USA > Nebraska > York County > York County, Nebraska and its people : together with a condensed history of the state, Vol. I > Part 48
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We helped to establish a Sunday school in our district school house and had a good attendance of some seventy-five persons. We also had preaching service during the summer by Reverend Broadwell, a Methodist preacher and home- steader living some four miles west of us. Then came the days of grasshoppers in 1873-4. The sun darkened at noon day by the insects; at feeding times how the idolized gardens suffered, even eating into the onion bulbs. stripping trees, bushes and cornfields till nothing remained but bare stalks. The prospect was not very promising. One morning we observed immense flocks of birds which proved to be swallows ; they seemed to be feeding upon the grasshoppers. Another morning after a heavy thunder storm the ground was covered with tiny frogs, walking along over them they would crunch and sound like breaking eggshells ; never since have we witnessed the like.
The early days of pioneer life were fraught with trials and disappointments.
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When everything seemed to point towards prosperity, something would take place to discourage and darken our prospects, and we come down to the years of helplessness with the satisfaction that we did the best we could within our environ- ments, and now, I bid you adieu.
FACTS OF FIFTY YEARS AGO
A. W. WIRT
My first visit to free-soil Nebraska and first State Fair held at Lincoln was in September, 1872. With Brother A. B. Codding from Mendota, Ill., I filed on section 14. township 12, range 3, A. B. Codding on section 34 (Moved March, 1873). On Easter Sunday, April 12th, at sunset, we watched the approach of the noted Easter blizzard coming from the northwest in a perfect half circle like a new hemisphere had broken loose ; sure it was a "seare sight." Fleeing before it were birds of all kinds, buzzards, hawks, owls and crows. They were frightened, wearied and fell to the ground. The storm lasted three days and nights. Many families had just moved into new sod shanties. There was much suffering and lack of fuel and shelter for stock; one young man perished in the effort to care for his team. Other families took their team-their only support-into the shanty with them : it was the only refuge, they could not see them perish at the door. Many cattle drifted with the storm and snow and perished. The wind and snow were so fierce and blinding that the only safe place was the sod shanty, and stay there.
Then, there cometh another evil that no man knoweth from whence it came- that grasshopper raid, August, 1874. They came as clouds, dropping to the earth and covering the ground, and consumed immense stuff for a meal. They remained three days and nights and ate the entire corn crop of the county, which was earing fine: they ate leaf, ear and stalk. (Wheat was in shoek). Their green eyes beheld every tender leaf and plant. Wife's garden was her summer's delight and promise, but while we slept they ate it top and root ; with open hole in the ground. Turkeys and chickens feasted till ashamed and disgusted. Faithful teams shook their manes and snorted like Pharaoh's horses. Cows broke loose and ran for relief, the women cried. The grasshoppers went as they came-suddenly and in clouds. They shadowed the sun and the men said, "Lord, we are willing," and we went nine miles to Sunday school. Wife and baby Nellie and papa (to balance) went, on a riding corn plow rig and buggy box to Capt. Eberhart's school house in 1875. This was a new frame school house on section 8, town- ship 11, range 2. by M. Sovereign's homestead. A Sunday school was easily organ- ized-house full-Sovereign, superintendent ; Hon. Wm. H. Keckley, Bible teacher. The whole vicinity rallied like soldiers to their flag; it was a place for prayer, song and cheer. Stromsburg Sunday school sent invitations to visit them ; Father Keckley moved: "If anybody goes we all go." We had two four-horse (long reach ) rigs decorated, mounted by U. S. flag, school banner and a set of sleigh bells on both teams to lead the way, with F. J. Parris and Samuel Sidwell as marshals to keep the music quiet, for it was Sunday. To say the least, Stroms- burg gave a happy greeting and the shady grove on the Blue River for our picnic dinner-"Remember the Joy Life as Well."
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The last wild buffalo: Three stray grazers were seen the summer of 4874 in the northwestern part of the county and just northwest of York. One was shot by Jess Gandy near the Washburn Ranch on Lincoln Creek : the other two unawares came very close to three women who were taking a walk to Joe Boyers : they were Mrs. R. B. Brabham, Mrs. Win. Greer and Mrs. Ronaga. (One lost her knitting, another her shoes.) The two remaining buffalo were shot, one near Stromsburg in a pool, the last at South Bend on the Platte.
In June, 1886, the press of York paid tribute to one of York County's stalwart pioneer builders.
After arranging business matters here so as to make his home in Kansas per- manent, Mr. L. J. Gandy bid farewell to his many friends in York yesterday and departed for his new home. For the past fifteen years, the period of Mr. Gandy's residence in York, there has been scarcely a public enterprise projected with which he has not been closely connected. Energetic and liberal to a fault, he was prompt to step forward and assist in locating the Methodist college in our city, and has been one of the directors of the institution ever since its establishment. He has taken from his pocket and distributed in our midst upwards of two thousand dollars for charitable and educational purposes and was never known to refuse aid or lend support to any good and worthy cause. At one time Mr. Gandy was, perhaps, the most popular man in York County. He never lost an opportunity to make a friend, and was one of the recognized leaders of the republican party. In fact he was the shrewdest and most successful politician in this section of the state. After serving eight years as county treasurer he was appointed post- master in this city, which position he held until after the inanguration of President Cleveland when he considered it more profitable and easier to resign than to die. Mr. Gandy has invested considerable money in Sherman County, Kansas, where lie intends to make his future home, and with the bright prospects of the great West before him, we join his many friends here in predicting for him prosperity, wealth and happiness.
MRS. ROSA MC LELLAN
"Your letter brought to mind some very pleasant memories and again some not so pleasant. I do not know that I can write anything of help to you con- cerning the formation of school districts, churches or of political events of that day as it was a little previous for anything of that sort ; we being the only residents of Hamilton County and afterwards one of about three or four families residing in York County.
"As you must know, there was an almost continual stream of emigration in those days, Mormons, gold seekers and others running from the draft, for we settled there during the Civil war. My father, mother, husband and myself first settled twenty-five miles east of the junction of the roads from Omaha, Nebraska City, Leavenworth and St. Joe, or twenty-five miles east of what was known as the oid Warfield Ranch. We were on the road ont from Nebraska City called the steam wagon road, or cut off, and by the way the old steam wagon never got any farther than Sterling Morton's home, four miles west of Nebraska City. It was a failure.
"At this ranch on the steam wagon road, I lost my first child, a little boy of
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five years old, still buried there. One little daughter born there died at Beaver Crossing and was buried in Seward. There were many terrible snow storms. One I remember in particular, when a party of twenty-tive started from Warfield's Ranch for our place, part in a large sleigh and two in a carriage. They were lost in the snow and found themselves between the road and the Blue River and were badly frozen. In the carriage was a well known and well liked wagon boss and with him a Denver liveryman by the name of Smith who was so badly frozen that he died the day he reached Nebraska City.
"The grasshopper raid was a dreadful plague. The air was filled with clouds of them. There were three seasons of grasshoppers, one while our home was in York County and two later when we were farming at Beaver Crossing. Along with other troubles we had an Indian scare, although the Indians came no nearer or farther than the Martin Ranch on the Platte. The Martins had two sons wounded by the Indians and Mrs. Martin took her family and came as far as our place, staying all night. Other campers going west turned back and my mother and I took the stage and left with the crowd, remaining away eight days before returning.
"There is a matter of which I wish to speak regarding the name, Jack Stone. While I was living in Seward a man came to me with questions about that early life and afterwards I saw that he had written of my husband, as John A. MeLellen, alias Jack Stone. It seemed to infer the need of an alias and I con- sider it a great injustice, as Mr. MeLellan was as fine a man as ever lived or traveled on that road and had friends by the score. It was by an act of kindness that he gained the name. One night he was stopping at a ranch above ours. In the crowd were all kinds of persons and one drunken rowdy tried to make others drink, especially an old man who refused. At this the fellow threw a glass of whiskey in the old man's face. My husband told him he had better pick on a younger man. The fellow replied, Do you know who you are talking to? My name is Wood.' On the spur of the moment Mr. Mcclellan said, .My name is Stone. The boys of the company thought it was very clever and the name cJung to him while we lived there. We sold the ranch you speak of to a Mr. Wad- del, who made a farm of it.
"While we were living at this ranch a number of families came from Wisconsin and settled on the Blue near where Sutton is now located. They were splendid people who became dear friends of ours. Among the company were the Hen- dersons and Waddels whose descendants I suppose are living somewhere around York and Sutton at this time. I am sorry that I could not answer your ques- tions in a clearer or more definite way that would have been of use to you. Wishing the organization success in getting authentie reminiscences,
"ROSA C. MCLELLAN, 1913."
THE STORY OF A YORK PIONEER
The following article was written by Will M. Maupin in 1918, who merely sat and listened while the old settlers of York County talked of the old days. The old settler declined to allow his name to be used at this time, but has promised to relate more of his early experiences and make his identity known.
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After the article was written it was submitted to the old settler and he merely remarked: "If it is punctuated right and the words all spelled correctly, I guess we can let it go."
Before I can even begin the story of my experiences in Nebraska I must begin further baek than my coming to this state. It was not a state when I came here, however. I was born in Ohio in 1844, had barely turned my seventeenth year when the Civil war broke out. My father long conducted a station on the "underground railroad," and from him I had inherited my abolition sentiments. I was born on a farm, and all my life, save the three years spent in the army, I have been a farmer. Enlisting in the spring of '62, and re-enlisting, I served until the elose of the war, participated in the "Grand Review," at Washington and returned to my home near Chillicothe in the fall of '65. I had just achieved my majority and the rank of first sergeant. Army life had injected the virus of restlessness into my veins and I was not content to settle down in my old home. In the spring of 1866 I started west in a covered wagon. Father helped me outfit myself, and I had a good team, an extra horse, a few agricultural implements and $200 in money. I had no particular destination in mind when I started, but rather inclined towards Kansas, for we had heard much about that section. But while traveling across Missouri I fell in with an outfit headed towards Nebraska, and finding the people therein congenial company I cast my fortunes with them. We crossed the river at St. Joseph about the first of September, then headed a little west of north. I recall that we passed through Highland. Kan., and traveled for a time up the valley of the Blue River. We stopped for a couple of days at a point where the thriving city of Beatrice now stands, and there several of the party left us, locating in the vicinity. From there on others began dropping out of the party, and when we reached what is now York County the few remaining decided that the country looked good to us, so we decided to remain. In due time } located my homestead, and with the help of those to whom I had given help, or later gave help, I built a little "soddie" for myself and one for my horses. There was not a mile of railroad west of the Missouri River when I landed in York County, but we had heard all about the Union Pacific and believed that in good time it would be built.
Our first winter was, fortunately, not a severe one. and our live stock managed to piek a living from the luscious grasses of the prairies. Game was abundant and we never lacked for fresh meat. Grouse, rabbits, an occasional antelope filled our larders, but we had to skimp a bit on the bread, and many is the night I have lain awake on my hard bed in that "soddie" and longed for a chance to set my teeth into one of mother's pies or grab a slice of her good "salt risin" bread. What provisions we could not secure with our guns we freighted from Nebraska City by a sort of "community arrangement." That is, each would make out a list of things needed and then chip in and pay some one in the community to make the long drive to Nebraska City and return. A couple of years later we were supplied from Lineoln, and by 1871 we had a market at York.
In the spring of '67 I broke a few aeres for eorn, and fortunately got a fairly good erop. This, together with the hay I eut. furnished me with ample feed for my horses, and for the one cow I had managed to buy from a neighbor eight or ten miles away. He was my nearest neighbor at that. I "bached" it on my claim for three years, and it seems that I met with better luck than some. By the time the summer of 1870 arrived I had some sixty acres under cultivation,
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and I was the proud possessor of four good horses, a couple of colts, five or six head of cows and calves, a few chickens and a couple of brood sows. During these three long and lonesome years I had been corresponding with "the girl I left behind me," and her letters, infrequent enough. together with the still more infrequent letters from my parents, were about all I had to look forward to dur- ing the weary days and lonesome nights. We couldn't hook up and drive to the postoffice in a few minutes in those early days. If we got a chance to get mail once a month we were lucky.
After I had got my corn "laid by" in the summer of '71 I got a man to look after my stock, and I hiked back to Ohio, to get the girl. She had agreed to come, knowing very well the privations and the lonesomeness ahead of her. ] walked to Central City and boarded a Union Pacific train, and was soon hurrying back to the old home. I changed cars eight times between Central City, Nebraska and Chillicothe, Ohio, and was four days making the trip. Two years ago my wife and I made the same trip. We changed cars twice, and we made the trip in thirty-six hours.
Wife and I got back to Central City in September, and my employe met us there with a team and wagon. We filled the wagon with provisions and a brand new bedstead, together with a little cookstove and a bit of coal. It was the first coal I had bought in Nebraska. We homesteaders had managed to get along with "buffalo chips" and wood from the bottom lands thus far. I found my live stock in good shape when I returned and wife and I went to work to make ours a real home. I had set out a number of cottonwoods around the "soddie" and these had a good start. Later we set out others, and in due time had a fine grove which furnished us with an ample fuel supply. But I must confess that it was some chore to keep a heating stove going in really cold weather with cottonwood chunks for fuel. It was all right for cooking, but it was fierce work keeping the house warm when the mercury tried to dodge below the zero mark. Up to this time the winters had not been unduly severe, but the winter of 1871-42 was a hard one. I lost a horse and a couple of young cows, and about half of my little flock of chickens disappeared. When spring came my live stock looked pretty thin. But my young wife buoyed up my courage and we tackled the future with cheerful hearts. Many is the time I have thanked God that I married when I did. If I had been forced to undergo the hardships of the summer of '71 and the following winter all alone, I would have been so discouraged that the chances would have favored my throwing up the whole thing and hiking back to Ohio. We didn't raise enough corn that summer to furnish us with corn meal for the winter. The heavens were as a bowl of brass from early June until late October, and the corn and the grass literally burned up. How we managed to get through that winter the Lord only knows-but we did. When the spring of 72 opened up I was far worse off financially than I was the day I landed in York County. ] had two mighty gaunt horses, one cow in still worse shape-and nary a hog nor chicken. I did not have a dollar in money. In fact. all I had was my homestead, my little jag of imple- ments, a handful of household goods-and the best wife a man ever had. I was down and out. I wanted to give up and go back east.
"We'll stay right here," said my wife. "If you could stand more than three years of army life, I guess the two of us can stand this sort of thing for a few months."
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Actually she had to argue with me for a month to put my heart into me. But I managed to borrow $35 from a former Ohio man who was old enough to be my father, and who was also a veteran of the war. I also negotiated a little bit of credit at York, and this gave me new hope. I not only had to hustle to make good that loan and that credit. but my wife had whispered to me that I had to buckle in and make good because she was expecting company early in the winter.
Up to that time I had not given much thought to religion, but I want to tell you, my friend, that when I peered into the future and saw that little wife of mine entering the Valley of the Shadow for the purpose of bringing back a little life with her, I started into thinking. It dawned upon me that we had to have some help from a source higher than any I had heretofore considered. We had a good crop that year, and I managed to get two or three head of hogs and another cow. Wife had secured a few chickens from a neighbor, and when cold weather set in we were well fortified against the winter as far as provisions and feed for the stock was concerned. But feed was not worrying me. As December approached I began worrying about what was soon to happen. Our nearest neighbors were miles away, and the nearest doctor was more than eighteen miles distant. A storm was blowing on the December afternoon when my wife told me that the expected was going to happen a week sooner than she had planned upon. I will never forget that ride across the prairies on a stormy December afternoon when I started for the neighbor woman who had agreed to help out in our difficulty. And if ever a man prayed I did as I started on that long, cold ride for a doctor who might not be at home when I arrived. I am not ashamed to acknowledge that right there and then I promised God that if He would see me through this experience all right, I'd never forget Him, and as nearly as it is possible for a frail man to keep a promise of that kind I have kept it. I found the doctor at home, and he hurriedly prepared himself for the eighteen mile ride to my home. Within an hour after we arrived a little daughter was born to us.
"I knew you would get back in time," whispered my wife to me a few minutes after the doctor and I arrived.
Maybe it wasn't an answer to my prayers and promise, my friend, but I have always believed it was, and I've tried to make good on the promise.
That splendid neighbor woman remained with us for two weeks, making an occasional trip home to see that her own little household was all right. We spent the rest of the winter comfortably, and I want to tell you, no mansion ever looked finer than that little sod house of ours with a lusty little baby daughter to brighten it. That little baby girl is now in charge of a home of her own, and it is a good one, too. I have been a grandfather for twenty years.
No, sir; things didn't go along all right after that. Not by a long shot. The grasshoppers came along and ate up everything but the sod house and sod barn. We had to humble our pride and accept donations from unknown friends in the East, and we went cold and hungry many a time, at that. Between grasshoppers and dronth and sickness and low prices when we did raise anything, we suffered privations in these early days that the second generation will never appreciate nor understand. Many gave up in despair and returned east. We thought then that they were fortunate in being able to make the return trip, and we envied them. A lot of ns wanted to return and couldn't. Even my wife got a bit discouraged, and if we had been able to make the trip I guess we would
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have joined the exodus. But we just had to stay-and now I am mighty glad we did.
By the time 1878 arrived we had got a new start. I had contrived to get hold of the quarter section next to mine, and we now had some really near neighbors. We had a subscription school, and at least once a month we had religious services- often twice a month. The railroads came nearer and nearer, and although the prices for our produce were frightfully low and the prices of what we had to buy frightfully high, we managed to get a little ahead. I do not believe that from the time I located in York County, until the' fall of 1878 that I handled a thousand dollars in money. Everything practically was barter. That is, we traded our corn and wheat for groceries and dry goods. We didn't soll many hogs, because we didn't raise many and usually ate them ourselves. Many's the time that wife's butter and egg money tided us over. By 1880 we were in pretty good shape. I had 320 acres of mighty good land, and 1 had managed to build a frame house, although we still used a sod barn. Also we had accumulated several head of cows and had a pretty good start in the live stock industry. We also had two lusty boys. Our second born had remained with us but a few months and we laid her away in a bleak little graveyard that topped the hill looking down into the valley of the Big Blue, six miles from our homestead.
A few weeks ago I heard a farmer complaining because he was offered only ninety cents for his wheat. He had to haul it less than three miles. I have hauled wheat thirty-five and forty miles and sold it for forty cents. I have hauled corn as far and sold it for twelve cents. I have hauled hogs thirty-five miles and sold them for $3 a hundred. I have driven steers thirty-five miles, then shipped them by rail for 150, and rejoiced to get $2.75 and $3 for them. My wife has sold eggs for 8 cents a dozen and butter for 10 cents a ponnd. For a dollar's worth of eggs she got six pounds of "("" sugar or six or eight yards of calico. Today she can get more yards of calico for a couple of dozen eggs than she got for eight or nine dozen thirty-five years ago. She used to save eream for days, then work like a nailer churning, only to take six or seven pounds of butter to town and get in exchange a few yards of calico, or a few yards of gingham or fewer pounds of sugar than she had butter. She does not churn any more, but she still sells eggs. During the last ten years we have sold butter fat and eggs to an amount exceeding our returns from the farm during our first twenty years on it. It used to take us a whole day to make the trip to York and return by wagon, allow- ing a couple of hours for trading and visiting in town. We can now make the round trip in two hours and have all the time we need for trading and visiting. We don't have to go to town to see folks these days. We have neighbors within stone's throw, and we get to town practically every day. It is easier to ride to town in the car after a spool of thread than it used to be to drive in after enough stuff to last us a couple of weeks. We get our mail delivered within fifty yards of our front door every morning, and we have a telephone that connects us with the wide world. A railroad passes within a half-mile of our farm and it is less than two miles to the depot.
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