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Shelby County |
Home 1915 History Index |
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Shelby County |
Home 1915 History Index |
CHAPTER VIII - REMINISCENCES OF THE PIONEERS (CONT'D)
[The following very interesting story I take from the Shelby Coutny Republican, being furnished by Henry Custer, now a resident of Harlan, and one of the few men yet living who knew Shelby county in the early fifties—-EDITOR.]
VIVID STORY OF AN OLD-TIME BLIZZARD.
Henry Custer, of this city, has lived in Shelby county continuously since 1856, perhaps for a few years earlier than that. He has lived an active life until a few years ago upon the farm near town, and he knows what the weather has been quite as well as any farmer could know it. He also possesses a good memory and a ready tongue, and can tell what he knows most entertainingly.
Making a call at this office, Saturday, and the extreme cold weather suggesting the subject, Mr. Custer related a few of his experiences with the cold weather of former days. He asserted it to be a fact that old-time winters were much more severe than they have been in recent years. He claims to have seen snowfall aggregate four feet upon the level all over this country—that is, as long as it remained level. But the high winds of winter drove the snow into huge drifts, wherever there was a grove or a building for it to lodge behind; but as there were few buildings or groves in an early day, the drifting snow settled in the valleys, and he has seen all the lesser valleys drifted full, so that the country appeared to be almost flat. He has also seen the mercury down to fifty degrees below zero right here in old Shelby county. He related one serious incident that happed to himself and Uncle Jimmy Long in the severe winter of 1856. Uncle Jimmy Long was the pioneer resident of this locality who laid out that part of Harlan which lies upon high ground and is now the principal part of the city. Every resident has heard of him. Upon the occasion told of by Mr. Custer, he and Uncle Jimmy Long went to the mill on Indian creek, near what is now Council Bluffs, taking with them fifty bushels of wheat to have it ground into flour. The wheat was loaded into a wagon drawn by two yoke of cattle. Henry drove the cattle, and Uncle Jimmy rode alongside on horseback. They reached the mill all right and had their grinding done. The miller finished somewhere near noon. The grinding done, Uncle Jimmy told Henry to start toward home, and he would follow later in the day. Henry started and reached a stopping place for the night on Key creek, eighteen miles from the Bluffs. Uncle Jimmy arrived at the stopping place sometime during the night and was up when Henry arose next morning. They fed the cattle, ate their breakfasts, and made an early start. The weather was very pleasant for the season, and soon became so warm that both removed their overcoats. The cattle were slow, and they didn’t make very good time. It was along toward night when they reached a point near where the town of Shelby stands now. When they got some distance up Silver creek, Uncle Jimmy told Henry he guessed he would ride ahead and stop for supper at the Waterbury home, some seven or eight miles south of Harlan. Very soon after Uncle Jimmy left, a blizzard swept down from the northwest, in all the fury for which such storms are noted, and Henry was in for a most strenuous time. There was a very narrow bridge across Silver, at a certain place, and to get home it was necessary to cross the bridge. To reach the bridge, the cattle had to veer to the northwest a bit, facing the storm. It was doubtful if they would do this, but they did, he being unable to guide them. When they reached the bridge, it being dark, Henry went ahead to examine, and then called the cattle after him. When they had gotten almost over the bridge, one hind wheel slipped off to one side. The cattle kept going, the wheel struck the bank and righted the wagon, but a big bunch of planks were pulled from the bridge floor. Having crossed the bridge, the cattle followed the trail, which led east, very nicely, and Henry laid on the gad, hanging on to an ox bow and walking beside the cattle. As they proceeded through the black night all at once the front yoke of cattle collided with something in the road, which proved to be Uncle Jimmy and his horse, Uncle having ridden back to meet Henry. So they drove together to the Waterbury place, arriving about ten o’clock at night. Here they fed the cattle and got some supper for themselves. After supper, Uncle Jimmy told Henry he could take the horse and ride home, and that he (Uncle Jimmy) would drive the cattle home. Henry objected to this, but was finally persuaded by Uncle Jimmy that this was the right thing to do. It was late when Henry got home (he lived near where Eli Hoskins does now), and he was worried about Uncle Jimmy, so he didn’t sleep much. And so soon as he could see the least little bit the next morning he set out for Uncle Jimmy’s home, near where the canning factory stands now. Arrived there, he routed out members of the family and hired men, and learned that Uncle Jimmy had not come home. And then there was a big hurry while the boys and hired men dressed, mounted horses, and set out for the east side of the river, to find Uncle Jimmy. They fully expected to find him frozen to death in the snow. But he wasn’t. His cattle had gotten lost on the prairie, near where the Peter Sorensen farm is now, and had traveled in a circle through the night, Uncle Jimmy keeping along with them. His left hand was frozen solid around the whip stock, and his feet were frozen, too, but he hadn’t given up. They had to cut the whip stock near the hand to release the whip. Uncle Jimmy and the cattle were taken home, and both got over the rigors of the night. It was a bad one, all right; and this little instance just one of many, is enough to show that the pioneers of necessity led a strenuous life. It also is sufficient to show that it used to get cold in those days. And the reasonable presumption is, that it will do this all over, again and again, as the winters come and go.
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