Mr. Editor:
It
is with pleasure that I will comply with the request of the citizen for
sketches of early settlers of Johnson county, and having been a dweller
in early days in the ancient capital, now the Athens of Iowa, I will
write of myself from the long ago then to the present time.
I
was born in Dundee, Scotland, March 1, 1837. My parents, David and Mary
Henry, came to the United States in the summer of that year, reaching
Cleveland, Ohio, in September. There my father, being a stone cutter
and mason, worked at his trade until 1841, when with his family, he
came to Iowa City, and was employed upon the capitol then in course of
construction. Also the old stone church, of which he was
superintendent, the land office, mechanical academy, and the dwelling
house of George Andrews on Iowa Avenue. |  |
 | Took up a Claim
Having taken up a claim for purchased the
claim of John D. Able and William Murdock to all of sections four west
of the Iowa river and a contiguous claim of 300 acres, my father and
William Kemp in the fall of 1841, built their cabins there. Kemp's
cabin was a half mile east of ours and near the west line of the city
park. There was very heavy timber along the river which was the home of
herds of deer, great flocks of wild turkeys and wolves without number.
In the river was the finest of fish in fabulous quantities.
Our
cabin was a double one, the space of twelve feet between them was
enclosed with clap-boards and all were roofed with split clapboards. In
one room was a great fire place. In front of the cabin the ground was
cleared and there were our fields of corn, wheat, potatoes, pumpkins
and melons. Our home was on the south side of the river and about half
way between the Terril mill and the Butler mill which were then being
built.
The Kemp Family
Our nearest neighbor was Mr. Kemp,
a Scotchman. He died in 1844, leaving a widow and a very helpless
family. Some years later his wife married a Mr. Stratford, who George
Andrews pronounced to be the laziest man in Iowa.
Early Stock raising
It
was not long after we moved into our cabin before we had a few cows and
oxen, a herd of swine and a fine flock of turkeys and chickens and a few long wooled sheep. We sold |
butter in town for ten cents per pound,
eggs for five cents per dozen, dressed pork for two dollars per
hundred. For the first few years our bread was made from corn meal, but
wheat flour soon became plentiful and cheap.
Threshed With a Flail
For
many years corn, wheat, oats and labor had but little value. My father
and Billy Gilaspy were good hands to thresh with a flail and in winter
when work in town was stopped they used to thresh for farmers for
seventy-five cents a day. Money was not plenty.
One of the pictures impressed upon my memory is of the Indians sleeping around our fire place in cold or stormy weather.
The
Indians tanned some deer skins for us and mother made for brother
George and myself buckskin breeches and forbade us going to the river
or getting our new pants wet. But in those days the gar fish were
so plentiful that they lay in schools among the drift wood along the
river banks, and were so tame that one could pick them up with the
hands. George and I were in the habit of playing with them and could
not resist the temptation of having some sport with the long nosed
fish. So to the river we went, had plenty of fun and got our
buckskin trousers good and wet, and when they began to dry in the sun
the waistbands began to shrink downwards and the legs to shrink upwards
until they met around our hips, forming a very tight and uncomfortable
breech cloth. Mother looked us over with sorrow. She seldom punished us
but the consequences of our disobedience were so grave she said father
would have to settle with us.
Now mother's whippings were not
much dreaded but one from father gave us much to fear. Night came
and George retired early but I sought safety in a pile of clap boards.
Father came home and, learning of our transgression, prepared a switch
and went to our room and on George failing to tell where I was, which
he could not do, he gave him a shipping and then went to Mr. Kemp's to
fine me. Failing in that, he returned and retired, and when all was
still I stole in and to bed. The next morning the incident seemed to be
forgotten by all but poor George, who had paid the penalty for both of
us.
But more pleasant things come to memory as I write. One
morning we were awakened by a great commotion among the fowls. We
discovered that a flock of wild turkeys had entered the yard and were
fighting with our tame ones. I coaxed father to let me shoot at
them, and taking the old flint-lock gun I crept to the corner of the
cabin and resting the gun on one of the corner logs I took good aim and
fired, one big turkey dropped and when the gun was loaded I started
after the flock and only went a few steps when I found a second fine
large bird that I had killed with my first shot. A single shot
had gone clear through his head. As this was the first time I had ever
fired off a gun, I considered that I was the champion hunter of the
settlement.
A Boy's Prowess
But I held the belt but a
short time. Brother George was then eight years old. He took the
gun and went to the river thinking to shoot a duck. In a short time he
came running home, shouting that he had shot a deer. Doubting his
story, he guided us to the spot and there, sure enough, we found a
splendid deer just over the fence and not more than thirty feet from
where George stood when he fired the lucky shot. Our pleasure as
we carried home the prize was great and I feel its tingle yet.
A Visit to Butler's
An
incident of my boyhood occurring when I was seven years old, brings to
my mind the pleasant visits I frequently made to the home of that
prince of pioneers, Walter Butler. Again with Mary, Newt, Jack and Van,
I stroll among the groves of Clear creek and over the flower clad
hills, or sit upon the banks and watch the men as they build the dam
and lay the foundation for the first great manufacturing enterprise in
Johnson county.
Catching Guinea Pigs
One one of my visits
to Mr. Butler's she showed me a China pig and told me if I would catch
it I could take it home and have it for my own. I was very fat;
so was the pig. The race was about even. I finally fell on the pig and
held it fast. The task of getting my prize home as it weighed
twenty sounds, and I had to carry it in my arms, was a hard one,
but in time I completed it, turned my pig loose in the yard and it
crawled under a hay stack and died. Thus ended my first ownership
of livestock.
Some Boyhood Sorrows
In the pages of my
boyhood as in those of later years are many lines of sorrow. In
the spring of 1848, my father was caught in a heavy storm of rain and
sleet while returning home from the mill and taking a severe cold was
attacked with pneumonia. Mother, becoming alarmed, told me to
cross the river on the day, wake up Mr. Terril, and ask him to go with
me to town for a doctor. The night was very dark, the water was running
over the mill dam and I had to crawl over it on my hands and knees.
Getting
to the mill, I found Mr. Terril's door and awoke him but he refused to
go with me to town and I made my way alone and reaching Swan's hotel a
stranger went with me to the office of Dr. Bliss. The doctor said
he would go and see my father the next day. I made my way home,
hastened by the howling of the wolves in the timber all about me.
Father grew worse and died on May 4, 1848 at the age of 38 years.
Recovering Stolen Property
Gloomy
years followed father's death. Our crops were several times
destroyed and our fences washed away by high water. A man employed by
Mr. Terril to burn lime hauled my rails to his kiln to burn. I
became desperate and prepared a crooked stick to look like a pistol,
and went after my rails. The man ordered me off and I drew my wooden
gun and told him I would shoot. He let me alone and I hauled back
my rails and rebuilt our fences. I never quite forgave Mr. Terril
for refusing to go with me for the doctor and later claiming my rails.
The
hardships of the years succeeding my father's death were great, in
summer's heat and winter's storm, the battle for a living was a dreary
struggle. As I remember those were democratic times. No
money and low prices for everything. I hauled stone for the
Terrill dam with my oxen for twenty-five cents a day to get money for
clothing and books so we could go to school. On the hill some
distance south of the Fletcher residence stood a small cabin called
the McGuire cabin. There when I had no work, I went to
school to Miss Davis, who with her sister, we called the big Davis
girls. They were relatives of Mrs. Able Stevens.
Some Early Schools
Later
a Mr. Crandall kept a hotel in the old Dupont house that stood in the
flat ground south of the Clear Creek bridge. His daughter kept
school in one of the rooms of the house, and I went to school to her
for a time. The sandy road in front of the house was an old
Indian race track and in early years was the racing ground for all the
fast horses of the county. My mother moved into the city in 1851.
My brother and myself worked upon the farm and at odd jobs and I
went to school awhile in the old Tremont house. Mr. Fiske was the
teacher. I also went to school to Dr. Reynolds and Mr. Lathrop. I
purchased a scholarship in the commercial school of Schrock and Houk
and after spending six weeks in that institution, I made up my mind
that I would take G Greeley's advice and "go west."
Going West
My
mother said that if I would get out the rails and build a good eight
rail take and rider fence around block or out lot six in the city she
would consent to my going to California when the fence was completed. I
prepared for the journey and on May 1, 1853, in company with John
Gardner, his wife and sons, Aaron, Lucien, William, Steven and
Benjamin, with three ox teams, four horses and a carriage and Doc Ward,
his wife and little boy; George Mencer, Silas Warren, Levi Parks and
Marion Baxter with two teams, I started for California. Reaching
Council Bluffs, we crossed the Missouri river on a steam boat that was
going up the river, and from that time we saw no white settlements
until we reached our destination.
Bothered By Indians
We
followed the Platte river into the Rocky mountains. The Indians
were then the undisputed owners and the only human occupants of the
country through which we passed. They gave us much trouble,
trying to steal our horses which they finally accomplished.
Our many adventures and mishaps, if told, would make a long
volume. In going through the Black Hills we crossed a spur named
in our guide book "The Devil's Back Bone." After descending
nearly a mile we reached the river and found there was no grass for our
starving teams on our side of the stream while it was plenty on the
opposite side. We swam our horses and oxen over to let them have a good
feed and rest.
A Hard Day's Work
When we were ready to
resume our journey two of the Gardner boys, Parks and myself, swam the
river to bring the stock to camp. At that point, the stream was
about one hundred yards wide. The water was deep and very cold and
after finding the stock we worked all day to force them to swim over to
camp. As we were entirely naked and barefoot and the ground full of
sand burs and Cactus thorns, by night our feet were full of thorns, our
flesh blistered with the burning sun, and we had entirely failed to
force the stock to swim the stream, we concluded to cover ourselves
with the warm sand and rest until morning and try again next day.
But as night came on it got very cold and we had to swim over to
the camp in the darkness. In the morning we converted a wagon box
into a boat and taking bridles we again crossed the river, soon caught
the horses and mounting them we forced the oxen into the stream and to
camp. But our experience was one which left us with very sore feet and
backs for a long time. This was but one of very many lessons we
learned by painful experience during our long journey.
Our route
was along the south side of Snake river to a point just above the
Salmon falls. Here we crossed to the north side of Snake river,
using our wagon boxes for boats and swimming the live stock and kept
along the north and east side of the river to old Fort Boice above the
junction of Boice and Snake rivers. There we were joined by several
other trains and had to wait sometime.
Unique Indian Battle
The
man who kept the ferry at that point told us that two bands of Indians
were gathering on the west side of the river to fight and it would be
very dangerous to cross until the fight was over. One of the
hostile tribes was Snake Indians having about three hundred lodges.
The other was made up of Cayuse and other Coast tribes of about
the same number. Both parties were camped plain view of us.
The Coast Indians had fat sleek ponies and were well armed.
The Snakes were not so well equipped and kept close in their
lodges. At last the Cayuses mounted their ponies and forming a
circle around the Snake lodges and about two hundred yards distant from
them they galloped about them at full speed yelling and shooting up in
the air. They finally halted, keeping the Snakes within the
circle. The Snake chief came from his tent, mounted his pony and rushed
full gallop at the Cayuse chief who met him half way. The only garment
they wore was a breech cloth and both were armed with a heavy quirt, or
Indian whip. They began to whip each other and kept at it for an
hour when the Snake retreated and tumbled over the pony's head into his
tent to avoid the fearful blows of the Cayuse. The
galloping, shooting and yelling was resumed until the Snake chief came
out again and was again defeated and lashed clear to his tent
door. That settled the dispute and the Snakes were whipped.
The victors and the vanquished soon broke camp and disappeared in
the forest and mountains.
Lost for Two Months
We crossed
Snake river into Oregon and shaped our course for the head waters of
Willamette river, so as to cross the C Cascade mountains south of the
Three Sisters. It was a new route; we ran out of provisions and
were lost for two months, the people on the coast learning that an
emigrant train was lost on the trail, sent an expedition in search of
us and they found us on the head waters of Des Chutes river. We
had killed and eaten eight of our oxen and two of our horses and that
meat was all we had to eat. Having no salt the feverish meat of
the starving animals made us all sick. The relief train brought
enough provisions to keep us to the end of our trip and we began to
climb the Cascade mountains, leaving two of our party.
When we
found we were lost and our provisions getting low we sent Levi Parks
and Aaron Gardner with three horses to the settlements for
provisions and help. They had not returned to us or been heard of
by the settlers when the relief train reached us and we thought they
were dead.
Living Skeletons
The journey over the Cascades
was a long and hard one. As our wagons broke down we made them
into carts and the women had to drive the teams as the men were nearly
all so weakened by starvation and disease that they could not walk.
We finally reached the town of Eugene in western Oregon, our
clothes worn to tatters, a group of living skeletons. We had been six
months on the weary journey but now were in a land of comfort and
plenty.
Indian Love and Hate
Of the party Lucien Gardner
was shot through the head by the Indian while sleeping before his camp
fire on Rogue river. Aaron Gardner and Levi Parks, whom we had
supposed to be dead, came into Eugene some time after we got there.
After they started for aid they made their way through the Blue
mountains and to the foot of the Cascade mountains and having eaten
their horses, their clothing gone, with bodies covered with wounds made
by the rocks and thorns and dying of hunger and thirst, they gave us up
and were found by Indians who took them to their lodges, clothed, fed
and nursed them back to health and took them to the settlements in the
Grand Ronde valley, from where they made their way, much to our joy, to
Eugene City.
Back Eastward Again
Two days after we
reached Eugene I hired to Henry Owens to herd stock for one year.
In the fall of 1854, I took a drove of fat cattle to Yreka for
him and concluded to go mining for gold at that place. In May,
1855, a letter from my mother informed me of the death of my brother,
George, and that she wished me to come home. Taking a pack train,
I went to San F Francisco. There I took the steamer, Golden Age,
for Panama. The vessel struck a reef and sank and with my fellow
passengers, 200 in number, I was landed upon an island two hundred
miles north of Panama. Two days after the sister steamer of the
sunken vessel, the Golden Gate, took us off and turning back took us to
Panama. As she had eighteen hundred passengers bound for San
Francisco when she took us off the island, things were rather crowded.
My First Railway
When
we reached Panama the rail road was just completed across the Isthmus.
It was the first railroad I had ever seen. Getting tickets
for Aspinwall we took the cars at four p.m. and by walking and
pushing the cars part of the time we reached the summit sixteen miles
in the morning at three o'clock. We made the next sixteen miles
in much less time. At Aspinwall I took a steamer for New Orleans,
and thence by steamboat to Muscatine. Above Keokuk the bot got
fast on a sand bar and changing to another boat I continued my
journey. At Muscatine, I took the stage and was soon at home.
The Panama rail road was the first I had ever seen.
I
bought a team, hired a man to drive it, and I went to work for Frank
Thompson and Jemerson cutting stone for one of the university buildings
and the court house. In 1857, I went to Cleveland, Ohio, worked
at stone cutting for my uncle during the year.
Off West Again
Returning
to Iowa City I worked at my trade until the spring of 1859 when with
William Lee, Hugh Crawford and Will Crawford, I left the city with
three yoke of oxen bound for Pike's Peak. We agreed before
starting that if the Peak was a failure we would go on to California.
When we got to Council Bluffs the reports from Pikes Peak were so
bad that the Crawford boys pulled out and returned to the city.
Lee joining wwith George Choat drove on for a few days when they
turned about and started for home. This left me in the Bluffs
with a yoke of oxen and a log chain. There I met James McCrory
and Mad Carson on their way to settle in Kansas, but I persuaded them
to join me and go to California. We joined teams and made the trip to
my old stamping grounds, Yreka. Frank Connelly, Henry Brown, Gus
Clark and Harry Brooks were with us.
Got Mining Claim
When
we reached Yreka we traded our teams for a mining claim, subsequently
Henry Brown and myself bought out the other partners. I continued
mining for seven years during which time I owned many claims. I
spent one winter, that of 1863, in Carson and Virginia cities. In
the fall of 1866, I started for home by the way of Nicaragua route.
Home by Nicaragua
Taking
a steamer at San Francisco, we were landed on the beach near the upper
end of the lake where we found a train of saddle mules ready for us.
Mounting the mules we rode about twelve miles inland to a small
town on the west shore of Lake Nicarauga. From there we took a steamer
to New York City and from there, after visiting Niagara Falls, I came
home.
An Express Messenger
After I had rested up and
visited old friends, I went to Keokuk with James Andrews and he
installed me as Messenger of the Merchants Union Express Co., and gave
me the run on the river from Keokuk to St. Louis.
In the spring
of 1867 I went to Omaha and worked at stone cutting. Learning of
the discovery of gold mines at Elizabethtown, New Mexico, I concluded
to again try my luck in the mines, and going to Cheyenne by rail and
from there by stage to Trinidad, Colorado, where I met many returning
fromo the new mines and they informed me that the mines were all staked
out and taken up and the ground so hard frozen that no work could be
done until spring. I made up my mind to locate at Trinidad and did not
visit the mines in New Mexico until ten years later when I made two
trips through there while hunting a thief who had stolen one of my
horses. On my second trip I caught the thief and put him in jail
at Las Vegas. He escaped and I learned he was later caught and
hung, for which I was thankful. In my thief hunt I explored the Pecos
river.
In Trinidad, Col., I ran a flour mill two years and
raised hogs which I sold for twelve cents per pound. Then I went
into cattle raising for six years and traded my cattle for property in
Trinidad and began constructing buildings by contract; also doing sewer
work, bridges and other public work. I have been contracting here
for thirty-five years, during which time I have built many of the
business blocks and many of the dwelling houses in the city and done
much other construction of various kinds.
I was the first mason
and stone cutter to locate here. I am now the longest resident of
the city, have been a member of the City Council and have held other
small offices, was once a candidate for County Assessor and was beaten
by the Mexican democrats and then I quit political life for good.
In
September 1906, I made my third trip to California via the Union
Pacific. I visited Humbolt, Nevada, Sacramento and Yereka, where
long years ago I dug for gold. The mines were overgrown with
timber and I found but two persons that I knew in early days.
From
there I went to San Francisco and spent several days looking over the
undescribable ruin of that ill fated city. From there went
to Los Angeles and after a visit with my sister, I went to Sonora, in
old Mexico and from thence home.
Married in 1869
In 1869
I married Miss Martha Walker of Trinidad. By this marriage I had
two daughters, now married, one living in Waco, Texas, the other in
Spokane, Washington. My wife dying in 1879, in 1880 I was married
a second time, to Miss Virginia Hartsock of Iowa City. Of this
union I have one daughter, married and living at Tulsa, Oklahoma and a
son at home with me. My second wife died in 1892.
My
home life has always been pleasant except as the cold hand of death has
invaded it and torn from my domestic circle many who were near and
dear to me. And now my memory takes me to the home of my
childhood and revives the joys and sorrows of all who in early times
sought homes in the garden spot of peerless Iowa, good old Johnson
county.
DAVID HENRY
Source: Iowa City Press-Citizen, 28 Dec 1908, pg. 5. His photo is from pg. 1 More On David Henry
An interesting item was omitted from
the sketch of David Henry, given herein a short time ago. The cost of
his two trips home from California is of interest for comparison with
the cost of traveling at the present time. Starting from Yreka, he went
to Crescent City, riding a mule, for the use of which he paid $20. From
there to San Francisco, he paid $25 for passage on a Coast steamer.
From San Francisco to New Orleans the fare was $300. From New Orleans
to Muscatine the fare was $35. From Muscatine the fare was $2.50,
making the fare from Yreka, California to Iowa City in 1855, by way of
Panama, $382.50.
In 1866 Mr. Henry came home from Yreka by the
Nicaragua route. From Yreka to San Francisco by stage and steamer, the
fare was $50. From San Francisco to New York the fare was $250. From
New York to Iowa City, the fare was $40 making the fare by this route
$340.00. (Source: Iowa City Press Citizen, 18 Jan 1909, pg. 6)
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