Harrison County Iowa Genealogy

WHEN THE WILDWOOD WAS IN FLOWER

By G. Smith Stanton

1905


 

CHAPTER X

THE PLAINS AND THE ROCKIES

In the schooldays of my boyhood I learned of the Great American Desert, but little did I think then that I would ever experience its discomforts. It required courage almost beyond the human frame to cover the trail to Denver and Santa Fe. Toiling along months at a time, urging slow-moving ox teams through the hot, blinding sandstorms by day and guarding your all from the Indians by night was enough to dethrone one's reason. I had seen strong men, who had endured nmny a hardship, crying like children at the trials around and before them. Nature, not satisfied with afflicting us with the real, would often mock us with the unreal. Man and beast perishing from thirst would see before them the mirage of some shady stream, seemingly a short distance away. The dumb brute, ignorant of the deception, would bolt toward the phantom, often following it to their death. Beautiful cities would appear above the horizon as if to lure us on, then, like the hopes of this life, soon faded away. I have often heard of the sufferings of the soldiers on the plains, but their life was clover to that of the government trains, and still the hardships of the government trains, composed of men, was a mere bagatelle to that of the immigrants with their women and children. Tluey were the unprotected ones who invited the attack of the Indians.

Omaha
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The United States Government and those who to-day are enjoying the benefits of the plains and the Rockies, owe a debt to the immigrants of the sixties which they can never repay. On those long, weary tugs from Omaha to Denver it was a great relief, at least to me, when the Rockies came in sight. Notwithstanding when first seen they were over a hundred miles away, it was a satisfaction to know that vour goal was stationarv and always in view, and ere long your journey would be at an end, although at times, after days of travel. Pike's Peak and its companions seemed to be as far away as when first sighted.

There was nothing slow about building railroads over the plains; if they didn't build several miles between meals they considered it poor progress. For Innidreds of miles there were neither cuts nor fills. The surveyors would go ahead and stake out a strip the required width, furrows along each side of the stakes were plowcxi, ties would be laid between the furrowwl strip, and rails spiked down, and the construction cars run thereon. At the time the Pacific Railroad bills were before Congress there were opponents to the bills, of course, as there is to everything. If a balloon came sailing over some communities, dropping tventy-dollar gold pieces, there are people who would try to shoot the aeronaut for his audacity. According to the Congressional Globe, the discussion over the Pacific Railroad bills showed what poor prophets we mortals be. Every speaker who opposed the bills dwelt long and earnestly on what the Indians would do. They claimed that on account of the Indians the road could not be built, unless under the protection of troops, and after the road was constructed the Indians would tear up the track unless it was guarded the whole length. What a godsend it is that there are people who cannot be persuaded by scarecrows. If not, America would still be a wilderness.

What a God-forsaken country was western Kansas and Nebraska prior to the eighties. We often hear the expression "land poor," but I never realized what it meant until I "bullwhacked" over the sandy desert from Omaha to Denver. They tell a story of a land transaction in western Nebraska which will give the reader an amusing illustration of "land poor." On the construction of the Union Pacific Railroad immigrants came pouring into Nebraska on the strength of the alluring literature issued by that company. If the ''press agent" of the Union Pacific didn't get a good salary, he certainly deserved it. The fellow was lucky to escape with his life from disappointed immigrants. The land transaction I refer to was as follows: among others, a nmn from Illinois came to Nebraska with his family to locate on government land, but was unable to find any which suited him. He was referred to a man who was "land poor." The Sucker had no money he could spare, but he had an extra span of mules and offered them to the Nebraskan for two hundred acres, and the offer was accepted. The necessary papers in the transaction were drawn up. A few days afterward as the immigrant was examining the papers he discovered that besides the two hnndred acres, the "poor land" man had slipped in two hnndred acres more.

How interesting it was to witness the birth and development of a railroad town on the frontier! The first intimation that a certain spot was to become a town on the railroad was when some business-looking individual came talking down the line where the surveyors had driven their stakes far in advance of construction, and entered into negotiations with the owner of the desired tract for its purchase. There was never any difficulty closing the deal, as the owner was generally offered more money than he ever expected to see. The surveyors came next and staked out the future metropolis. As the sleepers and rails were laid along the grade a siding was run out. The next arrival was a box car, with a stovepipe sticking out of it, which was run onto the siding. That was the temporary depot and the home of the railroad agent. Talk about Tsars, Kings and high potentates generally, that agent was a combination of them all. His say was final; there was no appeal from him. He was the wonder of far and near. People used to come for miles to look at him. That blue cap with that gold band set the little country girls wild. The boys thought it an honor to be kicked out of the box car by him. If you wanted to ask him about anything, if you knew what was good for you, be far away or behind something.

The next adjunct to the new town were two more box cars, one furnished with bunks and the other a dining car. They were for the use of the men who were to build the depot and freight house. Now, my dear reader, for Heaven's sake don't think that when I say dining car I mean the palatial one of to-day, for, if you had seen the inside of that box car, and the cook, and what he cooked, and the way he cooked it, a yoke of oxen could not have pulled you into that car for a meal, and if you had seen the bunks and graybacks in the other, when the time came to "Rock me to sleep, mother," you would have gone out on the prairie and lain down in the grass. As the first freight train arrived the rush was on. The agent was busy selling lots and the trainmen side-tracking carloads of lumber, and the enthusiastic citizens packing it on their backs to their respective locations. One enterprising citizen was putting up an eating shed, another a hotel, another a general store, another a grain and agricultural house, four or five more each building a saloon; in fact, nearly all lines of business were represented. Through the whole twenty-four hours saws and hammers were resounding over the prairie. The buildings were generally one-story affairs. Everybody was trying to get established first. It was all bustle, hurrah and get there. The next big gun to appear on the scene was a post office inspector. Everybody was glad when the government official arrived, not only because he came to establish a post office, but it was a satisfaction to know that a bigger dog than that railroad agent had come to town.

The greatest event that ever happened in the town was the arrival of the first woman. Men were invariablv the first comers to a new Western town. The hotel man soon found it necessary to bring his family, and the date of their arrival was noised around among the boarders. Around the town the news spread like a prairie fire, and all agreed that such an event required some action. It was decided that the whole town should be at the depot and escort the mother and her two children - the landlord's family - to their home. A committee was appointed to make the necessary arrangements. The railroad agent was appointed chairman. They sent for a couple of fifes and a drum and hired a farmer's team and wagon. The agent was appointed a connnittee of one to escort the lady from the train to the wagon. The agent also agreed to act as drum major and lead the procession. As the agent was the only one in town who hail a decent suit of clothes, there was no objection to his conspicuousness.

The long-looked-for train arrived with its precious freight. The agent escorted the astonished mother to the wagon decked out in the flowers of the wild, the father following, with the two children and a big St. Bernard dog - the first dog in the town. The dog did not seem to relish the close proximity of the agent to his mistress, and tried to bite him. The dog's failure to reach the agent was a keen disappointment to the crowd. The procession started. First came the railroad agent with his blue suit, twirling a broom as a baton. Next came the drum corps, two fifes and a drum, then the wagon, the father and driver on the first seat, the mother and two children on the back seat, and the dog occupying the remaining space. Then came the citizens afoot, two abreast. The procession marched through the streets, the parents laughing, the children crying, the dog barking, and the crowd singing appropriate songs. At the hotel the crowd dispersed after giving three cheers for the happy parents, the children and the dog. The arrival of a woman and children in town changed the whole atmosphere of the place. The men were put on their good behavior, and with the arrival of other women and children and more dogs the skirmish line of civilization had struck the town.

The evening train of the next day brought an important adjunct to the community. As the train rolled in there alighted therefrom a "lean and hungry Cassius," tall and angular, with long hair and an unkempt appearance, and an intelligent cast of countenance withal. He appropriated the first dry goods box he could lay his hands on and started for the public square. Mounting the box he doffed his hat, ran his hands through his flowing locks, wildly swung his arms and opened up with a thrilling voice. The gathering crowd soon learned that a ''pusher of the quil" was among them. He announced that he was a newspaper man and that he would start a paper, furnishing the brains if the town would furnish the money. He spoke of the great advantage a newspaper was to a town. He was asked by one of the citizens the amount of money required to swing the thing, and the answer was $250. As the newcomer's arguments were convincing, the amount was raised then and there, and ere the Sun set on another Saturday night the "Prairie Banner'' was unfurled o'er the uncertain sea of journalism, a sea whose coast line is strewn with many a wreck. The saying of Timothy Titcomb that "the law had undoubtedly spoilt many a good farmer" - which remark I take as a personal affront - might truthfully apply to other avocations.

Professional men came dropping into town, a school and church were erected, the town was incorporated and a Mayor and other officers elected, streets graded, sidewalks laid and trees set out. The one and a half story wooden buildings gave way to brick blocks, a public hall was erected, the place was booked as a one-night stand by the theatrical profession, a band was organized, secret societies installed, and the town that started from a box car and a stovepipe on a siding eventually grew to a flourishing municipality, giving an illustration of the grit and enterprise of the American race.

While I was holding down the chair of the chief executive office of the city of Woodbine, the great strike at Leadville, Colorado, had been made on Fryer's Hill, and I and one of the solid citizens of the town tliought we would take a run out there and look the situation over. The Union Pacilic Kailroad had been built, and I found the trip from Omaha to Denver somewhat different than I did years liefore, when I was associated with Mr. Bosler, a government contractor. There is a big difference between crossing the hot sands of the desert in a railroad train and following a slow-moving ox team, and at night a berth in a sleeping-car is much more preferable to lying under a wagon with a gun as a bedfellow, with one eye open trying to figure out whether that object you thought you saw was simply the waving of the grass or some sneaking Indian. I thought I had seen a frontier town when I struck Boone. But Boone was not in the same class with Leadville.

What a restless race is the American! In my life on the plains I saw railroads projected and built to isolated places over dreary wastes, yet the cars were crowded with Americans, many of whom for the life of them couldn't tell where they were going or what for. If they would build a railroad to the infernal regions, the cars would no doubt be full of Americans, taking their chances on "beating the devil around the bush."

The Denver and Rio Grande Railroad had reached Leadville, and on the morning of the third day we arrived. Leadville is situated on what was once known as California Gulch, one of the richest placer mining deposits in the world. Little did the old miners know as they washed the gold from the sand in California Gulch that the hills which looked down upon them contained as rich ore as the Rockies possessed. They tell the story, and seem willing to swear to it, how the rich mineral deposits of Leadville were unearthed. Miners are constantly being grub-staked to seek new discoveries. A poor miner by the name of Fryer and a companion were grub-staked and started off from California Gulch for the Mosquito Range. Among other things they took along was a jug of whiskey. They had gone but a short distance when they concluded they would stop and sample the whiskey to see if it was worth carrying. The result was they never left the spot until the whiskey was consumed. The wliskey gone, they conldn't see any object in going farther, so they proposed to dig a hole in Mother Earth right then and there, with the result that they exposed the carbonates that made Fryer's Hill at Leadville known the world over as one of the richest mining strikes.

While we were in Leadville we attended a political meeting and saw a candidate swing a crowd by a trick I never saw before nor expect to see again. The miners' vote was all-important, and as the Leadville district went, so went the State. The opposing candidate had been there a fortnight before and it seemed to be the opinion that he had corraled the mining vote. It was reported that the candidate who I heard, said, as he left Denver, that he had a sure scheme to win the miners' vote if he were given the opportunity to work it, and it seemed he had, but no one would have believed it a winner if he had known what it was beforehand. The miners never did take much stock in politics, so the candidate's reception was rather a chilly one. The fellow stood six feet in his stockings and was built in proportion; was a good speaker, told some funny stories, and altogether made a very convincing speech. But one could see that the miners were not over-enthusiastic. After he finished he asked if anybody wanted to ask any questions. Some "butter-in," fresh from the East, arose to ask a question, and the candidate requested him to come on to the platform. The fellow obeyed and propounded a simple question. The words had no sooner left his mouth than the candidate, who had walked over to where he was, hit the fellow a blow in the face, knocking him head over heels off the platform. We all looked on in utter amazement. There was a dead silence, broken by the candidate walking to the foot-lights and smilingly inquiring if there was anybody else who wished to ask any questions. In a moment the miners were on their feet, cheering like mad and yelling at the top of their voices: "You are the kind of a man we want." They rushed on to the platform, boosted the fellow on to their shoulders and paraded all over town with him. He won the miners' vote.

A daily sight and a very amusing one was the arrival and departure of the jack trains to and from the mines on the mountains. They brought ore down, and everything used in the mines above they packed back. The loads they carried up tlue mountainside were simply astonishing. They were very small animals and seeminiily docile. They had no harness on them of any kind, except a wooden piece, like a saw-buck, girded to their backs. To the saw-bucks the loads were attached. A train consisting of seventeen jacks was  loaded one day in front of the hotel where I was stopping; two were loaded each with a barrel of kerosene and the othes with 16-foot planks. The kerosene barrels were tied on the saw-bucks and were as large as the jack. A plank was fastened on each side of the jacks, extending four feet in front and about six behind. We watched them with a glass as they held to the mountain trail. A jack train is absolutely necessary to the mines on the steep isolated mountains. All the jacks ask in return is a place to roll over and permission to emit an occasional bray. Not much recompense for their services! There is no more faithful animal to man than the horse species, yet how cruelly they are often treated. There is no more philanthropic work than to aid and assist those societies in the great cities which have for their aim the protection of those toiling dumb brutes, who cannot express their wants, and who one often sees fall by the wayside through the cruelty and neglect of their masters.

Chapter 9 -- Chapter 11