USA > Nebraska > Lancaster County > Lincoln > Lincoln, the capital city and Lancaster County, Nebraska, Volume I > Part 16
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"Only about 21/2 years have elapsed since the commissioners, by official proclamation, called the Town of Lincoln into existence. The Village of Lan- caster, which was included within its site, contained in all less than a half dozen buildings' of every description. At the present time that number has been increased to over three hundred and fifty, and the number of inhabitants in the town will not fall short of twenty-five hundred souls. The appreciation of real property, which was so low at the time of the first public sales that the commis- sioners nearly despaired of being able to make sufficient sales of lots to defray the expenses of building the state house, has risen to such an extent that means have been obtained from that source sufficient not only for the building of the state house, but also for building the state university and agricultural college and the state lunatic asylum, and about six hundred lots belonging to the state yet remain to be sold.
"The cash valuation of the real property of the town belonging to private individuals, as ascertained from the assessment rolls, is $456.956. Nine of the church societies for which reservations of town lots were made, as has been stated, have crected neat and commodious houses of worship and edifices will be erected by the remaining societies early in the autumn. There are three schools in town in which the ordinary branches of common school education are taught by an able corps of teachers. *
"In Lancaster County there are no longer any Government lands subject to homestead or pre-emption, although there are hundreds of thousands of acres
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of such lands in the state; many of them as fine as any lands in the state; many of them as fine as any lands in the world are situated on the Blue River, only about twenty-five miles from the capital. Excellent farm lands, situated within a radius of ten or twelve miles of the capital, may be purchased both from rail- road corporations and individuals at prices ranging from five dollars an acre upwards, according to location and the nature and extent of improvements."
In 1871 the City of Lincoln entered upon a period of gloom and discourage- ment which lasted for several years. The Legislature of that year committed many acts of indiscretion which led many people to believe that the future of Lincoln was doomed. Perhaps the greatest folly of this body of lawmakers was the impeachment of Governor Butler. So great was the depression that the value of property in the city fell at an alarming rate. To add to the troubles, the grasshoppers fell upon the county in 1873 in billions and destroyed prop- erty everywhere, throwing farmers into financial ruin and causing many to leave the county. The coming of the year 1877 heralded a return to the normal order of things. The greatest factor in this renewal of hope was the disappearance of the grasshoppers. By 1880 the City of Lincoln had a population of 14,000 people.
Although there have been years when Lincoln apparently was at a stand- still, with little or no progress, nor growth, the general development of the city has been steady. Lincoln has never been a boom town, but has maintained a position of strength and respectability in the Middle West. Financial panics and crop failures have at times threatened the prosperity of the community, but these attacks have been weathered without exception.
CHAPTER XI THE BEGINNING OF LINCOLN AND LANCASTER COUNTY
By W. W. Cox
In the last days of June, 1861, I chanced to meet William T. Donovan on the streets of Nebraska City and upon learning that he lived on Salt Creek and in the neighborhood of the wonderful salt basins, I speedily arranged to accompany him, that I might see for myself the country and the basins of which we had heard so much. If I remember correctly, after passing the old Majors farm four miles out, we passed over an unbroken wilderness, save Wilson's Ranch at Wil- son's Creek, until we reached McKee's Ranch on the Nemaha, where widow McKee and her sons lived. James Iler also lived near the same point. . This was twenty miles out and near the present Town of Syracuse. The next improve- ment was that of John Roberts on the Nemaha, near the present site of Pal- myra, and five miles farther to the west lived Mr. Meecham, a weak-kneed Mormon who had fallen out by the way. These were all of the people we saw on that trip until we reached Salt Creek. After enjoying the hospitalities of our friends here for the night a somewhat novel mode of conveyance was impro- vised for our trip to the basin. A tongue was fastened to the hind axle of a wagon and a pair of springs were made of short ash sticks and a board was laid across the ends of the sticks to serve as a seat. This completed our carriage and Buck and Bright served for motive power. On the 2d of July, 1861, we followed a dim track down to Lincoln-no, to Lancaster-no, but down Salt Creek (we hardly ever go up Salt Creek), to the mouth of Oak Creek, where we forded the stream. There was at the time a magnificent grove of honey locust timber on the west side of Salt Creek, and just south of Oak Creek, and a little to the south of the foot of O Street in the large bend of the creek, there were perhaps a hundred majestic elms and cottonwoods, with here and there a hack- berry and honey locust. Those lovely groves would now, if they could have remained in their natural grandeur and beauty as we saw them, be of priceless value to the city for a park. Joseph, the elder son of Mr. Donovan, was our teamster and guide. The big flies which infested the low bottoms were a great help as persuaders to our oxen; and at times our ride was exciting in the ex- treme, as the oxen would dart first to the right, then to the left, to get the benefit of a brush to rid themselves of the flies.
It brings peculiar thoughts to mind as I look around us now and consider the changes that have been wrought in twenty-six years (this was written in 1888). One dim track only crossed the site of the future city from east to west, that had been made by hunters and salt pilgrims, and the one already men-
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tioned, running up and down the creek. As I viewed the land upon which now stands this great city I had the exciting pleasure of seeing for the first time a large drove of the beautiful antelope cantering across the prairie just above where the Government Square is located. We forded Salt Creek just by the junction of Oak Creek and what a struggle we had in making our way through the tall sunflowers between the ford and basin. There was something enchanting about the scene that met my eyes. The fresh breeze sweeping over the salt basins reminded me of the morning breezes of the ocean beach. The basin was as smooth as glass and resembled a slab of highly polished clouded marble. The wrecks of some old salt furnaces and two deserted cabins were the only signs of civilization; all was wild and solitary; but my soul was filled with rapturous de- light. The geese, brant and pelicans had undisputed sway, and the air was filled with their shrill notes.
The nearest human habitation to either the basins or the present city was that of Mr. Donovan on the Caldwell place on Salt Creek, about five miles up that stream, or south of the ford; Joel Mason lived a mile farther up. Richard Wallingford lived at his present home. A. J. Wallingford also lived just across the creek. John Cadman lived just across the county line, as the counties were first constituted, in old Clay County, and where the Village of Saltillo now stands. Doctor Maxwell lived in that neighborhood, also Festus Reed, and where Roca now stands J. L. Davidson and the Prey family had located. William Shirley on Stevens Creek was the nearest settler to the eastward. Charles Retslef and John Wedencamp, also Judge J. D. Maine, held the fort a little farther up the creek, and Aaron Wood was located near the head of Stevens Creek. John and Louis Loder lived down Salt Creek near Waverly, also Michael Shea and James Moran. To the westward there was nothing but a complete wilderness.
In company with Darwin Peckham I commenced making salt on the 20th of August, 1861. We pre-empted one of the log cabins and bached during the fall. Salt was very scarce in war times and was high in price; and as a necessity great numbers of people came to scrape salt. They came from the whole of the settled portions of the territory, from Kansas, Missouri, and as far east as Central Iowa. At the time of the second visit, we found the roads well broken by pilgrims in search of salt. Going for salt in those days was like going fishing. It was all in luck. If the weather was perfectly dry, they could get plenty of it, for it could be seraped up by the wagon load : but three minutes of rain would end the game. I have seen a drove of men who came a full hundred miles and arrived just in time to see a little rain clear all the salt of the basin in a moment. We found a goodly number there when we arrived and they were holding the empty sack, for it had just rained and the basin was as black as ink. I remem- ber Milton Langdon as one of the disconsolate pilgrims. The next morning all except our party pulled out and we "were monarchs of all we surveyed." We immediately built a small furnace, made a sheet iron salt pan, and began boiling salt : and by the time the next drove of pilgrims came we had salt to trade or sell them. Many farmers would bring their sorghum pans to make their own salt and when they would get enough, or get tired, we would trade salt for their pans and all their spare provisions. When the weather was dry, many would scrape up more than they could haul home and we would trade for their scrapings
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at twenty-five cents per hundred. In dry times we would accumulate a mountain of scraped salt, and as soon as the first rain came our serapings would be worth from fifty cents to one dollar per hundred. Pilgrims would grab for it. They brought up all manner of provisions to trade for it ; meat, flour, chickens, butter, fruit, potatoes, eggs, and others were willing to go to the groves, cut and haul wood with which to trade for the salt. Others would haul up a large pile of wood and then rent our furnaces for the night, and thus get a supply. So we had salt to sell, scrapings to sell, furnaces to rent, and generally provisions to sell. One man, I remember, brought a fine suit of clothes and traded them to us for salt. A party brought us two four-horse wagon loads, 5,000 pounds, of flour from Winterset, Iowa, and we made him an even exchange of 5,000 pounds of salt. It was a lively time, for hundreds were going and coming continually during the fall.
I remember several distinguished visitors of that fall, among whom were the Hon. O. P. Mason and the Hon. J. Sterling Morton. We treated them to slap- jacks of our own make, which the judge seemed to relish, but our friend Morton did not seem to appreciate our cooking. Hon. P. W. Hitchcock, afterwards United States senator, and his Excellency Governor Saunders, then our governor, also made us a visit. They were not repairing fences, but were quite likely examining J. Sterling Morton's fence around the saline land. Many of lesser note visited us during the fall.
Late in the fall I moved my family to Salt Creek and wintered in one apart- ment of the log cabin which Mr. Donovan occupied, and as the salt business always ceases when winter begins, we put in the time as best we could, chasing rabbits, etc. Uncle Dick Wallingford, learning that I had graduated at the carpenter's bench, besought me to build him a house. I suppose that I have the honor of having built for Uncle Dick the first frame building in Lancaster County, in the winter of 1861-2. I made the doors of black walnut lumber that was about as hard as glass. I also remember the struggle I had one night in the following summer in making a coffin for Grandmother Wallingford out of that hard lumber.
I took up my abode at the basin with my wife and two children on the Ist of May, 1862. That same day a county convention was held at the basin and nearly every man in the county was there, but I remember none of the proceed- ings, as I was occupied in setting my house in order. Two or three days later Milton Langdon arrived with his family and took up their abode just west of the B. & M. bridge north of Oak Creek. The season of 1862 was exceedingly pros- perous. Great numbers of people came and went every day. Numerous other furnaces were started and the salt works presented quite the appearance of business.
Here I must beg indulgence while I relate a little story: In the winter of 1862-3 there was an old fellow by the name of Ben Vanthiesen camping and boiling salt, and there was an Indian camp a little distance away. The Indians had been bothering Ben until he had become impatient with them. A young. stalwart brave thought to play a joke on him and approached him with the usual aborigine salutation, "How," and at the same time offered Ben a finely polished ramrod, which he reached out to take, when Mr. Indian struck him a violent blow across the knuckles. Ben could not stand that and as quick as thought returned
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the compliment with his fist, propelled by his stalwart arm. The blow took effect just under the ear of the young, brave and he reeled backward and sat down in a pan of boiling salt water. A sharp shriek, and Mr. Injun jumped for life and ran wildly into the swamp and mired down, hallowing all sorts of bloody murder in the Indian tongue. Other braves went to his relief and carried him to camp. He was thoroughly cooked and well salted. The little settlement soon became alarmed, fearing that the Indians would be enraged and seek vengeance. A hurried consultation was held and the camp was visited to learn, if possible, the temper of the redskins. We found the man almost dead and while he was writhing in agony the other Indians were making all sorts of fun of him, calling him squaw man, etc., and pointing their fingers at him. Finally Ben Vanthiesen appeared on the scene and they began at once to lionize him, as if to further tantalize the poor unfortunate. They finally made a litter of a buffalo robe and carried him away with them, while in a dying condition.
On the morning of the 4th of July, my wife suggested that we celebrate by gathering a lot of gooseberries, of which there were great quantities. Just as we had filled our buckets we heard someone hallowing and as we emerged from the bush we saw Elder Young and party, consisting of Rev. Peter Schamp, Doctor MeKesson, Mr. Warnes, Luke Lavender and Jacob Dawson. They were on the search for a suitable location for a colony. They were patriotic and had not forgotten the flag. Dinner was quickly provided and disposed of, the neighbors were called in, and we had a celebration that was a feast to the soul. As the dear old elder talked to us of our blessed flag and how it had been trailed in the dust by recreant hands, and of the mighty struggle that was then going on to maintain its supremacy, how our hearts swelled with emotion as we realized that our country and our all was at the moment trembling in the balance. This was probably the first time our national flag ever kissed the breezes of Lancaster County, and it was an occasion long to be remembered by all the participants. Some, we know not how many, have gone to their long home. Uncle Jacob Dawson lived just long enough to see the foundations of Lincoln well laid, and was called away. Our dear friend, Elder Young, lived to see the city of his founding great and strong and marching forward to greater achievements.
In the second week in July and after making a thorough examination of the surrounding country, the party made a settlement on the land where Lincoln now stands, and dedicated a portion of section twenty-two for a townsite and chris- tened it Lancaster. Lancaster did not grow as more modern towns do. A few settlers began to arrive and settled on the beautiful lands in the vicinity, but not many cared to try their hands at building a city just then. Town building was a slow process in those days, so far inland.
It must be remembered that the bill providing for the Union Pacific Railroad had passed but the previous winter and the eastern terminus had not been fixed by the President. Our nearest railroad was at St. Joseph, Missouri, and Ottumwa, Iowa, and further it was yet very questionable whether our upland prairie was of any value for agricultural purposes. The farms were all yet confined to the creek bottoms. Prairie fires would sweep the prairies just as soon as the grass was dry in the fall and leave the roots exposed to the scorching rays of the autumn sun, and then to the frosts of winter. The snow would gather into huge drifts, there being nothing to hold it except the ravines. This resulted
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in very short grass crops on the upland and frequently there was scarcely enough to hide a garter snake in the summer. People saw the fact, that the prairie produced but little grass, but were slow to discover the causes, and were ready to condemn the land as worthless for cultivation. Some are led to believe that great changes have taken place in the general character of the soil, as well as the climate. We have frequently been asked if the land was not all covered with buffalo grass. To this question we answer most emphatically "No." It may have been at some remote period, but never since white men have known it. Many are of the opinion that it scarcely ever rained in those early days. That is certainly a mistake. The summer of 1860 produced scarcely any rain ( I well remember that year of the Kansas famine-I resided at Nebraska City at the time ) and to help matters along there were sixteen days and nights of continuous hot south wind. It was almost insufferably hot, so stifling it was that people could not bear to sit in the wind, even late in the evenings, but would be compelled to seek a wind- break. Except that memorable year rains were just as plentiful and as well dis- tributed through the growing season in those years as they are now, and vegeta- tion where it had a fair show made the same luxuriant growth, but we do not wonder that the overland immigrant who passed through this country in the early spring, or late in the fall, pronounced this a desert land, for as far as the eye could reach in all directions nothing could be seen but the black prairie ; most dreary indeed was the spectacle. There being nothing to retain the moisture and the sun bearing down on the defenseless head, and the dancing vapor playing in the distance like specters, it did not seem as if it ever could be a fit abode for civilized man.
It took men and women of strong nerve and great faith to attempt to build a home in this wilderness then, but there were some brave souls that were equal to the hour, and such were the men who founded Lancaster. The story of the founding of the embryo city and its struggle over the location of the county seat is an interesting theme. The settlement at Yankee Hill (where the insane hospital now stands) under the leadership of John Cadman and William Field made an interesting and energetic fight for the prize. These men looked with jealousy upon the Lancaster colony. Our friend Cadman was wide awake and with a fertile brain and was ready for almost any emergency. It will be remem- bered that the boundaries of the county were materially changed in the winter of 1862 and 1863. Friend Cadman secured the election to the Legislature from old Clay County. John Gregory was by some trick of legerdemain elected to represent Lancaster, and Hon. H. W. Parker was sent from Gage. The trio each had an axe to grind. Parker wanted to make the county seat secure for Beatrice and Cadman wanted to spoil Elder Young's little game and make a new town, and clothe it with the honors of the county seat. So they arranged and carried through the scheme to eliminate Clay County from the map of Nebraska and gave to Gage the south twelve miles and the north twelve miles to Lancaster in the inter- est of Cadman and his friends. Thus it came that Gage and Lancaster are each thirty-six miles long, and that Clay County was buried out of sight to be resur- rected at a later day farther to the west. I have never been able to learn just what interest our friend Gregory was to have, but suppose he was to be endorsed for the postoffice at a salary of one dollar per month at the basin, and also to have his name perpetuated by renaming the great basin "Gregory Basin," both of
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which he secured, but the honors of the office and the name were very much like a soap bubble, they got away from him in a very short time. Cadman and his friends lost no time in fixing upon a point for their new town at Yankee Hill and then came the tug of war. About this time what was known as the steam wagon road was located from Nebraska City to the west and the crossing of Salt Creek fixed at Yankee Hill. An appropriation of $500.00 was secured by the Legislature for a bridge on Salt Creek in Lancaster County, to be located by territorial commissioners. When these gentlemen came to fix the location of the bridge the Lancaster party headed by Elder Young and the Yankee Hill folks led by Cadman each made an earnest showing why they should have the bridge, and I take it for granted that each succeeded in convincing the commissioners that their claim was the best, for they divided the money between the two points and thus with the aid of private help two good bridges were secured. Each place made slow progress : a little store and a blacksmith shop were secured by each. Lancaster had the help of the salt interest while its rival had the freight road. Each had energetic men as leaders and they were equally well situated, but Lancaster had the sympathy of the greater number of people in the county. Friend Cadman had aroused the ire of all his old neighbors on the heads of Salt Creek. They were very sore over having all their pleasant dreams of a county seat at Olathe suddenly disappear and their county torn in two and swallowed by her greedy sisters.
When the county seat problem came before the people for settlement the Lancaster folks had a walkaway and secured a grand triumph at the polls.
The county seat election occurred in the summer of 1864 and was held at the house of your humble servant just south of the great basin. Notwithstanding his defeat in his pet project of founding a county seat Cadman secured a return to the Legislature for several terms and had an honorable part in moulding the destiny of the county, in helping to secure the capital removal bill, and securing the location of the capital within her borders, and while Elder Young may be justly honored as the founder of Lincoln, to John Cadman belongs the honor of doing splendid work in securing a grand triumph in removing the capital, and of securing the pricipal benefit to his county, and while he did not realize the full fruition of his hopes in getting it at Yankee Hill I am glad to know that he has been duly rewarded, and that in his green old age he is blessed with plenty of the world's goods and friends innumerable to brighten his pathway.
In the early summer of 1862 I had the pleasure of helping to raise a log house for Charles Calkins on Middle Creek, on what was afterwards known as the Hartman farm and about five miles west of the city. This was the first log cabin between the basin and the Grand Island settlement. In the beautiful month of June my good wife made a visit to Nebraska City and left me alone "with my glory" for a little season. One afternoon a vast throng of Omahas camped at the head of the basin, but we thought nothing of it as it was a common thing to see great numbers of Indians on their way to their summer hunting grounds on the Republican River. John Chambers' family lived a little way from our cabin. I went to bed as usual that night with my bright sabre under my pillow and a rifle standing within easy reach. Near midnight I heard a (not very) "gentle tapping as of someone rapping at my cabin door." "What's the matter," I cried. "Matter enough," said poor trembling John, his wife clinging to him
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like grim death, and crazed with fear. "The Indians are upon us and for God's sake what shall we do?" Whether I dressed or not you may guess. I forgot that I ever had a sabre or gun. When I awoke my ears were greeted with the most unearthly sounds, as if a thousand devils were cut loose. We all ran as most folks do when badly scared, and we hid as best we could among the hills, and waited the coming of events which we expected in about a minute. The pan- demonium continued, but came no nearer. We waited patiently for the enemy, but they did not come. We were disappointed. The Indians were expecting to meet their mortal foes, the Sioux, on their hunting grounds and were having a war dance, "only this and nothing more."
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