Genealogy of Patty Rose
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| Notes for Bessie STANSFIELD | ||||||||||
| - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - died in the "Great Blizzard" [ref 14] - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Northville, DAK Feb 1, 1887 Dear Libbie, It is now quite a while since I received your letter, but you all heard from me when I wrote to Sam; now that he is away from home I will write to you, hoping the letter will have better luck in finding you than the last one had. We are having very cold winter weather and we hardly ever venture out except to Sunday School. The young people have organized a Debating Club at the school-house and John goes to it almost every Tuesday evening. He says they have a real nice time. News seems to be rather scarce so I guess I will tell you about my first Christmas in Dakota. One Christmas Eve we had a tree at our Sunday School. The tree was not an evergreen but we covered it with strings of pop-corn, and presents, so that it looked real pretty I think the presents looked nicer than they would have done on an evergreen. John and his friend Charlie Elsom went to the Jim ricer for the tree. I spent Christmas Day at home and at night we went to Northville where they had a pyramid. It looked prettier than any Christmas Tree I ever saw. Who teaches your S.S. class now? I heard Carrie was married and living in Elroy. I attended a Teacher's Institute held at Redfield this winter. It lasted one week and there were 135 Spink Co. teachers in attendance. The conductor was Gen. Beadle, formerly territorial sup't. We had a real nice time. When you write you must tell me all the news. I like to hear about people I have known in Ironton. I think it is a very common idea, that when a person has heard the news, he thinks everybody else knows them too. Please give my love to Uncle Martin and Cecil and Uncle Sam's family. How does Aunt Mary like Kansas? She ought to go and see Susie, didn't she? - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Newspaper article by Charles Cleveland: With each recurring January 12, old times recall tragic adventures of that distant January 12, 1888, when what is probably the greatest blizzard that ever swept across the prairies of the virgin west raced down from the frozen northland transforming a beautiful sunshiny winter day into a day of debacle and tragedy. Of all the harrowing experiences of the South Dakota pioneers January 12, 1888, stands grimly out. Even men and women now who were small children when this great blizzard buried the primitive homesteads in its chillings g mantle still remember it vividly. For example, the reference to the death of the school teacher, Miss Bessie Stansfield, near Northville in John Firely's interesting account of the storm which appeared in last night's Evening News, brought home to Charles M. Cleveland of this city, the part he played in the sad adventure which led to the death of this courageous pioneer school teacher who gave her life seeking fuel to keep her scholars warm through the long and terrible night in the little sod schoolhouse at a point called Prairieville, located between Northville and Athol in Spink County. We all assembled at school that beautiful day little thinking of the tragedy that was to visit us, nor dreaming that we would have to remain in the school house for nearly two days and one night with merely the food contained in our dinner pails and scarcely any fuel to keep us warm. Early in the first night, we ran out of fuel, and Miss Stansfield, to whose death Mr. Firey referred in his account in yesterday's News, volunteered to get some from where it was stacked a short distance from the school house, if we would stand in the doorway holding one end of a rope, the other end of which she tied about her body. For some unaccountable reason, the rope became loosened from her body, and possibly she went some distance before she became aware of it. At any rate, she was lost, and as soon as we discovered the fact, we made a chain using the rope as a line and tried to locate her, calling at intervals, although our voices were lost in the howl and roar of the storm. Our efforts were useless, however, and leaderless, we huddled through the long night in the dark, the fine flour-like snow even sifted through the sods which composed the walls of the schoolhouse. We were not rescued until late the following day. My father in his anxiety had attempted to make the trip, but was forced to turn back. Mrs. Firey's allusion to the fact that the snow sifted through clothing was not overdrawn in the least, as it was the finest powdery snow I have ever seen and seemed to be able to sift through any place the same as air. We found the body of our brave school teacher, Bessie Stansfield, buried in the drifts about 25 yards from the school house two days after we were rescued. This is the most poignant tragedy in all my boyhood experience. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - picture - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - | ||||||||||
| Last Modified 9 Oct 2004 | Created 4 Jan 2005 |