History of Idaho, the gem of the mountains, Volume II, Part 63

Author: Hawley, James Henry, 1847-1929, ed
Publication date: 1920
Publisher: Chicago, The S. J. Clarke publishing company
Number of Pages: 1024

USA > Idaho > History of Idaho, the gem of the mountains, Volume II > Part 63

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In the rear of the road builders followed the timber crews, whose duty it was to clear the right-of-way of standing timber and brush, a hundred feet in width. These again were followed by the graders and finally the track layers. The engineering crews generally kept about fifteen miles in advance, and it was one of the duties of Stein to carry the engineering field notes and mail to the end of the track in the rear. These trips had to be made on foot on account of the nature of the ground, the soil

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being covered with moss to a depth of many inches, the roots of the trees being immediately under the moss. Hence animals could not be used until the wagon roads were constructed and supplies had to be carried on the backs of men to the advancing engineers.

Stein had been chosen for the dangerous task of keeping up the line of communica- tion, and many were his encounters with the timber wolves. But being well armed he paid but little heed to the friendly warnings of his chief. On one occasion Stein left camp without his armory and hereby hangs a tale. When about six miles from camp at eight A. M., he spied a large wolf a short distance ahead in his path (the path always being the air-line surveyor made by the engineering crew). He grabbed for his revolver To his consternation he discovered the gun missing. Shouting seemed to be of no avail, as the beast advanced, followed by two half grown cubs and Stein discovered that the wolf meant business. So he did what any other man in a like predicament would have done; jumped for the nearest tree limb and pulled his body up just as the wolf grabbed his down-hanging coat tail; the wolf recovered his balance temporarily lost by the fall and made another jump and grabbed this time the left heel of Stein's boot; here Stein's good right foot came down with all his might on the wolf's nose. With a snarl of rage the wolf fell. Before the astonished beast could recover Stein was in safety. He remained for hours on top of the friendly tree, with the wolf which, meanwhile, had been joined by a whole pack, underneath the tree, showing their red fangs; sometimes retiring into the brush until they were invisible but as soon as Stein made a move to descend the underbrush seemed alive with wolves. Of course Stein used his lungs to some extent and finally was awarded by the approach of a crew of wagon road builders, who were well armed and the pack of wolves soon disappeared. Stein did not desert the job but this experience had taught him a lesson, he never left camp without his armory and plenty of ammunition.

Another of Mr. Stein's vivid memories of that epoch of his life is of a tramp of one hundred and one miles to Stevens Point in mid-winter. There had been a heavy snowfall, the supplies for the crew had ceased to arrive. So it was decided that three men would be sent to the end of the track to ascertain the cause and bring in supplies. Stein was chosen as one of the three men. An early start was made and by dusk the weary seventeen miles to the end of the track, through deep snow and unbroken paths, was reached, to find the log cabins of which the camp here consisted, deserted with the exception of the solitary watchman who had been left in charge. He reported that the graders and track layers had all gone back to Stevens Point with the work train, work being impossible on account of the severity of the winter and depth of the snow. The watchman had been left in charge with the promise that a train would be returned to take him and the engineering crews back to civilization.

It was then decided that one man should return for the engineers, while the two other men were to set out afoot for Stevens Point; Edward Stein was one of these two men to make the tramp of eighty-four miles. The two men supplied themselves with biscuits, bacon and crackers, guns and plenty of ammunition and set out. Walking between the rails was not difficult as the moving trains had packed the snow; th - great- est danger were the timber wolves, but shots fired frequently kept them at a ; pectful distance. The entire country was deserted, nothing but snow and forest, with a group of deserted log cabins at regular intervals of ten miles which had been used and aban- doned by the advancing crews. The two travelers made it their aim to reach such deserted cabins for the night, as it afforded protection both from the cold and the wolves.

The weather was cold and clear and twenty degrees and more below zero. The pro- visions froze hard and had to be thawed out when preparing meals. Snow was used for water, biscuits were carried next to the body to be kept from freezing. They covered about twenty miles the first day. The log cabins were well provided with fuel, pole bunks provided the wood, dried pine boughs furnished kindling and the wolves the serenade. So passed the first two days and nights without incident. They had covered half of the distance of their journey, but the relief train had not appeared; again they prepared for the night.

It was bitter cold, a great fire was started which soon made the interior of the hut comfortable and the weary travelers were soon sound asleep. The day's tramp had been exceedingly hard, they were foot sore; it had been necessary to wrap their boots with gunny sacks to keep their feet from freezing. After some hours of sleeping the heat became so oppressive as to awaken them, the cabin was full of smoke and the roof on fire. They packed their belongings to the next cabin, but a short distance away, but it too became afire, and in rapid succession the other eight caught fire and by daybreak

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the whole town of cabins had burned to the last log. The fourth day's journey brought the travelers to Junction City, fifteen miles north of Stevens Point; here a log train took them to civilization, reaching Stevens Point after midnight.

Stein started for the hotel near the depct while his partner of misery started for home. Stein reached the hotel porch exhausted, frozen and starved, a poor combination in zero weather. He was found there in a dead faint by Givan Campbell, the above men- tioned master mechanic, whose timely arrival no doubt saved his life. Stein was taken down with rheumatic fever contracted by the exposures and was unable to leave his room for months. During all this time Givan Campbell, the noble Scotchman, generously and graciously cared for the sufferer, and when Stein was able to work resumed his apprentice- ship in the shops. Here he remained until about April 1876, when he was summoned by a cablegram for an immediate return home.

He went direct to Philadelphia, to take passage from there to Europe. He arrived at that city on the 10th of May, the opening day of the Centennial Exposition. His steamer did not sail until evening, so he attended the opening ceremonies and heard President Grant deliver the opening address. Among the many wonderful exhibits he remembers one more distinctly than all the rest-tbe first typewriter, made by Remington.

At midnight May 10, 1876, Stein sailed on the steamer State of Illinois, and arrived ten days later at Queenstown, Ireland. There being time before the departure of the steamer, Stein had the opportunity to visit Cork and other Irish cities. He landed the next day in Liverpool, England, and crossed by rail to Hull, where on the good steamer Tiger he crossed the North Sea and landed after a very stormy three days' voyage, at Hamburg. When he reached the parental home, the only occupant he found was a girl of six summers. He learned from her that the other members of the family had not yet returned from "Grandpa's funeral," thus fate robbed Stein of seeing his father whom he had left six years before.

Next morning while seated at the breakfast table. a policeman was seen approaching. Stein's brother-in-law, who had married his step-sister, a Prussian officer of high rank, remarked to Stein, "You had better step in yonder closet, that officer is after you, you evaded your military service when you left. A few hours will give me the time to get your American passport counter-signed and make you immune of arrest." Accordingly Stein stepped into a wardrobe. The officer entered, and inquired of the whereabouts of Edward Stein and before his question could be answered the double bottom broke down with a crash under Stein's weight, the doors flew open and Edward sprawled on all fours before the officer. Explanations were not necessary and a half hour later Stein was in prison under the charge of having evaded his military duties, a great crime in the eyes of the military government. But Stein was an American citizen, his papers were in his possession, but to make them valid it required the signature of the United States ambassador, who was advised of the situation by wire. A deputy arrived, signed Stein's papers, and he was set free; thus Stein ate for six days the prison bread of the Prus- sian king. -

An inheritance had been left him from his father's estate. So before returning to his adopted land he set forth on a tour of Europe and to visit relatives in Russia near Sebastopol. There the uncle, an old Russian noble and his wife, received Stein with open arms, informed him that as they had no children, Stein was their only heir and had been long expected. They had immense landed estates and a beautiful home situated on the shores of the Black Sea. The most beautiful country in Europe are the surround- ings and shores of the Peninsula of the Crimea, where the home of the Bucholskys is situated. The wealth and nobility of Russia have their summer homes there.

Baron Bucholsky was also the owner of extensive factories where he manufactured saddles and harness for the Russian government; all this wealth would be Stein's if he remained. There were certain preliminaries to be attended to, oath of alliance to the Russian government, one year's service in the army, and that the family circle would have the right and privilege to select the bride. Edward Stein begged a month to take the matter under advisement; he was enchanted with his prospects, until one day he paid a visit alone to Sebastopol. While crossing the intersection of two streets he passed the image of the Virgin, and as an American he paid but little attention to it. Not so the Russian officer who had noticed that Stein had omitted the sign of the cross and not removed his hat. A blow removed the offending hat and laid Stein in the dust; he was taken to the police station to explain his offence, but the magic name of Bucholsky, and a few rubles secured his liberty. On the way to find his drosky (cab), being pre- cccupied by his recent experience, he had not noticed the approach of an army officer, as the custom provides, he had not stopped on the curb and stood at attention with hat

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removed. The officer grabbed Stein by the collar, kicked him into the street and uncon- cernedly went his way.

This was more insult than an American could stand, there was no redress, no help for it. Any resentment from Stein would make matters worse, probably a shot and no punishment for the soldier. Stein quietly and soberly picked himself up, determined to leave the country. Arriving home he learned that uncle and aunt were visiting and would not return until late. Hurriedly he packed a few essentials, returned about dark to the city, boarded the steamer about to depart for Constantinople. Here he remained a few days, returning through the Balkan-countries, visiting the principal cities, Athens, Buch- arest, Nish, Sofia, Budapest, Vienna; thence through Switzerland, to Italy, where he visited Venice, Rome, Naples, Messina, (since destroyed by earthquake) Florence, vis- ited and ascended volcanoes Vesuvius and Etna. Returning through Italy he visited Monte Carlo, the gambling capitol of the world, thence through France, visiting the principal cities and arriving at Calais, where he took passage and arrived in New York city, in December, 1876.

After a fewdays rest Stein purchased tickets to Stevens Point, Wisconsin, where Marie, a farmer's daughter had promised to wait his return and become his bride, and for whom he had deserted in far away Russia the insignia of a noble, fame and fortune. For it had not been as much the indignity and insult heaped upon Stein by the Russian officers, but the black eyes, brown hair, stately grace of Marie of the backwoods, who unassisted could mount a spirited horse, hit the bull's eye with a rifle, prepare an excel- lent meal, milk the cows and do the family washing. A comparison between Marie, the democratic maiden of the forest, and Baroness Olga, the aristocrat of the Don valley, selected by his Russian uncle for his bride, were all in favor of Marie. It is true Olga could converse in many languages, lead the cotillion, be perfectly at ease conversing with the nobility of her country, had traveled extensively, could with perfect grace pre- side over a poker game, but could not dress without a maid. Arriving at Marie's home he found her married. Explanations soon brought out the fact that the lover's mail had been tampered with, together with rumors that Stein had married.

Remembering of seeing in the papers an article about a gold discovery in the Black Hills, Dakota, he was soon on his way to the field of discovery, arriving at Cheyenne, Wyoming, in December, 1876, and starting for the mines as soon as the weather per- mitted. About the end of February, 1877, he took part in a stampede of a magnitude seldom witnessed; it almost depopulated Cheyenne, Denver and many western towns. Stein had before departure dispatched to the mines several wagon loads of liquor, tobacco and cigars, quite a venture in those days of Indians, road agents and no roads. He purchased tickets by stage and walked all the way. Many were his adventures before reaching Deadwood, skirmishes with Indians, holdups by road agents, taken back by soldiers, getting stuck in the mud, crossing bridgeless streams. After innumerable hard- ships his destination was reached.

At Deadwood Stein found the supply of liquors, tobacco and cigars exhausted. He sold the way bills-the evidence of his merchandise-to a storekeeper at more than double its cost, purchaser assuming risk of delivery. He immediately duplicated the order by private post, the carrier, who was none other than Buffalo Bill, the famous scout, was afterward installed by the law abiding element of Deadwood as marshal to enforce law and order, and check the murderous crowds of cut-throats, as murders were a daily occurrence. Stein witnessed the murder of Buffalo Bill by McCall, was present at the latter's trial and acquitted by a mock jury of cut-throats and gamblers. Dead- wood got too hot for McCall so he departed. The telegraph line had just been completed, so word was sent ahead and on the arrival of McCall at Yankton be was arrested, tried and hung. Sometime afterward Stein saw Buffalo Bill's body exhumed, it was pet- rified, owing to the peculiar construction of the soil in which it was buried.

At Deadwood city Stein opened a hotel and restaurant and made a handsome for- tune, sold out and purchased an interest in the Caladonia mine, adjoining the Home- stake, recognized as the third largest gold mine in the world. A stamp mill was coustructed to mill their ore, but by the time the mill was erected the Homestake Com- pany had purchased and appropriated all the waters and timber of that region. The Caladonia had the mill, but no water to mill their ore, equally as rich as their rival, and no wood to fire their boilers.

After a long delay an agreement was entered into by which the Homestake Company sold the Caladonia fuel and water at prohibitive rates, assessments were frequent. So financial deficiencies soon exhausted the company. The sheriff appeared and the Home- stake Company got the property-now one of their greatest ore producers. Stein lost his

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fortune and was broke. Undaunted, he went to work in the Golden Terra, a mine adjoining, and while thus engaged he found himself one day drilling the last hole to complete a hundred foot stope, a chamber out of which all the ore had been removed. leaving an empty cavity a hundred feet high and several hundred feet long and wide, filled with sets of timber ten feet square each, supporting a mountain above.

The stope was deserted, the particular work Stein was engaged in was to put in a blast to make room for the last set of timber to finish the chamber. All at once Stein noticed a slight tremble, a rock was falling near, then another, a squeeze of timber as if a giant hand was crushing the upright standing timbers into each other. Stein left the drill in the uncompleted hole, went to the cage some distance away, and was soon on the way to the surface, but before reaching the top there was a tremendous crash, explosion and commotion. The cage fairly leaped to the surface, propelled by air com- pression from below. The cage became jammed tight within a short distance from the surface, the sudden halt of the ascending cage broke the cable. Fortunately the safety clutch held, otherwise Stein and the cage would have gone five hundred feet down to the sump below, and this story would never have been told. The entire mountain had caved through the chambers. crushing timbers fourteen inches square to pulp as if they were pipe stems.

After this occurrence Stein was transferred to another part of the mine to a stope entered through a tunnel. It was the noon hour, the miners were lounging on the timbers about the tunnel entrance, shortly before the whistle blew, Stein and eight other men entered the mine. Just as Stein arrived at his station, there was a tremendous crash, and he was blown by air pressure quite a distance. The tunnel in his rear had caved in and he and his eight companions were imprisoned and buried alive. Soon he could hear his companions calling for help, as all were isolated in different places in the large chamber. Other crashes and cave-ins followed, soon the call for help ceased, then silence; Stein's candle soon burned out, and then darkness. The cave-in had stopped the drainage through the tunnel. The ever increasing height of water made the free moving about or sitting down impossible. Gradually the water kept rising, higher, and higher, and here was the danger of drowning without escape, like a rat in his hole. After many hours when the water had reached his armpits, Stein detected a faint tapping and knew that the rescuers were at work. The height of the water became stationary, then gradually started to fall, indicating that obstacles in the tunnel were being removed. Soon the tapping of the workers became louder and Stein's tappings were answered. After forty-eight hours of standing in an upright position without sleep and food and suffer- ing the agony of death, Stein was rescued, the others were dead, crushed and drowned. Never in all his life did the sun look brighter and the firmament more beautiful than when emerging from the dark recesses of that mine. He quit mining then and there, and became a prospector and in so doing fell from the frying pan into the fire. Many were his experiences as a prospector in the Black Hills of Dakota, packing his bed, provisions and tools on the backs of burros, but he was finally rewarded by discovering the great Montana mine, sold for a fortune, part cash and bond, giving a power of attorney to one of his partners to collect, who collected and disappeared and so did the money.

Leaving the Black Hills, Mr. Stein returned to Colorado, and at the recommendation of George Westinghouse found a profitable railroad connection with the Denver & Rio Grande. The events which followed this engagement led Mr. Stein to Gunnison, where the happiest episode of his life occurred. He met, wooed and married Miss Rachel Lowder, July 1, 1882. His first home was built by his own hands for himself and his bride, and no baronial castle of his ancestors was ever lighted with more happiness and pride than was that little cottage. He was soon promoted to the foremanship of the railroad shops at Grand Junction, Colorado, March 1, 1883. On June 4, 1883, their son Howard was born. In 1884 he accepted a position to equip with air-brakes the Utah & Northern Railroad, which position required his residence at Eagle Rock, now Idaho Falls, Idaho, where he arrived on the 5th of July, 1884. In March, 1885, Mr. Stein was appointed general air-brake inspector for the Oregon Short Line and the Utal & Northern Rail- roads, which roads had at that time been consolidated, which required his removal from Eagle Rock to Pocatello, the junction point of the two roads. Pocatello had at that time but thirty-two houses, all the property of the railroad company. A small round house. the Pacific Hotel, a two story structure, which was also used for railway offices and passenger depot, a few shacks used by the repair men and a freight depot built of slahs, which soon afterward was destroyed by fire. A few months later Mr. Stein was appointed superintendent of the car department of the two railroads, and under his

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direction the shops at Eagle Rock and Shoshone were removed to Pocatello, together with all the various dwellings, the property of the railway company and several hun- dred employes.

The young city of Pocatello was Mr. Stein's home for a number of years. From here he organized the various repair stations at Granger, Montpelier, Glensferry, Boise and Huntington, all on the Oregon Short Line Railroad. Ogden, Logan, Lima, Butte, Ana- conda and Garrison all on the Utah Northern, then a narrow gauge railway, whereas the O. S. L. railroad was a Standard Gauge. Many of the prosperous towns and cities now in existence were not yet on the map. From Pocatello to Huntington was a sage- brush desert, inhabited by horntoads, jack-rabbits and coyotes The end of the O. S. L. railroad was at Caldwell, the only other town between Pocatello and the end of the track was Shoshone from where a stub railroad was constructed to Hailey, a prosperous mining camp. When the railroad reached a point now known as Payette, Mr. Stein was instructed by Mr. Blinkensderfer (the superintendent of the road) to place a narrow gauge box car along the track on the ground, for the use of the Agent and Operator at that point. So Stein constructed the first dwelling at Payette.

While thus engaged in placing the depot he noticed a man in the distance clearing land of sagebrush, this man was A. N. Jacobson, who informed Mr. Stein that he intended to prepare the ground for an orchard. Mr. Jacobson is still residing at Payette. The orchard that he planted came to bearing age and has produced thousands of carloads of fruit. This fruit has been shipped over this continent and Europe. That eighty acre orchard has now almost disappeared. The modern city of Payette is occupying its loca- tion and its planter Jacobson has reaped a harvest that he so richly deserved, by his foresight. Another man, D. C. Chace, one of the first agents there, if not the first, located a forty acre homestead adjacent the depot. This forty is now part of the business and residence district of Payette and Chace is still there occupying a palatial residence located on the ground he homesteaded.

About March, 1886, Mr. Stein assisted in the organization of the town of Nampa, his seventh interest in the venture costing him one hundred and twenty-five dollars. After a few months he sold his interest for nine hundred and secured a section of land two miles west of Nampa, on which he planted an eighty acre orchard and erected the necessary buildings. This orchard he traded a few years later for the Palatine Hotel, still in his possession. Mr. Stein also assisted in the organization of the railway from Nampa to Boise, then known as the Idaho Central Railroad. The road was constructed with the discarded material removed from the Utah Northern at the time said road was widened to a standard gauge, its rails were thirty-two pound iron and two men were able to carry such a rail. The ties were second hand narrow gauge with every fifth a standard tie. The few cars were of narrow gauge placed on standard trucks. The only locomotive could be compared to a watch charm to the locomotives now in use. The only station between Boise and Nampa was Hunter (now Meridian) named in honor of John Hunter, its first manager. The first conductor, brakeman, mail clerk and baggage and express agent, all rolled in one was Fred Bliss. Owing to the fact that the track was laid on the ground without grading or leveling of the road bed, the running time was slow, about four hours to make the nineteen and one half miles from Jimmy Hart's Refreshment Parlor (the first business building erected at Nampa) to the top of the one mile hill south of Boise, where the wooden shacks-the terminal- was located, in charge of J. A. Purdum recently deceased.

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History of Idaho, the gem of the mountains, Volume II, Part 63

Author: Hawley, James Henry, 1847-1929, ed Publication date: 1920 Publisher: Chicago, The S. J. Clarke publishing company Number of Pages: 1024

Author: Hawley, James Henry, 1847-1929, ed
Publication date: 1920
Publisher: Chicago, The S. J. Clarke publishing company
Number of Pages: 1024