Centennial history of Missouri (the center state) one hundred years in the Union, 1820-1921, Volume I, Part 98

Author: Stevens, Walter Barlow, 1848-1939
Publication date: 1921
Publisher: St. Louis, Chicago, The S. J. Clarke publishing company
Number of Pages: 1074

USA > Missouri > Centennial history of Missouri (the center state) one hundred years in the Union, 1820-1921, Volume I > Part 98

Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org (link on the Part 1 page).

A Hospital in the Woods.

"The third day we got to a grove on a small branch which to this day is called Henry's grove. We remained here ten days finding plenty of old elks, but no fawns, as we were too early. We decided to remain there until we could get fawns, but my brother, Henry Ashby, was taken violently ill with bilious fever. I saw he was going to have a bad spell, his fever depriving him of his reason. I got Leeper to go home, some eighty miles, and bring a wagon in which to haul brother Henry home. I happened to have a thumb lance in my pocket and when the fever would get very high I would bleed him freely in the arm, which had a tendency to allay the fever. I spent as lonesome nights as any poor fellow / ever did. There lay my brother out of his head; I had no person to speak to and did not know what moment he might die. I shall never forget those lonely nights. In fact I would have been glad to have seen the wildest Indian come to my camp. The ground had got so hard that I made a cot for my brother out of a bear skin, by driving down four forks and placing poles in them, and with bark lashed in between these poles I stretched the bear skin and made a very comfortable cot, which afforded brother Henry great relief.

"There was a very small bluish opossum that lived in a hollow hickory tree about forty yards from my camp, that would come creeping up to the camp once or twice a day to get some bacon rinds I would throw him. He would look at me very cunningly and walk to the rind cautiously, pick it up and retrace his steps slowly to his hole, where he would eat the meat skins.

"One day before Henry was taken sick I walked up a bushy ridge. It was slowly raining, and while I walked along I espied before me a huge bear, coming directly toward me. I jerked my rifle up to my face and just then the bear discovered me and, raising on his hind feet, he stood as straight as a man. I drew my sight at his side and fired. He let himself down, ran some sixty yards and fell dead. When I came to him I found he was poor, with his skin a yellowish color, and for some reason smelt bad. The carcass was utterly worthless.

"While Leeper was gone I concluded to milk one of our cows that we had with us, but having never done such a thing I feared I would make a failure. Leeper and my brother were both good milkers and attended to that work, but though I could not milk,

878

CENTENNIAL HISTORY OF MISSOURI

yet I was very fond of the milk, and so one morning I decided to milk at least our gentlest cow. So I took the bridle which had steel bits and a small tin bucket and went out to the pen where we had them. I had one old cow that I knew was quite gentle, so I let her calf out of the pen, and while it was sucking put the bridle about its neck and pulled it away, fastening it to a bush. I then began milking, but I suppose I squeezed the old cow's teat the wrong way, as she kicked the tin bucket, nearly filled with milk, out of my hand. This vexed me so that I took the bridle from the calf and struck the cow a hard blow with it, doing no damage except to break the steel bits in two. I gave up the milking business in disgust.

"On the third day Leeper returned with a wagon, in which he had a bed and bed clothing. I was very glad to see him, for I had not slept an hour during the three nights he was absent.

"The next morning by sunrise we started home, traveling as fast as the team could stand, and on the second day got to my house, where we found Dr. Folger awaiting our arrival. He had with him jugs, mugs and bottles, but whether they did any good or not, Henry soon recovered, with no serious results except to have spoiled our elk hunt."

Land of the Bee Trails.

"The Forks" of Grand river was a country abounding in wild honey. When the first frosts came, people living along the Missouri river put barrels and buckets into their wagons and started up the Grand river valley for the annual harvest of sweetness. So many of them came that they made roads which were known as "bee trails." Arriving at the Forks the hunters went into camp and remained until their barrels were full. One party told of finding six trees within 300 feet of their camp on West Grand river. In a single day they filled their barrels and had fifty gallons left over. They made a trough for the surplus, covered it with another trough and buried the honey in the ground in- tending to come after it in the spring, but did not return.

The finder of a bee tree cut his initials on it, or made his mark with notches. That established ownership. To cut down a bee tree thus claimed was no better than theft. The trees yielded from one to twenty quarts of honey.

The best bee story told in Macon county came from the experience of Wil- liam Morrow, from whom Morrow township derived its name. Mr. Morrow was riding in the Chariton bottom when he came on an unusually fine swarm of bees hanging to the limb of an elm. He had plenty of bees at home but he could not resist the temptation and let this swarm escape him. Without any- thing of ordinary character in which to carry the bees, Mr. Morrow hit upon an extraordinary expedient. He stripped himself of his trousers, tied the bottoms of the legs together, held the seat open and gently lowered the branch to which the bees were attached into the trousers. Then he closed the waistband and carried the bees home.

Coming of the Bees.

A story told of Madame Chouteau is that she received a present of a comb of honey from a friend in Kaskaskia. At that time bees were not known in St. Louis. Madame Chouteau, with her usual enterprise, made inquiries as to the manner in which the honey was produced. She was told that the bees were a kind of fly. Thereupon she sent a faithful negro man to Kaskaskia with a small box in which to bring a pair of the bees that she might raise others and

879

MIGHTY HUNTERS OF MISSOURI

produce honey. John Bradbury, the scientist, heard this story in St. Louis in 1810. He says before 1797 bees were scarcely known west of the Mississippi - but in 1811 the wild swarms had spread as far west as six hundred miles up the Missouri from St. Louis. The Indians had a theory that the bees preceded white settlements and that wherever the bees were found, white settlers might be expected shortly. Madame Chouteau was persistent. She did not rest satis- fied until there were bees in her garden. She had the first colony in St. Louis.

The "Yellow Boys" of Grand River.

Honey was so plentiful in the Harrison county section of the Grand river country that it became a leading article of barter. The pioneers loaded a wagon with honey and beeswax and sent it eighty miles to Liberty to trade for coffee, tea, salt, calico and ammunition. Beeswax was made into cakes and given the name of "yellow boys." 'These cakes passed as currency among the settlers, usually on a basis of twenty-five cents a pound. It is tradition that occa- sionally these beeswax cakes were adulterated. A settler came to trade one day and offered a beeswax cake, the corner of which broke off exposing a filling of tallow. His counterfeit was handed back to the settler who was boycotted by his neighbors, none of whom would handle his beeswax. Worse than that, the small creek on which the counterfeiter of beeswax lived was given the name of "The Tallow Fork of Beeswax."

Of entirely different stripe were most of these Grand river settlers. When St. Joseph came into its own as a trading point, the settlers went there with their honey and beeswax and pelts. It was twenty-five miles nearer than Liberty. The Grand river currency soon established itself in the new trade center, and St. Joseph merchants came to have complete confidence in the settlers. In the days when Robert W. Donnell, afterwards a banker in New York, kept store in St. Joseph one of these Grand river settlers wanted more goods than the produce he had brought with him 'would cover. He said to "Bob" Donnell that if he would let him take the goods then he would agree to bring him at a cer- tain time a barrel of honey. Donnell trusted the settler who told his wife of his good fortune and began to hunt for the honey. He had undertaken a contract that, as he went from hollow tree to hollow tree listening for the humming of bees, he found was going to be hard to fill. He kept up the search by moonlight. He got his barrel of honey but was so long about it that he could not get to St. Joseph until the time was up and that was on Sunday. As he entered the town and found the stores closed he made inquiry for Donnell and was told the merchant had gone to church. There the settler followed and entered just as the minister was beginning his sermon. He stood at the door and called out to the minister, "Halloo, stranger, will you just hold for a minute, I want to inquire if Bob Donnell is in the house." Donnell heard and walked to the door. The settler addressed him loudly, "Well Bob, I have brought you that barrel of honey."

The authority for this Harrison county tradition adds: "At this every one in the house laughed, but the honest settler felt a proud consciousness of having made good his financial obligation that no mirth could remove. Since

880

CENTENNIAL HISTORY OF MISSOURI

that time the reputation of the Grand river settlers for promptness and the punctual performance of promises had been good."

The Export of Beeswax.

In the Grundy county section of the Grand river country the export of beeswax became of such importance to the early settlers that whole neighbor- hoods would join in bee tree hunts. For a considerable period, the beeswax was of more value than the honey. The method was to locate a hollow tree and listen to the buzzing. If this indicated a large colony of bees, the tree was cut down, the wax was squeezed out of the comb and the honey was allowed to run out on the ground. Large quantities of honey were left on the ground for the bees to gather and store in another tree. The wax was made into cakes of what became a standard size in the trade. These cakes were hauled to various trading posts and used in barter for goods wanted by the settlers. Glasgow, Richmond and Brunswick were among the places to which the Grand river beeswax was taken for trade. Horses were scarce in the forties. These pioneers used oxen and the farmer of that generation prided himself on having yokes of oxen well matched.

The departure of an ox team with a load of beeswax, pelts and vension for one of these Missouri river towns, perhaps one hundred miles away, was a great event for the neighborhood from which the start was made. The hogs intended for market were driven slowly behind the wagon and allowed to feed on acorns along the way. In good seasons they brought as much as two cents a pound when they reached the market town. On the return trip the wagon brought a load of sugar, whiskey, turpentine, powder, tin cups and other household goods. From sixty to seventy-five cents a hundred was the rate for hauling these goods up the Grand river valley from Glasgow, Richmond and Brunswick.

In Caldwell county there is a stream of water known as "Poor Tom's Creek." `A party of honey hunters in the early days found an unusual number of bee trees. They had come a considerable distance from Ray county and were hungry for the sweet. One of them over-indulged and had an attack of what was then called "honey founder.". He made so much disturbance through- out the night that his father sat up with him, and as the young man groaned the father would say sympathetically, "Poor Tom." The other hunters were kept awake most of the night. They suggested a dose of turkey oil and other remedies. But "Poor Tom's" suffering went on all night. In the morning he was better. When the party broke camp, somebody with a view to subse- quent visits asked the name of the creek and was told it had never been named. "Well, let's call it 'Poor Tom's Creek,' and that was the christening.

Secret of Honey Hunting.

Sam Cole, the son of the historic Hannah Cole of Hannah's Fort had his own way of locating bee trees. He could find honey even in winter, when there was no buzzing to guide the hunter. On a Christmas day, Sam came to the camp of Joseph Stephens near what is now Bunceton and was invited to stay to dinner. He asked Mrs. Stephens if she had some honey and when she said she didn't Sam said he couldn't eat dinner without honey. Larry and

881

MIGHTY HUNTERS OF MISSOURI

Joseph, two of the Stephens boys, with Basil, a negro, came in from cutting wood. Sam asked them to go with him and get some honey for dinner. They thought he was joking but finally agreed to go. Sam guided them out into the woods about six hundred feet and pointed to a tree to be cut down. There was nothing to indicate that it was a bee tree so far as the boys could tell, but they cut it down and found the hollow part filled with honey. While the boys were at work on the first tree Sam showed them another which turned out as well. The boys took back to the house six buckets of honey. And then Sam gave them the secret. He said the way was to examine carefully the ground at the bottom of a tree. If there were found small bits of bee bread, and, perhaps, a dead bee or two, that was a sure sign of a bee tree. The Stephens boys applied this rule and found thirteen bee trees in the immediate vicinity of their camp. It has been handed down as a family tradition that the Stephens family had as much as 400 pounds of honey at a time in their cabin.

A Missouri Munchausen.

Missouri hunting stories were marvelous enough without invasion of the realm of fiction, but General Amos Burdine of St. Charles county did not seem to think so. He lived on Dog Prairie. He said he shot a buck one day and that the animal was killed so suddenly it did not fall down but remained standing until the general went up and pulled it over by the ear. He said he was on Cuivre river one day when he saw a fine deer across the river and a fine turkey sitting in a tree just over the deer. He had a single-barreled gun and wanted to get both the turkey and the deer; so he dropped another bullet into the gun, fired at the turkey and instantly dropped the barrel so that the other bullet brought down the deer. As he waded the creek to get his game, he caught a mess of fish in the seat of his trousers and went home with venison, turkey and fish. Another time, the general said he found himself out of bullets while hunting. He had in his pocket several shoemaker's awls. He dropped these into the gun and shot at three deer in a group. Two of the deer he killed and the third he pinned to a tree with one of the awls. This deer he took home alive. Burdine told of having killed one of the last of the buffaloes in Missouri. It was a cold day. He skinned the buffalo, rolled the fresh hide about him and took a nap. When he awoke the hide had frozen and the general was a prisoner until he rolled down hill and struck a warm spring which thawed him out.

General Burdine once gave his theory as to the manner in which to survey the distance across Cuivre river. He said: "The surveyor first gets an obliga- tion across the stream and sticks down his compass. Then he leanders up or down the river, as the case may be, and gits anuther obligation from that ; then he leanders back to the first obligation and works it out by figgers. It's simple enough, and I could do it myself, although I don't know a thing about figgers."

Notwithstanding his inclination to romance, Burdine got the reputation of being a very successful hunter. His home was equipped with fur beds as well as fur clothing. He was so good a mimic of the screams of panthers and the howls of wolves that he used them to scare deer from the thickets and hiding places when he was hunting. He even deceived people with these imitations Vol. 1-56

882

CENTENNIAL HISTORY OF MISSOURI

and scared a party of hunters on one occasion so that they ran their horses from his vicinity. The story is told that the tremors from the New Madrid earthquake rattled the boards on the roof of Burdine's cabin in St. Charles so that the general thought the Indians were up there trying to get in. The gen- eral aroused his sons and they fired through the roof until they riddled it. Burdine had a custom of branding his cattle in the forehead with a hot shoe hammer and when neighbors questioned him about the selection of this unusual place to apply the brand he told them that it kept the witches from killing the cattle.

The Temptation of "Jimps."

Uncle James Dysart of North Missouri was a famous hunter and at the same time a religious man. He would go out with the young fellows for a hunt but would insist on strict observance of the Sabbath. Uncle James had a son familiarly known as "Jimps," who inherited his father's love of the chase and who became a widely known Presbyterian preacher. On one of the hunt- ing trips Sunday came and Uncle James, as usual, conducted devotions. While his father's eyes were closed, Jimps heard the hounds give note of a trail. He believed he knew just where the deer would cross the branch and stole away leaving his father at prayer. There was the sound of a rifle. After awhile Jimps came back into camp and hung up on a limb a fresh saddle of venison. The father looked at him reproachfully and said: "Jimpsy! Jimpsy ! Jimpsy !" , "Father," said Jimps, "No deer is going to run over me in the path if it is Sunday morning."

The story lived and followed the young preacher wherever he went.

Setting sharpened stakes where the trails showed that deer jumped the fences was a way the boys had to secure fresh meat when age or scarcity of ammunition forbade the use of the rifle. It was effective, too. Many a supply of venison was laid in by this device which impaled the deer.

Major William J. Morrow, an old settler of Macon, said that from the early frosts until springtime, his smokehouse was never without from two to six saddles of venison.

Good Sport After a Century.

Good hunting in Missouri has outstayed the century of statehood. At eighty- three years, Norman J. Colman was still taking his annual hunt. He had not missed the sport in forty years except for the four years he was secretary of agriculture at Washington. And he was still finding game in plenty. Along the Gasconade he had shot deer until about 1890. Then he had been in suc- cessful drives on the Osage, and still later the sport was fine in Butler, Ripley, Oregon and adjacent counties. Mr. Colman said his party had never shot less than six deer on one of their hunts and from that the number had run up to fifteen in the two or three weeks given to the hunt. "Down on the borders of Arkansas," he said, "along the Black river, in the neighborhood of the Big Eddy, in the Irish Wilderness, everywhere there is game to be found, we have hunted. From what I hear about our old stamping grounds, the deer are

883

MIGHTY HUNTERS OF MISSOURI

just as plentiful this fall as ever, and the game law is being observed in a way that will provide Missourians with lots of sport in the years to come."

Sixty-five years of successful hunting nearly all of it in Missouri, Charles G. Gonter, veteran newspaper man, had to his credit. He had nature stories without number based on his experiences in the Missouri woods. Once he was on a stand waiting for the hounds to bring a deer his way when a flock of wild turkeys came close by to feed on the grapes in a wild grape arbor.

"I was just making up my mind that I would take a shot at the big gobbler, and also gather in some of the others so as to make sure of game even if the deer did not come my way, when that old gobbler did one of the most remark- able things I ever saw .. The turkeys had eaten all the grapes on the ground and within reach on the vines, but apparently they were not satisfied. Mr. Gobbler looked about as if studying the matter over as to what he ought to do. He finally flew up into the grapevines, and almost immediately there was the greatest fluttering you ever heard. What do you suppose that gobbler was doing? He was in the thickest part of the grape bunches and beating them with ' his wings until he had knocked down more than enough for all of the birds he had with him. I was so amazed at it that I didn't think about shooting at them until they had had their fill and had flown away. I told you I didn't expect you to believe it but I saw it and I know it."

MONUMENT ON THE PASEO AT KANSAS CITY "In memory of August Robert Meyer, first president of Park Commission of Kansas City"

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE MAKING OF A CITY

Westport Landing-Pioneer McCoy's Recollections-A Germination That Was Unique- Kansas City Just Sixty-five Years Ago-The First Business Review-Wonderful Stride of a Four-Year-Old-As a Woman Saw the Bluffs-The Year of the Boom-Specula- tive Conditions Without Precedent-And Then the Days of Depression-After that Rational Philosophy-Two Pillars of Lasting Prosperity-Packing House and Park System-Amazing Sights in the Bottom-Fascinating Scenes on the Bluffs-A Remi- niscence of "P. D."-Beginning of Boulevards-Topographical Eccentricities-"Little Hyde Park, a Primary Lesson"-Policy of Maximum Frontage-The Financial Plan -Years of Legislation and Litigation-Defeat of, the First Project-The Taxpayer Converted-Penn Valley and Roanoke Park-The Problem of Cliff Drive-Gillham Road and the Kessler Idea-Natural Grades Disturbed as Little as Possible-Effect. on Population and Values-The Kansas City Principle of Assessments-Cost and Profit -Congestion Banished-Development of the Playgrounds-What Recreation Centers Have Done for Neighborhoods-Effect of the System on Expansion-A Gridiron of Boulevards-Kansas City by Night-Standard of Residential Architecture Raised- The Local Nomenclature-Ambassador Bryce on Swope Park-Thomas H. Benton's Prophecy-Kessler on the Ideal City Plan-The Community United-Kansas City Still in the Making-Epics in Prose and Rhyme.

You have developed a site of natural charm into a beautiful city. * * * If I conclude to write a book on American cities I will get my inspiration from this beautiful city of yours .- James Bryce, Ambas- sador to the United States from Great Britain.

The first paper read before the Old Settlers Historical Society in 1871 was by John C. McCoy. It described the site and the beginning of Kansas City :

"A clearing or old field of a few acres lying on the high ridge between Main and Wyandotte, and Second and Fifth streets, made and abandoned by a mountain trapper. A few old, girdled, dead trees standing in the field, surrounded by a dilapidated rail fence. Around on all sides a dense forest, the ground covered with impenetrable brush, vines, fallen timber and deep, impassable gorges. A narrow, crooked roadway winding from Twelfth and Walnut streets, along down on the west side of the deep ravine toward the river, across the public square to the river at the foot of Grand avenue. A narrow, difficult path, barely wide enough for a single horseman, running up and down the river under the bluff, winding its way around fallen timber and deep ravines. An old log house on the river bank at the foot of Main street, occupied by a lank, cadaverous, specimen of humanity, named Ellis, with one blind eye and the other on the lookout for stray horses, straggling Indians and squatters, with whom to swap a tincup of whisky for a coonskin. Another old, dilapidated log cabin below the Pacific depot. Two or three small clearings and cabins in the Kaw bottom, now called West Kansas City, which were houses of French mountain trappers. The rest of the surroundings was the still solitude of the native forest, unbroken only by the snort of the darting deer, the barking of the squirrel, the howl of the wolf, the settler's cow-bell and mayhap the distant baying of the hunter's dog, or the sharp report of his rifle.

887

SSS

CENTENNIAL HISTORY OF MISSOURI

"The treaties between the United States government and the Osage and Kansas Indians, ratified in 1825, extinguished the Indian title to all the country lying in Western Missouri, and what is now the State of Kansas, except the reservation for these two tribes situated in the latter state. These treaties opened the border counties lying in Missouri territory for the settlements of the whites, and the people were not slow to avail themselves of the privilege. Consequently in 1825 the first settlers entered this county.

"Fort Osage (Sibley), situated on the river near the northeast corner of the county of Jackson, was established in 1803 by Meriwether Lewis, the first governor of Louisiana after its purchase, and continued as a military and trading post until the country was settled. Before 1825, Francis Chouteau, father of P. M., and brother of Cyprien Chouteau, both now of Kansas City, had a trading post on the south bank of the river about three miles below the city. In 1826 every vestige of his improvements was swept away by the great flood which occurred in the Missouri river that year. This flood made a clear sweep of all the improvements situated in the bottoms, but was no higher than that of 1844- and this reminds me that perhaps P. M. Chouteau, the present city collector, is the oldest resident, still living, in this county, although not an old man. The county seat was located, and the town of Independence begun in 1827. When I passed through the town four years afterward, the square was thickly studded with stumps of trees. Westport was laid off into lots in 1833, J. C. McCoy, proprietor. Westport Landing was situated about three miles north of the town, on the river, and has grown to be a place of considerable importance. A town was laid off there which was named Kansas City first in the year 1839, but the proprietors of the ground disagreed in some particulars and the town made but little progress until 1847, when it was laid out on a larger scale a second time (not with a grapevine), since which time it has been increasing with varying prospects."

Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.

Centennial history of Missouri (the center state) one hundred years in the Union, 1820-1921, Volume I, Part 98

Author: Stevens, Walter Barlow, 1848-1939 Publication date: 1921 Publisher: St. Louis, Chicago, The S. J. Clarke publishing company Number of Pages: 1074

Author: Stevens, Walter Barlow, 1848-1939
Publication date: 1921
Publisher: St. Louis, Chicago, The S. J. Clarke publishing company
Number of Pages: 1074