As Told by
Mary Dunn
First Sight of Oregon
We followed the Snake river
north and
crossed the Burnt river, they on to the Powder river and followed it,
then
across country. It was hot and dusty, and we were becoming weary
with our long trip. We reached the Grand Ronde valley the 23rd of
Aug. and lay by for a day. Father traded two cows for a beef and
we jerked it. This valley was green and fresh with a sparkling
stream
and was so beautiful. A Frenchman liven in the valley and had
lots
of horses and cattle. Indians were camped in wigwams everywhere.
At Umatilla, La Grande, my brother
met us, and it seemed as though we were not so far from home. On
across the hot country, with little water for our stock. One
afternoon
we left camp, drove all night, all day and till the next night before
we
came to water at Mud Springs. September 7 we crossed the John Day
river and the Deschutes on the 9th. At The Dalles, September 12
we
saw the first houses since leaving Council Bluffs, June 10.
We came in over the Old Barlow Toll
road at the foot of Mt. Hood. It was a terrifying
experience.
All one day we traveled over a peculiar shaped ridge called the Devil's
back-bone. It was high and the surface was covered with chuck
holes
which made it almost impassible. Where the road left off there
was
almost a straight drop down, and it was necessary for us to rough-lock
the wheels and tie trees to the rear of the wagons to operate as a drag
to held them back. We also used chains on the wheels to keep them
from turning around. Only two oxen were hitched to a wagon and a
man was stationed on each side with a whip in order to keep them going
in the right direction. The side of the hill was covered with
women
and children and the cattle that were turned loose. So steep was
the grade that some of the women had to be assisted. A few days
before
a man had been killed here when his wagon turned over on him.
We arrived at Foster's, October 6,
where we found plenty of fresh beef and potatoes, and we had one grand
feast. From April to October without fresh food is a long time.
Our first real stop was made when
we reached Oregon City. We lived here for two weeks, and sister
Has,
who had contracted mountain fever, was cared for by Dr.
McLoughlin.
As soon as she was better we went on to Salem, where we spent the
winter.
Father rented a large house that had been built for a hotel, and we
fixed
it up so that we could live in it, then rented part of it out to
others.
One of our renters was Dr. Weatherford. I met one of his
daughters
the day I wa crowned Queen of the State Pioneer reunion in June 1927.
Father came down with the fever, and
he and Has were sick nost of the winter. That year the snow was very
deep
and the entire Willamette valley was blanketed by a foot of it until
the
last of January. Feed for the cattle was very scarce and father
had
about a hundred cattle that he hoped to take south with him.
Cicero
secured permission to cut timber. The cattle browsed on the limbs
and we used the rest of it for fuel. When the snow began to melt,
father thought it best to leave Salem to find feed for the cattle.
So the first of February found us
again on the road on the last lap of our long journey. The road
was
so covered with wather that it was often impossible to tell whether or
not we were following the road. Wagons would mire down, the
cattle
would scatter and we could only make a few miles a day. It rained
nearly every day. We stopped in Brownsville, where Uncle
Claybourne
had settled. His family all grew up and married and played a
large
part in the development of that part of the courntry. The boys,
Lucerne,
Marshall, Harvey J., Thomas and Sterling Hill, and the girs Anna who
married
Mr. Woody, and Elizabeth who married A.W. Stannard, have all passed to
their last reward, and the third generation is carrying on the work of
the world.
The road over the Calapooia
mountains
was nearly as bad as that over which we had travelled from the Dalles
to
the settlements. One wagon broke down, and we were forced to
leave
it. All the next day we were looking for a sheltered place.
We camped under a big fir tree, built a huge fire and tried to get fed
and dry The next day we spent in camp, and the men repaired and
brought
up the wagaon we had left the day before.
Lou and I had an interesting
experience
one day. Just before we came to Elk Creek near Roseburg we had
loitered
behind the wagons; when we reached the creek, we found that the wagons
had crossed on without us. The water was deep and muddy, and we
hardly
knew what to do. We found a large tree had fallen across the
creek,
and immediately we determined to cross on it. We had two puppies
with us, so I took them over and came back to help Lou, who became so
dizzy
that she declared she could never cross that way. I told here to
get astride the log, and I would keep close so she couldn't see the
water.
When I turned around after reaching her, there were both puppies!
I carried them back and finally we were all across and st arted for the
road. A little way farther we found that we had to cross another
stream. Lou began to cry. Luckily, we found another tree
that
had fallen across the t ream; the top branches reaching over to our
side.
I told Lou that we could climb in the top; and get down on the other
side.
I managed to get the puppies over and Lou followed. We reached
camp
in time to help get supper. Father gave us a lecture, but
no
one knew what a hard time we had had; we simply told them we had
crossed
on a log.
The first of March we reached
Canyonville.
There was a mill there and a few settlers. Father found a little
cabin for mother and us girls, pitched camp there and made us as
comfortable
as possible. Then he and Cicero started with the cattle for the
Rouge
River Valley. Father had been mujch impressed with that valley on
his first trip through it, and he had chosen a place for his
claim.
When he arrived, however, he found that Patrick Dunn and Fred Alberding
had taken up that claim, so father moven to a place a few miles
south.
Soon he had a little cabin erected, some ground broken up, and a garden
planted. Leaving Cicero to care for the cattle and garden, father
started back with a train of pack mules for us at Canyonville, as there
were no roads on from there and we had to leave our wagons.
After our months in camp we were
eager
to finish our journey home. Father put Has and me on a big mare he had
brought across the plains and told us to go ahead to lead the pack
animals.
We had to follow the creek, being sometimes in the rocky bed and
sometimes
on the bank. The pack mules had made steps like stairs as each
had
stepped in the track of the other. The old mare we were riding
would
over-step the distance all the time, and it was very uncomfortable
riding.
when we climbed up the bank it was easier for me, as I was in front,
but
easier for Has when we went down. If you think it was funny, you
just try it. It took us all day to come to a camping
place.
We got a bit to eat, spread out our blankets and slept. I do not
remember of hearing anyone say she was tired as we were filled with the
prospect of coming so soon to our home.
I do not know how many days it took
for us to reach our destination. Every night we had to camp early
so that the mules could find feed. We could not get throufht the
canyon in one day, and one night we had to spend lying on a piece of
canvas
spread on the wet ground. It was early in April when we reached
the
Rogue River Valley. It was a beautiful sight whith wild flowers
growing
everywhere. Along Bear creek there was a rancheree of indians
with
a lot of naked children running around.
At last, April 14, 1853, father said
to us, "Tonight we will be at home." How happy we were and how
long
was that last day. I called to father, "How much further do we
have
to go?" He answered "You will know when you get there."
Along
about sunset father called, "Turn to the left Mary! Turn to the
left!"
The road led along what is now Neal creek and across what was later our
upper farm. So I was glad to obey orders, and we turned, went
around
the hell, and there was our cabin. Cicero was standing in the
clearing
with his back to the road. When I called, he came running eagerly
to meet us. He had spent a lonely time waiting for us. He
had
tried to make some bread and had used a cup of soda. There was an
Indian rancheree where the Walker place is, and his other neighbors
were
farther away.
It would be impossible to tell
of our feeling after our long journey to at last feel that we were at
home.
Iwish I could picture to you the little log cabin nestled under the
shadow
fo the siskiyous with the mighty oaks and pines standing guard and the
beautiful wild flowers nodding us welcome. Words cannot express
the
wild beauty of the place nor our joy in knowing our long journey was
ended.
The cabin itself was a rough
one-room
structure with no windows, a dirt floor, no chairs, no tables -- no
anything.
The first night we lay on our canvasses on the ground. In
contrast
to our comfortable farm home in Tennessee the little cabin was a sorry
spectacle. Mother was heart-broken, thinking of the advantages of
which her daughters were deprived. We began though with a will to
make this new home as attractive as possible. Father made a
table,
stools for us children and a chair for mother. Curtains divided
teh
interior into rooms. We brought dishes out from Salem with us and
a stove also. There was a wonderful soda spring on the place and
the highway to Klamath Falls goes right through the claim where it
leaves
the Pacific Highway about six miles south of Ashland.
There were many things which were
hard
and unpleasant, but mother and we girls took our places side by side
with
husband, father, and brothers and fought the good fight in making a
home
there in the wilderness. Cicero and La Grande went over to Yreka
to work in the mines and that left the rest of us plenty to do.
Father
had an immense garden that year, and we milked forty cows and made
butter
and cheese which we sold to the packers going over to the mines.
Butter brought us one dollar a pound and cheese seventy-five cents.
Our staple foods -- coffee, sugar,
flour and bacon, were shipped from South America to Crescent City, they
sent inland by pack train. Flour cost from fourty to fifty cents
a pound. At Jacksonville we once witnessed a remarkable
transaction
wherein fifty-two gold nuggets were weithed on one side of the scale
and
salt in the other.
When we arrived there were a few men
located in the upper valley. Fred Alberding, Thomas Smith and
Patrick
Dunn had taken donation claims on what are now known as the Houck,
Homes
and Dunn places; Mr. Gibbs, James Russell and H.F. Barron had located
at
what is now the Barron ranch. The latter was then popularly
called
the Mountain House because it was at the base of the Siskiyous where
the
road starts up the steep mountain. Dick Evan's place joined
father's
on the north or what is now known as the Kincaid place. Just
after
crossing the Rogue river we came to the Tevaultes cabin, Merrimans
next,
next came Dr. Coffenes, then Cores, Van Dykes, Newhouse at Eagle
Mills.
I think Helmans, Emerys and Hargadines were all in Ashland. The
fall
of 53 quite an immigration came in, the Myers, Walkers, Wells; Myron
Stearnes
took up a claim near the Lithia Springs and John Murphey had a claim
near
by.
Mother and we three girls were the
only women in the upper part of the valley and were asked to help with
the sewing for the Mountain House. We made bed ticks, sheets,
pillow
slips and then were asked to keep them in condition. "The BOYS" as we
called
them had one white shirt among them, and it was in the wash
often.
Our first summer was a busy one, azs there were many demands upon our
time
and strength aside from the really hard work we were doing.
Mother
was nurse and counselor for all who needed care and sympaty. As
the
little valley began to fill up with other homeseekers, she was called
on
to help welcome the little strangers in these new homes, or to close
the
eyes of loved ones gone still further west.
Yet there were jolly times mingled
with the more somber duties. Our few neighbors, all men, did not
neglect their social duties, and on many Sunday mornings we would awake
to find the fence in front of the cabin lined with those who had come,
somne of them many miles, to see "The Hill Girls," as we were
called.
Father would invite them all in, and we would spend the day cooking a
substantial
meal for them. Many of these men were miners who had been away
from
civilization a long time; the sight of the little home with "women
folks"
appealed to them mightily.
One day Mr. Gibbs brought some
potatoes
and three eggs from the Mountain House and said, "Mary, make me a
little
cake. I'm going to eat with you today." We made the cake;
mother
made some biscuits, and we had a wonderful meal. The potaties
were
about the size of hen eggs, but they were potatoes -- the first we had
seen since leaving Salem. Another time Mr. Gibbs brought us a cat
that had come from Crescent City with the pack train of Mr.
Russell.
That cat was the first one in Southern Oregon. A little later Mr.
Russell brought some chickens to mother, and she was most happy to get
them.
Some young men who ran a pack train
to Yreka invited us girls to attend the Fourth of July celebration that
year. Our Aunt Kelly who lived there wrote that there would be
such
a crowd of miners there at that time that we had better wait a few
days.
A little later the men came with horses for us to ride, and we started
on our pleasure trip of forty miles. We rode Spanish side saddles
covered with raw hide. There was only a trail over the Siskiyous,
and in some places it was so steep that we had trouble in sticking on
our
horses.
We reached Yreka just as the sun was
setting. The streets were filled with miners who were anxious to
see some girls. I believe that Lou, Has and I were the first
girls
to cross the Siskiyous. Aunt Kelly invited some of her friends in
to spend the evening with us. Some of them were fine musicians
and
entertained us delightfully. One man, a jeweler, made all kinds
of
jewelry out of pure gold taken from the mines at Yreka. He asked
Aunt for permission to give us something he had made. He gave Lou
a heavy gold ring and to each Has and I a set of ear rings. He
brought
these over to Aunt's and put them in for us. I have worn mine
ever
since and have never had them out. While there we visited the
print
shop the day the first paper was printed in Yreka. I remember I
got
some of the printer's ink on my dress. It was a pretty taffeta
made
with lots of ruffles on the skirt.
Last updated by William P. Russell on Saturday, 08-Sep-2018 09:40:11 MDT