oregon.
    The Laytons settled first at Jacksonville and then on to Williamsburg where they made their home the remainder of their lives. John R. and Lola M. Bailey, parents of Ross Bailey, remained in the Williams country until their own family was well into teen years, Ross being 15 when they moved on over across the Applegate to the Missouri Flat section. The elder Mr. Bailey was a miner too, and in many of his years in the Williams country had worked in mining ventures with the Laytons, his wife's people.
Move into 'Town'
    In 1907 the Baileys came on into Grants Pass, and the sons, Ross and Floyd, five years older, now living on Rt. 2, Grants Pass, in the family continued their schooling in the county seat.
    Harkening back to his grandfather's early identification with postal service in the county, Mr. Bailey has served frequently in the Grants Pass department…the first long period being from 1911 to 1916, and then after World War I overseas duty, a period of business in Portland, and later return to Grants Pass and real estate interest, he again turned back to the postal department where he worked frequently until retirement in 1953.
    The Bailey family in town here includes Mr. and Mrs. Bailey, his wife the former Bernadine Christiani of Prineville.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 24

---

Swastika Mine Was Home Place
    A horse and buggy journey all the way from Jump-Off Joe Creek to Yreka and one down into California is the long-ago memory cherished by Mrs. Leta Pollock Reynolds, 2027 SW G Street, as the most important early journey of her childhood days.
    Mrs. Reynolds recalls the momentous event as one of her earliest memories, and that the trip was made with her pioneer grandparents, Mary and William N. Pollock, together with her sister, Oca, now Mrs. Oca Grable, living North of Merlin, and her brother, Harold, now at Manzanita, Oregon.
    The children were three of 12 children born to William Henry Pollock and his wife, who was Mary Evabelle Kyniston--most of them born near the old Swastika Mine on Jump-Off Joe Creek.
    Their schooling was mostly at the old Winona school, one of Josephine County's earliest schools, and now defunct.
    "It was nip and tuck to make ends meet with the large family of children we were--that meant that all of us had to help with the farm work, with the older ones taking care of the younger."
Family Was Large
    Ten of the 12 children still survive out of that large family; additional to the three mentioned above, there are William G. Pollock, Box 436, Grants Pass; Mary V. Fall, 719 NE 10th Street, Grants Pass; Nola A. Wilson, 1510 Carlyle Street, Klamath Falls; Minnie M. Husen, Route 1, Box 1113, Grants Pass; Joseph Elmer Pollock, Route 1, Box 1145, Grants Pass; Ida V. Kilkow, Vancouver, Washington, and Estella M. Payne, Route 1, Box 119A, Brookings.
    Mrs. Reynolds has numerous papers and records relating to her plains-crossing pioneer grandparents, both of whom made the momentous journey in 1952. Her grandmother, Mary E. Ramsey, was born April 28, 1843, and crossed by ox team to the Willamette Valley, then on to Josephine County in 1867. Hers was also a large family of 14 children, of which Mrs. Reynold's father, William Henry Pollock, was one. The grandmother was nearly 83 years of age at the time of her death in Portland in 1926.
    Seven children have been born to Mrs. Reynolds, and in turn, 22 grandchildren and three great-grandchildren follow in line. They are Mary E. Venturi, Lockford, California; Richard H. Fairfield, 307 Fairfield Lane, Grants Pass; Geneva A. Beed, 2561 Lower River Road, Grants Pass; Elsa E. Davidson, Route 1, Box 640 B, Crescent City, Calif.; Lucile M. Barker, 4363 Treemont, San Diego, Calif.; Robert W. Fairfield, Fairfield Lane, Grants Pass, and Lorraine A. Higgins, Route 2, Box 171 B, Wheaton, Ill.
    Widowed the past 12 years, Mrs. Reynolds maintains her home at the junction of SW G and Lower River Road and leads an active life. Among her many interests are memberships in the Rebekahs, Christian Church of Grants Pass, the Garden Club, Home Extension Service, and in the Pollyannas.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 24

---

Provolt Always Home to Stones
    Home all her life has been in a few miles radius around Provolt…Mrs. Elva Stone was born March 4, 1891, at the site of the first post office at Provolt…a house which her father and mother, Elzia and Emma Provolt, had built when they settled after their long journey across the plains in a covered wagon. Their daughter, Mrs. Stone, has lived her entire life in that area.
    Elzia Provolt was the first postmaster and gave his name to the new little post office, which was maintained in their home. That same home and post office is less than a half mile from Mrs. Stone's present home on the Applegate Highway.
    She and her husband, Elery Stone, are parents of three sons, twins Lynn and Lyle, born in 1919 and Jerry, in 1923, all of them in residence near their own home place. They have seven grandchildren.
---
    The oldest road from Crescent City to the Rogue Valley was known as the Peacock Road.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 24


----

W. H. Miller Born on Homestead
    A log cabin, foundation stones of which are still in place in tall grass out on the north bank of the Applegate River at Missouri Flat, was the birthplace of William Henry Miller of Grants Pass, born Sept. 11, 1871. The place was the David Miller homestead, one of the oldest in Southwestern Oregon
    The only son of Levi Miller and Sarah Ellen Cook Miller, this early-day Josephine County native resident shared his childhood with two sisters, now deceased. They were Mintie, later Mrs. G. W. Vance, and Katherine, later Mrs. W. P. Bailey. The three children were orphaned early in their childhood, and their rearing was largely in the homestead homes of their grandparents, the Cooks, or the David Millers. The quiet old cemetery on Missouri Flat is final resting place now for most of them.
First Wife from Flats
    And it was at Missouri Flat that he claimed as his first wife the late Della Bailey Miller, whom he married at the home of her parents, the G. W. Baileys, on Sept. 23, 1893. To that union were born a son, R. L. Miller, now living at Gold Hill, and a daughter, Elsie, now Mrs. Elsie Meissner, at 727 Memorial Drive, Grants Pass.
    Diverse interests have crowded the 88 years now counted by William Miller, who can recall deputy sheriff duties under Joe Rader the while he operated a store at Jacksonville; busy years at Gold Hill where he had three separate stores for general merchandise, feed, and groceries; another store at Fruitdale, and a final merchandising venture at Salem.
    Politics keynoted his interests for two terms in state legislature, where he represented this county in the 39th and 40th sessions, during which time his name was included with others in the cornerstone laid in the foundation of the new state capitol building. He was in charge of paving plants the four years he was attached to the State Highway Department. His statewide activities earned him the title "Founder of the League of Oregon Cities."
Ordained Minister
    Mr. Miller has been an ordained minister in the Church of Christ for many years and has "done a lot of preaching over the years," as he recalls it, along with a full share of weddings, funerals and other ministerial commitments.
    A few years ago Mr. Miller and Mrs. Fannie Varner, widow of the late Tom Varner, were married, and they now reside at 762 NW Sixth Street.
    Retired these last five or six years, Miller refuses to let time hang heavily on his hands, and whittling has become an enthusiastic interest. Bible boards are his favorite whittling project, and a number of his friends hereabouts are fortunate in receiving one of his fine resting boards for their Scriptures.
    Miller has a special design for the decorating of the pine boards he works up--a cross, star, and a heart on one side, and chain and anchor on the reverse side. Time-consuming, yes…it takes him about three days of laborious work with his whittling tools to turn one out to his particular satisfaction. But when one's 88, time counted by a few days is not half so important as real satisfaction, he says.--A.F.B. from The Daily Courier, July 10, 1959.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 25


----

Land Cleared 15 Years Ago
    Despite the fact that it was only 16 years ago when the Matneys moved out to Hubbard Lane, Ralph and Vera Oden Matney felt they were really "pioneering." The terrain for miles around was a wilderness, and in order to even locate the site of their house they had to do a considerable chore of clearing. Between them and their nearest real settlement on the way into Grants Pass were only three small houses.
    Today they are proud of the home they have made here, their small herd of meat animals, chickens, a small orchard, and their excellent garden, which seasonally adds much to their larder.
    Mrs. Matney was born in Grants Pass in 1898, the daughter of John and Ollie Oden, then living on L Street. She first attended school at Rogue River. Four of her six brothers now surviving are Nelson, in Grants Pass, Earl, Ernest and Ralph, in Medford.
    The Matneys have two children, Ralph, married and two children of his own at Burntwood, Ore., and Arletta, now Mrs. Dean Axtell, with her family of three here.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 25


----

Bridgeview Trio 2nd Generation in Illinois Valley
    Besides having one of the loveliest flower gardens in the southern end of the Illinois Valley, the Sam Bunch home at the turn of the road going through the tiny community of Bridgeview is noteworthy in this Pioneer Edition that its three occupants qualify not in their own right on the Courier's pioneer list, but their parents likewise before them were truly early pioneer settlers in the county.
    Sam Bunch was the fourth child in the family of William and Frances (Parks) Bunch, William Bunch coming from Linn County at the same time the Tycers, their lifetime neighbors and friends of the valley, came…about 1856. He had crossed the plains from Missouri in 1852. Sam's mother, Frances Parks, had lived in the Illinois Valley many years before her marriage to William Bunch. Two of the older children in her family were victims of the terrible epidemic of diphtheria which raged through the valley in 1883.
    The marriage of William Bunch and Frances Parks was followed by their settling of a homestead in the valley which is today the Jim Payne place out on the middle road of the valley in the Bridgeview area. There Sam was born in 1886.
Mother and Daughter Also
    Mrs. Bunch is the former Sophie Seyfurth, and her story is easily told along with that of her mother, Mattie Smith Seyfurth, who makes her home with them…and whose love of flowers and gardening is one of the main sparks to the year-round flower project at their home.
    Mattie was the daughter of John and Sarah Smith, who came across the plains in a covered wagon from Missouri to Prineville, then went on to Modoc County, in California, where Mattie was born in December 1874, at Lackley.
    Her marriage at age 18 to James A. Seyfurth, on July 13, 1892, was followed six years later by their removal to the Illinois Valley, Mr. Seyfurth ranching first, later blacksmithing and again turning to farming.
    The Seyfurths, both members of very large families, found pleasure in their small family of one…their daughter, Sophie, now Mrs. Bunch, who was born at her mother's family home in Modoc County, California. Dating her own arrival into Josephine County was that of her parents in 1898 when she was two years of age.
    Mrs. Bunch's father, James Seyfurth, was a son in the very large Seyfurth family, most of whom settled in the Illinois Valley for the remainder of their lives, when they moved from Jackson County in the '70s.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 25


----

Joe Deans Both Had Early Day Kin in County
    That forebears on both sides of their family are listed among the early pioneer families of Josephine County was a point made with pride by Joe and Mildred Wimer Dean at their home in the apartment house they own at Sixth and A streets, in Grants Pass.
    Mrs. Dean, born Mildred Wimer, is the daughter of William Wimer and Mary Adams Wimer, whose home quarters had been mainly at Fishtrap, out Arago way from Coquille in Coos County. First antecedent in the paternal line of Josephine County importance was none other than old Jacob Wimer, whose arrival in the old Althouse country was to father a line of descendants, now in the fourth and fifth generations, who have ever been activating in affairs of the county. One of these was William Wimer, one of the earliest owners and publishers of the Grants Pass Courier.
    Mrs. Dean's birthplace was at Bandon, in 1898, she the sixth child in the family. The following year the Wimers moved to a homestead out on Deer Creek, in Josephine County near where the Frost families are now in residence.
Croxton Ancestors
    Mr. Dean's great-grandfather was Thomas Croxton, credited with being one of the five petitioners for the first official post office in Grant's Pass (the apostrophe was used). He is also named as one of those who was viewing a road "in a pass" north of the city the day news of General Grant's victory was received--hence the name "Grant's Pass."  Nor were these his only early-day achievements of prominence…Mr. Croxton is credited with the founding of the Grants Pass Methodist Church, which today treasures one of the few pictures known to exist of Mr. Croxton.
    Both Mr. and Mrs. Dean, in referring to Mr. Dean's great-grandfather, Mr. Croxton, made the point that the old Methodist Church founded by the circuit-riding Thomas Croxton was in OLD Grants Pass…the first community then located up at what is now the "top" end of Sixth Street.
    Mr. Dean's kinsmen are Fritz Dean in Portland, Jim Dean, at Merlin, and, surviving another brother, Albert, now deceased, are his children, Georgia and Robert, both living in Portland.
    The only son of the Joe Deans is William Dean, who earned high rank in naval duty during World War II, and who, with his family of four children, are now living at Tacoma.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 25


----

"Blue Bucket Nugget" Tale Still Intrigues Mrs. Merrill of D St.
    It was always the "blue bucket nugget" story that Alta Hodges Merrill loved most, of all the stories her pioneer plains-crossing mother told her as a child…and that it had been in their very hands for days, maybe even weeks. That was the irony of it all, and possibly the appeal, too, which even yet lights a sparkle in the clear blue eyes of this elderly woman sitting quietly in a rocking chair, a book in hand, at her home at 318 NE D Street, in Grants Pass.
    To the children it was just a pretty shiny stone, one they picked up during play one evening, as the dust-laden Conestogas [emigrants traveled in light farm wagons, not heavy Conestogas] wheeled into the tight circle that made for security each night for the wagon train on its never-ending trek to the West.
    As Mrs. Merrill's mother told the story to her, the children played with the pretty stone probably for several days, then tired of it, and tossed it into the blue bucket swinging from a hook under the driver's seat.
    Days later the pathetic tiring of the burdened oxen forced the family to a decision--they would have to throw away some of the load, even as hundreds of others had had to do--strangely marking the way of the pioneer wagon trains along the old Oregon Trail. It was then that the pretty stone passed under scrutiny from the older folks and was immediately identified as gold--of considerable size and value.
    The children could only recall it was a place with trees, where they had first played with the pretty stone--how far back forever lost in the limitation of childish recollection
    Times were hard for that pioneer family, Mrs. Merrill's mother told her in other stories. One was about the family's desperate need for salt, soon after arriving on Evans Creek.
    Another was of the terrible first winter, as the family struggled for a foothold on their "preemption claim"--that was the year when they had only boiled wheat, three times a day, as sustenance, [while] the while men and women alike worked grimly at the business of splitting rails.
    As far as she is personally concerned, TV is just a nuisance. Radio, yes--that she has to have "to keep her up on the quick news."  But she can't do without her newspapers--she's been a subscriber of the Courier for more than a half century, and along with it, the two dailies in Portland, for "she just has to keep up on the bills" in legislature."
    Whatever it takes for comfort and convenience, she has it, but "housekeeping's such a chore," and she'd much rather read or just sit quietly and think about the good old days in the woods on the place at Takilma. There's a good car in her garage and stacks of books everywhere ably attest her wide interest in all things literary, even including a dozen or so excellent early-day medical books.
    But of all such the pioneering spirit of a second-generation frontier woodswoman takes a dim view. The great outdoors, the trees in virgin forests, her friends the wild deer and bear and small creatures are the happier recollections in her thinking. All these were out there, far enough away from folks that not many rode by to "bother."
    Such was the pattern of life in the happiest years of Mrs. Merrill's life, as wife of Fred Merrill, first official game warden in Josephine County. His 13 years in the service account for many of the most interesting experiences Mrs. Merrill can now recall.
    There was the time she went with him on a two weeks' trip down the Rogue, packing their supplies on one extra horse. She had ridden ahead on the pretty trail and was alone when her horse paused at a small spring. Just as he dropped his nose into the cool water, an old man appeared out of the brush, gun in hand, obviously angry at the horse's use of the spring. Nor was he willing to accept her apologies that she thought they were miles from all human habitation. Only the arrival of her husband saved what might well have been a tragedy.
    In line of duty, Merrill checked out the old man's cabin, finding ample hoards of illegal venison and salmon. Duty demanded the aged offender be brought in for trial. But because of his age, the Merrills were unwilling to have him held in jail, and instead took him into their own home for gentler detention until his hearing.
    Mrs. Merrill went often with her husband on his game warden business. There was the time they stopped off at a small Curry County coast town…ostensibly seeking investment property. Their "board and room" arrangements in three successive homes found them being served illegal venison three times a day in the households of the leading innkeeper, the postmaster and the justice of the peace. The Merrills had scant investment interest in that coastal section for some time to come after his reports had been acted on out of the state department.
    Ranch land out at Takilma, not far from old Waldo, to which the Merrills moved on his retirement from the game commission service, proved to be a rich mining location.
    "We placer mined all winter and farmed and ran our stock in the summer," Mrs. Merrill recalled. "I worked right along with Fred…panned my own gold or took a good long turn handling the big old hydraulic giant, when we had the water running under pressure.
    "When cleanup time came around we'd fire up the forge out in the ranch shop and melt down our own gold in a crucible--those ingots ran from $100 to $700."
    These were experiences which ably trained the wife for mounting tasks in the years of her husband's failing health, and with his death, in '40, she elected to stay on alone on the ranch. For the next five years she managed well, doing the routine work herself, and even handling her own tractor and hay mow.
    She let the diggings remain idle those years, hoping that someday some worthwhile person would come along to whom she could turn the working of the location with in some amicable arrangement. Occasionally she had to defend the idle property.
    Noting muddy water running downstream past her house one day, she decided to investigate, but paused to take down her old rifle from the wall before she started upstream. There she found two hijackers, who departed in obvious haste as they noted the unspoken persuasion of the rifle in her hands.
    But passing years brought with them the urging of many that she move closer in. With reluctance she took a small cottage in Grants Pass. Three nights away from the quiet of her beautiful forest and her friends among the wild creatures convinced her that she was not yet ready for the easier life of townsfolk.
    A compromise decision that she would not return to again carry on the heavy work of running the ranch allowed her to depart joyfully back to a tiny ranger's cabin she rented from the government, way out at the end of the road, up Paige Creek.
    Peace and solitude in the hills brought respite for yet another few years, but eventually in-town ways of living and folks dropping to sit a spell had increasing appeal, and once more Mrs. Merrill moved into town, this time to the home she has on East D. But Alta Merrill's heart is still out in the hills…if only the business of living out there alone was just a little easier.--A.F.B.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 25


----

Both Knew Early Years "On Creek"
    While not in the same category as an oxen-train journey across the whole continent, their wagon trip, packed with all their household goods, was not a trip easily forgotten by elder members of the Frost family, as they moved from the tiny gold town of Dutch Flat, California direct to Selma…to join others of their family who had already settled there.
    Robert Frost, born at Dutch Flat in 1895, recalls that his mother brought him and two brothers just older than he to Grants Pass by train, that they might be spared the more arduous rigors of the hard trip…and how relieved they all were, even so, when they were finally met at the station in Grants Pass by the husband and father, proudly driving the trusty team which had made the long trek ahead of them.
    The first home for the Frosts was a cabin which now forms the rear part of the present Selma store. They lived there for some time before moving out Josephine Creek, where the elder Mr. Frost mined at the Ray mine.
    Eventually the Frosts homesteaded on Deer Creek, their patents dating back to 1908 and '09. There were six brothers…Rev. Clarence W. Frost of Dallas, Oregon, Albert in Portland, Bob at Selma, Russell, James and Lewis also in Portland to pose for one of the most cherished pictures in the Frost home…of the jolly reunion enjoyed a few years back in Portland.
Mrs. Frost Born There
    Mrs. Frost, the former Lola Sargent, can date her pioneer background back to her birth, in Feb. 1899, three miles up Deer Creek from the site where she and her husband have made their home now for many years. Her parents were Frank and Stella Sargent, who had previously lived in Sweet Home, Oregon and in California. Others of the family were three brothers, Henry and Lloyd in Grants Pass, and Oliver Sargent at Salem.
    Mr. and Mrs. Frost are parents of two sons, Lester and Raymond, both of whom live with their own families on ranches not far distant there along Deer Creek. There are six granddaughters, two grandsons and one great-granddaughter to be counted among the numerous pictures which make a featured panel décor in the Frost home.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 25


----

Story of Wetherbees Spans 117 Years
    When the father and grandfather of Guy Wetherbee, living on the old stage road south of Wilderville, came to Josephine County the talk was not of the famous flood of 1890--but was of the GREAT flood of 1862, a time when waters raged over the lands "four feet higher than anywhere in the 1890 flood."  That there are so few stories of the havoc resulting from that disastrous time is mainly because there were so few people in the county then, by comparison with the flood 28 years later.
    The first Wetherbees knew the story of the raging Applegate, that 1862…of whole buildings moving downstream…of one such bobbing along, with a frantic Chinese standing at the door…"Where you going, John?" brought from the celestial a prophetic reply "Me no sabee!"
    Other flooded-out buildings were chicken coops…chickens dolefully riding atop their floating roosts.
    The road past the old Wetherbee homestead was the main road to Jacksonville, crossing the Applegate River just in front of the old two-story house, which made "the Wetherbee place" a landmark known to everyone. When Mrs. Guy Wetherbee came out in 1908--she and Guy celebrated their golden wedding last year--there was just one other house between their place and Grants Pass on that old route, leading out through New Hope and Murphy.
    Mr. Wetherbee's mother Evalyn Lewis (great aunt to Sheriff Lloyd Lewis) came to the Althouse at age 10 from Brownsville at the upper end of Jackson County and was married at Kerby while it was still a county seat. She lived to be 94.
    Guy's father, Jasper O. Wetherbee, and his grandfather built a sawmill the same year they arrived, in 1865. They sold the lumber $40 the thousand, "straight lot"--"didn't saw anything but the best, either."
    Children in the Wetherbee family are Buena Lyle Wetherbee Felkner and Frank Minto Wetherbee, both living in Bremerton, Wash., Percy Jasper Wetherbee and Nancy G. Wetherbee Rand, both living nearby on Rt. 3 (rural) Grants Pass.
Fish Hatchery There
    The state's early fish hatchery up the hillside on the Wetherbee property most properly identifies the family among old timers…Guy and his brother Fred operated it for the state for 18 years; millions of fingerlings and fish eggs went forth from the ponds there to every state in the union.
    The family have many stories of the hatchery days, many of them relating to the practice long common there of giving away the larger fish…beauties for which queues in which as many as 500 have waited on a weekend.
    The custom was "one fish apiece." Guy recalls one "griper" complaining about her little old foot-long fish. She was back in line a short time later--and this time "she had something to really gripe about--I saw to it she had the heaviest fish…a 16½-pounder!"
    Because the hatchery was located on their lands, the family felt a pardonable proprietary interest in it…a factor which frequently colored any reason for criticism of state directives in operation. Such finally led to final undoing, when one outspoken comment reached department ears. The hatchery was ordered closed and the property cleared.
 Can't Move!
    Came the day when the wrecking of the buildings was to start…and Guy was on hand with a restraining order…the first knowledge that the final hatchery officials had that original contracts with the old Wetherbee family provided that any buildings erected for hatchery purposes were "to remain intact, if and when the state should cease operation of the hatchery."
    Thus it is that today the old state hatchery is to be seen back of the Wetherbee place, pretty much as it was during the many years it was an important state operation in this county.
1843 Pioneers
    Early Oregon historical days also include a delightful set of tales from the distaff side of this fine family. Mrs. Wetherbee, Buena Minto Wetherbee, has as middle name the family name of John Minto, the young lad who courted and won her grandmother, Martha Ann Morrison. He had proved his worth by driving the covered wagon of Ann's father, Capt. R. W. Morrison, when they set out from Pennsylvania in 1843 for the log stockade on the lonely Oregon coast which was later to be Astoria, Oregon, where they arrived in October of 1844.
    Martha and John were married July 8, 1847, at Astoria. Mrs. Wetherbee's dearest possession is grandmother's wedding dress--a handmade garment of dainty flowered chambray…cut from a bolt aboard a ship which had sailed around the Horn to Oregon that year. The grandmother picked two barrels of cranberries to trade that ship captain for her wedding dress material.
    The visit in the Wetherbee home last Centennial year, preparatory to our own Courier edition, found Mr. Wetherbee sporting just about the handsomest crop of Centennial whiskers in Southern Oregon, and we said so--the point received with evident pride by the 78-year-old.
    "…Been keeping a running count of the ladies who do, and those who don't, like them…am about three up on those that DO like them…and YOU make the fourth!..."--Sometimes it's nice to know you're among those counted.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 25


----

May White Sawyer's Father Rode Horseback to Valley from Michigan
    All but six months of her 81 years has been spent in Josephine County by Mrs. May White Sawyer, 500 NW A Street, Grants Pass, who was born August 30, 1878, in Illinois Valley, the only daughter of Alexander and Sarah E. White. Emigrant pioneers can be claimed as forebears on both sides of her family.
    Her father rode his own horse west from Michigan when a lad of 10, and her maternal grandfather, Mr. Tycer, drove an ox team across the plains from Missouri in 1853. The Tycers came first to Brownsville, in Linn County, and it was there that Mrs. White's mother was born.
    Alexander and Sarah White settled in the Illinois Valley soon after their marriage, and their family there included the one daughter, and six sons, three of whom died in infancy.
    The Sawyers had settled in the valley in early days, moving there when their son, Clarence, was 14 years old from Grants Pass, where they had lived for many years previous. Not too long afterward the son found a happy attraction in the pretty girl in the White house. They were married in the same house which had been her birthplace and went from there to set up housekeeping in a place of their own nearby in the valley.
    Two sons were born of that union, William Arthur Sawyer, now superintendent of the Harney Branch of the Oregon Agricultural College experimental station at Burns; and Kenneth U. Sawyer, now state director of the Farm Home Administration in Portland. Both sons were graduated from Oregon State College.
    Mrs. Sawyer recalls her own school days in Illinois Valley, all at the White school, which was located very near her girlhood home. It wasn't a graded school then, Mrs. Sawyer recalls, but rather, pupils were taught their 3 Rs at whatever level they were able to learn. School term was only three months at first, but before she had finished was up to an eight-months session.
     She well recalls her first teacher, C. E. Everett Harmon, who at 17 and handicapped with one hand badly burnt since infancy, nevertheless was a surprisingly good teacher and disciplinarian. She recalls that teacher Harmon "boarded round," a night here and night there, among the families whose children were in school.
    Prized possessions in Mrs. Sawyer's home on NW A Street include, among others, an exquisite organ which came into her home when she was a bride, a charming footstool made for her grandmother nearly a century ago, and two handsome pitchers, one of them well better than a hundred years old, in which her grandmother kept her cold tea. Notable on this quaint old pitcher is a minute hole, plugged up "water tight" with a very small wisp of cloth, which that thrifty grandmother threaded through the crockery break those many years ago.
    Mrs. Sawyer is grandmother to four sons of the William Arthur Sawyers at Burns, and to one granddaughter, Gertrude Ann, only child of the Kenneth U. Sawyers in Portland.
    During the Centennial year just past, Centennial events have engrossed the several families with more than passing interest--Gertrude Ann, as "Miss Oregon," reigned over the state's birthday festivities five years previous on the 95th year celebration.--A.F.B.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 25


----

Bearded Iris Is Hobby
    A pleasant home by the side of the road leading on to the Brown mill out of Williams, noteworthy first for its lovely setting, and secondly for its exceptionally fine bearded iris, is the home shared by Anna Herriott Prophet and Lola Herriott Bunch, widowed sisters, whose lives have moved in parallel pattern much of their 70-odd years.
     They are the daughters of the pioneer blacksmith William Herriott and wife, both of whom are featured characters in tales "Up Thompson Creek" told by Dick Hoffman elsewhere in this same section.
    Both of the sisters have spent their entire lives in Josephine County, and most of it in the Williams area. They recall with pride that their father's mill was the first one on Evans Creek, and there was a time lumber was loaded at $8 a thousand, and two carloads were shipped daily to Grants Pass.
    Both recall with pleasure girlhood friendships with discoverer of the Oregon Caves Elijah Davidson and his wife, Minerva, for whom their own sister was named.
    Mrs. Prophet's children are R. C. Felkert of Albany, Grant Felkert of Corvallis, and Helen Thomas of Lakewood, California.
    Mrs. Bunch is the mother of Arlene Delph of Hydesville, Calif., Bessie Bates, of Glendale, Oregon, Clarice Brown of Jordan Valley, and Billie Witham of Eugene.
    Mrs. Prophet, who suffered a serious hip injury, is now recovering nicely, although her movements are limited on occasion to use of her chair.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 25

---

Mrs. Denison Wrote Mother's Pioneer Story
    An avid interest in history, both at long range and local level, has proven an engrossing hobby for Mrs. Ruth Dean Denison, 239 NE D Street, Grants Pass, over the years, and her home today reflects her interest in that subject as well as numerous others of kindred vein.
    Mrs. Denison has an extensive collection of pictures hearkening back to days when with school friends gay picnics out to Savage Rapids and to other favored spots nearby were in order. In her dining room hangs an exquisite old clock, reputed better than 300 years old.
    An extensive library indicates her interests also in political economy and in metaphysical writings.
    Mrs. Denison was born at Glendale, Oregon, the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. William E. Dean, for 30 years identified with a large mercantile business at that point.
    Her brother is Ralph E. Dean, well remembered in Grants Pass, where for 43 years he served as agent for the Southern Pacific until his retirement in 1957. He is now living at 1245 W. Broadway, Eugene.
    Mrs. Denison's daughter is Mrs. Gayle Dean Denison Strome, now living at 756 Laurel Street, Junction City, Ore.
    Included in Mrs. Denison's cherished papers relating to her pioneer family's beginnings is a delightful article, featured in a Feb. 25, 1935, Grants Pass Daily Courier, which was written by her at the behest of her pioneer mother, Mary Nell Dean, whose parents crossed the plains behind an ox team in 1852.
    Because of the many facets it reveals of a childhood spent in pioneer days at Jackson County, the article is herewith presented as a feature in this 1960 Pioneer Edition.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 26

---

REMINISCENCES OF MARY NEIL DEAN
By Ruth Dean Denison, Her Daughter
    My first buggy ride was an event of the early sixties. I was on my first long journey, as I sat well bundled, between my father and my mother, in a heavy homemade lumber wagon drawn by two white oxen, Gee and Haw. We were on our way to Jacksonville, 20 miles away, to trade.
    My parents, Claiborne and Louisa Gibson Neil, from Virginia and Tennessee, had joined an emigrant train starting from Missouri in 1852. It arrived in the fall of the year. Six months were spent in crossing the plains by ox team, through the Rockies, down the Willamette Valley, and on to a government donation land grant claim of 160 acres to husband and the same to wife. The ground lay seven miles south of Ashland, Oregon.
    The land was fertile and extended into the foothills of the Siskiyous, where a creek dashed its way down a decided incline. It was under irrigation from the water of this Neil Creek, as it was soon known. Large ditches ran through the orchards, gardens and one was our morning wash basin, except on icy mornings, as it gurgled its way through the wooden troughs by the corner of the smoke house. (My granddaughter asks, "Did you go out there to smoke?")
    On their way to their new home, when my parents reached the top of what is now Blackwell Hill, south of Gold Hill, they were astounded at the sight of green grass covering the whole valley. They traveled a mile or so and made camp for the night, and their horses became lost in the tall grass.
    We younger children had the comforts that were made possible by the hard labor of the older members of the family. There were 12 children. Mother was a thrifty woman, a good manager and a good doctor with her knowledge of "practical nursing." She was quick to be off on a call from some home were a new baby expected. Once, with a small child on her lap, she crossed the Siskiyous on horseback to take food and to stay a day or two with a family in distress. She, with us children's help, dried sacks upon sacks of fruit, packed barrels of butter, smoked hams and bacons by the rafters full. Then came apple butter time made in a big brass kettle and stirred with a paddle nearly as large. How I hated this task as well as sorghum making. Throughout the year we built up our vanished supply of soap and tallow candles.
Made Homespun
    In the spring we washed out wool. Mother had a spinning wheel and cards, and we all knit our own stockings from white wool yarn--knit by light of the fireplace and tallow candles as we sat sitting at the end of a summer's day as we grouped ourselves about the front porch. Sometimes the yarn was dyed brown or black by using the bark of a tree.
     Father had been reared on a Virginia cotton plantation amid luxury, yet he was an early riser. He didn't believe in burning daylight or in leaving undone what he could find for someone to do, so the day was long and much was accomplished. We attended the district school for three or four months out of the year. Mother was the strong force which gave my brother James, the late J. R. Neil of Jacksonville, the advantages of the law school at Eugene when the University of Oregon was in its infancy. We younger children, Robert, Leander, Gertie and I, attended the old Ashland Academy three nine-months terms. J. H. Skidmore was the president, principal and teacher for upper class pupils. He also built the fires if someone else had not. He was a Methodist minister, an excellent teacher and a man well liked by everyone, young and old. Three other teachers were under him. We were given head marks for good grades. (Again this granddaughter seriously asks, "Were they knocks in the head, Gram?")
Indians Feared
    The Indians were my one terrific fear when I was a child. A tribe lived up Neil Creek and they called often.
    They were good beggars and we had lots of fruit and garden truck that they were glad to get. They were always friendly. I do not remember ever hearing talk about them stealing or showing ugliness. Mother liked them. She seemed to understand them, and she had no fear of meeting them anywhere.
    When I was four or five years old, my brother, John, came home from the Modoc Wars with typhoid fever. A doctor by the name of Grube came once a week from Jacksonville, but Mother really nursed him through it. A few years later he passed out. One year later my mother, aged 55 years, passed out in her sleep. She had seemed perfectly well when she retired. Mother was the idol of her sons-in-law, and they all taught their children to revere her memory.
     Our home was the rendezvous for the circuit riders. When they left Roseburg they were sure of a home at Neils and they were welcome. They usually stayed a week to three weeks, riding out to make local calls. They held meetings in the schoolhouse at the foot of the hill our house was on, about 50 feet from the creek--a pretty place as compared to most district school settings. Our location was very convenient for them, aside from the hospitality of our parents.
    Father and Mother were Southern Methodists, but ministers from the different denominations were welcome, although sometimes the boys did grow tired of waiting on them and their horses.
One Guest Got Lesson
    We had one guest who would stay a long time, always changing his mind as to when he would start. He would order one of the boys to catch his horse--a horse that after days of good pasture wasn't too anxious to be bridled. An hour later, with horse bridled and tied at the front gate, said minister had changed his mind, and any offhand reason for not going would be given. Well, one action brings on another, so the next time the horse was ordered, Leander walked off very briskly, but he didn't return, and when the owner finally went for the horse it was exceedingly hard to catch. By that time it was very wild because of two hours of constant scares. At the barn the bridle was in several parts, unbuckled. What that boy heard as he lay hid in the haymow proved that the "said gentleman" was just like some other people when he was mad and could give a lot better expression to his feelings, nor did he miss the tune.
    Old Father Williams and the Reverends Oglesby, Ward, L. D. Driver, Howlett, Miller and others whose names have gone from my memory were many times our guests. Once a circuit rider was on the road south of Ashland, and only two miles from our place, but he and his horse were tired, so he asked to stay at a fine colonial house by the side of the road, and received this answer: "Hell, no, Old Man Neil keeps the preachers." [That describes the Dunn house.] The idea the farmer had wished to advance was that he would be interfering with the religious duty of the Neils. He would have been delighted with company, for he liked to argue, was a great reader, a man of independent thought, considerable education, and a true lover of history. His grandchild was teaching our district school, and later became my husband.
Minister Loved
    J. R. Bell, a Methodist minister located at Ashland in the '70s, was a well-loved and broadminded man. He would walk into the dance hall and greet the young people as if they were in his services. He felt a real pleasure in their entertainment. He only drew away from a game of marbles with the boys when duty called him, and he was often the first to start one. The best chicken went into the pot when he was coming to our house. Believers and non-believers--everyone liked J. R. Bell.
    We had the house room for large gatherings, but Father was a godly man and he never lived long enough to learn that the Creator of life also created a desire within the human being to step to the rhythm of music. So it was we children attended parties away from home. We went to the Colver home at old Gasburg (so named because of a gossipy woman, but now called Phoenix), at the Caldwell home near Soda Springs, at the Giles Wells and John Walker homes, both spacious colonial structures two and three miles from Ashland.
    Our dances were the quadrilles, polka, schottische, Virginia reel, and sometimes the waltz. Everyone liked the quadrille best. Music was made by two or three fiddlers, and we danced till daybreak, without the serving of food, and little time was lost between sets. I consider them wholesome affairs as compared to the modern dance.
Married to Teacher
    After my marriage to William E. Dean, a Jackson County school teacher, in 1879, I lived six years in Douglas County where Mr. Dean was time-keeper for the Southern Pacific Railroad when this part of the road was constructed. He resigned this work to open a mercantile store at Glendale, and we remained there until our three children were needing better school advantages, when we moved to Grants Pass in 1889. We were in the mercantile business here for 25 years.
    Our three children, Mrs. Ruth D. Denison of Grants Pass, Mrs. Blanche D. Harvey, wife of Thomas S. Harvey of Medford, and Ralph E. Dean, with the Southern Pacific Company at Grants Pass, have always been a comfort to us.
Childhood Days Recalled
    Four grandchildren are to miss the struggles and pleasures of my youth. I think of the fields of wildflowers I played over; of the five o'clock scamper to the barn for the eggs and the hideaway nests; of the times when with a gallon bucket under my arm I am sent to the berry patch, and two chances to one I stand barefooted in a stream of water running at the roots of the vines from which I pick the puffiest blackberries. I think of the race for the big red gate, as we, with one leap, are over, seeking the first ripe peach.
    Again we are following the water ditch to its source to pinch the fruit of the wild plum tree, then to play along down the creek to spot the wild bee trees and then estimate the pounds of honey the boys will get later.
    A bit of sun, blue sky overhead, and we were out of the dense growth along the creek and scurrying up a steep path, hurrying the faster past the woodpile--where we were supposed to stop for all that we could carry, but don't, because we smell the fried ham and buttermilk biscuits and we know that a big dish is full of gravy. So there is scarcely time for our place at that long table before Father raps for quiet that grace may be said. How my eyes have blinked at the dish of steaming potatoes while prayers were said!
Last of Family
    I am the third youngest child and the last of the family. My father passed away at the age of 89 years and was active until two weeks before his death.
    I have lived a fraction of the long stretch of years from tallow candles to the Mazda lamp, from the ox cart to the rolling palace these modern cars represent, and I do not care to travel faster than the 50-mile rate so I have no interest in air transportation.
    It is often a question in my mind whether people are any more happy with this extreme speed than we children were with the old gray mare and the first factory-made buggy.
    If the aim of the human family is happiness, I am convinced that speed doesn't make it, neither in travel or general living, and unless some change causes reverses from the present rate of living the most urgent cry of the future will be for peace.
Mary Neil Dean,
    By Ruth Dean Denison
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 26

---

Mrs. Wittrock Taught 17 Years
    Almost any family in the Illinois Valley section today has at least one member who had lessons under Mrs. Anna Mary Wittrock, 81, whose home today is a pleasant place for visiting as friends stop off in Kerby. Mrs. Wittrock taught schools all over the valley for 17 years, following graduation from the old teachers' college at Ashland in 1898. She was graduated from Grants Pass High School in 1895.
    But no matter where the year's term of school assigned her, Mrs. Wittrock always came back to Kerby, to be close to Grandmother Thomas Wetherbee, with whom she had lived since infancy. The home she lives in today was a joint investment for the two in 1912.
    With her marriage to John Wittrock in 1916, the couple instituted a small store at Kerby and operated that for the 27 years following until his death in 1943.
    "Then I wandered around awhile, sold the house at Kerby, thinking I didn't want to live there any longer. But I soon found that Kerby was really home, so I came back, and bought the house back again, fixed it up and I've been here ever since."  Sharing the hospitable shelter is her much-beloved cat, who thus had the edge on five fine chickens, pets so long of their mistress that they'll never make the stew-pot.
    Mrs. Wittrock manages an active day, what with work in her yard "to keep ahead of a few posies"; she drives her own car and makes a point of getting out in it at least for one meal each day. She has often driven to Arizona, and has frequently spent many winter months there, but always returns to Kerby.
Knows Old Tales
    The former schoolteacher has an excellent recollection of the stories of early days in the valley, particularly of the turbulent years of the Indian wars when the first settlers there "forted up" for many months at old "Fort" Briggs. The difficulties of so many families--more than 30, living in such confined quarters, under such trying times--has been told her in elaborate detail over many years by her grandmother, Mrs. Chapman, whose young family was among them. The old fort was in the general location of present-day Bridgeview, which was first only a creamery, with Althouse on Sucker Creek much the more important place those days.
    Even in the years she and her husband had their own store at Kerby they did much business with payment in gold brought in by miners still working in the valley…much of it from the Waldo.
    She well recalls the heyday of Takilma, and the important Captain Walton Draper, from Colorado, who brought that place into prominence around 1900 with his development of the Queen of Bronze copper mine and the building of the big smelter there.
    Mrs. Wittrock was clerk of School Board 7 for 20 years and is a charter member and the first Noble Grand of Kerby Rebekah Lodge.
    Among the treasured items in her comfortable home is a handsome mahogany square grand piano, which came around the Horn sealed in a great metal-lined box…"freighting it over the old McGrew Road was a fright"…she also greatly prizes numerous pieces of the lovely set of wedding china presented in 1850 to her foster parents, the Thomas Wetherbees.
    Mrs. Wittrock enjoys frequent visits from her adopted daughter, Mabel, whom she reared from the child's sixth year on. The daughter, now college trained, holds a responsible position in Portland, but drives to the Illinois Valley frequently to visit at home.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 26

---

Etta Lowden Has Had Busy Life
    Being active and keeping going is the secret of success--at last in the matter of a hearty and vigorous appearance of a possible 61 years, we learn from Etta Hogue Lowden, nearly 82, whose birthday occurred Sept. 30, 1878, in the Illinois Valley. She was one of eight sons and daughters born to William and Sarah J. (Bunch) Hogue, and five of the eight still survive--Frank, at Klamath Falls; Bert at Selma; Charlie at Gold Beach; Elsie, now Mrs. Atterbury, at Central Point, and Etta, now Mrs. Lowden, here in Grants Pass.
    "I want something to do, and I just don't want to 'set down and set'," declared the busy octogenarian, and just to make sure that she doesn't, she has house plants everywhere; quilts galore, done…and to be done; a coterie of close friends with whom she exchanges round-robin Sunday dinner dates, her television; a tremendous correspondence--and scores of friends dropping in.
    Her 80th birthday was occasion for a surprise birthday celebration, complete with letters of congratulation from the governor, radio salutes and all such.
    All such pleasures have made her life in town, where she is now settled into a comfortable home at 329 SE K Street, one of extensive pleasure and leisure. But back of that time there have been periods in Mrs. Lowden's life when leisure was a word that was just in the dictionary. As for pleasure--it had to come from good hard work, of which there was plenty. Several times in the last 20 years she has taken on a stint of boarding-house cooking, "just to keep her hand in," she might add. But cooking for a big crew of men has been one of her favorite jobs numerous times during her life. Frequently she cooked for crews out in logging camps and on other occasions in boarding houses at McCleod, Mt. Hebron, Gazelle Mountains, and at Dorris.
    "Give them all they want to eat and there won't be any griping" is the practical philosophy which has governed her menu planning when cooking for a big crew. But the years during the war--when sugar and flour shortages were always problems--"and those men working hard out in the woods…why, I declare, I think they just about 'lean' into the sugar."
    Of her childhood, Mrs. Hogue recalls they all went to a "three months" school at Selma, their home at that time one of the early-day Oregon homesteads which is now known as the Lew Krauss Place up Deer Creek from Selma.
    Mrs. Lowden, who has been widowed almost 20 years, is the mother of four, the eldest, Mrs. Lena Neaztrom, now at Colfax, Calif.; Lloyd Stevenson, operating a stock and cattle ranch near Montague; John Williams Stevenson, retired and living at Grass Valley, after operating a saw mill at Washington, Nevada County, Calif., for many years; and the youngest, Glen Lowden, now on the old Lowden home place on the Redwood Highway between Wilderville and Wonder. There are numerous grandchildren, proudly shown off by Mrs. Lowden in the sizable collection of photographs in her day rooms.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 26

---

Five Generations Have Known Illinois Valley
    Two beautiful gardens in the Illinois Valley are home settings today for two brothers and their wives, who are sisters…Harry Orange Smith and his wife, Effie Morris Smith, living a short ways out of Cave Junction; and John W. Smith and his wife, Frances Morris Smith, several miles removed at Bridgeview.
       Life in the Illinois Valley well onto a hundred years to five generations in years has been a matter of definite concern to the Smith family and for the Morrises…long enough that long ago they were termed "old timers."  Mrs. Effie Smith is remembered by many as state president of the Oregon Garden Clubs, Inc., during the middle 1940s…and her garden, as well as that of her sister, amply attest their excellent knowledge of Oregon's finest flora. The two sisters are the daughters of the late Rev. and Mrs. Clarence G. Morris.
    Parents of the husbands, Henry Orange Smith and Agnes Sawyer Smith, were the first couple married in the Newman Methodist Church in Grants Pass, the wedding a very special nuptial event in the young new town on Jan. 21, 1891…her grandparents had donated the land for the church site.
    That first wedding in Newman Church with Henry Orange Smith and Agnes Sawyer as principals is noted by the pastor, the Rev. G. W. Landen, with R. A. Booth and Allie Carson Hamlett as principal attendants.
    A continuing interest in the old church here in town was noted in the christening of the grandchildren of the Harry Orange Smiths in the church, Leslie Ann and Thomas Edwin, children of their son, Edwin Smith, now of Savage Street, Grants Pass.
    Other children of the Harry Smiths are Lt. Com. Harry Orange Smith, Jr., now in Washington, D.C.; Robert Gordon Smith, farming on the adjoining land at Cave Junction; and a daughter, Margaret, now Mrs. Frances Potwin of Eugene.
    Children of the John Smiths are Alice, now Mrs. Wesley Vahrenwald, living a few miles away at Holland; John Quintin Smith at Los Alamos, New Mexico; and Ruth, now Mrs. Al Boucher, her husband the assistant superintendent of the "smoke jumpers" aerial project of the Illinois Valley.
    The brothers have as siblings elsewhere Mrs. Alfreda Wheeler, now retired from teaching and living at Talent; Wilma Alice Smith White, whose husband supervises the So. Oregon experimental station near Talent; Clifford Lovejoy Smith, now on the faculty of Oregon State College as state supervisor of county agents in the extension department; and Clinton Edward Smith, a dairy farmer on the lower Columbia River at Skamokawa, Washington.
    The grandmother of the two brothers, Margaret Lovejoy, made the long voyage around the Horn at the behest of her sweetheart of Portland, Maine, William Freeling Sawyer, II, who sent for her to come west. She disembarked at Crescent City, and on the final lap of her long journey suffered a back injury when the stage coach was wrecked coming over Oregon Mountain. Her marriage followed sometime later at Kerby. Her daughter, Agnes, was the mother of the present-day family.
    Nor was this the first adventurous journeying into a new land and marriage in the Smith family.
    Maternal great-grandparents of the two brothers, William Freeling Sawyer and his wife Agnes Sawyer, the first of that family into the Illinois Valley, built Kerby's first hotel, and planted the old maple trees which for many years were the pride of that community. When they set out for the new land of Oregon they left their young son behind them in school at Boston. The mother, Agnes, later returned alone to bring him on to the West Coast.
    Their journey was via the Isthmus of Panama, which they crossed afoot.
    The well-known name of those first Sawyers is repeated yet a third time in the present Freeling Sawyer, maternal uncle of the Smith brothers, and eldest member of that family; he is subject of a separate feature elsewhere in this Courier edition.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 26

---

Clay Ramsey Home at Kerby Was Site of First Courthouse
    Starting to write about pioneer beginnings for the Clay Ramseys out at Kerby sort of stumps one…not for lack of material, but rather, just which interesting item should come first. Probably first off, the best thing to do is to note that Mrs. Clay Ramsey was Mabel Blanch Dysert, and that she was born at Placer, up Grave Creek, on Nov. 5, 1892. Clay, who worked in the old Columbia mine there at Placer, was an early beau of his boss' daughter, and was not deterred by the Dyserts' removal to Illinois Valley. He just came along too and married her.
    Mrs. Dysert best starts the recollection of pioneer days in Josephine County…for Clay didn't get here from Missouri until 1899.
    She first went to school at the old Winona School on Jump-Off Joe Creek--and remembers how embarrassed she was when the school superintendent, Lincoln Savage, visited and admired her long curls, as he examined some of her school work.
    The earliest memory Mrs. Ramsey can recall goes back to toddler days. She learned to walk very early, and when the family moved over the mountain from Placer to Winona, her older brother coaxed her to walk much of the three miles of mountain trail by promise of the contents of a bag of candy, so that he would not have to carry her over the hill. She remembers, too, that the "new" house at Winona had big porches all around, and that when she started to school, it was a 2¼-mile hike, coming and going. From Winona the family went on to the old Layman mine at Wolf Creek, where the father was foreman for seven years. He and others at work on that operation built a school building there, at which she also studied.
    Soon after that the family elected to live in Illinois Valley. The moving represented a considerable undertaking for the whole family. It fell to Mabel's lot to take over the driving of the family's cattle--17 head--all the way to the valley, and hot and dusty it was, following the stock on horseback. She recalls that the first day's journey brought them only as far as the Applegate crossing, and that they counted themselves lucky to reach the Illinois Valley the next evening.
    She finished her schooling at the old White school out from Cave Junction, riding horseback each way to get there.
'Home' in Six Months
    When the Ramseys were married, in 1911, they set out for French Gulch, California, to live at one of the mining operations. Six months later they came home for a visit and were so glad to get "home" that they never even went back for their things in California.
    The couple still hold a mining claim on the Althouse, and only four years ago they chose to stay in their cabin there throughout the winter--despite the 12 feet of snow. Mrs. Ramsey does the hunting in the family, and it pleases her to recall that she has got her deer every year since she was 12 years old. The biggest one she ever brought down was a Pacific forked horn, and its weight was never to be known, for it was so large that it was necessary that it be dressed and quartered in order that it could be carried out to the head of the Althouse to be jeeped on in to their freezer.
    The Ramseys' home in Kerby, an attractive two-story house just across the county-owned lot from the old Knaucke home, which is now the county museum, stands on the exact site of the first courthouse ever built in Josephine County. Earlier court quarrels had been at Waldo, but the Kerby site was the first on which a building planned for county uses was to be built.
    In front of the house is the oft-commented-on "hangman tree" of Kerbyville, and while it would be nice to oblige romancing tales, the Ramseys are just as pleased that, such tales to the contrary, there never was a person hung from its fine branches--for that matter, they like to make the point that there never was a hanging in Josephine County.
    Among their most cherished papers is the abstract of the deed relating to transfer of their home property site to the county court uses, which carries the date of Monday, March 13, 1865.
'Court' in Saddlebags
    When the old courthouse was moved into Grants Pass, all records of the young Josephine County were packed into two saddlebags slung on either side of Abe Hurley's horse for the trip and transfer.
    Today the Ramseys enjoy the frequent pleasures of fellowship in their various organizations, among them the Rebekahs, Veterans of Foreign Wars, Blue Star Mothers, the Illinois Valley Garden Club and Grange, and the Patriarchs Militant in Grants Pass.
    A year ago they enjoyed a visit from Mr. Ramsey's brother and family, out from Illinois, for a reunion visit after 55 years separation. Much nearer are their children, Marvin and Ardys, both of whom were born at old Takilma. Mrs. Ramsey's surviving sisters are Lela Fitzpatrick, at Milo, Oregon, and Lola Woodbury at Redding, California.
Old Abstract of 1865
    Following is a copy of the abstract relating to the transfer of the property where the County of Josephine acquired its first courthouse site:
    In the County Court of the State of Oregon, for Josephine County:
    It is ordered that the house known as the dwelling house of J. H. Short situated on Lot 8, Block 3, in the Town of Kerbyville, together with the said lot be bought for the use of the county to be used as a Court; and, it appearing that the proper deed of transfer has been made by the said J. H. Short to the County of Josephine of said lot and house and for the consideration of the same, the said Short be credited on his delinquency to this county for the sum of $1200, and that the said due on the property aforesaid be accepted by the court to be entered upon the record of the deed.
    Dated Monday, March 13, 1865. Entered in Vol. 2, Com. Court Journal, Page 27.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 26

---

Schools Better Way Back When!
    A man whose interest in the excellence of school teaching has bridged the old into the new, and who has very decided opinions about the way things are on the subject is Gordon Cochrane, born September 6, 1898, on the ranch he now owns, off the old Pleasant Valley Road.
    Despite the fact that Mr. Cochrane did his last teaching in 1945-46, he keeps up with what's going on in educator circles, and one is left in no doubt whatever as to his opinion…"the schools are just plain going to the dogs!"
    A stickler (he admits it) for the excellence of grammar fundamentals as a requisite to his pupils' later advancement, Mr. Cochrane declared with vehemence, "Kids are just not drilled enough on the fine points of good grammatical construction--they just are not getting it."
No Lady Bosses!
    Mr. Cochrane started teaching back in 1925, at the old Three Pine School, on the old highway and up the hill from Merlin, following majors in education at Monmouth and Southern Oregon College. He quit the job "when lady supervisors started running around the country, butting in on we teachers' program of personal workout for the children…" hence his declaration that "kids aren't drilled enough."
    One of the most cherished possessions on the ranch is a slate which was used by both his brother and himself when they were doing their sums…slates were then used for all figuring for children up to the sixth grade, and if they even owned a five-cent tablet of paper, it was supposed to last them for several years and usually did! (School purchasing agents--please note!)
    The old ranch, on which not only Mr. Cochrane, but his mother, the former Florence Neeley, was born before, was in his boyhood years well removed from the school at Merlin…he was allowed to hitch up a team to drive in, picking up all the school children along the way, for there were no school buses then. Both Mr. and Mrs. Cochrane joined in the laughing as Mr. Cochrane's speedy trips to school were recalled, what with the yells and shouts of a band of expressive children aboard, and all behind a young driver not too much their senior in years or prudence. No mishap ever occurred, but those rides to school were something to remember!
First Peacocks
    The old ranch was the first in Southern Oregon to have peafowl, and the rainbow flash of their exquisite plumage was a delightful surprise as we made our way down the pretty grade leading to the old ranch house.
    Surviving brothers who shared his boyhood there at the ranch are Emmett Cochrane, still at Merlin, and Curtis Cochrane, now in the Baptist mission field at Accra, in Ghana, Africa.
    Children of Gordon Cochrane and his wife, the former Lela M. Dodson of Grants Pass, are Elwyn L. Cochrane of Fort Lewis, Wash., and Laverne Cochrane, at San Diego, Calif.
    Early publication years of the Grants Pass Daily Courier intruded themselves pleasantly into the conversation as Mrs. Cochrane proceeded with preparation of a green tomato pie, using the Grants Pass Courier Cook Book, a publication of this paper in 1933.
    The heavenly aroma of the pie justifies its reprinting herewith.
The Courier's Green Tomato Pie, 1933
    Three medium-sized green tomatoes, 1 Tbsp. flour, one-half tsp. each of nutmeg and cinnamon, 2 Tbsp. lemon or orange juice, 1 cup brown sugar, 1 Tbsp. butter…combine all, and place between unbaked pie crusts, the first 10 minutes at 400 degrees and at 350 degrees for 30 minutes more.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 26

---

Grandfather Early Owner of Courier
    A granddaughter of William G. Wimer, one of the early owners and publishers of the Grants Pass Courier, Ruth Fallin Gelling, at 1101 NW E Street, Grants Pass, claims among her most cherished possessions the diary, books, records and his notes on county forestry trails. She recalls, too, that her mother, who was Orrie Wimer, told her of setting type by hand at the Courier in the years when Orrie's father had the paper.
    Mrs. Gelling was born in Grants Pass March 4, 1889, in the white house at 735 NE 8th Street, now known as the Whitey Fleming House. The house owned by her grandfather, Mr. Wimer, was located just opposite the present junior high nearby.
    With her husband, she lived a number of years at Riddle, during which time he operated a meat market there, and previously at Medford, but with his retirement, they both chose Grants Pass as their permanent home.
Was Riddle Judge
    While at Riddle Mrs. Gelling served her last year as city recorder and municipal judge of the Riddle township, and "had charge of the water department to boot--lots of work, but it was fun."
    Mrs. Gelling has many interesting tales to recount of her experiences presiding in the judge's, chair all of which she found most rewarding…"I ran the office and did my best to judge rightly…and I knew that I had no enemies when I left the bench," she recalled with pardonable pride.
Riverbanks 'Heavenly'
    One of her favorite childhood recollections here was of her visits frequently to Riverbanks…later known today as the Mint Farm…"Riverbanks was a heavenly place…there were 27 houses on the ranch then, and the interesting things they did there were always fascinating to know about…those were the years it was run as an experimental station for the Oregon Agricultural College, now Oregon State College, and some of the Swift and Company stock experimental work was down there too."
    Mrs. Gelling and her husband, William E. Gelling, enjoy frequent visitations with others of their family connection. Mrs. Gelling's children are Helen Inks Looper and William B. Inks.
    Surviving siblings are Bernice Fallin, now Mrs. Otto Fouts, San Francisco; Marie, now Mrs. Robert Flaharty, Redding; John Fallin, now in San Diego; Howard "Tim" Fallin, Holland Hotel, Medford; Dorothy, now Mrs. Floyd Freeman, 608 Berrydale, Medford; Billie, now Mrs. L. E. Wyrick, Copalis Crossing, Wash.; Bertha, now Mrs. Murray Bell, 311 King Street, Medford; Jean Fallin, now Mrs. Len Galles, Hoquiam, Wash.; and Betty, now Mrs. Robert Lewis, 1755 Thomas Road, Medford.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 26

---

Spic 'n Span!
    Grants Pass is to be made a spotless town, and next Wednesday is the day when the streets, alleys and yards are to be cleaned and put in perfect order. Everybody is expected to do their part promptly and thoroughly.--From the Rogue River Courier of June 7, 1907.
---
'Dodger' Training
    The continued and almost uninterrupted ball playing which is indulged in front of the Hotel Josephine is becoming a menace to pedestrians. Swift balls and curves thrown to a catcher standing at one of the principal street corners where people are passing at all times makes it dangerous for the passerby.--From the Rogue River Courier of June 7, 1907.
---
Thirst Quencher
    Grants Pass is to have but one saloon for each 500 of its population. The mayor and city council believe that one liquor house can easily satisfy the thirst of 500 citizens, and an ordinance has been passed restricting saloons to that number.--From the Rogue River Courier of June 29, 1907.
---
Galice Bridge
    The Galice Bridge over the Rogue River was put in use Sunday for the first time, according to people who had occasion to visit the lower river section. They state that the bridge is well above high water and is a good-looking structure. The pontoon bridge constructed at that point in May by Andy Higgins is being removed, after serving the Galice district all summer as a toll bridge.--From the Daily Courier, December 3, 1927.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 26


Lincoln Savage's Services to County Honored in Flower Collection and Garden Here
    Josephine County's well-founded claim as one of the "garden spots of the world" in the eyes of the world of botanical flora has been gained mainly because of the highly specialized studies of two people--the late Lincoln Savage and his widow, Mrs. Ida White Savage, who carries on their work at the family home at 128 NE "C" Street, in Grants Pass.
    It is because of their special interest in the county's exquisite Erythronium (lambs' tongues) that knowledge of the county's many varieties of flowers has evolved.
    Dainty, orchid-like flowers, only a few inches in height, which carpet favored woodland spots and meadows throughout much of this county's foothills, the little lamb's tongues are like tiny stars, sparkling in tints ranging from mauve-pink through pink into a pink-yellow, delighting all who seek the beauty nature offers here each spring.
     With these wildflowers Lincoln and Ida Savage have achieved some outstanding cross-pollination work which is still being carried on by Mrs. Savage, as she tends the beds of transplanted natives which she and her late husband started many years ago in the gardens surrounding their home on NE "C" Street.
    Partially shaded by native trees, it has proven an ideal spot not only for lamb's tongues but dozens of other natives, which the Savages carefully moved in from the wooded hills.
    "Lincoln would rather study them, and I preferred to work with them" is the simple explanation this quiet-spoken woman gives of the interesting division of their work and study which has prevailed over many years--the task wholly Mrs. Savage's since the passing of her husband.
    Nor has their work with Josephine County's native flora passed unnoticed in the annals of the botanical world. Recognition is immediately apparent in official reports appearing in the well-known botanical journal. The Rhodora Journal of the New England Botanical Club, Vol 34, Oct. 1931, with its reference to the "Penstemon Deustus, var. Savagei, var. Nova, found by Lincoln Savage at middle elevation of bluffs on Grayback Mountain, Josephine County, Oregon, July 13, 1930."
    Yet another comment appears over the signature of the eminent botanical authority J. R. Leach, who, on Nov. 14, 1930, wrote:
    "I take great pleasure in dedicating [the orchid Dendrobium] Leacheanum as 'Navarretia Savagei,' to my friend, Lincoln Savage of Grants Pass, Oregon, who, as companion and amateur botanist, has rendered me much assistance."
    The avid interests of the Lincoln Savages in this county's abundance of floral potential has found them addressed frequently with inquiries or referrals from the state universities here and elsewhere.
    One such, from the University of Virginia's Boyce Farm Experimental Station, sent Mr. Savage off on a successful mission, and one which he was able to complete within hours, when the inquiry related to a type of smilax which Mr. Savage recalled was to be found on the old Savage donation land claim out on Savage Creek, just south of town.
    Mr. Savage's interest in native flora of Josephine County started early in his youth--a boyhood experience shared with 12 brothers and sisters (he was the sixth child) as they carved a good home for the growing family out of once-virgin forest lands which is now the beautiful riverside site of the old homestead "Three Oaks," still standing and 101 years old.
    (The account of the elder Savages' arrival as newlyweds in 1853 and the settling of that donation land claim is subject of another story, and pictures, appearing elsewhere in this Pioneer Edition).
    School, with a term of only a few months each year, was three miles distant at old Woodville, now Rogue River, but the elementary schooling there whetted his appetite for yet more learning, gained piecemeal over the years. High school in Grants Pass, then work years, and finally study at Southern Oregon State Normal at Ashland, his degree there in 1896 with valedictorian honors, were achievements he attained by the time he was 32 years of age.
    Sixteen years of teaching at Wilderville and Kerby in this county, and at Butte Falls and Ruch in Jackson County, brought his career in educational administration on to the superintendency of the Josephine County schools.
    As county school superintendent Mr. Savage instituted a program of uniform courses of study throughout his system which has been followed generally throughout the state system in years since.
    From the ranks of the many teachers he placed in schools throughout the county came his choice for a lifetime companion--a tall, slender, soft-spoken Montana girl, Ida White, whose teaching career here included service at schools in the Williams Valley, Wilderville, New Hope, and at Three Pines, on Wolf Creek.
    Their son is Jess Lincoln Savage, now living with his wife and son near Mt. Vernon, Wash.
Savage 'Memorial'
    Together the Savages developed an impressive collection of Oregon natives--and because of those efforts a total of 540 excellent plates of Josephine County's native flora now occupy an honored place as "the Lincoln Savage Memorial Collection" in the herbarium in the Museum of Natural History, at the University of Oregon, fittingly added to those archives on Memorial Day, 1958.
    In accepting the excellent collection from the widowed Mrs. Savage, two years ago, Martin Schmidt, curator of the University's library, commented that the collection was one of the finest he had ever seen, and that he believed it would rank among the best of such collections in existence anywhere.
    Nor were Mr. Savage's years as county superintendent of schools to be his only service to the people of Josephine County. Another quarter century of public service, 26 years to be exact, was to see him charged with the trust of handling the county's public moneys as county treasurer.
    While the memorial to his death at Grants Pass in 1950 is marked publicly by one of the finest collection of floral specimens anywhere, that now housed in the state university at Eugene, locally lovers of the exquisite natives of the county revel each year in the beauty of the lovely garden of transplanted wild things which annually honor his memory under the loving care of his widow, Ida White Savage, at the old family home on NE "C" between Sixth and Seventh streets in Grants Pass.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Drink Water Here--You'll Come Back!
    "There's an old saying," says John Alderson, "that if you've ever had a drink of water from Grave Creek or the Rogue River, you'll always come back to Josephine County"--a platitude well attested by this octogenarian, who's been around, or coming back, most of his 81 years.
    Mr. Alderson spent much of his youth out on the old Maloney Ranch out from Leland--"there were 11 kids in our family, and we were a happy crew," he added with a chuckle.
    Their parents were the Sam Aldersons, and John loves the stories of his father--an Irish lad who ran away to sea, ending up in Southern Oregon with his Grandpa Maloney--who had 600 acres of land about three miles south of Myrtle Creek, as well as 1,000 acres down at Leland. Among the surviving members of that family are Sam Alderson who divides his time between property over on Louse Creek and a town place at 112 Hall Street in Grants Pass; and their sister, Manda Buffington, now living in Cottage Grove.
    Mr. Alderson's marriage to Amy Macomber of Leland was blessed by one son, Jack, with whom he now spends much of his time at the family home on Candler Avenue in Valley View addition northwest of Grants Pass.
    Blacksmithing was the main line of endeavor over most of his years, and much of that centered around the mining areas, where he also functioned as a tool dresser. Much of his work was up around the old California Mine out on Mount Reuben…and he recalls he was with that outfit the whole time they were putting in the long tunnel at that operation. He has put in a number of years also in forestry service, most all of it in this county. He has also done some mining in Arizona and Nevada.

Grants Pass Daily Courier,
April 2, 1960, page 27


---

Fiscal Report, 1897
    The semi-annual statement published by the city lists receipts at street improvement $466.75; for the lights and water $606.65; for fire repairs on city hall, $280.05. Outstanding warrants November 1 listed at $17,844.79, and total indebtedness at $20,167.34.--From the Rogue River Courier of Nov. 18, 1897.
---
Pinball Law Changed
    The city council Thursday night ordered an amendment to the city pinball license making payments due on a quarterly or monthly basis instead of annually.--From the Daily Courier of June 5, 1927
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Mayor Slover Was Her Father
    Official connections have been frequent in the life of Mrs. Leah Slover Mynatt of 703 NE Wharton Drive, in Grants Pass.
    Mrs. Mynatt was the daughter of the late Hon. James A. Slover, who died in 1942 while serving as mayor of the City of Grants Pass, a post he had held six years previous. The family home is now that of Carl Dallas, who served as chief of police under Mayor Slover.
    For a number of years Mrs. Mynatt was on the staff at the State Motor Vehicle Department at Grants Pass, and it was while in state connections that she met her husband, Wilmer E. Mynatt, who is identified with the Oregon State Liquor Control at Grants Pass.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Blossom Time?
    A singular freak in the way of a Royal Ann cherry tree may be seen in the front yard of Mrs. Sarah Goodman. Last spring it blossomed and fruited in due time. In September it began a regular series of idiosyncrasies unknown to the horticulturist, by blooming out again, in regular spring style. Now in the middle of November may be seen blossoms and unmatured green fruit.--From the Rogue River Courier of Nov. 18, 1897.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Rocks, Not Gold, Yield Treasure
    While hundreds of others have sought gold in the terrain spreading out in all directions from old Merlin the past century, Alice Green Duckett has looked for--and found, and is still finding, fabulous bits of mineral, possibly tossed aside with scorn by the gold seekers.
    Mrs. Duckett is not half so interested in any possibility of golden glint as she scans rocks anywhere and everywhere…she is interested in the rock itself…for nearly any such, under her practiced eye and skilled hands, evolves into an exquisite jewel-like bit of stone, precious enough to fittingly center some handsome mounting of silver or gold itself.
    Mrs. Duckett is, in short, a rock hound…and, in the opinion of many to whom her knowledge and skill is known, she heads the ranks of these skilled artisans and hobbyists.
    She has, within her trailer home at Merlin, where she maintains the intricate dressing equipment employed in cutting and dressing the rock specimens, tray upon tray, velvet-backed as fine jewel specimen boxes, showing jewel-like stones, exquisitely cut and polished, then mounted in delicate frames and holders of gold or silver, all of them designed by herself.
Priceless Specimens
    Within the collection are many which are priceless--not in the intrinsic value range of some fabled gem of history, but rather, because of their own rarity and beauty…both enhanced and realized by the skill in bringing out fine color tones and designs which Nature assembled within the stratification possibly millions of years ago.
    With her husband, the late Fred Duckett, Mrs. Duckett's interest in rocks and gems developed and has persisted in the years since she has been alone. Her trips away are frequent, because there is always a quest for more rock from this or that particular area which is apt to produce certain quality stone for gem cutting.
    When a profitable payload of rock has been rounded up and hauled home to the trailer, Mrs. Duckett carefully sets aside all pieces which she deems most likely to have real gem quality worthy of working…the rest is sold or traded to others interested in rocks and the many crafts which have resulted from the renewed interest in rocks.
    Mrs. Duckett prefers to bypass shortcuts possible with motor-driven tumbling outfits, as she sets about the refining of her precious rocks…and in the best cutting of the mineral, and fine polishing of the surfaces thus revealed, she is termed a master craftsman.
Not for Sale
    While she has had many offers from persons who have reveled in the lovely quality of her jewelry, Mrs. Duckett is reluctant to ever sell it…she points out that whereas she knows the value of the piece, because of the age or geological formation of the stone from which it has been cut…all too easily dime stores today have copied such pieces and made of them passably good imitations…but cheap.
    Apart from her interest in rocks and jewel design, Mrs. Duckett has an avid interest in church work, and has been one of the staunch supporters of the Merlin Baptist Church. Her efforts in developing the project, now shaping itself into a new church edifice on the old Merlin Road leading to Galice, have paid off handsomely.
Scrapbook Wins Money
    A scrapbook kept by her over some years past, relating to activities in the church, won for them a $300 Sears Foundation fund, which has been used to pay for window and door frames now installed in the building.
    Mrs. Duckett was only four years old when she came with her parents and sisters to Merlin in 1888. Her parents were Thornton and Susan Green, and her maternal grandfather was Nathaniel Herndon, one of the first white settlers in the Clear Lake country, in Northern California.
    Her father was one of the long-ago miners "down the Galice."  Surviving members of the family are her sisters, widowed Lucy Green McNeill, operating her own stock ranch nearby on Quartz Creek, and Pearl Green Clark, now living at 220 Meade Street, in Grants Pass. Her daughter is Mrs. Eunice Hayes Davies, at Murphy.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Grandparents Came in 1853 Ox Train
    "My grandparents on my father's side, Abram and Mary Ann Woolery, who came from Kentucky to settle in the new wilderness, were members of the famous ox train of 1853--the first wagon train across the Naches Pass" wrote Geneva Goff Brown, of Leland, as she responded to the Courier's Pioneer Roll Call in Oregon's Centennial year.
    "They arrived at Clover Creek, a few miles east of Fort Steilacoom, Washington, on Oct. 8, 1853. Leaving the Steilacoom, they moved on to Puyallup Valley, and settled on a donation land claim southwest of the present site of Sumner, Washington.
    "Abram Woolery donated a plot of land from the original farm for the first log cabin school house. He also donated land for the old cemetery at Sumner, where most of the Woolery family have been buried."
    From such an auspicious pioneer beginning, it is small wonder that their granddaughter, Geneva, takes to pioneering life and likes it--well enough that for more than eight years now she has lived alone up the side of a steep hill rising to the south beyond the Leland store, well above the railroad crossing at that point.
Got Her Deer
    She had just finished dressing a sizable deer the morning we arrived to visit with her, and a fine job she had done with the butchering, at that. The deer was her own kill earlier that week on a hunting jaunt over into Eastern Oregon. She is immensely proud of her "pioneer hunting licenses" but "doesn't take to fishing."
    She has to walk a mile down that steep hill and back every time she wants her mail or any groceries or supplies from the Leland store.
     For company she has her devoted tomcat "Tom Brown" and her equally devoted dog, "Junior," plus one chicken and one bird. She tends her own garden and keeps an amazing larder of preserves and canned foods on hand, most of them the yield off her own place.
    Over the years she has been ready, day or night, to go forth to the need of any neighbor family confronted with illness or disaster emergency of any kind but is always amazed and delighted with the concern which they, in turn, feel for her, and for all others living in that isolated area…"but that's being neighborly, and is the way we've always lived up here."
    She manages an amazing amount of fancywork, quilts, crochet, and all such, as she passes pleasant hours listening to her radio, or, interrupting these to visit shortwave with her son, Homer, on the Grants Pass police force. While she has no sending equipment to return his chat with her, she phones out to him and his family as often as she wishes.
    The first home that she can remember was the old Berglund Place at Leland, her mother widowed Almyra Woolery, later marrying into the Berglund family--they were one of the best known freight packers of the country.
    Mrs. Brown, who is much more frequently known by her earlier marriage name of Goff, spent her entire girlhood there at Leland, and as a girl was the one who lived farthest away from school and was the only one that had to ride horseback to get there…that was to the old lower Wolf Creek School, then known as Karg School District No. 34. She recalls and has all her own report cards to prove it, that school terms were only three months at first, but later were extended to six months, and finally to nine months.
    Among the school friends she recalls are many whose names represent a broad cross-section of the pioneer life that went into the making of early school beginnings in the northern end of this county--Ellis, Turk, Strong, Rutherford, Klum, Maloney, Alderson, Goff and Peterson…the last three families the first to settle in the lower Grave Creek canyon.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Claude Trimble 'Fixed' Press
    There have been times, back over many of the Courier's years of publication, that the press run had to wait for Claude Delmer Trimble. Mr. Trimble, who has called Grants Pass home since his arrival at the age of three, in 1890, was the man always called in when any mechanical piece broke on the old Courier press. Mr. Trimble was one of Grants Pass' many blacksmiths.
    For that matter his father, James Trimble, was a blacksmith ahead of him, his smith shop here a well-known early establishment here at the site later occupied by the U.S. National Bank and Schmidt's grocery. The father found work at the old Sugar Pine Door and Lumber Company soon after his arrival here in 1895. His son, Claude, was born two years later. Others of their children were Will Trimble and Mable Trimble Jones, now in Centralia, Washington.
     Mr. Trimble attended both elementary and high school in Grants Pass and followed his father's calling in a business of his own, starting in 1901. He retired five years ago, and with his wife, Edith, now lives barely above high water mark of the Rogue River, at the beautiful "Maples" below Finley Bend, where he now "works hard fishing."  Daughters of the couple are Gwendolyn McKechnie, in Colorado Springs, and Eula Dee Wright, at Salem.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Seedling Grape Is Enterprise
    Things like growing grape vines from grape seed ably express the enterprising spirit of Mrs. Anna J. Steward of Wolf Creek, 85 years old her last October birthday, who arrived in Oregon in 1879, after an emigrant train to San Francisco, a boat trip to Portland and river trips on to relatives at Pendleton.
    Hands refuse to be idle for Mrs. Steward, whose tiny garden cottage at the rear of her larger home of the family of her son, William Steward, fairly bulges with the fancy work which she is always in the process of "working up," while an admiring troupe of grandchildren and delighted friends stop by to visit and approve.
    However, when asked to sit for a picture, off came her apron…"people might think I work!"
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Several Trips West Persuaded Brother To Settle by Brother
    Being neighbors all of their lives has been, for Rufus and Elmer Gilmore, one of the most gratifying experiences of their lives, in addition to which they are brothers. Today their two attractive homes stand at the junction of the two county highways in the center of Murphy, exactly on the site where their parents set up their own first Oregon home in 1901.
    James W. Gilmore made several trips west before he convinced himself that that precise spot was the ideal place for the home he wanted to make for his wife and young sons. Mary Zipporah Gilmore, his wife, and the "boys" were just as pleased when they finally reached the pretty little "rise" looking out over the as-yet-uncleared valley which is now the beautiful countryside around Murphy.
    That first home for the family, built in 1901, was planned to serve also as a general store and post office, with the elder Gilmore serving as the first postmaster. Friendly folk their neighbors in the surrounding country found them, and it was a pleasant affair to stop and visit a bit as the rare trips were made "to town" for mail and the staples needed for the kitchen.
    As the boys grew into the stature of young manhood, they took their turn alongside others in the clearing of the valley lands, and the raising of the few buildings which became the main structures and business buildings at Murphy. They speak with pride today of the famous dance floor in the old Grange building, a floor so fine that "imported" music often played the polkas and schottisches and two-steps which attracted dancers from as far away as Dunsmuir down in California. They can recall, too, the work of building the bridges which crossed the Applegate.
    Elmer's life work started in 1907 when he went into the postal service, first as substitute carrier for "Old Mitch," whose rounds of the countryside were first accomplished by bicycle.
    Citations were forthcoming from the postal department at national level 48 years later when in 1955 he terminated that service.
    By odd coincidence the same day, and only three hours apart, marked retirement of Rufus--always known his entire life as "Heck," from his work with feed and grains for the Morton Milling concern in Grants Pass.
    Between the two brothers, an excellent collection of early-day pictures of once-familiar sites in their general home area has been made up and cherished over the past three-score years.
    Close relatives nearby and others elsewhere in Oregon are frequently in their homes, which are likewise visited often by their numerous friends throughout the country.
    Out front at their entry is one of the country's base meridian markers, which means that their home site is one easily located on any map.
    But for the scores of friends and kin who have known the spot always as site of "the old post office at the Gilmores'" no marker or map is needed.--AFB
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Scions in Clan
    Among the latter members of the old McCallister family qualifying as Pioneers in the Courier's honor list this 1960 are Ernest Carl McCallister, now living in the New Hope District of rural Grants Pass, and his cousin, Ernest Wate Hiller, living in Ingalls Lane, in Wilderville.
    Both men were born in the general area of the old Riverbanks Farm, with which the McCallister family has been identified through many decades, and both have spent the greater part of their lives in this general area.
    Mr. McCallister is the son of the John McCallisters, and was one of 12 children, nine of whom yet survive, and four of them still in Grants Pass. His wife is the former Myrl Stammerman of Coquille.
     Mr. Hiller is the son of Mrs. Anna McCallister Hiller, honored as the oldest native-born Josephine County woman in this edition. Mrs. Hiller is the former Elizabeth Varga of Wilderville. Their interests have centered chiefly about their boating and camping on the Rogue River, Mr. Hiller being well known for his adept handling of the small craft negotiating the turbulent waters down the Rogue River.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

'Love Them' Teacher's Rule
    "If you love them, that's all it takes," was Miss Cora Smith's own summary of how she feels about teaching, her life work…a career which marked the passing of many decades in public service in Josephine and Jackson counties.
    This small, quiet-spoken woman, who arrived in Grants Pass in the summer of 1891 at the age of nine, taught ten years in the old Washington School, a year at the old Riverside School, later in Central Point, and for many years in the primary grades at Jerome Prairie. She retired from teaching in 1941, and then followed 12 years of office work.
    For many years she made her home at 242 NW "E" Street, where many books, her piano, and her cat were important factors in a pleasant and quiet life. Her parents were Harrison Edward and Sara Elizabeth Smith.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Longing for Oregon Brought 18 Families
    Major incidents in the lives of Mrs. J. C. Calhoun and Mrs. Ella Doxsee, sisters, parallel at so many points as their interests in Josephine County are considered that the story of one is the story of the other.
    Their arrival was on Dec. 16, 1893, along with their parents, the W. J. Sturgeses, from Iowa and with them 18 other families who had been close friends and neighbors in that former home. Because of so many coming together, all to the same state, a "private car," or rather a railroad car all to themselves, was arranged by the company.
    Mrs. Doxsee, whose home is at 1011 Madrone Street, Grants Pass, recalled that her parents had long considered moving to Texas, and had sold a fine home in Iowa preparatory to such a move. In her own girlhood days in Iowa she had heard many wonderful accounts of Oregon by an elderly pastor in their Methodist church. He was the Rev. Elmer Thompson, who had served in earlier years in Josephine County
his sister had married a kinsman in the Sturges family. It was because of his early accounts of the beautiful land in Southern Oregon that Mrs. Doxsee persuaded not only her parents and her sister, Mrs. Calhoun, but the others of that large party to turn west to Oregon instead of to Texas.
    Mrs. Doxsee's children are E. D. Doxsee of Corvallis and H. M. Doxsee, now in St. Louis, Mo.
    Her sister, Mrs. Calhoun, has lived always at the picturesque "round house" which is always admired by those driving over the scenic road crossing the top of Beacon Drive. Her son is Ernest Calhoun, operating the dairy herds nearby, and her daughter is Miss Bertha Calhoun, long dean of girls at Grants Pass High School.
Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

---

Smocks Built 'All of Holland' As It Is Today
    "We built everything that stands at Holland now," recalled Mrs. Saidee Ranzau Smock, as she reviewed the 74 years in Josephine County now behind her. Mrs. Smock was born in Alameda County, California in 1874 and came to Josephine County as a young girl of 11. She was the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John P. Ranzau, who chose Grants Pass as their first place of residence on their removal from the California area. Mrs. Smock has one surviving sister, Phoebe, now Mrs. W. A. Bowman, living at Santa Cruz.
    Her daughter is Mrs. Lucille Floyd, who with her husband, Harry, today remains in the old family setting at Holland, and manages the business affairs which they took over many years since from Jack and Saidee Smock. Mrs. Smock remains much of the time now at the Parkview Rest Home in Grants Pass.
    Mrs. Smock taught school at both Selma and Kerby and met her husband while at Kerby. With their marriage, the couple started a store at Holland first, but as people began stopping by for meals, and there was no place for them to be put up, the while they lingered to inquire into the mining interests all around Holland, it was practical for the Smocks to plan a real hotel.
Hotel in 1904
    Thus it was that the hotel building was added to their Holland store and post office interests in 1904, and a few years later the business had flourished to a point that there was wisdom in adding yet another six rooms to the original eight. The old hotel is now closed and Mrs. Smock thinks it unlikely that it will ever again serve as a public stopping place.
    Good soil, farming and the mines all around were factors which made for the prosperity of the little Holland community, Mrs. Smock recalled, "But they need water so badly now…the proposed conservation projects will be hard on the farmers financially, what with their seasonal crop programs, but in the long run, such projects will be of great benefit," she contended.
    The big excitement of the mines at old Althouse, only 2½ miles away, and at Browntown and Tigertown had simmered down long before the Smocks' advent into the Holland community, but even so, there was still, for many years yet to come, a consistent production of mineral, and always a good way of life, she recalled in summary.

Grants Pass Daily Courier, April 2, 1960, page 27

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

More Fidler History:


    W. W. Fidler has been a resident of Josephine County for 53 years, as he homesteaded on Williams Creek in 1870. As early as 1856 he was a resident of Jackson County. Previous to settling in Southern Oregon, Mr. Fidler lived in what is now Lane County, and his father's donation land claim was on or near the site of Coburg. The Grants Pass man is now 81 years of age.
    "I was born in Indiana in 1842," said Mr. Fidler, "and a few years years later I moved with my parents to Iowa. My father joined the gold seekers of 1849 and crossed the plains to California. He wanted to see what Oregon was like and so came north in 1850. He liked the Willamette Valley so well that he took up a claim. In 1852 he went back to Iowa and got his family, and thus I came to Oregon.
    "As a boy I was ferryman at Spore's ferry on the Willamette River near the present town of Coburg. The Joaquin Miller family lived in the vicinity and I was acquainted with them. Joaquin was my classmate when I attended Columbia College at Eugene City in 1857. Other celebrities known intimately by me were E. P. Henderson, pioneer educational leader in Oregon, Judge James Finley Watson, Hulings Miller, father of Joaquin, and John Miller, brother of the poet Samuel Simpson, author of "The Gold-Gated West," Elijah Davidson, discoverer of the Oregon Caves, and many others.
    Mr. Fidler has worked as teacher, farmer and miner. He edited a number of early-day papers in various parts of the state, has written many articles for magazines, and in spite of his years, still turns out accurate and interesting historical sketches.
    Before there was any town of Grants Pass, or any signs of it, Mr. Fidler taught school on the site of the present city. Josephine County had not then been created. In 1871, however, he removed to Williams Creek, in the southern part of Josephine, and a year or so later was the people's choice for the legislature. While in Salem he was selected by the Democrats as candidate for speaker.
    Everyone has a story of how Grants Pass got its name, and Mr. Fidler's is as follows:
    "In the early sixties, during the war, the people of this vicinity applied to the government for a post office. Mr. Thomas Croxton, who kept the subway station a little north of the present site of Grants Pass, with some other settlers set out a new stage road through a pass in the hills, going to Louse Creek (now changed to Crouse Creek) a little west of the old territorial road.
    "In connection with this work they wanted a name for the new post office, and Mr. Croxton being a great admirer of General Grant, who was then winning some of his greatest victories, hit on the name of 'Grants Pass,' and Grants Pass it has been ever since. When the railroad was built through this far in 1883, and they wanted to lay out a town site, they retained the old name of the pos