USA > Nebraska > Seward County > History of Seward County, Nebraska, and reminiscenses of territorial history > Part 5
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The grand jury was duly sworn and after examining the justice docket and interviewing several witnesses, they
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HISTORY OF SEWARD COUNTY, NEBRASKA
presented a true bill against defendant, and Pott framed the indictment in his strongest language. It sounded like a form- idable document, but Marquet got hold of it and after reading it over from left to right and from right to left a few times there didn't seem much left of it, and the judge very reluct- antly pronounced it a failure and before the court had time to give any further orders, Mr. Pemberton disappeared in the storm and has not been heard of since that memorable day.
The court allowed Lancaster county to draw its first warrant to Judge Pottenger for $75 and adjourned until warm weather. Thus ended the first term of the district court of Lancaster county, November 8, 1864.
In the summer of 1864, the whole West was very easily excited after the horrible massacre in Minnesota. Wild rumors were afloat continually, and the scattered settlements were harassed with fears throughout the whole summer and fall. The most trifling circumstances were magnified as they were related by the panic stricken people into general massacres, or wholesale slaughtering of some neighboring settlement. The impression prevaled that the rebel govern- ment at Richmond was inciting the red-skins to a merciless warfare all along the frontier. Tomahawks and scalping knives of the red devils were vividly pictured in all our dreams. We knew this much, that the dark hours of the war presented a grand opportunity for them to clean us out, root and branch. We also knew that they were in no friendly mood; or, in other words, we were quite sure they were thirsting for our blood, all that kept them back was their fear of a terrible retribution, and further, the fire we saw was not all fox fire. There were people murdered by them in Nebraska, and not a few. At Plum creek of the west, on Turkey creek, on the Little Blue, there were mur- ders and kidnapping, such as make our blood boil to this day as we think of them. We had just cause to fear, and it would have been foolhardiness to be otherwise than on the alert.
On one occasion, when the writer was at Nebraska City with a load of salt, we had arranged to help Jacob Dawson haul a steam saw-mill out from Little Wyoming, which was
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a few miles north of the city. While we were yet loading the boiler, word was current that there had been murders at Plum creek. Now there were two Plum creeks, and we all feared it might be the Plum creek in Seward county. How- ever, it proved to be the other. But it answered the purpose of getting up a big scare. We were uneasy and hurried up all we could with loads. We reached Stove creek ranch, thirty miles east of salt basin, that night at about eleven o'clock, and had it not been that we dare not attempt the crossing in the night we probably would have traveled all night. In the morning it was raining and we could not cross until about noon. We were eating dinner when we saw a long train of teams coming over the hills from the west. We knew mischief was to pay. We hailed the first to approach us to learn what we could.
"Oh, all the people on Blue river are killed, and all the settlements of Salt creek have fled from their homes and are at Shirley's ranch on Steven's creek." "Do you know anything about my family," asked the writer hurriedly, "Yes, they are at Shirley's ranch with the rest." Hurrah, boys, now for the Shirley ranch on a double quick.
We tumbled the engine out of one wagon, unhitched from the boiler and put four yoke of oxen on an empty wag- on, and if ever oxen traveled it was there and then.
There were four of us, and we took turns whipping , and the wonder is that we did not kill the oxen, for it was ex- tremely hot. We reached the ranch just after dark, and a motley crew we found; at least a hundred people were there, men, women, and children. They were well over their scare but were well along in the mad state. Everybody was cross almost to ugliness. Shirley had built a new house but had not moved into it. This was stowed full both above and below. His old house was full and his yard was full. The clothing was all wet and also the bedding. Many were suffering with hunger. We found wife and babes stowed away up-stairs in a bed that was wet as wet could be. The story of their panic was told, and was as follows: The night before, word came to the neighborhood that the settlement on the Blue were all murdered, and to all appearances the red-skins would bounce on the Salt creek settlers that night; it was
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then nearly dark; wife and children were at the mercy of some good neighbor, as they had no team. Uncle Peter Bellows came nobly to the rescue. With his broad German accent he said, "Mrs. Coax, you shall go wid us." Blessed be the name of Uncle Peter forever! But Uncle Peter had his peculiarities. He was a great hand to gather up things, such as old log chains, old plow shares, broken pitchforks. horseshoes (he hadn't a horse in the world), ox yokes and all sorts of old irons; he was rich in old irons. Well, in packing up to go, Uncle Peter had to take the last one of his old irons, but in his hurry he forgot to take any provi- sions for his family. When he comes for wife, he says, "Mrs. Coax, ve takes you and de childerns, but ve can't take noting else; vel dot is so, hurry up. Mine Cot, the Ingins is coming shure enough."
Wife protested that she must take something to eat and some bedding, and finally persuaded him to take a sack (50 lbs.) of flour and a ham of meat and a bed, if she would walk herself. We then had three children, aged respective- ly, a girl five years, a girl three years, and a boy sixteen months old.
The oldest girl walked, the second one was perched up on the load of goods; wife carried the babe on her right arm and with the left she carried one end of a trunk a mile and a half. The babe, she carried the full ten miles that dark, stormy night. Wild with fright they went pell-mell. Imagine, if you can, the terrors of that awful night -the rolling thunder, the Inrid lightning, with a mortal dread of the savage foe. Weary and fainting. they arrived at the ranch late in the night. In the morning it developed that that sack of flour and ham of meat were all the provisions in camp for a hundred hungry souls, except some green corn purchased of Shirley. But they had plenty of old irons.
It further developed that there were no hostile Indians within less than a hundred miles. By the morning after we arrived in camp the panic had entirely subsided and all were ready to return to their homes.
Within the following two weeks things were quiet. The writer had a quantity of salt that it was necessary to haul to market. Our bread and butter for the coming winter de-
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pened on it. It was perilous to leave. It was certain starva- tion to stay at home. We must go and take our chances.
One bright summer afternoon we made ready with a big load of salt and started for Nebraska City, arrived at Wood's ranch at night, turned the oxen out to grass, ate supper and went to bed. Near midnight, Dr. Crimm, wife, and her sis- ter, came as if Satan was after them. "The Indians are upon us sure enough this time," they. shouted. "You must go . for your wife and little ones or they will all be slaughtered."
All was wild excitement. The writer was somewhat in- credulous, but standing between doubt and fear, there was only one course to take. We must fly to the rescue. We hastily hitched up old "Nig" and "Darb," and went on the dead run for home. Just as the morning light was breaking we passed Unele Jake Dawson's cabins, standing on the ground now occupied by Commercial block. There was a sleep-and-go-easy sort of fellow by the name of John Giles in the neighborhood at the time. John was standing sentinel at the west end of the cabin. We hailed him and asked what was the matter, rather derisively. We were somewhat pro- voked at what we thought to be a useless scare. He sharply retorted, "You'll find out before you get to the Basin." We went on feeling that it was another sell out. When we reach- ed home we found everything in dire confusion. Many had left and all the balance were hurriedly preparing for flight. In the anguish of despair we said, "Wife, what shall we do?" She answered, "I will stay if others would stay, but we can't stay if the place is deserted by all the neighbors." A hur- ried consultation resulted in this, that we would all go to the river with the salt and remain there until matters had be- come settled.
Uncle Pete here appears on the scene again. Wife had gone over the hill to drive up the cow that we might take her, while we were busy loading up our bed . clothing and provisions. We were talking over the situation, when all of a sudden several Indians put in an appearance. They were some twenty rods distant when first discovered. We were just then sorry for our incredulity. The dread moment had come, we said to ourselves. Uncle Pete started on the double quick, but we commanded him to face about and dance to
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whatever music might come. "It's too late to run," we said, and at the same moment we jumped into the road ahead of the red-skins, and commanded a halt.
The leader pulled out a dirty white rag and began swing- ing it and hallooing that, "Me good Ingin," "me good Omaha," "me no Sioux." Oh, how our hearts fluttered just then. The Indians were about as much frightened as we were; they knew the people were wonderfully excited. "Me good Omaha" was sweet music in our ears just then. We loaded up our little stuff, tied the old cow behind the wagon, loaded on the children, and pushed out for the river, leading almost a for- lorn hope. The load of salt was left at Wood's ranch. When we had piled our beds, provisions, and children on top of a huge load of salt we must have presented a grotesque spectacle. It was no laughing matter then, but now it's no matter if you laugh. Suffice it to say we were welcomed by our friends in Nebraska City just as cordially as if we had ridden in a gilded carriage to their door.
When it became certain that the Union would triumph over the rebellion and there would be ample security here as elsewhere for life and property, then great numbers came. Also a further stimulus to settlement was the certainty of the building of the Union Pacific R. R. Its eastern terminus had been fixed in the fall of 1864, and the first ground was broken, and it may fairly be said that Nebraska had awaken- ed to a new and vigorous life. During the spring of 1804, having become convinced that it occasionally rained on Blue river, we made up our mind to cast our lot with the little settlement in the neighborhood where now stands the beau- tiful little city of Seward, and made preparation during the summer, accomplished our object, and made the removal December 1st.
Thus ends our immediate connection with the struggling pioneers of Lancaster county, and there it begins with those of Seward county.
Of those good old days of pioneer life we have many, yea very many, pleasant recollections. There were some dark clouds overspreading our skies at times, but every cloud, let it be never so dark, "had its silver lining."
Friendships there sprang up that will remain true so
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long as life shall last. To have been a pioneer in Nebraska in helping to open the way of civilization, we consider an honor, and looking back through the years-years of pleas- ant sunshine and prosperity, years of dark clouds, of danger and adversity, we rejoice that we came to Nebraska and helped to lay the foundations of the mighty commonwealth- "our own, our loved Nebraska."
There were quite a number of the early settlers that should have honorable mention in these reminiscences, and we can hardly forego the pleasure of mentioning some of them.
J. N. Beaty and Wm. R. Davis spent part of the autumn of 1861 making salt. These gentlemen had the honor of opening the first store at Seward as is especially noted in another chapter. For many years they were quite promi- nent in business circles in this county. Mr. Beaty removed many years ago to Osage, Kansas, and later to Oklahoma City and was engaged in the hardware business. He has now gone to his long home. Mr. Davis remained in active life in Seward until he was summoned home in the summer of 1899, full of years and full of honors.
Hon. Wm. Imlay conducted the salt business at the lit- tle Basin near the point where the B. & M. track crosses the U. P. track north of Oak creek He became one of the very first to make a settlement at the Seward settlement in the spring of 1864. Here he remained on the old homestead un- til his work was finished and he was called home in the sum- mer of 1896. John S. Gregory located on the north side of the basin in the fall of 1862, and for a time cut quite a figure both in business and political affairs. He was naturally a hustler and a schemer, and we believe he had a little more "brass" in his face than any other character on the frontier. He had formed a partnership with an old uncle by the name of Eaton who had some money which he exchanged for experience in the salt business. Gregory & Co put up quite expensive works, built quite a large frame house (the first at the basin) and with all cut quite a figure as long as Eaton's money lasted. Mr. G. secured a post office and had it named Gregory Basin, and so pulled the wires that he was nominated for the legislative honors and was elected. He told some awfui wolf stories which the wolves had no
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part in. Mr. G. took a hand in despoiling old Clay county. His name did not stick to the Basin worth a cent, and his post office was of short duration. Mr. Gregory, we under- stand, is now a resident of Galveston, Texas.
Milton Langdon, known in his days as our walking en- cyclopedia, was in the salt business from 1862 to 1864, when he became treasurer of Lancaster county. Some years later he took up his residence in the northeast part of Sew- ard county and engaged in the lime business. Both he and his noble wife have passed over the dark river.
Dr. John Crimm and his wife's brother, Mr. Diers of Brownville, conducted quite extensive works in 1864, and tried the manufacture with solar heat, but somehow it proved a failure.
There are many more men that were interested in these early developments whom we would like to mention. One sad feature about these little stories of our frontier life and experiences is, nearly all the actors have gone to their long home. In counting over the long list of names mentioned in this long chapter, from start to finish, we know of but three, besides myself, that remain on this mundane sphere, viz: Peter Schamp of Lincoln, A. J. Wallingford in north- west Nebraska, and J. S. Gregory. It seems that we are almost alone to tell the story of our ventures, of our mis- takes and our triumphs. It seems but yesterday as we look back across the vista of years since the scenes herein related occurred. But when we happen to look into the glass and behold the individual, who was then in the prime of young manhood with the little children around our knees now an old man carrying a load of three score and twelve years. with one child that is a grandparent, with a new generation of people all around; then again as we view the wonderful transformation that has been wrought in converting the des- ert wastes of wilderness into fruitful farms and the building of a thousand cities on the land of the Indian and buffalo, with a thousand iron steeds hauling the commerce of two continents past our door, with the news of the day riding on the wings of the lightning, with a telephone in every well ordered household and a mail box at every door, with the darkness of the night lighted by the heavenly torch harnessed
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by the hand of man; as we stand dazed by the darting of the swift winged chariots hither and thither with nothing to push or pull, but going "all the same;" as the bicycle whirls past bearing its burden of human freight, and as the automobile goes thundering through the street, we are sometimes led to wonder if we are really in a dream land, in another and grander world, or is it for a fact that these things have all come to pass in our short life time. From the fullness of heart we may exclaim with prophet of old, "Our light has come and the glory of God has risen upon our land."
CHAPTER IN.
Historic letters -- Hon. Paul Morton's early freighting-Extracts from Rev. Byron Beall's Scrap book --- Dr. G. L. Miller's "Fifty Years Ago"-Letter from Moses-Father of Arbor Day, and tablet with memorial address-Historic Sketches of Governors John M. Thayer and R. W. Furnas, also of Rev. J. M. Young.
EARLY FREIGHTING ACROSS THE PLAINS BY HON. PAUL MORTON NOW SECRETARY OF THE U. S. NAVY, WASHINGTON, D. C.
Washington, D. C., Nov. 28, 1904.
Dear Mr. Cox :-
I happen to be one of the young men who did not take Horace Greeley's advice and go west. I arrived there ahead of his advice, and long before the steel rail. I was brought up on the west bank of the Missouri river in the Territory of Nebraska. My earliest recollections of transportation is in the days before the Union Pacific was built, when I saw trains of from twenty to sixty wagons each drawn by six yoke of oxen, leaving Nebraska City, headed for Denver, Salt Lake City, or "Pike's Peak or bust." Not a few of them reached the last destination. Those were the good old days of the overland stage and the bull team. A wagon load was about three tons. The rates of freight for short hauls were generally computed at one cent per pound per hundred miles; but at variance with modern practice, for longer dis- tances the rates were increased. Any shipper conld nnder- stand the tariff. The rates were as follows from the river to Denver:
Flour, 9 cts. per pound.
Tobacco, 123 cts. per ponnd. Sugar, 133 cts. per pound.
Bacon, 15 cts. per pound.
Crackers, 17 cts. per pound. Whiskey, 18 cts. per pound. Trunks, 25 cts. per pound. Furniture, 31 cts. per pound.
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These were bull train rates, and by mule train rates they were doubled. It is remarkable how the Rocky Moun- tain country could afford to pay such rates; but the vast mineral wealth of the country enabled it to do so. I think they were fully as well satisfied with those rates as they are now with rates approximating less than one-fiftieth of what they were.
There ox teams would swing along the old California trail which passed by my father's house under the direct charge of the boss who generally rode a fine horse and who was the division superintendent of that period.
The drivers, or "bull whackers" as they were called, seemed to enjoy themselves mightily, and were generally yelling or singing. As a rule they enjoyed the best of health. They walked by the side of their teams, for it was impossible to ride and keep the teams moving regularly. The average speed of these trains of prairie schooners load- ed and under full sail, was nearly fifteen miles per day, al- though in fine weather and with excellent roads twenty miles was occasionally made.
I remember distinctly the great steam wagon which was brought west to revolutionize the freighting business and to take the place of oxen. It was regarded by all the nations with even more curiosity than the modern gasoline racer now creates where it has never before been seen. The steam wagon resembled somewhat the modern traction en- gine only it was much larger. Had it been preserved instead of dismantled and sold for scrap iron, it would have been an interesting curio for exhibition. The family of the owner of the machine was massacred by the Indians and he left the machine standing on my father's farm for a number of years. It started west in about 1864 with about ten wagon loads of freight. You will notice it was one hundred and twenty ox power. It did fairly well for about five miles and then failed. The failure was due to too much weight per ox power, and also too much weight for the small bridges on the trail. It was the first real engine failure of western trans- portation, and the failure was complete. The failure of that steam wagon to do its work over prairie roads emphasized the necessity of steel rails.
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An old time song of the plains, which became very pop- ular was, "Root Hog or Die." The boys used to make the welkin ring with old songs. Here it is:
ROOT HOG OR DIE
I'll tell you how it is when you first get on the road:
You've got an awkward team and a very heavy load! You've got to whip and holler, if you swear it's on the sly - So punch your team along boys and root hog or die.
Oh it's every day at noon there's something to do;
And if there is nothing else, there'll be an ox to shoe. So with a rope you throw him, and there yon make him lie. 'fill you tack on the shoes, boys, root hog or die.
Oh there's many strange sights to be seen along the road.
The antelope, the deer, the great big sandy toad,
The buffalo, the elk, the rabbits jump so high.
With all the bloody Indians too -root hog or die.
Times on Bitter Creek, they never can be beat;
Root hog or die is on every wagon sheet
The sand within your throat, the dust within your eyes; We are tough and we can stand it too-root hog or die.
We arrived in Denver on the 25th of June. The people were surprised to see us come so soon! But we are brave bull whackers on whom you can rely, To bend our backs and stand it too-root hog or die.
These stalwart men of the plains were a good natured crowd. They went forth to their work and adventures as if they were going to a picnic, and many of them met a fate never to return. They had all kinds of trouble to overcome. The question of feed and water for the stock was a most difficult one. They could not take supplies with them, so they had to select a route where the grass and water were good.
The firm of Majors, Russell & Waddell, probably the largest single firm of overland freighters, owned at one time six thousand wagons and seventy-five thousand oxen. It was no small job to look after such a caravan as that, as in one train their outfit was estimated to reach forty miles in length.
Wood was scarce and hard to get. At certain points on the Platte river it was sold at fifty dollars per cord. Had it not been for buffalo chips for cooking purposes, the wood supply would have been still more of a problem.
Then there was the gentle savage abroad in the land, the original scalpers in the transportation business. They
-
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had to be reckoned with, and rates fluctuated more or less with their behavior. Besides the Indians, there were vast herds of buffalo, the bad weather, and an occasional rattle snake bite to kill a man or a steer. Those men of our early transportation had their difficulties just as we have now. They had the Pawnee instead of the Populist; the Sioux in- stead of the walking delegate: and the rattlesnake in place of the demagogue. I am not sure but they had the best of us.
In those days they had their fast and slow trains. Six horse or mule stages was the rapid transit a generation ago, and without any baggage except hand baggage. They were glad to accommodate you or your friends at the rate of twenty - five cents per mile per passenger -owner's risk of scalp. The pony express was the fast mail, and the six horse stage was the limited with no rebate for delays. The stage ride and driver were more popular than the stage eating house. The facilities for marketing and the high freight rates made a limited bill of fare. Dried apple pie was a continuous per- formance. As one of the stage drivers expressed it, "it was dried apple pie from Genesis to Revelations." The following lyric poem written by a regular passenger and scattered broadcast along the line changed the bill of fare so that for a while they only served the pie Sundays and holidays.
DRIED APPLE PIE.
I loathe, abhor, detest, despise. Abominate dried apple pies. I like good bread, good meat Or anything that's good to eat. But of all poor grub beneath the skies
The poorest is dried apple pies. Give me a toothache or sore eves In preferenee to sueh kinds of pies.
The farmer takes his earliest fruit.
'Tis wormy, bitter, and hard to boot. They leave the eores to make us cough, And don't take half the peelings off:
Then on a dirty cord are strung. And from some chamber window hung:
And there they serve a roost for flies. Until they're ready to make pies! Tread on my eorns or tell me lies, But don't pass to me dried apple pies.
A story is told of a Pittsburg man who dined at one of these eating houses and was served with a slice of fat pork.
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