A TIME OF ANXIETY

THE DECISION TO MOVE WESTWARD

    On the 9th inst., by Judge T. McF. Patton, Mr. J. H. Russell, to Miss Ann H. Hill, all of Jackson County.
Oregon Statesman, Salem, May 30, 1854, page 3

    HALIFAX, N.S., Nov. 4.--(AP)--A farewell message from John Lee, master mariner, to his widowed mother, believed to have floated around the world in a bottle for nearly 40 years, has been received here.
    The bottle was picked up in the Baltic Sea at the island of Borkum by a German cable engineer and forwarded to the premier of Nova Scotia. It read: "To whom it may concern: Tell Mother I died fighting. John Lee, master mariner, Halifax."
    It was dated "May 17, '87."
    Mrs. Lee died 35 years ago. The fate of her son's ship, which sailed from this port, was never known.

To the Editor:
    In your paper of November 4 I find my great-grandfather's name, "John Lee," was found in a floating bottle, and so many of my relatives were military men I wondered if could find out more of the news about this "bottled name," where to gain more information than is given in your paper of November 4. It would give me great pleasure and gratitude to you.
Medford Mail Tribune, November 8, 1926, page 4


    "My maiden name was Mary Minerva Hill," said Mrs. Mary Dunn, 91-year-old Oregon pioneer, when I visited her recently at her home at No. 443 East 37th Street. "We left Tennessee in February, stopped a while with relatives in Illinois, and started for the Missouri River on April 14. We reached Council Bluffs on May 10. Father had written to the man in charge of the ferry across the river, engaging passage for our wagons. There were 60 wagons in our train. My father, Isaac Hill, was captain. When we reached the river the owner of the ferry had us drive down to the river bank. Hundreds of wagons were there. Many of the men in the wagons had been waiting a week. When our train of 60 wagons pulled in ahead to go across they were very angry. They swarmed around us like a hive of angry bees, grabbed our wagons and ran them back from the bank of the river and put their own wagons in ahead of ours. The men in our wagon train rolled their wagons back to the river bank and, taking out their guns, stood guard over them all night. It took almost all of next day to ferry our 60 wagons across. Next day we ferried the 130 head of stock my father had, and the stock belonging to other members of our train. My brother John, 20 years old, went over with one load of the stock. The cattle became frightened and ran to one end of the flatboat, causing it to sink. John couldn't swim, so he was drowned and, as the water was high, we were unable to recover his body. We camped next night at what is now the city of Omaha.
    "Just beyond here, we came to a bog, where the Indians had placed logs and poles to form a sort of bridge. The Indians demanded pay if we used this bridge. Father knew that if they tried to go on either side of it the wagons would mire down, so he ordered the Indians to get out of the way if they didn't want to get hurt; so they let us go across. After we had crossed this bridge we found three calves had been left behind. My sister Lou and my cousin Caroline said if Father would give them pistols they would ride back and get the missing calves. They located the three calves and started back for the wagon train. The Indians were at the bridge again and demanded that they turn over the calves as payment for the wagon train that had already crossed. The Indians acted in such a threatening manner that my sister Lou said, 'All right; you can take the calves.' My cousin Caroline pointed her pistol at the chief, and said, 'If you and your Indians don't get off this bridge and let us across, someone is going to be badly hurt, and I think it will be you.' The chief and his Indians scurried off the bridge in a hurry, and the girls rode into camp with the missing calves.
    "One morning on the Platte, Father got up early to wake me up so I could get the breakfast. I looked out to where our cattle were grazing, a few hundred yards away, and saw a lot of buffalo feeding with them. I woke up a young man that I thought was a good shot and told him he could kill a buffalo. Instead of going up quietly till he was near them, he got excited and began shooting at them and scared them. They ran up over a sidehill and got away. About 25 years ago, when I was going East on the train, we passed this same place. I recognized the hill, and also our camp. This was the only one of our camps I recognized on the entire way East, though I watched carefully from the train window to see if I could recognize our old camping places. There were lots of antelope in those days on the plains, so we had all the antelope meat we needed to eat. They are swift and graceful, but full of curiosity. They will start to run away at a rapid gait, then stop, wheel around, and come back slowly, so they were not hard to kill.
    "One day a number of Indians came to our camp. My uncle was quick-tempered. An Indian was standing where my uncle wanted to put up his tent. He said to the Indian, 'Get out of the way.' The Indian said, 'This my country--not your country. You have no right here, no right to tell me to get out of your way.' My uncle knocked him down. The Indian went away, and a little later returned with a large number of Indians, who were very angry. My father had learned to talk jargon when he had wintered near the mouth of the Columbia in the winter of 1849-50. He talked to the chief, who was determined to punish my uncle, but finally they compromised the matter by agreeing that if the womenfolks of the party would cook all the bread the Indians could eat they would call it square; so every woman in camp got busy and began cooking bread, and it certainly took a lot of it to fill those Indians.
    "Eighteen hundred fifty-two was the cholera year. Father had brought along a box of cholera medicine put up by a doctor in St. Louis. We only lost one person from our train--the little Perkins girl, 5 years old. Father cured every case of cholera he attended, if he was called in time. Another wagon train pulled into camp one night. Father went to the side of a wagon and the woman said, 'My husband has just died and I don't think I can live long.' She died a few hours later, leaving a little orphan boy, 6 years old. In another wagon there was a man and a woman and a 4-year-old girl. The father and mother had both died. An old bachelor in the wagon train took the little girl and took her with him to Salem, Or.
    "At one time we had to travel all day and all night and carry what water we needed with us. The oxen walked along with their tongues hanging out and the froth flying back on their shoulders. They got so hot and thirsty and tired they would lie down and not get up till they had rested a little. One Durham heifer that I had got fond of was so worn out and hot that she laid down and refused to get up. I stole a cup of water and washed out her mouth, and pretty soon I got her up. I spread a large umbrella over her, and I walked all the rest of the afternoon, encouraging her to go along, holding the umbrella over her. We got into camp at Mud Springs, where the water was about as much mud as water, but it was wet. We brought that Durham calf clear through to Salem, and I suppose some of her progeny are still here in the Willamette Valley. We stopped at Independence Rock to read the names of those who had passed that way before us. There were thousands of names written on this side of the rock."
Oregon Journal, Portland, August 23, 1927, page 10


    "We crossed the plains from East Tennessee to the Willamette Valley in 1852," said Mrs. Mary Dunn of East Portland, when I interviewed her recently. "I was 16 years old at that time, so of course I remember the trip vividly. For about 300 miles we had no wood and had to do all our cooking over buffalo chips.
    "We got to the Snake River in the evening. The men unloaded the wagons and caulked the wagon beds, and next morning rigged up oars or sweeps and rowed the wagon beds across the river to carry the household goods and the women and children. A man on horseback started across and called 'Sookey, sookey' to the oxen and cattle and they followed him across the river. Father took over the first load of our goods in the morning, then took Mother and my younger sister over to watch them. With another sister I stayed on the opposite bank, sitting there all day in the hot sun before the rest of our goods were taken over. Father had been busy superintending the crossing and helping others, so it was dusk before he came to get my sister and me and our few remaining possessions. When we were about half way across he took a cramp in his arm and couldn't row, so we floated down the river for a mile and finally grounded on a sandbar. Father sent my sister and me up the river where we could see the campfires a mile away, to summon help. The men came down with a long rope, fastened it to the wagon bed and 'lined it' up the river to the camp.
    "We had a pretty hard time at what they called the Devil's Backbone, now known as Laurel Hill. When we came to The Dalles, 48 of the wagons in our train went down the Columbia, but 12 wagons, including our own, decided to come by the Barlow road. They rough-locked the wheels, cut a tree down to drag back of the wagons to serve as a brake, and let one yoke of oxen go ahead to pull the wagon down the hill, unhitching the others and leading them. Of course the women and children all walked. Two days before we made the descent of Laurel Hill an emigrant who was rather set refused to unyoke his oxen. He said his oxen could hold back the wagon on any hill. The wagon bed pitched forward and killed the man and one of his wheelers.
    "As Father had traveled from Salem to the mines in Northern California in the spring of 1850, he had selected a donation land claim, though, of course, he had not taken it up. It was located in the foothills of the Siskiyous, just south of Ashland. We wintered in Salem in 1852, and in February, 1853, started for Southern Oregon. The stream was so high through the canyon beyond Canyonville that we couldn't go through with our wagon. Father left the wagon at Canyonville, rented a cabin for us, and he and my brother Cicero drove our cattle on through the canyon and down into Jackson County. Curiously enough, the very place father had selected for his donation land claim was taken up by Pat Dunn, a man that we had never seen or heard of, but whom I subsequently married, so we kept the place in the family, after all. Father took up a place about 2½ miles farther south. He and Cicero built a log cabin and then came back and got us. This was in April. The canyon was still impassable for wagons, so we went to our home in Southern Oregon on horseback. Father took up 640 acres at what is now known as the Kingsbury place. My son, Judge George Dunn of Ashland, still owns this place.
    "We girls were the first women to settle in that neighborhood. Barron, Russell and Gibbs lived at the mountain place [the Mountain House]. Fred Alberding, Pat Dunn and Tom Smith had a place two miles from the mountain place. All the men in the neighborhood called to see us. The first provisions we secured were packed in from Crescent City. They consisted of flour, sugar, dried fruit and coffee, and came from South America. It was cheaper to bring them from South America than to bring them from Oregon City.
    "Father, as I told you, had taken his stock into Southern Oregon. We had about 40 milch cows. We three girls milked them and Mother made butter, which was sold to the miners at $1 a pound.
    "In July, 1853, some young men from Yreka brought saddle horses and invited us girls to take a trip to Yreka, where they were going to have a big dance. They knew my aunt, Mrs. Eben Kelly, who lived there. We started at 9 in the morning, rode over the Siskiyous over the trail, and reached Yreka at sunset. The streets were lined with miners who had heard we were coming and wanted to see us. We stayed at my aunt Louise Kelly's for several days, and it was a continuous reception all the time we were there. A young jeweler gave Ma a pair of earrings he made from Yreka gold dust. He pierced my ears and put the earrings in. That was 75 years ago, and I have never had them out of my ears since. He gave my sister Ann, now Mrs. Russell of Ashland, a pair of earrings, and my sister Martha a gold ring.
    "On February 22, 1854, I was married to Patrick Dunn. Rev. Myron Stearns, a Baptist minister, married us. The winter before, my husband's partner, Mr. Alberding, had sold his half of the claim to Judge J. C. Tolman, so Mr. Dunn built a cabin on his half. We moved into this cabin, where my first three girls were born. My husband was born in Wexford County, Ireland, March 24, 1824. He came to the United States when he was 4 years old. They settled in Philadelphia. In 1841 he went to Illinois, where he worked in a grist mill. In 1850 he crossed the plains to California. He came to Jacksonville in 1852. Jacksonville was a rich placer district. He picked up a $300 nugget in what was later one of the streets of Jacksonville. In 1854 he was elected to the Oregon territorial legislature. In 1865 he was elected assessor of Jackson County and in 1872 county clerk. He also served as county commissioner of Jackson County. He never studied law, but he was often called on to settle disputes. When Jacob Ish and his brother-in-law couldn't agree on a division of their property they paid my husband $500 to go over their accounts and divide their property equally."
Oregon Journal, Portland, August 24, 1927, page 14


    "We moved into our log cabin, seven miles south of Ashland, in the spring of 1853," said Mrs. Mary M. Dunn, when I interviewed her recently at her home in East Portland. "I was 17 years old. We had not been there long when a big Indian came to our house and sharpened his butcher knife on Father's grindstone. He walked into the house in an arrogant and insolent way and, seeing Father's gun, reached for it. I was too quick for him. I grabbed it, cocked it and pointed it at him. He backed out of the house with me following him. Mr. Gibbs, knowing the Indian was in an ugly mood, had followed him from the Mountain House, fearing he might do harm to us. Just as Mr. Gibbs arrived, Pat Dunn, another settler, rode up, and they ordered the Indian away. He acted in a very surly manner, but went away. Two days later Mr. Gibbs came to our home and told us the settlers feared trouble with the Indians and we had better go to Pat Dunn's cabin--as the other settlers were gathering there. Mother, my sisters Martha and Ann and myself went to the Dunn place. The man who went with us said laughingly, as he left us at the Dunn place, 'I will go back and bring in the wounded.' An hour or so later he came back, bringing Mr. Carter, who was shot through the arm, the bullet breaking both bones, and Pat Dunn, who later became my husband, who was shot in the shoulder. They took the bullet out of Mr. Dunn's shoulder next day. The white men had killed some of the Indians and taken a number of squaws prisoners. They brought them to Dunn's house. I will never forget that night. The squaws talked and moaned and cried over their dead. The two wounded men groaned. We had fixed beds on the floor for them and given them saddles for pillows. We womenfolks were lying on the floor on blankets, and in addition to our family there was a settler and his wife there with six children. The children would keep poking their heads up to listen, and I would hear the mother say, 'Keep your heads down, children; the Indians may shoot into the house and hurt you.' Next day an old Indian chief came and said if we would give up the squaws the Indians would give up their arms. Father took us to Fort Wagner, at Gassburg, where we stayed for several weeks. Among the settlers at Fort Wagner were the Emorys, Helmans, McCalls, Reameses, Wrisleys, Rockfellows, Colvers, Simpsons and a few others. We made our beds on the ground at night and there was just about room in the fort for us all to lie down. A company of volunteers took us from the Dunn place to Fort Wagner.
    "My cousin, Isham Keith, enlisted in a company to fight the Indians. Lieutenant Ely of the Yreka company, with 25 men, was out looking for the Indians. Several volunteers from one of the other companies, among them my cousin, were with the Yreka company. They found the Indians on Evans Creek, about 15 miles from Table Rock. Chief Sam attacked them. Lieutenant Ely told my cousin, Isham Keith, and two other men to go on a high point nearby to watch for the Indians. The Indians fired at these three men and at the first fire killed my cousin and one of the other men. The Indians kept up the attack on the volunteers for several hours, killing several men and wounding four. They killed in this skirmish J. Shaw, Frank Perry, A. Douglas, A. C. Colburn, L. Locktirg and my cousin, Isham Keith. They wounded Lieutenant Ely, John Albin, James Carroll and a man named Shultz. Two days after we had left our cabin some emigrants arrived there. They camped at our place. The Indians attacked them, killing some and wounding some. One of them died on the way to Fort Wagner. John Gibbs, who was wounded, died the next day, and some of the others died at Jacksonville. The Indians killed a span of mules, two cows and two yoke of oxen and burned all of the grain that Mr. Dunn had raised. Later the government made the Indians pay from their allowance $750 for this damage. Isham Keith, who was killed, was the only son of my aunt, Louise Kelly, of Yreka. He was 18 years old when he was killed.
    "In the fall of 1855 the Indians once more went on the warpath. We barricaded our log cabin. We covered the windows with thick planks and filled sacks with grain and piled them along the walls as high as our heads. We kept two barrels of water in the kitchen to use in case the Indians set fire to the house. Father made portholes through the logs to shoot through. Several of the settlers stayed in our cabin that winter.
    "I was married on Washington's Birthday, 1854. My first three children, all girls, were born in our original log cabin. Elizabeth married J. K. Van Sant. Amy married J. Quinn Willits. Amy died in 1882. Otilla married S. S. Caldwell. Quinn Willits had a brother, Rush Willits. He married Anna Tice. They had two daughters, Edna and Docia, both of whom are now living in Portland.
    "In 1860 we built a home nearer the road. My son George and my daughter Ella were born in this house. Ella married Mr. Rice. She has been the Southern Pacific ticket agent at the East Morrison Street station for many years. George lives in Ashland. George attended the University of Oregon and was a classmate of B. B. Beekman and Ed Potter of Eugene. George and Ed Potter were like brothers; in fact, they called them David and Jonathan.
    "I told you that in the fall of 1853 some old friends of my father's came by way of Emigrant Creek. Among these were the Myer brothers, Cortez and Frank; three Walker brothers, Giles Wells and some others. Father had cut some logs ready to enlarge our house. They used these logs to build a wall and stayed at our place until peace was declared in the late fall of 1853. My sister 'Has,' or, to give her her real name, Anna Haseltine Hill Russell, lives in Ashland. For the past 50 years or so she has operated a marble works and is one of the few women in the country who is an expert at carving marble.
    "I am very proud that at the last meeting of the pioneers I was made the Queen Mother for Oregon, of the Pioneers."
Oregon Journal, Portland, August 25, 1927, page 8


Medford Mail Tribune, August 14, 1929, page 3


    While in Ashland recently I interviewed George W. Dunn, whose mother, Mary W. Hill Dunn, 94 years old, lives on East 37th Street in Portland. "I was married in 1890 to Alta E. Miller," said Mr. Dunn. "My wife's father, E. N. Miller, came to Oregon in the early '50s. Miller Station, in Linn County, is named for him. We had three children. Our daughter, Ada, now Mrs. H. M. Shaffer, lives in Sacramento. George runs the old home place, and our son Miller is here in Ashland. In 1907 I married Laura Burnett. Her father, Peter R. Burnett, crossed the plains to Oregon in 1846. Our son, Horace, is a railroad man and works for the Southern Pacific. In 1894 I was elected to the legislature. In 1904 I became county judge and for the next four years we lived in Jacksonville. In 1922 I was elected to the state senate and I have been elected ever since. I am rather expecting to be elected at the coming election, as I am a candidate of both parties."
    Senator Dunn's father, Patrick Dunn, with a party of settlers, while out searching for members of Tipsu Tyee's band of Rogue River Indians, who were suspected having killed Thomas Wills, a merchant of Jacksonville, came on the Indians, who were camped on Neil Creek. They fired on the Indians, who took refuge in the brush and returned the fire. Patrick Dunn was wounded in the left shoulder and Andrew Carter was shot through the arm. The Indian women and children were taken to Patrick Dunn's place and placed within a stockade. Later sub-chief Sambo, with his warriors, came in and surrendered and was placed in the stockade. Among the families who were staying at the fort were the families of Isaac Hill, Samuel Grubb, Asa Fordyce and others. The Indians in the stockade took their white guards by surprise, killing Hugh Smith, William Huggins and Bryce Whitmore and wounding several others.
    Senator Dunn told me of his early school days in Ashland. He started to school to the Ashland academy on its opening day, in 1872. Thirty years or more ago I used to have frequent chats with the Rev. C. Alderson in Salem. He lived at 15th and Ferry streets. In June, 1869, the Methodist Episcopal Church held a quarterly conference at Ashland. Mr. Alderson presided at this conference and proposed to his brother ministers to start a college and normal school under the auspices of the Methodist Church at Ashland. The Rev. I. W. Kuykendall and his committee raised money and signed a contract with Blake & Emery for the erection of a college building. The building was started, but many of those who subscribed were unable to meet their obligations, so the building was not completed. In 1872 the Rev. J. H. Skidmore took over the enterprise and completed the building, furnished it and started the Ashland college and normal school as a private enterprise.
    He had taken over not only the good will of the school but also its debts.  Not being able to meet the interest payments, the building was surrendered to the creditors. In 1878 funds were raised, the debts were paid and the Methodist church once more assumed control of the academy. Professor L. L. Rogers was elected president, but owing to internal dissension Mr. Rogers resigned and the school was closed. In the late summer of 1882 the trustees of the academy elected the Rev. M. G. Royal as president and it was taken over by the state as a normal school. At that time the state supported three normal schools--the one at Monmouth, one at Drain and the one at Ashland. Later the state withdrew its support from the normal schools at Ashland and Drain, so both these schools were closed. Today Ashland has a splendid normal school operated under state auspices, and its students rank high along educational lines and find no difficulty in securing positions.
    The Methodist church at Ashland was organized in July, 1864, by Presiding Elder T. M. Starr. The charter members were Mrs. Jacob Wagner, Mr. and Mrs. David Walrad, Mr. and Mrs. A. G. Rockfellow, Mrs. Mary Myer, Mr. and Mrs. M. O. Myer, Mr. and Mrs. William Jaquett, Mr. and Mrs. Heaton Fox and Mr. and Mrs. D. P. Brittain. In 1875 they built a church costing $3500. Among the early ministers of the Methodist church in Jackson County were T. F. Royal, Stephen Taylor, Alonzo Raynour, Archie Taylor, George Greer, G. C. Belknap, John Flynn, C. C. Stratton, I. D. Driver, J. W. Miller, P. M. Starr, C. Alderson, J. W. Kuykendall, G. W. Roork, George Hughbanks, Noah Starr, W. H. Hurlburt, J. T. Wolfe, J. H. McCain, W. T. Chapman, L. L. Rogers, Ladru Royal, D. J. Sharp, D. W. Crowel and J. H. Skidmore.
    Mrs. Blanch Hicks is librarian at a public library in Ashland. In point of service, though not in years, she is probably the oldest librarian in the state. "I took over this library in 1903," said Mrs. Hicks. "That was 27 years ago. At that time we had 1500 volumes and the library was located in one room downtown. Today we have this beautiful library building and we have more than 13,000 volumes on our shelves. Our present library was erected in 1912 at a cost of $17,500, of which amount Andrew Carnegie paid $15,000.
    "I was born in Florida. We moved to Oregon when I was a girl. I went to St. Mary's Academy in Portland and I also attended a high school here in Ashland. I also attended the old normal school. Because of the ever-increasing interest in Oregon history and the demand from the normal school we are trying to build up our Western history, particularly the early history of Oregon."
Oregon Journal, Portland, September 26, 1930, page 12


    J. B. Russell has returned from Ashland, where he went to set a double marker on the graves of his father and mother. The stone was of interest inasmuch as it was quarried for the purpose by the father 67 years ago on the top of Marble Halls of Oregon. The carving was completed this year by their son, J. B. Russell. The main monument was carved by the mother 36 years before her death.
    Mrs. Russell, who died last Thanksgiving, was the first and for many years the only woman stone carver in the United States and won many prizes for her work.--(Yreka News.)
Medford Mail Tribune, April 17, 1931, page 10


    PORTLAND, Ore., May 14.--(AP)--Mrs. Mary Hill Dunn, 96, was crowned mother queen of Sons and Daughters of Oregon Pioneers at the annual May luncheon meeting of the organization here today. Mrs. Dunn is a resident of Portland.
    George W. Daldwell, vice-president of the organization. who placed a crown of lavender sweet peas upon Mrs. Dunn's head, said she had crossed the plains by covered wagon in 1852, coming from Tennessee to Ashland.
Medford Mail Tribune, May 15, 1932, page 1


    PORTLAND, Sept. 25.--(AP)--Mrs. Mary Hill Dunn, 97, one of the few remaining links with the Oregon country in the days when pioneer cornerstones were being laid, died here today at the home of her daughter, Mrs. Ella Dunn Rice. She was chosen "queen mother" of Oregon in 1927.
    Mrs. Dunn's body will be taken to Ashland on Wednesday. Funeral services will be held there Thursday.
    Mrs. Dunn is survived by four children, Mrs. Rice and Mrs. Elizabeth Van Sant of Portland; Mrs. Otilla Caldwell of Eugene, and Senator George W. Dunn, who lives at the old family home in Ashland.
    She was born on the Sweetwater, a tributary of the Tennessee River, in 1836. Her father, Isaac Hill, brought the family to Oregon in 1852. Mrs. Dunn, 16 years old at the time, recalled clearly the adventures of the westward trip. The family wintered in Salem in 1852, and in February, 1853, started for Southern Oregon, settling in Jackson County. They took up 640 acres at what is known as the Kingsbury place.
    The girls of the family were the first women to settle in that neighborhood.
    In 1854 Mary Hill married Patrick Dunn, native of Ireland, who crossed the plains in 1850 and settled in Jackson County. That year Dunn was elected to the Oregon territorial legislature, and in 1865 he was elected assessor of Jackson County, and in 1872 county clerk. He also served as county commissioner.
Medford Mail Tribune, September 25, 1933, page 1


To the Editor:
    The Oregonian has always accorded full significance to the pioneer life of Oregon, and I want to call to your attention the passing of Mary Hill Dunn, who for more than half a century was a resident of Ashland, Ore., and who recently passed away at the home of her daughter, Mrs. Ella Rice, in Portland, Ore., at the advanced age of 97 years.
    The events of her life and the manner with which she braved every difficulty, calmed every turbulence, soothed every hurt, enjoyed every blessing, rejoiced in every merited triumph and gloried in all true progress contain sermons that might well be preached from all pulpits and proclaimed from every rostrum. Having gone through the deprivation and hardships of a pioneer journey to, and early settlement of, the Oregon country, including the terror and dread of Indian cunning and ferocity, she emerged a noble Christian character, surrounded, served and worshiped by children's children to the fifth generation and friends whom she had served and whom she continued to serve with hand, mind and heart until death stilled her powers.
    She was always full of cheer--resourceful and merciful. She was infallible in her knowledge of right and justice. She was typical of that character so ably described by Burt Brown Barker in his dedicatory address at the unveiling of the statue of the "Pioneer Mother" on the campus of the University of Oregon a few years ago.
    It is such a life and such service that stay the wave of greed and profiteering that have so nearly wrecked our modern civilization, and is it not true that a full appreciation of such service and an emulation thereof contain the elements which, and which only, will bring us out of our present difficulties?
    The death of Mother Dunn reminds me of an October sunset. Mingled with one's thoughts is a regret that the day is passing, but the beauty and brilliance painted upon the sky as the sun departs will remain as long as memory lasts.
Eugene, Ore.
--In Oregonian.
Medford Mail Tribune, October 3, 1933, page 3


    Inventory and appraisal of the estate of the late Mary M. Dunn of Ashland, Southern Oregon pioneer, was filed today in circuit court. The value of the estate is fixed at $25,377.25. J. W. McCoy, Thomas Simpson and W. H. McNair of Ashland were appraisers.
    The estate consisted largely of bonds and stocks in Southern Oregon enterprises of substantial standing. Two notes--one for $25 and the other for $50, granted in 1904 and unpaid--appeared as "no value."
Medford Mail Tribune, November 3, 1933, page 9


To the Editor:
    A friend handed in the issue of March 14, 1935, regarding the Washington Monument. My father, J. H. Russell, set out the first stone there for the B. F. Dowell house in the east part of Jacksonville in crystal white marble while we lived on Coleman Creek back of Gasburg in 1860. This is about three miles from Herb Coleman's at Blue Rock. He had a marble saw mill between two trees for the sides of the frame to run against, but the wind would not let the saw run smooth, so he cut the tops [of the trees] off and put a plate there. It was while there that Mother commenced carving. Her first piece was wild rosebuds and leaves, patterned from a bush close to the shed. While Papa was working for Dowell, he moved us to Grandpa Hill's (now [Klamath] Junction), and went to [the] John Day's River gold rush. He was gone about 18 months, then returned and raised tobacco on some land just west of the Junction. Later we moved to Ashland, on Poverty Hill, where our old homesite is.
    One of the first large slabs of the crystal white marble is Grandpa Isaac Hill's stone in the Hill cemetery near [Klamath] Junction, later known as King's Burial Place. This is now owned, I think, by Barron.
    His mother's marker is made of one of the first pieces sawed in the Ashland shop. Mother carved and lettered the stone almost 70 years ago. I commenced tending saws at 8 years of age, 70 years ago.
    The first crystal white must have come off the top of marble halls, as they hauled it down on a "lizard," a forked oak with pieces across it. Later, working down near where I would judge is Jones Bros. now and the lime kilns.
    The only name I can remember is John Johns, as I rode my white pinto pony without rope or bridle, guiding her with a switch. Maybe some of the boys may remember me that way.
    Lots of marble is in Jacksonville, Ashland, Phoenix (then Gasburg cemetery). Father sold in Douglas County and Josephine County. At one time he had over 100 orders, mostly slabs 1 ft. by 2 in. thick, and 2 ft. high for $25. Here in Yreka are slabs over 60 years old from the same quarry, free from moss, and the polish is as smooth as ever. There was no gloss finish then, just fine grit and home work. I have a cross here; Mother said I cut when I was 12. I can give the history of the transportation from the quarry to the home mill in Ashland, if you wish.
Yreka, April 30.
"Communications," Medford Mail Tribune, May 1, 1935, page 5  Edited from the original.


    "My husband, George W. Dunn, is one of Oregon's state senators and was formerly county judge of Jackson County," said Mrs. G. W. Dunn of Ashland. "My maiden name was Laura Burnett. My father, Peter R. Burnett, came across the plains in the emigration of 1843, when 4 years old. His uncle, Peter Hardeman Burnett, was captain of the wagon train. My father was a minister of the Christian church. He was pastor of the church at Salem and had numerous other pastorates, including Eugene, Medford, McMinnville, Independence and Monmouth. He was a son of Glenn Owen Burnett. His grandfather, George Burnett, was born in Virginia on September 26, 1770, and died in Clay County, Missouri, on Washington's Birthday, 1838. He married in Tennessee in 1802, Dorothy, a daughter of Thomas Hardeman. She was born in Tennessee on May 15, 1786, and died in Platte County, Missouri, on March 17, 1843. Her father, Thomas Hardeman, born in Virginia in 1750, was an early settler of Tennessee and a member of that state's first constitutional convention.
    "My father's father, Glenn C. Burnett, was one of a family of eight children. The brother just older than Glenn was Peter H., who became the first American governor of California. Glenn and a brother, White Burnett, belonged to the Christian church. Their sister, Elizabeth, was a Baptist. Thomas belonged to the Methodist Episcopal Church, South, and Peter H. became a Catholic. Glenn and Peter H. married sisters, daughters of Peter Rogers of Clay County, Missouri.
    "My mother's maiden name was Mary Elizabeth Todd. She was born in Missouri and came to Oregon by way of the Isthmus. My father and mother were married on October 14, 1866. It was then the custom to have elaborate wedding certificates, with photographs of bride and bridegroom and officiating minister. My mother had this framed. I am going to show it to you. You will notice that, though my father was a young man, he had a heavy beard. This photograph of the Rev. Sebastian C. Adams was taken when he also was a young man. You will notice that those who signed as witnesses were Mother's father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Jonathan Todd; also Mary McSwain and J. B., A. C. and Levi Davis. My father was 24 and Mother 17 when they were married.
    "I was born at McMinnville. We moved to Monmouth when I was 9 years old. I attended Christian College there, which is now Monmouth Normal School. From Monmouth we moved to Medford. I was appointed deputy recorder of Jackson County and while working in the courthouse I met George W. Dunn, who was county judge. We were married June 8, 1907.
    "My husband's father, Patrick Dunn, was born in Ireland in 1824 and crossed the plains, settling in Jackson County in 1852. In 1854 he married Mary M. Hill.
    "My father and mother had six children. My sister Josephine married Sherman Hayes. She lives at 5805 Burrage Avenue, in Portland. Dr. Robert Todd Burnett, a graduate of Monmouth Normal, lives at Eugene. I was the next child. Horace Eugene, who works for the Daily Register-Guard, at Eugene, has worked on newspapers in Eugene 35 years. Florence married Jesse Whiteaker of Independence. She is now a widow. Edna married Claire Irvine of Independence.
    "My husband was born in this county on January 4, 1864. His father crossed the plains to California in 1850. After mining in California for a while he heard of the discovery of gold at Jacksonville and was among the early miners on Rich Gulch, at Jacksonville. He took up his donation land claim four miles south of Ashland in 1851. He was a member of the territorial legislature of 1855 and also served as county clerk and assessor of Jackson County in early days.
    "My husband was married in 1890 to Miss Alta Miller of Ashland. They had three children--Ada married Harry Shaffer and lives at Santa Ana, Cal.; George Edwin is a rancher, and Miller, named for his mother but generally called 'Pat,' is chief of police at Ashland.
    "My husband and I have had one child, Horace Hall Dunn. He was born in Jacksonville in 1908. He married Audrey Turnquist. They have one child, George Edward, 6 years old."
Oregon Journal, Portland, August 5, 1936, page 10