USA > Nebraska > Seward County > History of Seward County, Nebraska, and reminiscenses of territorial history > Part 17
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A day or two after this my father (Mr. Wmn. Imlay) and his brothers were on upper Plum creek having, when Grand- father Imlay became frightened and hastened to our house and said the Indians were coming upon the settlement. He then hastened home to protect his family. About 3 p. m. we saw a drove of them approaching. They were about where the B. & M. depot now stands. We were living about eighty rods above the present iron bridge. My mother, thinking to escape them, locked the cabin door, and took all the children across the creek to the spring where she kept the milk. To kill time she commenced churning. Very soon four Indians (great, big, ugly creatures) came riding up to the spring, and told mother that she was wanted over at the house. She said, "No, I can't go; I am at work." But they insisted in such a menacing manner that she felt obliged to yield and go. They said, "Come, come," in a most determined manner. The children all clinging to her, she started, and those great sneaking braves guarded her by
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one riding on each side, one before, and one behind. Poor mother and we four children had a slim show to escape. They watched our every movement. step by step. When we reached the cabin, there sat sixteen burley Indians in a circle around the door. When we came up, they all arose and saluted mother, then sat down again. They had a young Indian interpreter. As they thought they had the family all thoroughly frightened, the young Indian began in good shape to tell just what they wanted. They would like to have two cows, two sacks of flour and some meat. Mother saw that she must guard the provisions with desperation, as they had cost such great effort, having hauled our provisions from the Missouri river. The Indians said, "the Sioux are coming and will take all anyway, and we want some." "No," said mother, "we will take our cattle and provisions and go to Plattsmouth." "But," said the Indian, "they will be here tonight and you can't get away." Mother at this point be-
gan to be as much angry as frightened. "I will not give you anything. You are lying to me. If the Sioux were so close you would all be running yourselves." At this point another brave, who had been pacing the yard, seeing mother grow so warm, picked up our axe and marched straight up to her and threw it down at her feet. She picked it up and stood it beside her. Mother said afterward, that her every hair stood on end, but knowing that Indians respect bravery, she resolved to show no cowardice. We could all see that the whole river bend was swarming with Indians. Mother said with emphasis, "I now want you to take your Indians and begone at once." Then they said, "You are a brave squaw," and the old chief motioned to his braves and they all marched off to camp. The next day our family all went over to Plum creek and remained until things became settled.
The following winter father was at Omaha attending the legislature; and I am sure that over a thousand Indians passed our place during the winter. It required pluck to withstand the thievish beggars. Sometimes they would sneak up and peep in at the window. Then others would beg for hours to get into the house.
A great amount of snow had fallen, and shortly after
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father's return home, a heavy winter rain inundated all the bottom lands. We all came pretty near being drowned, but succeeded in crawling out of the cabin at the rear window at midnight, and our only refuge was a haystack, where we re- mained several days entirely surrounded by water, with no possible means of escape. Mr. Cox made several attempts to rescue us. First he tried to cross the river in a molasses pan, and narrowly escaped being drowned, as the wind was high and the stream filled with floating ice. The next day he made a raft and tried to cross, but the current was so rapid he could not manage it. It drifted against a tree where the water was ten feet deep, and the jar threw him off his balance, and the upper edge of the raft sank so that the rapid current caught it and turned the raft on its edge up against the tree. Mr. Cox caught hold of a limb of the tree and saved himself from drowning. A desperate struggle en- sued but he finally kicked and stamped until he got the raft on top of the water again, but it was wrong side up. We then gave up all hopes of getting help until the water sub- sided. The fourth day tall trees were chopped by father on one side and Mr. Cox on the other, and their branches inter- locked, and we made our escape to his friendly cabin, where we found a kindly greeting, rest, food, and fire.
The author of the above sketch was born in Wabash county, Indiana, August 20, 1854. In 1856 her father moved to Harrison county, Iowa, and in 1858 to Cass county, Neb- raska, and in the spring of 1863 to the Salt Basin, and to his present home in April, 1864. And there on the frontier Miss Sarah grew to womanhood. She taught two terms of school in 1872 in her home district. At nineteen she was married to Allen S. Anderson, one of the soldier boys that made Seward county his home after the war. Mr. Anderson enlisted in company D, 205th Penn. volunteers, and served during the war. To Mr. and Mrs. Anderson have been born four children, all girls, viz., Jessie, Nellie, Adie M., and Mary J. The, family now have a beautiful home, only about a mile from the scenes of her childhood which she has so ably depicted. Mrs. Anderson died in the spring of 1891.
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RECOLLECTIONS OF FRONTIER LIFE IN BOYHOOD
ADDISON E. SHELDON
My recollections of early Seward county life do not go back as far as the author's. They begin with one wind-blown day, September, 1869, when I, a small urchin from Minneso- ta, crossed the Seward county line near Pleasant Dale on my way with my mother and step father, (R. J. McCall) to the new home on the southeast quarter of section 18, town 9. range 2, east,-about three miles southeast of the present Beaver Crossing. Looked back upon now, through all the intervening years, it seems to me there never was an au- tumn more supremely joyous, a prairie more entrancing, a woodland belt more alluring, a life more captivating than that which welcomed the new boy to the frontier in the beautiful West Blue Valley. The upland "divides" as I re- member them were entirely destitute of settlement, and even along the streams, stretches of two, three, and five miles lay between nearest neighbors.
What has become of the Nebraska wind of those days? I have sought it since far and wide in the sand hill and on the table lands of western Nebraska, but found it not. That wind which blew ceaselessly, month after month, never pausing but to pucker its lips for a stronger blast! Where are the seas of rosin-weed, with their yellow summer para- sols, which covered the prairie in those days? I have sought them too, and along gravelly ridges or some old ditch yet flower a few degenerate descendants of the old time host.
Mention of merely a few incidents seeming to hold the drama and poetry of frontier life at that time: "Pittsburg, the city of vision, at the junction of Walnut creek with the West Blue, inhabited by a population of 20,000 people, with a glass factory, a paper factory, a brick factory, oil wells, a peat factory, woolen mills, junction of three railway lines, metropolis of the Blue Valley." All this and so much more that I dare not attempt to picture it: a real existence in the brain of Christopher Lezenby in the years of 1871-72. What unwritten dramas sleep almost forgotten in the memories of early settlers! When Mr. Lezenby began to build his me-
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tropolis with the assistance of Attorney Boyd of Lincoln and a few other disinterested speculators, he was the possessor of several hundred acres of land, some hundreds of cattle, and other hundreds of hogs, and a fair unmarried daughter. What pathetic memories of the old man, month after month, surveying off his beautiful farm into city lots for the new metropolis, while his cattle disappeared from the prairies and his swine from the oak thickets along the Walnut; with sublime and childish simplicity repeating day after day the confession of his faith that "next week" work would begin; "next week" the foundation for the factories would be laid; "next week" the railway surveyors would set the grade stakes. And this real rural tragedy lasted through several years ending in the loss of all his property, the marriage of his daughter to Irwin Stall, and the wandering forth of the old man until he died of a broken heart in California.
One monument yet remains to mark the site and per- petuate the memory of Pittsburg, a flowing well, found I think at the depth of twenty-eight feet in the year 1874 and continuously flowing since that. Strange that no one was wise enough to take the hint and that it was twenty years later before the second flowing well was struck at Beaver Crossing, leading to the systematic search for them which dotted the entire valley with their fountains.
There were no high water bridges across the West Blue in those early days. I remember acting as mail carrier for a number of families on the south bank of the Blue dur- ing the high waters of two or three summers, bringing the mail from the city of Pittsburg postoffice on the north bank. A torn shirt and a pair of short-legged blue overalls-my entire wardrobe of those days-were twisted into a turban about my head, and plunging into the raging flood of the Blue which covered all the lower bottoms, five minutes vig- orous swimming carried me through the froth and foam and drift wood to the other side where I once more resumed my society clothes and, after securing the mail, upon my return to the river bank, tied it tightly in the turban and crossed the river as before.
I remember my first lessons in political economy, the fierce fight between the northern and the southern parts
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of the county upon the question of voting bonds to the Mid- land Pacific railway during the years 1871-72. It was a sec- tional fight in fact. but in theory and in debate it was a con- test over some first principles of government. The question of the people versus the corporation, since grown to such great proportions, was then first discussed to my childish ears. One incident of that contest is forever photographed on my brain-a crowd of one hundred farmers and village loungers in the shadow of T. H. Tisdale's old store. A yel- low skinned emaciated lawyer from Lincoln who looked, to my boyish vision, like a Chinese chieftain from Manchuria, speaking with fluent imaginative words in favor of the bene- fits the people of Seward county might secure by voting the bonds. This was H. W. Sommerlad, registrar of Lincoln land office; a short Saxon opponent, Rev. W. G. Keen of Walnut creek, was picked from the crowd by general ac- clamation to reply to the Lincoln lawyer. The impression of his fiery words denouncing the aggressions of capital and appealing to the memories of the Civil war and the Revolu- tionary fathers to arouse the people's independence is with me yet.
Next in the economic vista is the old Brisbin sod school house east of Walnut creek where a grange was organized.
Here a lyceum was held through several winters in which the debates were strongly tinctured with the rising anti- monopoly sentiment of those hard times. George Michael and Charley Hunter, leaders of the boyish dare-deviltry of those days, were chosen as judges upon the debates in or- der to insure their good behavior, and they gravely decided for the negative or affirmative many deep discussions of doubtful themes.
Beaver Crossing in the early days was remarkable for the great number of boys in its surrounding population, and I have observed in these later years when visiting there, that the custom of having boy babies in the family does not appear to have entirely gone out of fashion. That great swarm of restless boy population which gathered, sometimes two hun- dred strong, Saturday afternoons on the Common! What "sleights of art and feats of strength" went round! What struggles of natural selection to secure a place upon the
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"First Nine" of the base ball team. For years Beaver Crossing had the best base ball club in three or four counties and some of her players won high laurels on distant dia- monds.
One custom which obtained in those frontier days seems to have been peculiar to the time, for I have not found it since in other frontier communities. It was the custom of "calling off" the mail upon its arrival at the post office. The postmaster, old Tom Tisdale-a genuine facsimile of Petro- leum V. Nasby-would dump the sacks of mail, brought overland on a buckboard, into a capacious box upon the counter of his store, then pick up piece by piece, and read the inscriptions thereon in a sonorous voice to the crowd, sometimes consisting of one or two hundred people. Each claimant would cry out "here" when his name was called. Sometimes two-thirds of the mail was distributed in this way, saving a large amount of manual labor in pigeon-holing the same. Nasby had a happy and caustic freedom in com- menting upon the mail during the performance, not always contemplated I believe, by the United States postal regula- tions. A woman's handwriting upon a letter addressed to a young man was almost certain to receive some public notice from his sharp tongue to the great enjoyment of the crowd and sometimes the visible annoyance of the young man. At one time he deliberately turned over a postal card written by a well known young woman of Beaver Crossing who was away at school, and on observing that the message was written both horizontally and across, commented, "From the holy mother, in Dutch." If I should ever meet on the mystic other shore, which poets and philosophers have tried to picture for us, old Tom Tisdale, I would expect to see him with his spectacles pushed back from his nose, "calling off" the mail to the assembled spirits, the while entertaining them with pungent personal epigrams.
One startling picture rises from the past, framed as Browning writes it, "in a sheet of flame,"-the picture of the great prairie fire of October, 1871, which swept Seward county from south to north leaving hardly a quarter section of continuous unburnt sod. A heavy wind, increasing to a hurricane, drove this fire down the West Blue Valley. It
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jumped the Blue river in a dozen places as easily as a jack rabbit jumps a road. It left a great broad trail of cindered hay stacks and smoking stables and houses. A neighbor of ours who was burned out remarked that he had "been through Hell in one night," and had "no fear of the Devil hereafter."
At the other end of the scale of temperature are recollec- tions of the "Great Storm" of April 13, 14, 15, 1873. There burst from a June atmosphere the worst blizzard in the his- tory of the state. For three days it blew thick, freezing sleet, changing to snow so close and dense and dark that a man in a wagon vainly looked for the horses hitched to it through the storm. Men who were away from home lost their lives all over the state. Stock was frozen to death In sodhouses, dug-outs and log cabins settlers huddled close about the hearth, burning enormous baskets of ten-cent corn to keep from freezing.
In these later years of life, Fate has called me to make minute study of many historical periods and places. Yet my heart always returns to review the early scenes of settle- ment and civilization in Seward county with a peculiar thrill of personal emotion and special joy in the risen and rising fortunes of those who there built the foundations of a great commonwealth. No land can be dearer than the land of one's childhood and none can ever draw my thoughts further over plain or ocean than the happy valley upon West Blue whose waters spring spontaneously from beneath the soil to water her fortunate acres.
"G" PRECINT SETTLEMENT
JAMES A. BROWN, OF LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES, CAL., Dec. 12. W. W. Cox:
DEAR SIR- Yours of Dec. 5th came to hand a few days ago. When I declined to write you a historical letter upon the early history of Seward county, I then hoped that you would not further insist upon my writing, as at present I
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have but little inclination in that way. But as you still in- sist that I must do it, I will attempt to record some of my first experiences connected with my making a home in Sew- ard county. In February, 1866, as I was on my way from Leavenworth, Kan., to Denver, Colo., and while waiting at Fort Kearney for teams enough to get together to make a train large enough to defend ourselves from the Indians, who were very bad at that time, I became acquainted with Ramsey Grant, who lived on the south side of the Platte, opposite Columbus, and who was afterwards killed by the Indians. He described to me in glowing terms the country, to such an extent that I promised to visit him on my return from Denver, and take a look at his country. In the month of April, 1866, I came down and spent a few days with him, and spent the time in looking at the country. While there I heard that a settlement had been started on the Blue River to the south of them, and that there was considerable timber there, which was a main consideration, as the soil was good everywhere in the country. I resolved to go and see it, and when I saw it considered it good, and resolved to remain and help develop it.
I found in north half of the county the following families, at the time of my visit: David Imlay, Sr., and two unmarried sons and daughter, and being a bachelor, I "corralled" the daughter, and whether it was for my everlasting happiness or eternal misery is none of your business ;* Wm Imlay, W. W. Cox, R. T. Gale, E. L. Clark, Sr., Thomas Dunaway and mother, Richard Sampson, Lewis Moffitt, J. N. Roberts, Thomas Skillman, John Durland, and F. E. Pitt. A number of other families came in that spring, among whom were the Hagemans, E. L. Ellis, John Roberts, Sr., J. C. Samson; and in the fall a few more families arrived-Roger Cooper, Wm. Cooper, E. B. Shafer, and Geo. W. Rogers. There were also a few people at the Oak Grove, among whom were J. D. Main, Mr. John A. Scott, and a few others, I think, but am not positive about it, as I did not became acquainted over there the first year. After that year it would be dif- ficult to keep track of all that came.
*The auther happens to know that Mr. Brown made no mistake in choice of a wife.
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In April, 1867, the river was higher than I ever saw it afterwards, caused by the heavy snows of the previous win- ter, which was the coldest winter that I ever saw there or anywhere else. In fact it was terrible, and as the people had poor houses, I was glad there were no more of them at the time. In 1867 there was a good crop of wheat and some corn and vegetables, but the grasshoppers got most of the corn. With the experience of the winter before, and with the time to prepare for it, the pepole were in better condition for the next winter, which being a mild one in comparison with the preceding one, but little suffering was experienced.
In the summer of 1868 the first buildings were erected on the town site of Seward. I think there were five that year, and on the Fourth of July a few of the people congregated on the public square and elevated a pole that was used as a flag staff for a number of years. Yearly additions were made to the town by buildings and people, till at present it has be- come as fine an inland town as can be found in Nebraska, Lincoln excepted. As I notice that you have described the county seat troubles, I will not mention them.
In August, 1869, Mr. S. G. Mathews and T. L. Norval first made a visit to Seward. At that time "Op.," now the honorable judge of the sixth judical district of Nebraska, looked like a school boy just out of school, but since that time he has acquired enormous proportions. The Norval Bros. were among the first attorneys who located in Seward, though F. M. Elsworth was there about a year before, but we had but little use for lawyers, as it took all we could make to feed ourselves, and as to clothing, we will not mention the "old rags" that we covered our nakedness with, for we were truly what the people of Colorado called the Nebraskans when meeting them on the plains, "ragged Nebraskans." In fact the name was applicable to us for a number of years after I went there, and I do not think I should feel at home in Nebraska now unless I could be allowed to let my rags float in the breezes as of yore.
I omitted to chronicle the advent of H. L. Boyes and family in the fall of 1867, who started a saw-mill, I think in the following summer, which was a great convenience to the people in getting lumber to make themselves and stock more
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comfortable. Said saw-mill afterwards gave place to a flouring mill, which enabled the people to feed themselves better. All the people owe Father Boyes a debt of gratitude for first providing them with means to erect houses and then with bread, and may he and his estimable lady long live to sit upon their porch and listen to the whir of the old mill wheel, and enjoy the society of their hosts of friends .* While the people had grasshoppers to contend with, Mr. Boyes had the Blue river to watch during freshets. His first grist- mill was so ruined as to be comparatively worthless, but the old man had the "sand" in his crop, and went to work with energy and rebuilt the structure, which he has again re- placed with the present splendid structure to take the place of the old saw-mill. In the freshets above mentioned the people were frequently put to straits by the bridges on the streams washing out, when they would often have to travel many miles to cross the river, or swim it. A little cotton- wood skiff that I made in the spring of 1867 aided a great many people to cross the river, which tney otherwise could not have done.
Although we were all poor, and at times had hard work to make ourselves comfortable, yet I think we enjoyed our- selves as well as Claudius Jones does today with his fine houses and barns and premium Short-horns and untold treas- ures. This teaches us that wealth is not indespensable to happiness.
In the year 1874 the whole country west of the Missouri river suffered severely with drouth, which nearly annihilated the corn and vegetable crop, but the grasshoppers came in August and took what the drouth had not already destroyed, and unjustly the loss of the whole crop was charged to them.
Since 1876 the grasshoppers have not visited the state, and from that time Nebraska can date the dawning of her prosperity. With her fine soil, even if the climate is at times severe, it must soon rank as an agricultural state sec- ond to none. But as Hon. Geo. Geddes remarked some years ago, in a communication to the New York Tribune: "Any country that will produce grass will sustain a population," and Nebraska has become a better grass producing country, *The old people have gone to rest.
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especially for the tame grasses, than the most sanguine dared hope for fifteen years ago. With surety of producing cheap food for stock, Nebraska must ever take rank among the first as a stock producing state, and the people of all stock countries may at least become independent.
I have written more than I first intended. I mean more words, but I fear that when you come to use the critic's eye of a historian you will find but little that you can use in your book. I hope you will thus treat it, for this is not intended for publication without such treatment, as I hardly know what to write, my not knowing what you have written, but if I have even furnished you with some ideas and experi- ences I shall be pleased.
I hope some day to visit Nebraska again, as "with all her faults I love her still," even if I do like the winters of Southern California better. With my best wishes for the success of your efforts, and for the future of that fair land and her prosperity,
I am yours, JAMES A. BROWN.
SNAKES IN THE KITCHEN
MRS. MALINDA FRINK
Mr. W. W. Cox,
Dear Sir-When we came to the county there were quite a goodly number of settlers. There were a few small frame houses. We came in 1877 and settled on an eighty acre farm for which we made rather a curious trade of a neighbor in Clark county, Iowa. It was the Tom Starkey homestead that had fallen into his hands. We were to raise him eighty acres of wheat within five years and upon completion of our contract took a deed of the eighty acres.
When we arrived here, in our prairie schooners, the place looked desolate enough being all grown up with weeds and grass. There were only a few acres broken and there was no house. The claim shanty had been confiscated and moved away. The well was boarded up to keep the rabbits
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