As they ascended, they every moment expected to be attacked, particularly at a steep and narrow path, where a single horse has barely room to pass. The man Tibbetts was one of a party of fifteen which was defeated here by the Indians some three years before. One of their number was killed, and two died of their wounds on the Umpqua, whither they were obliged to retreat, although they had forced the Indians back with great loss. He showed great anxiety to take his revenge on them, but no opportunity offered, for the party had no other difficulty than scrambling up a steep path, and through thick shrubbery, to reach the top. Not an Indian was to be seen, although they had evidently made some preparations to attack the party; the ground had been but recently occupied, some large trees felled across the path by burning, and many other impediments placed to prevent the party from advancing. The whole mountainside was admirably adapted for an ambuscade.
Charles Wilkes, Narrative of the United States Exploring Expedition, 1845, vol. 5, pages 236-237


    Having passed across the valley of Rogue's River, a distance of fifty miles, we came to the Shasta [Siskiyou] Mountains. Here, the trail, taking a narrow spur of the mountain, on either side of which there was a small ravine full of thick brush, gave the Indians a favorable opportunity for making an attack; and, as we knew of their having before attacked companies at this place, and doing considerable damage; here again, we used the previous precaution, of putting out the necessary guards; and the braves again put on their armor, and again we passed in safety the dangerous mountain, and crossed over into the valley beyond, a distance of only six miles, without encountering any difficulty.
Overton Johnson and William H. Winter, Route Across the Rocky Mountains, Lafayette, Indiana, 1846, pages 75-76


    About 12 we began to climb the Siskiyou Mountain, which is not difficult nor steep compared with some we have passed. Near the top of this mountain is a bad thicket to pass where nearly all the parties passing this trail have been attacked.
Charles L. Camp, ed., James Clyman, American Frontiersman, 1792-1881, California Historical Society 1928, entry of June 23, 1845, page 160


    Editor Statesman: Remembering my promise, I now write you. I crossed the mountains from Ashland to this place about three weeks ago, with a buggy and horse, and in company with the old pioneer Lindsay Applegate, now of Ashland, who crossed the plains in 1843, and built the first log cabin in Polk County. He will soon be an octogenarian. The road we now travel from Rogue River Valley to the Klamath Basin is the same, Mr. A. informed us, as viewed out by the "south road party" in [late June] 1846, of which party of fifteen men he was one. They were the first white men to cross the mountains by this route, and were six days hunting it out from Rogue River Valley to the Klamath River, a distance of thirty-three miles. they followed at times an Indian footpath. The old California trail ran south from Rogue River, crossing the Siskiyou Mountain ridge by the way of Pilot Rock. The road party left this trail about seven miles south of where Ashland now is, and struck out due east, finding and passing the soda springs, but it happened an hour or so before the road party left the California trail [that] a party of mountain men, trappers, traders and a few Columbia Indians, well mounted and armed to the teeth, had passed up the trail in the direction of Pilot Rock, and as the road party was passing along a ridge about a mile and a half from where it had turned east, the men then heard the Indian war whoop go up loud and shrill, seconded by the reports of many guns, only a few miles away. The battle of Pilot Rock had begun. The road hunters, however, appreciating the favorable turns of affairs, halted but a few minutes to listen to the conflict, but they heard distinctly while they tarried "the savage war whoop burst forth, and almost at the same moment a heavy volley ending in a perfect roar." All the sign of the deadly strife they could see was a thin cloud of blue smoke hanging along the side of the mountain, between their position and Pilot Rock, but as they continued their journey for several miles they heard occasionally the yells of the Indians and the reports of the rifles.
    The old mountain man Turner was one of the seventy-five men engaged in this fight. He said they expected an attack where it was made, and so were ready for the red devils when they announced themselves.
    The attack was made by three or four hundred warriors, their faces grim with war paint black and red--they came forth boldly from the shelter of rocks and bush, yelping and whooping like fiends and shooting arrows with great rapidity, but too high to harm the white men, who now with steady nerves returned the salute with a volley from fifty guns, which caused many braves to bite the dust, and sent the remainder back to shelter. This war party must have been under the influence of a "strong medicine," for the attack was repeated in less than a half hour, with unabated bravery, but being repulsed with a second volley more fatal in its effect than the first, the battle was finally over, though the Indians followed several miles shooting arrows from a distance and occasionally drawing the fire of the white men. Strange to tell, one white man was severely, and some horses slightly, wounded with arrows, and that was all. These Indians had no guns forty years ago.
    This severe rebuke of those Indians secured the little party of road hunters. The war cry died upon the lips of the young braves. They clasped the little brown hands of the dusky maidens in their own, and made the nights hideous with the "death song," for their war chief, Kink-i-coony, "scalp-catcher," caught a rifle ball in his mouth.
    Pilot Rock may be seen fifty miles away, as you pass up Rogue River Valley from the north, standing up against the sky like a large-sized wart on the backbone of the Siskiyou. Though not so broad at the base, it is higher than the great pyramid of Egypt, its top being exalted to the giddy height of six hundred feet from its base on the mountain. The sides are so precipitous that a man cannot scale them. There is, however, a crevice in the rock, running upward from the foot, along which people climb to the top, where there is said to be standing room for six hundred men.
Oregon Statesman, Salem, May 7, 1886, page 1


26th day of August, 1853
    A party of 15 started from Yreka for headquarters on the Rogue River taking the flags to be presented to the Yreka and Humbug companies. Also some horses to replace those killed and taken by the Indians. I joined the party. We did not start from the town until 11:00 a.m., yet we traveled 40 miles that day before we came to a halt. Nothing worthy of note took place, and the only difficulty was in crossing the Siskiyou Mountain. We did not get to the foot of it until dark; then, as we had 13 loose animals to drive it was rather difficult going up the eastern side. We could see enough to tell when one of the animals went out of the trail, for it was mostly open overhead with low bushes on each side of the trail. Going down the west side where the trees were thick and tall and came together overhead, eyes were of no use whatsoever. It was a steep rock trail and a man could not see the head of the animal he was riding. All he could do was let the animals take their own course. They did and came out all right. At 10:00 p.m. we arrived at the Mountain House.
Elizabeth Hurst Ellwood, The Life of Captain Stephen Palmer Blake from his Journals, Genealogy Publishing Service 1995, page 324


    Late in the evening, a gentleman arrived from Cottonwood with the melancholy information that the train of Messrs. [Gage] & Claymer had been taken. Mr. Claymer arrived at Cottonwood in the evening. He stated that he was at the head of his train of fourteen pack mules, on the way from Crescent City--that the Indians attacked them near the top of the Siskiyou Mountain--that he saw his partner, Mr. [Gage], fall. They then fired at him. He fled, his mule fell, and he escaped to a log in the thicket, behind which he concealed himself until the Indians passed, when he made his escape to Cottonwood. He saw two men coming up the hill, and afterwards heard them hallo, and heard several reports from guns, which he supposes was the Indians killing them.
"More Indian Difficulties," Umpqua Weekly Gazette, Scottsburg, June 9, 1854, page 3


    Look, for instance, at this large party just arrived. They are children from the mountains and forests of Oregon--and have taken the war path against the Shastas. These latter have, on two separate occasions, fallen upon small hunting parties of the former--slain some of them--(the Deschutes), plundered their camps, and taken prisoners some of their squaws, whom they yet hold in durance vile. It is to avenge these outrages and insults, and to trade horses, that they have come from the Dalles Mountains of Oregon--a distance of four hundred miles. These, as you see, are a much more picturesque-looking set of fellows than those just passed in review before us. They are all pretty well armed and well mounted. Dismounting in the center of the town, and forming a crescent, they ask, through their interpreter, that the agent of Indian affairs would permit them to fall upon the Shastas in order to revenge the injuries received at their hands. . . .
    And now, their wawa ended, they mount, and after parading awhile through the streets, gallop off to their encampment situated a short distance above town. The result of this conference has been three white men killed by the Shastas on the Siskiyou Mountain--the mountain that shows his white head yonder on the road to Oregon--another white killed by them near Cottonwood, about twenty miles off--and about an equal number of Shasta Indians killed. The whites went with the Deschutes to punish the Shastas for some outrages said to have been committed by them upon the first named also. One white only was killed in the fight--another, a packer by the name of Gates [apparently Daniel Gage]--was attacked while with his pack train crossing the mountain and slain and robbed--the other two whites, names unknown, were seen and heard to cry out while struggling and being slain about the same time, lower down on the mountain.  The above attack was, of course, a part of the transaction connected with the Deschutes.
"Letter from California," Wabash Express, Terre Haute, Indiana, August 9, 1854, page 1


Mr. Drew
    Sir
        Herewith I send you a statement of goods & property lost by D. Gage & I. N. Clymer on Siskiyou Mountain by attack of Indians during [the] Rogue River War. I spoke to you when last I saw you in relation to this matter & requested your assistance in having it put in shape to be collected from government. If you have not attended to this ere now, I wish you would on receipt; please see the Indian agent on this business & write me what prospect there is in its being allowed.
Oregon Indian Wars vol. 3, B. F. Dowell papers Ax031, University of Oregon Special Collections



    On Tuesday last two men were killed by the Indians near the summit of the Siskiyou Mountains. The men were teaming, hauling flour to Yreka from Mr. Wait's mill, were unarmed at the time. There were four in company, two escaped, thirteen head of work cattle were shot dead in the yoke. The Indians took six sacks of flour; nothing else was disturbed. The next day on Cottonwood a party of three men, miners, were fired upon by Indians, one killed and one wounded, the third escaped unhurt. Capt. Smith started a detachment of dragoons immediately after them.
    I am satisfied these murders were not perpetrated by any Indians belonging to the reserve. I believe it to have been done by those same Indians with whom a party of white men had a difficulty within a few miles east of the Mountain House, an account of which I wrote you at the time. They were Shastas and "Tipsu Tyee's" people beyond a doubt.
Rogue Valley Indian Agent George H. Ambrose, monthly report to Superintendent of Indian Affairs Joel Palmer, September 30, 1855, Joseph Lane Papers, Indiana University


    Since my last letter to you in relation to Indian disturbances, murders etc., an affair has occurred with the whites and Indians in Rogue River Valley in which one white man was killed and two wounded and another a day or two since on the road to Yreka from Jacksonville in which the Indians murdered two whites and wounded another and shot 12 yoke of oxen wantonly and then went by Cottonwood and shot two more men, one of whom was killed.
James Pleasant Goodall, letter to Joseph Lane, October 4, 1855, Joseph Lane Papers, Indiana University


    From YREKA. To our friends Brastow & Horsley we are indebted for the Yreka Union Extra, from which we clip the following news items: "Will the General Government ever afford protection to its citizens! On Tuesday last four men started with eleven yoke of oxen and two wagons to haul flour from Rogue River Valley to Yreka. When they had arrived within a few hundred yards of the summit of the Siskiyou, they were compelled to double their teams upon one wagon, in order to haul flour from Rogue River Valley to Yreka. When they had arrived within a few hundred yards of the summit of the Siskiyou, they were compelled to double their teams upon one wagon, in order to haul the load up a steep pitch. Three of the men went up with the wagon, and the fourth remained with the wagon below. When they arrived within a few hundred yards of the summit, they were fired upon by Indians who were lying in wait for them. One of the men, named Fields, fell pierced with eight bullets. A boy, in the employ of Dick Evans, of Rogue River Valley, was wounded badly, and crawled from the road to a tree, where he was found by the Indians afterwards and shot through the head. The third man escaped with a slight wound. The oxen, being then in a steep place on the hill, backed with the wagon a considerable distance and finally turned, capsized the wagon, and were thrown into a heap, where they were all, fourteen in number, shot where they lay. The Indians then proceeded over the Siskiyou to Cottonwood Creek. They made their appearance at a place about four miles above the town of Cottonwood, called Cottonwood Bar. Two miners who were engaged in washing out a sluice saw them, and as they endeavored to make their escape were fired upon. One of them got away with his life, although he was severely wounded. The other, however, shared the fate of those on the mountain. He has been for some time past a resident of Cottonwood. His name was Samuel Warner. The band numbered about twelve warriors, thoroughly armed and equipped, of course, and fully prepared to deal death among the unsuspecting miners and travelers, wherever their fancy may lead them. Persons traveling between Beaver Creek and Klamath will do well to be on their guard."
Shasta Courier, October 6, 1855, quoted by May Hélène Bacon Boggs, My Playhouse Was a Concord Coach, 1942, page 233


    THREE WHITE MEN MURDERED BY INDIANS.--An extra from the office of the Yreka Union details the killing of three men and the wounding of two others by the Indians, near the summit of the Siskiyou Mountain on 24th Sept. One of the men was named Samuel Warner, and other Field, and the third unknown. The Indians numbered twelve and were all well armed.
Petaluma Weekly Journal and Sonoma County Advertiser, Petaluma, California, October 6, 1855, page 3




Hon. Lewis V. Bogy
    Commissioner
        Dear Sir:    I wish you to furnish me with a copy of all the reports in your office about the killing of cattle on the Siskiyou Mountain in Southern Oregon on the 27 day of Sept. 1855. I learn the property of Richard Evans was destroyed and one or two men were killed by the Rogue River Indians or Shasta Indians.
    The next event of the sort is a still more serious one, which occurred on the twenty-fifth of September, and involved the death of two persons. On the previous day Harrison B. Oatman and Daniel P. Brittain, of Phoenix, and Calvin M. Fields, started from Phoenix, each driving an ox-team loaded with flour destined for Yreka. Camping the first night near the foot of the Siskiyou Mountains, the train started up the ascent the next morning, doubling their teams frequently, as was made necessary by the steepness of the road. When within three hundred yards of the summit, Oatman and Fields advancing with two teams and one wagon, while Brittain remained with two wagons and one team, the latter heard five shots fired in the vicinity of the men in advance. Hurrying up the rise he quickly came in sight of the teams, which were standing still, while an Indian was apparently engaged in stripping a fallen man. Turning back, Brittain ran down the mountain, followed by a bullet from the Indian's rifle, but made his way unhurt to the Mountain House, three miles from the scene of the attack. Six men hastily mounted and returned to the summit. Oatman meanwhile had escaped, and got to Hughes' house (now Byron Cole's) on the California side, and obtained help. He reported that at the time the attack began, a youth named Cunningham, who was returning from Yreka with a team, was passing Oatman and Fields when the attack was made, and that he was wounded at the instant Fields fell dead. The latter's body was lying in the road, stripped, but Cunningham was only found the next day, lying dead by a tree behind which he had taken refuge. The exact spot where the catastrophe occurred--says Mr. Brittain, who still resides at Phoenix--is where the railroad tunnel enters from the Oregon side. It is the gentleman's opinion that about fifteen Indians were concerned in the attack. The date mentioned, September twenty-fifth, is taken from Mr. Robinson's diary, although Mr. Brittain is of the opinion that it took place three days later. Newspaper accounts give the twenty-fourth as the proper date.
Albert G. Walling, Illustrated History of Lane County, 1884, page 240


    We will now pass on to the 25th of Sept. of the same month and year /55 when those same Indians prepared an ambush near the road on the Siskiyou Mountain by sticking fir boughs and stalks of fern in the bark of a fallen fir, making a complete blind within a rod of the road. Harry Oatman, now of Portland, and Daniel Brittain of Wagner Creek [and Calvin] Field were taking freight over the mountains, and [John] Cunningham was coming this way and about to pass each other when they were fired on. Brittain had been left behind with 2 wagons. Oatman and Fields had doubled teams and gone on with one wagon. Field was killed dead. Oatman and Cunningham ran up the mountain when near the top. Cunningham was struck by a ball which stopped him. He got in the cavity of a burnt-sided tree, where he was afterwards killed. Oatman got over the mountain to Cole's. Brittain, finding how matters were, ran down to the Mountain House. I heard of it and went to [the] Mountain House that evening, and next morning went up to [the] scene. There were 6 cattle in one pile fast to one wagon and 10 to another, all wound up in a pile, all killed. The men was not stripped, as has been reported and published, but were left where they fell.
Thomas Smith, "Biography and Brief Sketches of Early Incidents and Beginning of the Wars of 1853 and 1855 with the Rogue River Indians," Bancroft Library MS P-A 94. Dated 1885. Punctuation added. Smith's manuscript is completely innocent of any punctuation.


    In [1855] while engaged with several others in hauling flour across the Siskiyou Mountains the party were attacked by Indians while drinking at a spring, just where the entrance of the Siskiyou tunnel now is. Several of the party were killed at the first discharge, and the cattle were all shot down. The faithful beasts which had drawn Mr. Oatman and all his belongings so many hundred miles across the plains and labored for him afterward were killed before his eyes.
    Mr. Oatman and two companions started for the top of the mountain, 500 yards distant. One of them was shot in the temple and fell, and after going a short distance the other was also shot down, and Mr. Oatman, running all the way under fire, gained the top of the mountain untouched, the only man of the party who escaped alive.
    Running down the other side of the mountain, toward California, he met a man on horseback and asked to be taken up behind, telling him about the Indians. The man wheeled his horse and made off at full speed, leaving Mr. Oatman to escape as best he could.
    This was the outbreak of the Rogue River War, which aroused the settlers and resulted in the killing of many Indians and their complete subjugation.
    A singular incident of the affair was that one of the men shot at the spring closely resembled Mr. Oatman, and the body was brought back to the Mountain House and Mr. Oatman's brother sent for, who took charge of the remains. Mr. Oatman, after reaching the mountain house on the other side [i.e., the mountain house on the south slope at Cole's], sent back a letter by the first party crossing, announcing that he was safe. This was handed to his brother, who could not believe his own eyes. He looked at the letter and the dead man, whom he was sure was Mr. Oatman, and the faces being disfigured by the shot, it was some time before he could make up his mind that the body was that of another man.
    Fourteen years later Mr. Oatman and his son visited the scene of the massacre, and there he found the bones of his faithful oxen, which he recognized readily by the horns, which he knew well.
"A Model Fruit Farm," Oregonian, August 29, 1888, page 8


    OATMAN, HARRISON B., of Portland, was born in Courtland County, New York, February 25, 1826. His father, Harvey B. Oatman, died one year after the birth of our subject. One year later he accompanied his mother to Bellevue, Huron County, Ohio, where the family remained ten years and then settled in West Liberty, Ohio. Here they remained four years, after which they removed to Elgin, Illinois, and a few years later to Ogle County, in the same state. The latter place was at this time a new country, and here Mr. Oatman commenced life on his own account as a farmer on land obtained from the government. On December, 25, 1847, he was married to Miss Lucena K. Ross, a most estimable lady, who from that day to the present time has not only shared his fortunes, but has been a most excellent wife and mother and in its highest sense a worthy helpmate and companion.
    He remained at Ogle until the fall of 1852, when he removed to Des Moines, Iowa, and the following summer (1853) with his brother, Harvey B. Oatman, and their families, started on the long journey across the plains to Oregon. After several weary months of traveling they arrived in the Rogue River Valley, in the fall of 1853, and here the two brothers and their wives took up a claim of 640 acres to which they were entitled under the donation act, near Phoenix. The old wagon which had survived the journey of more than 3,000 miles was placed on the line dividing the respective claims and served as a place of habitation until a log cabin could be erected, and in this primitive way they commenced life in Oregon.
    For fourteen years following Mr. Oatman remained in the Rogue River Valley engaged in farming, mining and merchandising. He was a part owner of the mine of the "49" Mining Company in Southern Oregon, retaining his interest until after he had located in Portland. He also established the first store in Phoenix, which he successfully conducted for some time. Numerous incidents occurred during the period Mr. Oatman resided in Rogue River Valley illustrating the dangers of pioneer life in Oregon at that day. Perhaps the most thrilling incident in his experience occurred on September 25, 1855. On the preceding day Mr. Oatman, with Daniel P. Brittain and Calvin M. Field, started from Phoenix, each with ox teams and a load of flour destined for Yreka, California. Camping the first night near the foot of the Siskiyou Mountains, the train started up the ascent in the morning, Mr. Oatman in the lead. When within 300 feet of the summit the party was fired upon by Indians. Field and a young man by the name of Cunningham, who was passing at the time, were killed, Mr. Oatman alone escaping of those attacked, as Mr. Brittain, who was in the rear of the party had not reached the scene, but having heard the shots fired in the vicinity of the men in advance, fled down the mountain to the Mountain House, three miles from the place of attack. Mr. Oatman, although within sixty feet of the guns, miraculously escaped unhurt and fled to the Mountain House for assistance. Before leaving, the Indians killed thirteen of the oxen, the remainder of them escaping. The attack was without provocation and the first in a series of Indian outrages which led to the greatest Indian war known on the Pacific Coast, which raged along the Columbia, around Puget Sound and in the region of Rogue River, from the fall of 1855 to the summer of 1856. No less than 4,000 warriors were at times in arms against the whites, and only a lack of hearty and intelligent cooperation on the part of the hostiles saved the outlaying settlements from total annihilation, and the more populous communities of the Willamette Valley from all the horrors of barbaric warfare.
    The first years of the war of the rebellion passed without faraway Oregon experiencing much of the hardships of the great struggle. But as it grew in magnitude and hundreds of thousands of men were needed by the North to carry on the gigantic strife, the regular troops were withdrawn from the remote frontiers and sent to the front. Oregon, in common with the other states and territories of the Pacific Coast, was left exposed to the hostility of the Indians, who immediately after the departure of the troops who had kept them in peaceful subjection, began to assume a warlike attitude and on several occasions were guilty of acts of violence. In this emergency the loyal men of Oregon were called upon to defend the life and property of the people. Mr. Oatman was among those who promptly volunteered for this service and on April 4, 1865, enlisted in the United States Army, to serve during the war, being mustered in at Camp Baker, Rogue River Valley, as first lieutenant of Company I, Captain F. B. Sprague, First Regiment of Oregon Infantry. The services of this regiment were confined to the protection of the frontier and in operations against the Indians, being actively employed until mustered out July 19, 1867, and supposed to be the last volunteer regiment discharged from service by the government.
    Mr. Oatman made a highly commendable record as a soldier, on several occasions being entrusted with important duties, which he discharged in such manner as to receive high praise from his superior officers. On October 14, 1866, he was ordered by Capt. Sprague, with twenty-two men from his command, and four Klamath Indians as scouts, to proceed from Fort Klamath and to scout the country from that point east to Camp Bidwell, California. On the day following the order he started on his mission, and in seven days arrived at Camp Bidwell, 153 miles distant. On the return Lieut. Oatman's command was joined by a small detachment of regular troops, under Lieut. Small, U.S. Cavalry, and on October 25th an engagement was had with a band of Snake Indians, in the vicinity of Lake Abert. In this engagement, which lasted for three hours, the Indians numbering seventy strong were completely routed, fourteen were killed, more than twenty wounded and fifteen lodges, together with winter supplies for a hundred men were destroyed. For his service in this battle Lieut. Oatman's conduct was highly commended in general orders by Major General George F. Steele in command of the Department of the Columbia, while Lieut. Small in his report of the battle stated: "Lieut. Oatman commanded the line on the left with commendable skill and energy, and the troops acquitted themselves throughout the engagement in the most soldierly manner."
    In October, following his discharge from the army, Mr. Oatman with his family located in Portland, where he has ever since resided. He first embarked in the grocery business, in which he continued for some two years alone, after which Hon. Van B. DeLashmutt became a partner. The latter was succeeded as a partner by Frank Hackney, with whom Mr. Oatman remained in partnership about two years. At this time he had become the owner of considerable real estate, and he gave up the grocery business that he might devote his attention to land speculation. In 1872, with Mr. DeLashmutt, he embarked in a real estate and brokerage business. They are still associated in numerous purchases of real estate in and near the vicinity of Portland, owning many acres of very valuable land. Mr. Oatman has been very successful in his real estate speculations, which have been conducted on a large scale, and which already have realized him a large fortune. He was one of the first subscribers to the stock of the Metropolitan Savings Bank, and is also largely interested in the Coeur d'Alene mines.
    As a business man Mr. Oatman has achieved a high degree of success. He started in life with very limited educational advantages, and without the aid or assistance of money or influential friends. All that he has he has acquired by his own exertion, and is a fine type of the so-called self-made man, of whom the Pacific Slope furnishes so many illustrious examples. He is a man of cheerful, jovial nature, who looks on the bright side of life and believes in extracting all the good out of existence possible and consistent with right living.
    Mr. and Mrs. Oatman have had four children, all of whom are living. The eldest, James Harvey, is a very prosperous merchant at Bonanza, in Southern Oregon, while the other children, Charles, John and Lucena, are living at home with their parents.
H. V. Scott, History of Portland, Oregon, 1890, pages 617-619


    On September 24th, 1855, Harrison Oatman, Cal. Fields and I started from Phoenix with ox teams, loaded with flour, for Yreka, Cal. We camped the first night on Neil Creek. The road over [the] Siskiyou Mountains was very rough. Fields had been over the road before, but Oatman and I had not; so Fields went in the lead with his team of four yoke of oxen. We had to "double teams" up bad hills, as that was before the toll road was made.
    When we got near the summit of the mountain Fields said, "This is the last place we have to double; we will get to the top this time."
    Oatman and Fields started up while I remained with my team. When they got near the top, the Indians that were waiting in brush fired on them, killing Fields the first fire. Oatman ran up the mountain. Just at this time a Mr. Cunningham met them, jumped out of his wagon and ran with Oatman, the Indians whooping the war-whoop and shooting at the men as they ran. Cunningham was shot in the hip and fell. Oatman past him and ran on to the top of the hill where he met a man on horseback and told him what had happened. The horseman rode back to Mountain House, three miles, for assistance. Four men, well armed, came as quick as possible. When I heard the firing I ran up to see what had happened. I was sure our men were both killed. When I got within twenty steps of the wagons I saw an Indian. He got behind a tree and pointed his gun towards me. Just then I saw another Indian on the other side of a wagon emptying flour out of the sacks. When I saw what was done I started back to my team.
    As I started, the Indian behind the tree fired at me; then I got scared and ran on to where the toll-house now stands, two miles. There I caught up with a pack train with twenty mules, in charge of a white man and a Spaniard, and, informing them what had happened, asked for an animal to ride. They at once hurried their animals, declaring the Indians would kill every one of us before we could get out. I jumped on the bell horse, the men telling me to run him as fast as possible and not let any grass grow under his feet. I had no bridle, nothing but the bell strap to guide the horse with. I whipped with a short rope and my hat and I think I made the best time that any man and horse ever made for four miles down that mountain to where Major Barron's place now is. James Russell, now living in Ashland, was there then. Six men, armed and mounted, started to the place of the massacre. I came three miles farther on, got a horse and gun and started back to join the men. They had met the men that came from the other way, at the wagons, where Fields' body was found, stripped of its clothing. By this time it was getting dark and they could not find Cunningham. Thirteen oxen were killed in the road. The men brought Fields' body down to my wagon, saying it was Oatman's, and that Fields was at the house on the other side of the mountain.
    The men urged me to lie down, as I was about tired out. Men were sent to Phoenix, but no one wanted to tell Mrs. Oatman her husband was killed. Before daylight the mistake was discovered and word was at once sent to Mrs. Oatman about the trouble. At daybreak parties set out to hunt for the lost boy, Cunningham, and found him about fifty yards from the wagons, killed and his body stripped of clothing. He was brought down and buried in the Hill graveyard.
    Fields was buried east of the present town of Talent, near Bear Creek. Harrison Oatman now lives in Portland.
Talent News, September 15, 1892, page 1


HARRISON B. OATMAN, one of Oregon's respected pioneers, came to the state in 1853. He was born in Cortland, New York, February 26, 1826. His parents, Harry B. and Matilda (Knapp) Oatman, removed to Ohio, where the subject of this sketch was raised until his twelfth year. He then went to Rockford and was married there to Lucinda K. Ross in 1847. She was a native of Orleans County, New York, and the daughter of Nathan K. and Lucy (Braman) Ross. When Mr. and Mrs. Oatman came to Oregon they settled first in Jackson County, on a donation claim. Their house was contrived out of the wagon cover with which they had crossed the plains, and it was in these wilds that they lived. Their nearest neighbor was over a mile off. When the Rogue River Indian war broke out, Mr. Oatman enlisted in Company I, First Oregon Infantry, and was stationed at Fort Klamath. He was made first lieutenant at the close of the war and was mustered out. After he had spent several years at the mines he located a mile south of Phoenix, in Jackson County. He took out considerable gold from what was called the Forty-Niner Claim. In the fall of 1867 he sold it and came to Portland and engaged in the retail grocery trade, on the corner of First and Main streets. After five successful years of business he sold out and embarked in the real estate business on his own account. The constant increase in the value of land in Portland and vicinity crowned his efforts with success and resulted in his amassing a large amount of property. He purchased a farm three and one-half miles southeast of the center of the city of Portland and built a house upon it in 1877. He cleared up the land, and one of the railroads runs through the property. He has enlarged and rebuilt the residence, and now has a beautiful home and the land is valued at $1,500 an acre. Seventeen years ago it cost $20 an acre. Mr. Oatman has a large amount of city property.
    They have four children: James Harvey, married to Priscilla Dollarhide of Iowa, and have six children. The other children are Charles, John R. and Lucena, now the wife of C. W. Kern.
    Mr. Oatman is a member of the G.A.R. and of the Masonic fraternity. In politics he is a Republican. At the time of writing this article Mr. Oatman was in poor health, and most of the material for the article was given by his son James Harvey. Mr. Oatman is a good man, a worthy pioneer, and his many friends wish him a speedy recovery.
Rev. H. K. Hines, An Illustrated History of the State of Oregon, 1893, pages 315-316


    In the fall of 1855 the hardy young pioneer [Harrison B. Oatman] was engaged in supplying the miners of Northern California with flour and other provisions. The transportation facilities were limited to ox teams, and the trip over the Siskiyou Mountains from the Rogue River Valley was a rough one. While upon one of these trips Mr. Oatman's party was attacked by Indians on September 25, 1855, and two of the members, Calvin M. Field and a young man named Cunningham, were killed. Among members of the party, Daniel P. Brittain made his escape on the Oregon side of the mountains, while Mr. Oatman made his way to the Mountain House, on the California side, a distance of six miles from the spot where the attack was made, closely pursued for the greater part of the distance by the redskins. This was the first skirmish of the famous Rogue River Indian war, which lasted far into the next year. The long tunnel of the Oregon & California railroad penetrates the mountains directly under the spot upon the old mountain road where Mr. Oatman's party was attacked, and Oregon pioneers, while passing through the tunnel, never fail to recall Mr. Oatman's famous run for life.
"Death of a Southern Oregon Pioneer," Democratic Times, Jacksonville, June 2, 1893, page 3


    About this time the Modoc Indians took a turn at the hatchet and murdered everybody who crossed Siskiyou Mountains, and I [Sam Hughes] joined a party organized to punish them. In 1855 I bought the Mountain House at Yreka, but later the same year, because of failing health, I sold it to William Rockfellow, who, by the way was an uncle of Olive Oatman, whose tragic death [sic] is familiar to all early Arizonans, and went to San Francisco.
"Biographical: A Brief Sketch of Hon. Sam Hughes as Related to a Citizen Reporter," Arizona Weekly Citizen, Tucson, February 29, 1896, page 4


    About three miles from the Coles' and near the foot of the mountain was another well-kept house owned and kept by a man named Rockafellow. From his place to the summit of the Siskiyou Mountains was a steep climb for about three miles, and then a steep descent down into a canyon and over some spurs and on down to the Mountain House eight miles from Rockfellow's place. From the summit down the canyon was a lonesome piece of road and along which many crimes had been committed.
    Just a short time before I went on the road, the Modoc Indians had attacked three teamsters [Harrison B. Oatman, Daniel P. Brittain and Calvin M. Fields], one of whom they killed; they also killed the nine yokes of oxen and burned the wagons after taking all they could get away with from them. The teamsters were loaded chiefly with flour, bacon and other eatables. The remnants were all over the grade in the creek, and [it] was not a pleasant place to pass.
    Sometimes the road across the mountains was considered unsafe on account of Indians and road agents, and I sometimes crossed after night. I recollect crossing one night coming north, and the night was dark as Egypt. It was about ten o'clock when I got to the summit. I had two horses--a pack horse and a riding horse. The pack horse was loose in the road ahead, and at the summit I got off to lead my riding horse down the steep part of the hill. He refused to be led very fast, and I turned him loose with the other horse and got in behind with a stick to encourage him to go faster. When we got opposite the old debris, where the man and oxen were killed and the wagons burned, there was a terrible racket in the brush and a big snort. The horses also gave a snort and broke on down the road as fast as they could run. I felt the hair raise the hat on my head, but I never waited to investigate, but nearly kept up with the horses, which I overtook about a mile down the road and rode on to my station--the Mountain House.
    I never knew what was the cause of the rumpus, but always thought it was a bear.
"Pioneer Day Pony Express Rider Led an Eventful Life," undated Roseburg News-Review clipping, DAR scrapbooks vol. 18, RVGS.   Byars rode the mail route on the Siskiyou Trail in 1856-1858.




    The narrowest escape that [express rider Cornelius C. Beekman] had from the Indians was on September 25, 1855. At the summit of the Siskiyous he met 14 or 15 Indians, who allowed him to pass unmolested in order to surprise the drivers of three wagons loaded with flour from Waits Mill at Phoenix, which were within sound of a crack of a whip behind him. One of the three drivers, Calvin M. Fields, and an 18-year-old youth named Cunningham, who was passing with an empty wagon, were killed by the Indians. The youth, however, was only slaughtered by the Indians after a chase, his body being found next day in a hollow tree where he had vainly tried to hide. John Walker, who led a company of men after the Indians, found in Klamath County the body of a buck clothed with the hickory shirt which young Cunningham had worn at the time of his death. The redskin had been killed by his fellow tribesmen as the result of a quarrel. Ever since this particular region has been known as the Dead Indian Country.
    The drivers of two of the wagons, Oatman and Brittain, escaped.
    The men killed that day have been nearly forgotten and the survivors of the ambuscade, except Mr. Beekman, have since died, but the 9000 pounds of flour and the 24 oxen destroyed that day have not been forgotten, as is evidenced by the fact that the widow of their owner, S. M. Wait, is now preparing to demand that Uncle Sam pay for what his wards destroyed. Mrs. Wait, during the past month, went to Ashland from her home in Washington, where she has lived for 52 years, in pursuit of information upon which to base her claim.
"Banker, Pony Express Rider in Early Days," Oregonian, Portland, February 4, 1911, page 16


    Although $5,000 to $10,000 worth of gold was often carried [on the express route over the Siskiyous], young Beekman was never "held up" by either whites or reds. His narrowest escape occurred one day in September, '55, when he passed close by a band of war-painted savages who were hiding behind a fallen tree, waiting for an approaching freight-train. The crack of the teamsters' whips could be plainly heard on the still mountain air. One of the drivers, a young man named Cunningham, was killed by the Indians, who captured the twenty-four oxen and the 9,000 pounds of flour which they were hauling from the mill at Phoenix, Ore., to the mining camps of northern California. One of the teamsters who escaped never stopped running until he reached Cole's place, several miles distant, arriving so hot and thirsty that he foundered himself by drinking a bucket of water. Colestin, the popular watering place in the Siskiyous, was named after this roadhouse.
"Oregon's Account with Banker Beekman," Sunset magazine, March 1914, page 632


    "I used to farm this town, but I'd hate the job of plowing it up now," naively remarked Harvey Oatman, former pioneer resident of the valley, at the depot Friday just before the departure of himself and Mrs. Oatman for their home at Portland, following a two months' visit with old friends and relatives in the valley.
    It was their first visit to this vicinity for thirty years, and they marveled at the changes that have taken place in that long period, especially the transition of Medford from a farm or series of farms into a modern and beautiful city. Mr. Oatman came across the plains with his parents from Illinois in 1853 and located near Phoenix. Mrs. Oatman was also the child of pioneer residents. She was Priscilla Dollarhide, and her parents were Mr. and Mrs. Jesse Dollarhide.
    In 1887 Mr. and Mrs. Oatman removed from Jackson County to Klamath County, where he engaged in the general merchandising business for four years, following which they removed to Portland, where they have lived since. Mr. Oatman hauled most of the lumber with which Fort Klamath was built.
    Incidental to the visit of Mr. and Mrs. Oatman after their long absence, it is interesting to relate that Mrs. Oatman's brother, Clay Dollarhide, of Tucson, Ariz., has also been visiting in the valley recently, and until his visit sister and brother had not seen each other for thirty-two years.


    On the 25th of September Harrison B. Oatman, Dan Brittain, and Calvin Fields, each driving an ox team with wagons loaded with flour, which had been ground at Wait's Mill near Father Williams' place down by Medford, were on their way over the Siskiyous going to Yreka. The road was very steep, and they would put all the oxen on one wagon and take it to the top, then another one until they would get all the loads up. When near the summit, Oatman and Fields were with one wagon, and Brittain stayed behind with the other wagons. He heard a shot fired, so he ran up the mountain until he could see the wagons, and the Indians were scalping a man. He turned and ran down the mountain, with the bullets whizzing past him, to the Mountain House where he got help, and they went back with him. They found Fields' body by the roadside; the twelve oxen had been killed, the flour sacks cut open and the flour emptied on the ground. Oatman had escaped and ran to Cole's, now Colestin, on the other side of the mountain. The long run almost killed him; in fact, he never did recover from it. Oatman had suffered much from the Indians. A company coming west were all massacred except two nieces of his, and one of them died later. The other one was found some twelve years later down in Arizona. She had been tattooed by them and had been their captive all those years.
   On the 25th of September a young man named Cunningham was returning from Yreka with his team. His body was found behind a tree where he had tried to hide. Samuel Warner and several others were killed at the same place, and we supposed by the same Indians. They had been all cut to pieces. Their bodies were brought to Father's, and he and Mother tried to fix them up for burial.




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