# History of Oregon Literature/Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6
The Pioneers Have Much to Say
CHARLES B. CLARK
The Oregon pioneers were not taciturn. They were not even diffident about writing down their experiences. The literature left by them is accordingly vast. For a hundred years it has been printed, and it is still being printed in great quantities in newspaper columns, in the quarterlies of historical societies, and as pamphlets and books. Their records are of two kinds—what they wrote in current or immediate reaction to their experiences and what they wrote reminiscently. The former consisted of accounts sent back to the home papers, letters to friends and relatives, journals and diaries. The latter is in the form of first-hand chronicles, sometimes short and sometimes long enough for a book, sometimes dependent almost wholly upon memory and sometimes supported by contemporary records of various sorts; and in the form also of interviews and ghost writing.
Their literary energy is surprising when one considers that they were not writing men and the accompanying circumstances that made penciled composition so difficult. On the part of the women there was often apparent a tragic intensity to their urge for self-expression. Under uncongenial, deterring conditions, while the fatigues of the day had been enough to numb the body, they nevertheless felt a mysterious motivation, a strange unsatisfied stimulus of the spirit, that ​made them steal time from sleep or combine with a brief period of rest the opportunity to write down what they had been through, not only objectively but subjectively.
The literature they produced throbbed with the activity, the adventure, the suffering, the frustration, the fortitude, the tragedy, that had only ceased before they took up their pencils or that was still in process. It had all the immediacy of modern journalism but all the intimacy of literature. It contained no heroics; it was without pose and without embroidery. It was often eloquent with the outbursting of a sensitive but starved appreciation; it reflected the vividness of vivid lives; it was the most democratic of all literatures because hundreds wrote it and in writing it told of physical and psychological reactions that were true and personal but fascinating and universal.
A statement of the literary contribution of the pioneers should not close without mention that they read as well as wrote, a fact with cultural significance. Such intellectual occupations as the trappers had at their remote posts, consisted of their own long thoughts or the stories of one another. If the Hudson's Bay Company sold books there is no evidence of it in several lists of purchases that have been examined, and it was not until about the middle thirties—ten years after the beginners of Fort Vancouver—that Manson and Dr. Tolmie, who was bookish himself, started a circulating library at their posts farther north. In contrast to the scant references to reading in the accounts of the trappers are the frequent glimpses we get of books in the chronicles of the pioneers.
​One of the small Applegate boys, who later became a well known Oregon orator, was said by his Uncle Jesse to have secured his education by reading the stray leaves of books thrown away on the Oregon Trail. Space was at a premium in the covered wagons but there were a few books, and these began to be part of the cargoes of ships. The Multnomah Circulating Library was established at Oregon City in 1845.
The most inspiring picture, however, of those early days is of Ewing Young, treated coolly by the Hudson's Bay Company and, through the imperative contagion of their disfavor, coolly by his neighbors. This man who was about to use for anti-prohibition purposes a caldron he had secured from dismantled Fort William, had the works of Shakespeare in two volumes, of which Professor F. G. Young said:
   .. . it should be noticed that the records show among his belongings a two-volume edition of Shakespeare that he had probably borne along with him through almost interminable wanderings as a trapper and trader, from his eastern Tennessee home along the Santa Fe trail, on beaver hunting trips into the northern provinces of Mexico, back and forth between New Mexico and California, up and down and across the wide dimensions of California and then on that terrifying trip with nearly a hundred horses through the Rogue River Indian country to Oregon. His mental calibre was such that he found his real refreshment and recreation in having his thought move along with that of this mental giant of the ages.
At the sale of Ewing Young's estate, C. M. Walker bought the two volumes for $3.50. But in the "Minets of Ewing Youngs Sail" an item also shows seven books, titles not indicated, which were sold to George Gay for ​$1.00, and another entry "to books 50 cts" is included in the purchases of David Leslie.
It is true that in the case of Ewing Young and many others the trappers and the pioneers were the same persons. But between the hunters and the settlers as generalized groups there was a great difference that can be summed up very quickly. It was the difference between Fort Vancouver and Oregon City in the early days of those two places.
1
An Oregon Farm in 1833 By John Ball
John Ball was only a temporary Oregon pioneer but was one of the very earliest. He came out with Captain Nathaniel J. Wyeth in 1832. He was a Dartmouth College graduate and at the request of Dr. John McLoughlin taught the first school at Fort Vancouver and the first in the Oregon territory, from November, 1832, to March, 1833. He then tried farming in the Willamette Valley for a few months until he left the country for good in the fall. The Autobiography of John Ball was not published until 1925. The manuscript was written in his eightieth year, from scanty diaries kept at various periods of his career, and from old letters sent home, as well as from memory. He left Oregon in October, 1833, quitting his "home on the Willamette with something of regret after all." He spent most of his life as a resident of Grand Rapids, Michigan.
Caught from the prairie a span of horses only used to the saddle, made for them a harness and put them to work. Stuffed some deer skin sewed in due form for collars, fitted to them for harness crooked oak limbs, tied top and bottom with elk skin strings, then to these, straps of hide for tugs, which tied to the end of a stick for a whiffletree, and the center of this I tied to the drag, made from a crotch of a tree. And on this I drew out logs for a cabin, which when I had laid up and put on rafters to make the roof, I covered with bark peeled from cedar trees. And this bark covering was ​secured by poles across and tied with wood strings, withes, at the end to the timbers below. And out of some split plank for no sawed boards, I made bedstead and table. And so I dwelt in a house of fir and cedar.
And with the aid of my neighbors and their teams I broke up quite a large field of rich prairie lands. Drew out fencing stuff with my own, to enclose the same, and sowed and planted my farm, a farm that butted half a mile on the river and extended back to California. My family consisted part of the time of a Mr. Sinclair, one of my mountain companions, a young wild native to catch my horses, and some of the time entirely alone. Got meal from the fort to make my bread, my meat some venison and some salmon from the falls, for being 60 feet high they could not jump them.
A rather primitive lonely life I found it and not seeing when it was likely to be less so, and having seen something of the country and experienced its climate, and the Hudson Bay people having entire control of the country, and no emigrants arriving, I began to think I might as well leave could I have the opportunity. Yes, this primitive life of the plains, mountains, and keeping house with only Indian neighbors, had lost its novelty and I wanted a change. To be sure the Willamette valley is a fine country, being a valley watered by a stream of that name, fifty miles wide and say one hundred and fifty long with a coast range on the west and towering Cascade range on the east, crowned by Mount Hood, in the bright summer days ever in sight. And I was near the river, handy for a summer bath, and out of its bank a short distance from my house was the fine cool spring from which I got my water.
2
The Columbia Gorge By Thomas J. Farnham
Thomas J. Farnham was leader of the "Peoria Party" of 1839. On the flag of the company Mrs. Farnham worked the motto "Oregon or the Grave." At the end of the journey, however, Farnham ​had only two companions. He "carried a huge blank-book buckled and strapped to his back, and every night he wrote up his travels." He was an entertaining guest at Fort Vancouver and a clerk there remembered the grandiloquent way he talked. He settled in California, where he died in 1852. He was the author of several books, which Bancroft said were a good deal the same book dished up under different titles. The following selection is taken from Travels in the Great Western Prairies, the Anahuac and Rocky Mountains, and in the Oregon Territory.
October 15, 16, 1839.
After supper Mr. Lee ordered a launch, and the Indian paddles were again dipping in the bright waters. The stars were out on the clear night, twinkling as of old, when the lofty peaks around were heaved from the depths of the volcano. They now looked down on a less grand, indeed, but more lovely scene. The fires of the natives blazed among the woody glens, the light canoe skimmed the waters near the shore, the winds groaned over the mountain tops, the Cascades sang from cliff to cliff, the loon shouted and dove beneath the shining wave; it was a wild, almost unearthly scene, in the deep gorge of the Columbia. The rising of the moon changed its features. The profoundest silence reigned, save the dash of paddles that echoed faintly from the shores; our canoe sprang lightly over the rippling waters, the Indian fires smouldered among the waving pines; the stars became dim, and the depths of the blue sky glowed one vast nebula of mellow light. But the eastern mountains hid awhile the orb from sight. The south western hights shone with its pale beams, and cast into the deeply sunken river a bewitching dancing of light and shade, unequaled by the pencil of the wildest imagination. The grandeur too of grove, and cliff, and mountain, and the mighty Columbia wrapped in the drapery of a golden midnight! I was wholly lost. It was wholly lost. It was the new and rapidly opening panorama of the sublime wilderness. And the scene changed again when the moon was high in heaven. The cocks crew in the Indian villages; the birds twittered on the boughs; the wild fowls screamed, as her light gilded the chasm of the river, and re​vealed the high rock Islands with their rugged crags and mouldering tombs. The winds from Mount Adams were loaded with frosts, and the poetry of the night was fast waning into an ague, when Mr. L. ordered the steersman to moor. A crackling pine fire was soon blazing, and having warmed our shivering frames, we spread our blankets and slept sweetly till the dawn.
3
First Wagons to Oregon
By Dr. Robert Newell
At the time I took the wagons, I had no idea of undertaking to bring them into this country. I exchanged fat horses to the missionaries for their animals; and, after they had been gone a month or more for Willamette, and the American Fur Company had abandoned the country for good, I concluded to hitch up and try the much-dreaded job of taking a wagon to Oregon. I sold one of those wagons to Mr. Ermatinger, at Fort Hall. On the 15th of August, 1840, we put out with three wagons. Joseph L. Meek drove my wagon. In a few days, we began to realize the difficult task before us, and found that the continued crashing of the sage under our wagons, which in many places was higher than the mules' backs, was no joke. Seeing our animals begin to fail, we began to lighten up, finally threw away our wagon beds, and were quite sorry we had undertaken the job. All the consolation we had was that we broke the first sage on the road, and were too proud to eat anything but dried salmon skins after our provisions had become exhausted. In a rather rough and reduced state, we arrived at Dr. Whitman's mission station, in the Walla Walla valley, where we were met by that hospitable man and kindly made welcome, and feasted accordingly. On hearing me regret that I had undertaken to bring wagons, the Doctor said: "Oh, you will never regret it; you have broken the ice, and when others see that wagons have passed, they, too, will pass; and in a few years the val​ley will be full of our people. . ." the Indians walked around the wagons, or what they called "horse-canoes," and seemed to give it up. We spent a day or so with the Doctor, and then went to Fort Walla Walla, where we were kindly received by Mr. P. C. Pembram, chief trader of the Hudson's Bay Company, and superintendent of that post. On the 1st of October, we took leave of those kind people, leaving our wagons and taking the river trail....
4
The Blue Bucket Mine
By Andrew Jackson McNemee
Andrew Jackson McNemee was born on March 5, 1848, "in a cabin made of shakes, " on the southwest corner of Yamhill and Front streets. He was a son of Job McNemee, a pioneer of 1845, who built the fourth house in Portland.
...my people came across the plains in 1845. Col. W. G. T'Vault was captain of the wagon train.
Dr. Elijah White, . . . met the wagon train of which my father was a member and told them of a more direct route. The T'Vault wagon train, with the others, swung south to take this cut-off. Stephen Meek, a brother of Joe Meek, said he could guide the immigrants to the Willamette valley by this cut-off....
Stephen Meek guided them by the old trail for some time, but when they got into the foot-hills of the Malheur Mountains all signs of the old trail had disappeared. The alkaline water was the cause of many of the immigrants becoming sick with mountain fever....
The cattle became restless and tried to take the back track. The wagon train would have to halt while the immigrants hunted for the lost cattle. While Dave Herron was out looking for his lost cattle, he noticed in the bed of a small stream, a piece of metal that looked like copper or brass. He picked it up, put it in his pocket and took it with him to camp. Another member of the party also brought a lump of dull yellow metal to camp. They were unable to determine ​whether it was gold, copper, or brass. This was in 1845 before the discovery of gold in California. One of the gold nuggets was given to a member of the party, who hammered it flat with a hammer on his wagon tire. He threw it into his tool chest and paid no more attention to it. The immigrants were more interested in finding the lost trail to the Willamette valley and securing water for their thirsty children than in discovering gold, so no attention was paid to the stream on which the nuggets had been found. The stream ran in a southwesterly direction, but whether it was a branch of the Malheur river or not the immigrants did not know.
A few years later, when gold was discovered in California, the finding of these nuggets was recalled. When my brothers went to the Oro Fino mines in Idaho, my father said he believed he could guide them to where the gold had been found, in what was called the Blue Bucket mines. One of the immigrants, when asked about finding the gold there, said he could have picked up his blue bucket full of nuggets if he had known it was gold. Several parties were later organized to find the Blue Bucket mines, but they were unable to locate the place.
5
First Passage Over the Barlow Trail
By William Henry Rector
William Henry Rector was always unlucky in his business ventures. In 1845 he sold his flour mill at Independence, Missouri, and left with a party of emigrants for Oregon—to improve his lot. Of the party he says, "It was my thoughts at the start that we would all be like one great and good family of brothers and sisters relying on each other for assistance in times of need and as a common defence against the Indians should we be atacted by them, but in all this I was sorely disappointed, when we overtook the main company they were quarleing holding mettings. makeing new laws and regulations, which ware not respected for one day, many of them would transgress just to show their independance or perverse cusedness. It was a school in which I learned something of the nature of many that I ​had ben ignorant of all my life before, as for my part I took no part in their meeting or elections obayed all laws while they lasted, was well able to get along on my own recorces." The situation leading to the journey here described can be briefly stated. Joel Palmer and Samuel K. Barlow had climbed up on Mt. Hood to survey a trail. Then Rector and Barlow were nominated to make a trial journey and to return with provisions for the rest of the party.
... It was aloted that Mr. Barlow and my self should go through to the Settlements according to the proposition.
We started the next morning at day light with onley two days rations which was suposed to be ample. Barlow and Parmer had been heigh up on mount hood so as to overlook all the mountains and see the valey, but they were not competent to judg of distance from such an elivation and thought two days was time enough to go in to the valey, but we found to our sorow that it required six days had we known whare to go. It was a rough trip som incidents of which have become mater of history . . .
At that time I was near forty years oald in prime of life. Barlow was my cenier by fifteen years very spry good walker but had not the botom or indurance that I had. he became very frail but did not seem to sufer with hunger as I did. the mountain air and violent exercize made me very hungry. I had a light shotgun but there was nothing to shoot at that time of the year, the aproach of winter evrything had left the mountains for lower ground. So sharp was our appetites that Barlow remarked after the first days travle that he could eat all his food for super. I realy felt the same way. then Barlow made a very sencible proposition that we eat just half every time and we would never get out of provisions to which I readily asented and lived strictly up to it. I should have said before that each one of us had our rations separate, we neither borowed or loaned or divided....
The second day was heard traveling a light misting rain all day. we had to decend a long way down into a kenion to get to water, it was getting dark when we got to water, in trying to start fire the matches was wet and would not make
Trials of the Trail—Pedestal the Pioneer Mother, Eugene
a dry lim began to rub violently called Barlow to help, we set fase to fase on the log with a blanket over our heads and both took hold of the stick and rubed with all our power until the place was very warm then laid matches on the place to dry. in this way we succeeded in drying the matches so we got fire. I worked all night getting wood and keeping fire. Barlow slep. after scanty breakfast we started again but had to asend out of the kenion to the mountain side to travle. the rain had stoped but there was a heavy fog all day. after traveling several hounrs paralell with the kenion Barlow thought we were below the kenion and there was the valey that he had seen when he was on mount hood, we tryed it but found it worse thern ever. I then determined to go no farther in that direction, knowing that the catle trail was north of us and that we would chance to fall in with som one driveing catle, I had a small compas and proposed to Barlow that we travel as near north as the country would permit until we found the cattle trail to which he was agreed, and we started out. course led directly up. the mountain get heigh above us. finally we reached the sumet.
heare I discovered that Barlows mental faculties was failing as well as his fisical pours, he persisted in saying that he had been on that identical spot before and that it was not one mile from the wagon camp. I found it was not possible to reach his reasoning facaltys and took absolute controle of him, he complained biterly that he had to be controled but kept on with me. He got frail and would frequently fall and hurt himself. I caried the axe and gun so as to relieve him of any incumberance. he walked behind me sullen and silent, once he spoke in kindly way and said Mr. Rector if I should brake a leg in som of these falls what would you do with me. I wud eat you was my reply, he said no more. I looked round at him and see that he was sheding tears. Why Barlow you old fool I wont eat you neither will ​you brake a leg. we will get to the trail early tomorrow, but he insisted that it was very likely that he would never be able to get out of these mountains and made the solem request that if he should get disabled so that he could go no further that I would knock out his braines with the axe and not let him linger in pain but he took good care not to fall any more.
Well as I had predicted we got to the trail the next day and had the good luck to fall in with a partie driveing cattle, we got refreshed and sent on to Oregon City. It is remarkable how circumstances will change a man. when in trouble and danger he will be pias and humble but no sooner out of trouble thern his piety is gon and then ly and swair and do other nauty things.
6
Candy Hearts From Dr. McLoughlin
By B. F. Bonney
This is taken from Recollections of B. F. Bonney as reported by Fred Lockley. Bonney was a boy of seven when he left Illinois for Oregon in April, 1845. His party reached Oregon City in June, 1846. It was during that year as a boy of eight he turned the grindstone for Dr. McLoughlin and Mr. Barlow.
Among my pleasant memories of our stay in Oregon City was playing with a playmate, a son of Col. W. G. T'Vault, the first editor of the Oregon Spectator at Oregon City, the first paper to be published west of the Rocky mountains. One day young T'Vault and I were walking along the streets of Oregon City when we met Dr. McLoughlin and Mr. Barlow. Barlow had a plane bit in his hands. Dr. McLoughlin put his hand on my head and said: "Don't you boys want to earn some candy? If you will go with Mr. Barlow and turn the grindstone while he sharpens that plane bit, I will give you each a handful of candy." As soon as Mr. Barlow had pronounced the bit sharp enough we hurried back to Dr. McLoughlin and he gave us each a handful of plain candy hearts with mottoes on them. That was the first store candy we had ever eaten, or for that matter had ever had in our hands.
7
Oregon Rain
By Mrs. Elizabeth Dixon Smith Geer
Mrs. Elizabeth Dixon Smith Geer kept a diary at the close of each day on her western journey, "after all her eight children were asleep." She copied it in letter form after reaching Oregon, and sent it to friends in Indiana, with the following explanation of the circumstances under which it was written: "I have endeavored to keep a record of our journey from 'the States' to Oregon, though it is poorly done, owing to my having a young babe and besides a large family to do for; and, worst of all, my education is very limited."
Portland, January 31, 1848.
Rain all day. If I could tell you how we suffer you would not believe it. Our house or rather a shed joined to a house, leaks all over. The roof descends in such a manner as to make the rain run right down into the fire. I have dipped as much as six pails of water off of our dirt hearth in one night. Here I sit up, night after night, with my poor sick husband, all alone, and expecting him every day to die...have not undressed to lie down for six weeks. Besides all our sickness, I had a cross little babe to take care of. Indeed, I cannot tell you half.
8
First Steamboat Between The Dalles and the Cascades
By Celinda E. Hines
Celinda E. Hines was the niece of Gustavus Hines, with whom she made the trip in 1853, accompanied also by Lucy Anna, daughter of Jason Lee. Much of her manuscript was destroyed by fire.
September 20, 1853.
The men had engaged a barge to take us to the Cascades and we put our things on board and went on ourselves, but it began to leak and we were obliged to get off and also to remove our baggage. Dr. Newell told us if we would leave the baggage until the next day and go down on the steam​boat he would be responsible for their safe arrival in a day or two. Accordingly we took what provisions and clothing were necessary and repaired on board the steamboat Allan, which was already crowded with passengers. It is a poor apology for a boat, very small, having no cabin, and we were obliged to seat ourselves as best we could on the floor or whatever we could find to sit upon. This is the only steam boat which plies between The Dalles and the Cascades. It was brought here last spring from the Sacramento, being the first steamboat which ever run on that river. Were about seven hours running down (50 miles). The scenery was very romantic indeed. The banks of the river are mostly perpendicular rocks from one to a hundred feet in height. This river is not so wide as the Ohio, but much deeper, and unlike that river, the waters of the Columbia are clear and pure. We landed on a stony beach after dark, but succeeded in finding a sandy place and made our camps. We had brought our beds but had no tents, so we made our beds under the star-spangled arch of heaven and thought none could wish a more magnificent canopy. The bluffs along the river are covered with fir trees, some dense and some very scattered.
9
Big Laurel Hill
By Mrs. Amelia Stewart Knight
Mrs. Amelia Stewart Knight ended her long covered wagon trip near Milwaukie, Oregon, on September 17, 1853. She was accompanied by her husband and seven children. At one time en route she counted as many as 50 wagons ahead of them.
September 8, 1853.
Traveled 14 miles over the' worst road that was ever made, up and down, very steep, rough and rocky hills, through mud holes, twisting and winding round stumps, logs and fallen trees. Now we are on the end of a log, now over a big root of a tree; now bounce down in a mud hole, then bang goes the other side of the wagon, and woe be to what ever is inside. There is very little chance to turn out of this ​road, on account of timber and fallen trees, for these mountains are a dense forest of pines, fir, white cedar or redwood (the handsomest timber in the world must be here in these Cascade Mountains). Many of the trees are 300 feet high and so dense to almost exclude the light of heaven, and for my own part I dare not look to the top of them for fear of breaking my neck....
....We have just halted in a little valley at the foot of Big Laurel Hill to rest ourselves and poor weary cattle an hour or so. We dare not rest long in these mountains, for fear of a storm, which would be almost certain to kill all of our stock, although the poor things need it bad enough.... It would be useless for me with my pencil to describe the awful road we have just passed over (let fancy picture a train of wagons and cattle passing through a crooked chimney and we have Big Laurel Hill). After descending several bad hills, one called Little Laurel Hill, which I thought is as bad as could be, but in reality it was nothing to this last one called Big Laurel. It is something more than half a mile long, very rocky all the way, quite steep, winding, sideling, deep down, slippery and muddy, made so by a spring running the entire length of the road, and this road is cut down so deep that at times the cattle and wagons are almost out of sight, with no room for the drivers except on the bank, a very difficult place to drive, also dangerous, and to make the matter worse, there was a slow poking train ahead of us, which kept stopping every few minutes, and another behind us which kept swearing and hurrying our folks on, and there they all were, with the poor cattle all on the strain, holding back the heavy wagons on the slippery road.
10
Difference Between the Old and New Pioneers By An Old One