The Siskiyou Mountain Wagon Road and the Dollarhide Toll Road. For the predecessor trail, see here, here and here. For the Pacific Highway, see here.


    We learn from Mr. A. Solomon, of this place, who has just returned from Jacksonville, O.T., that the Indians have been driven from the Meadows (Illinois Valley [sic]) and are now dispersed over the country from the Coast to the Rogue River Valley. About eight days since, as Mr. Solomon, in company with two other men, were crossing the Siskiyou Mountains, between Jacksonville and Yreka, they were overtaken by a party of six or eight men who had started to cross the mountains by a new road that had been recently built, when they were attacked by a party of Indians and obliged to turn back, and take the old trail. Fortunately none of the men were killed or wounded by the savages.
"Indian Troubles in Oregon," Trinity Journal, Weaverville, California, May 31, 1856, page 2


    The Sentinel says the Applegate Bros. have disposed of the remaining shares of the Siskiyou Mountain Toll Road, to James Thornton. The price received for the whole road is $9,500.
"State Items," Oregonian, Portland, December 3, 1868, page 2


    After I'd sold all the cattle from the Rogue River Reservation and returned to the Umpqua country, the mill was worth a very large sum, while I also had other considerable interests. So I sold out my share to Father and brothers and started a-horseback to the south to look up a location for cattle raising. The Applegates then were all at Yoncalla.
    I went as far south as Yreka, happened to be at Sheep Rock when they had cimarron to eat, and, finding no good location, started back north.
    After crossing Siskiyou summit and descending a quarter of a mile or such matter, I came to a camping place where a bark spout led the water of a spring into a half barrel. I went to it to water my horse and then saw a long table in the underbrush, the affair made by forked stakes driven into the ground and cross sticks, laid in the crotches. On those cross sticks were the boards, and that was the table! About fifty men were there eating, and they bade me, 'light, stranger, and have a bite.' I did so by first tying my horse to a brush. As I passed up I said, 'Good things up here?' 'Yes,' replied they, 'proud to have a guest.'
    In earlier days an old miner who had never before seen a ship and had gone down to 'Frisco with an immense 'pile,' said to the skipper of a nice vessel, who asked how he liked it, 'I guess I'll buy it.' Hence when anyone on the coast was pleased his expression was almost invariably, 'Guess I'll buy it!' Of course the campers wanted a compliment, for they were discussing the 'toll road' which they were making, many asking 'will it pay?' I remarked, 'Boys, I guess I'll buy it!' Their response was, 'Do so, for we believe our bosses will go broke soon!' Their worst work was nearly done. I was in downright earnest, nevertheless, and when I got back they were ready to sell or burst. I did buy, and after I took possession the man at the toll house planned to squeeze me by asking $1,500 for his interest. Myers had a compass with which I 'located' the quarter upon which stood that identical toll house, and then wrote the Register, who replied that it was U.S. property, which I at once entered with my Dragoon land warrant, got in 1853. The toll man had been abrupt and said, 'You'll come to my terms if you get my house.' After I entered the place I learned that nothing scarcely belonged to him; hence I answered by the words, 'You'll come to my terms if you want to sell.'
    As soon as my receipt came I went to him and he wilted. I did pay for the little that was his, and he went. But it was diverting to see the fellow's airs! When I first demurred to his demand he raised to $2,000, and said, 'You'll be glad to take my next offer, for I intend to put up a gate and collect toll!' After I sent off my land warrant I retorted upon him without divulging the situation, 'You'll be glad to take my next offer,' and he was! That spring spoken of above was just about the present north end of 'Siskiyou Tunnel' of the Southern Pacific.
    When I was ready to take possession and needed a good steward I heard of a Catholic priest lately relieved at Jacksonville, under orders from the Pope to repair to Australia as soon as he had got the necessary funds. Neither knew how long he should wait, and so I hired him--his principal care being toll collection, and his weight about two hundred and twenty-five. I told him my ancestors were Catholics, which seemed to give him some pleasure. We located the toll tent three-quarters of a mile above the old toll house at the 'Tub Spring.' He did not cook all the time, but delighted in it, and was indeed as good as I'd wish to see. His and my books were there, and so we had abundance of reading matter. The company's mortgage was $45,000, at 5 percent per month! Yes, I assumed it and kept part of their force of laborers. About the time we moved up the mountain the 'California Stage Co.,' which had been using the old trail, began to drive on ours, and soon we had all the travel practically. Our sign was a toll board with all the rates, and "Father Murphy" was collecting most of the time. After in operation about ten days and we were one evening sitting at the tent door with a lamp on the table back in the tent, and the moon shining, we saw what looked like a covered wagon coming up the road; but when it came on nearer Father Murphy said, 'It's a bear; what shall we do?' Said I, 'Keep still.' He raised his eyes to heaven and solemnly crossed himself. The animal came to the tub and took a drink, then looked at the tent, then drank again, lifted up his head and quietly went on his way up the mountain, except the snuffling that a bear always makes when breathing. At 4 o'clock we heard another snuffling and I looked out the crack of the door flap to behold apparently the same huge fellow returning. We were at the tent about three weeks, and that bear performed the same every night! Each time he was watched and failed but two or three times to drink at the tub! Then we trailed him up the mountain in daylight and found where he turned off the road at the summit and went to a clover patch to fill up on the grass, returning to the canyon to sleep. That creature was a monster and must have weighed 2,000! Seven miles of road were in my charter, but Jacksonville and Yreka contributed largely to other parts of the route--they were both liberal places and did beautifully for all public and benevolent purposes. Sir? Yes, we had all varieties of travel; even an Italian stopped and ground out his doleful organ! Peddlers? Plenty of them! The spring did not furnish enough water, and so I set a force at work to bring a stronger stream around the mountain to the toll house, and turned it into a tank twenty feet long, two feet wide and the same deep, and that watered everything that came along. Looks like a big sum to pay? Oh, no; the investment paid and the road was soon out of debt. The largest day's collection? One thousand and twelve dollars. The smallest? I don't recollect.
    Three sharpers played off on Father Murphy by drawing their pistols three different times. One day we saw them coining, and I went behind the fence put up to prevent horsemen going around. As soon as they came they began the same antics, when I jumped out with my double shotgun and yelled at them, 'Down with your weapons!' They not only paid for that time but for the others, and declared that they were only joking every time! Father Murphy would not 'draw' on any man, nor would he talk abruptly. They came along several times after, but never more gave trouble.
    Yes, paid out the whole business and then spent profits to build up the Republican Party!
    But in tune Father Murphy's remittance came along. With much regret I parted from him, for he was certainly an unusual man, and I shall always cherish his memory. He did not forget to give me his blessing.
    Then Snyder tried to run the kitchen awhile. Up in the mountain I always had a big company at work on the road, and was hundreds of feet above any mere fog. Yes, it was always clear as crystal--the air was--except in actual storms.
    Jacksonville was one of the most liberal places you ever saw, and projected a road to Crescent City. (J. S. Howard surveyed and leveled the track and says it's the nicest in Oregon. K.) It is also a historic town, for it has the oldest stone sidewalks in Oregon; actually laid down before anything now in existence in the Willamette! In the early fifties her trade was immense and she handled more money than the rest of the Territory! It was also a cosmopolitan town where everybody was welcome. Representatives of almost every nation were there, and hospitality was all but unbounded. All were social and sociable to the highest degree compatible with self-respect. The I.O.O.F. expended fabulous sums for the unfortunate, and the population was less affected with class distinctions than any place I have ever seen. The Odd Fellows detailed guards to watch all night for drunk men to bring them in and see them made safe; and such a condition continued for years. It was a refuge for 'went broke' men in a sweep of territory hundreds of miles in extent and miners was its specialty! It sent a force to the middle of the Umpqua Canyon to improve the trail so that the U.S. mail stage could travel securely.
    As soon as roads and weather were good in the summer of 1859, people volunteered from all directions to improve the stage route so that before fall the coaches were flying through daily, and folks began to feel civilized, beyond frontier, above crudeness and--top notch!
Elisha Lindsay Applegate, quoted in Reese P. Kendall, Pacific Trail Camp-Fires, Chicago 1901, pages 264-270

Ashland Tidings, July 2, 1886, page 1