USA > Washington > Douglas County > An illustrated history of the Big Bend country, embracing Lincoln, Douglas, Adams, and Franklin counties, state of Washington, pt 2 > Part 80
USA > Washington > Adams County > An illustrated history of the Big Bend country, embracing Lincoln, Douglas, Adams, and Franklin counties, state of Washington, pt 2 > Part 80
USA > Washington > Franklin County > An illustrated history of the Big Bend country, embracing Lincoln, Douglas, Adams, and Franklin counties, state of Washington, pt 2 > Part 80
USA > Washington > Lincoln County > An illustrated history of the Big Bend country, embracing Lincoln, Douglas, Adams, and Franklin counties, state of Washington, pt 2 > Part 80
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"The news continued to spread around the town during the night and some who had not seen the washings from the well, but had heard of what it contained, could not contain them- selves until morning, so they aroused Dr. Whitney again at 3 o'clock, a. m., and resumed work at the pump with the pan before starting to make locations. By ten o'clock Tuesday mornin, however, the excitement had about died away, but though it was still claimed that the gravel from the well contained some gold colorings, there was a very general impression that it contained a great deal that was not gold. No development work was done on the numer- ous claims, and there seemed too be a general disposition to turn the whole thing into a joke."
COULEE CITY AND TALES OF THE GRAND COULEE.
Mr. Harry Jefferson Brown writes enter- tainingly of the following incidents of life in Washington's wondrous chasm :
He who has journeyed through the "bad lands" of Wyoming will be forcibly reminded of them on entering the Grand Coulee through the gap in the wall at Coulee City. The broken and detached masses of lava scattered about in wild confusion, the wagon road winding in and out among them, avoiding here and cutting off distance there; and the ashes, dust and alkali flying up in clouds from under the
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horses' feet if it is summer time will bring back vivid remembrance of the conditions in northern Wyoming, that makes the traveler look carefully to his water bottle, and to calcu- late with as great nicety as his experience will enable him when and where the next supply of water will be reached. Only there is a differ- ence : Even while at the height of anxiety, there bursts upon his view the vision of a small earthly paradise in the form of garden and orchard, through which runs a living spring. Nowhere but among the contrasts of dead ashes of a prehistoric past could such freshness and greenery exist. The beauties of this small watered portion of the Coulee's bottom comes to him in startling suddenness. They stir the emotions more surely and spontaneously than can any other phase of nature.
And it is for reasons something like these that Coulee City is lucky, with the luck perhaps of wisdom, in her choice of site for a public park. You come upon it after a journey through the gray of cinders and residue of fierce fires long since quenched, as unexpectedly as upon an oasis in the desert, and with as keen a sense of pleas- urable relief. There is an oddity in the pros- pect from this park that surely is not paralleled elsewhere on this continent. On the one hand you have before you extending to the horizon a great plain, set at just the inclination needed to present a distant view of each farm and homestead. A countryside practically set on edge for your benefit, to inspect at leisure or examine with glass; to study as you would any map. On the other hand you see the immense chasm stretching away to the south, with the great walls, kaleidoscopic in color, merging to- gether in the distance. The veritable entrance to Avernus, that was once as glowing with as fierce a heat. And those wonderful walls! How they compel attention and appeal to all that is imaginative and to all that is in you of the adventurous. Room here, indeed, for ad- ventures. What hairbreadth escapes of the most thrilling note have not already occurred
on these precipitous walls. No great stretch of the fancy is needed here to see, pouring over the walls in an avalanche, countless numbers of the wild denizens of the prairies, driven to desperate flight by fires, sweeping like hurri- canes over the plains. Or a stampede of cattle in the night, rushing on blindly to meet certain destruction at the foot of the cliff. Or the cow- boys themselves, whose night songs availed them nothing, and whose heroic efforts to head the herd and circle them ended but too surely in sharing the fate of their charges. This is but fancy, however, but, were the time taken to search out all the traditions of the Coulee, tales of interest would surely be brought out that would rival any told of the old pioneer days of buffalo and Indian.
As a matter of fact there occurred but so short a time ago as September last (1903), an incident within sight of Coulee City that held as much pathos as any recorded in the history of the frontier. Conceive this situa- tion : A mother and child on a visit to friends on the Coulee wall; the father in a distant town; an errand calling the mother away for a brief time leaving the child safe and happy with its companions ; the return of the mother to find the child has disappeared, strayed away from its playmates without their noticing. The frantic search throughout the evening and all of the next day. The discovery of tiny foot- prints leading directly to the precipice. The fearful search of men, who, with ropes and lanterns are lowered down the face of the walls into every bench and shelf and nook and crev- ice, dreading always to find that for which they were looking. The journey of the father to help in the search and console the mother. The final discovery, almost by accident, of the little one sleeping peacefully in a meadow whither it had strayed far from the dangerous Coulee Wall, chilled and hungry, but alive. * *When that little one grows up it is easy to see what particular interest this chasm will hold for her.
HISTORY OF THE BIG BEND COUNTRY.
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Jack Covert, one of the youngest pioneers of the Big Bend beyond the Coulee, and who is the exponent of what a young man of ambi- tion and energy can do with lava land, can tell of a night vigil on the verge of the Coulee wall. Though knowing the country like a book, having ridden the range there in the years before the ad- vent of the wire fence, when the bunch grass was, practically, unlimited, he one night be- came lost-no difficult feat-and rode straight for the Coulee wall. To be sure he did not do this purposely, for Jack's prospects for the fu- ture were particularly bright, and death over the wall was not to be welcomed. Eagle Eye, his glasseyed cayuse, that can run down any coyote, refused to go to horse heaven by that route-he saw the edge of nothingness in time and balked. So Jack was compelled to remain on the edge of the wall for the night. It being winter and very cold, he tramped a circle in the snow and kept moving therein throughout what he calls the longest night he has ever lived. This was the prudent and prairiewise plan. Another might have floundered about at haphazard and so gone over the brink.
Wild Bill is from the Okanogan and has earned his title. When a man boasts he will race his pony full tilt straight to the edge of a precipice and not stop loping until the pony's forefeet are within one yard of the crack of doom and then "makes good," he sure deserves to be called "wild." Bill did this. If you don't believe it he will swear to its truth. If still doubtful he will show you the prints of his pony's forefeet within a yard of the Coulee wall. But better still, there are those in the Big Bend who claim they saw him do it, and will say so-and the Big Bend people are noted for telling the plain, unvarnished truth and es- chewing all that savors of fairy tales. What happened to the writer is commonplace, but may serve to illustrate the difficulties of travel across the Coulee :
In company with P. C. Hansen, of Mold,
as "pard", and guide, the trip was made over the old Indian and Bell trails to the harvest at Tipso, via the Coulee mouth, north, at the Co- lumbia. We had but one packhorse, a buck- skin cayuse of the siwash breed, with caba- listic markings on shoulder and quarters. From the delicate way in which Mr. Hansen, who is an expert, had to handle the pony while packing, I got an idea of what a trip down the Coulee wall might mean. The nicety of touch necessary to pass the ropes for the diamond hitch, and the utter gentleness necessary to use in tightening them without the pony taking a conniption fit, led me to ask a few questions.
"Yes, she's sure to jump a couple of rods if the pack touches anything."
"And how wide is the trail down the wall?" "Couple of feet," he answered.
And then I wished I hadn't been curious, for they say it is not a happy plan to shake hands with the devil till you meet him. The descent, however, was made in safety, although when guide and pony disappeared down the narrow path, slipping, sliding, scrambling, amid a shower of loose rock, I all but bade fare- well to my "pard." The return was some- thing different. When, having climbed near to the top of the trail, and in its worst part on the west wall, hundreds of feet from the bot- tom of the Coulee, that siwash of a pony balked and suddenly sat down. She kept on sitting down, alternately swapping ends and changing her base until out of our sight. We could judge of her progress by the echoing sounds and spec- ulate in the nature of changing conditions of our property on the downward path. Bets were offered and taken as to the integrity of the pack, the strength of the cinches, the position and durability of the saddle, the life of the cayuse and other debatable points. All bets were declared off when, after a toilsome hike down to the bottom of the trail, we saw Miss Cayuse loping gaily across the alkali flat. When we had chased her a good and plenty my friend ejaculated :
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"And we didn't bring the rifle."
"Why?' I asked, tenderfootedly.
'Saddle's worth more than the cayuse."
Which was so. , The alkali dust, however, was her undoing, for, a thirst engendered by breathing it drove her at last to investigate an empty bucket in my partner's hand, and so within the danger zone of a rope.
P. C. Hansen, a young veteran of the Spanish-American war in the Philippines, is typical of what a young man of brains and energy can do when he turns his attention to the land. Instead of squandering the savings of a soldier's term of enlistment as too many young men unfortunately have done, he invested in a farm well adapted to fruit and grain, and with splendid facilities for trout culture, 20 miles south of Spokane, on Rock, or Cœur d'Alene Creek. Then he uses his citizen's right and files a claim on a choice slice of Big Bend prairie. He will use his soldier's privi- lege this spring to prove up and obtain title deed to his ranch. Thrift and economy it takes and lots of hard work. But 'tis worth it all.".
TALE OF THE EARLY DAYS.
"In the earlier days of the Big Bend ranges, when there was no stock enywhere except that belonging to the range herds and droves, there was no likelihood of the maverick, or unbrand- ed colt, belonging to any one but the range ranchers. It became the established custom to sell all unidentified stock at the close of the round-up season. The stock belonged to the ranchers, but as it was impossible to determine who should have it, the unidentified were all put up and sold in a bunch ; the proceeds placed in a common fund for the maintenance of cor- rals and defraying of other common expenses. This was the most logical and business-like course, and is followed to the present day, though there is now always the possibility that some farmer nearby will appear to claim some of the stock.
"Fifteen or thirty years ago when there was no settlement in all that range country traversed by Wilson Creek, Kenneway, Lake and Crab Creeks, except here and there a stock- man's camp, a white man was seldom seen in all that country with the exception of an occa- sional cowboy, and the stockmen were almost wholly a law unto themselves. They fixed their own customs; applied their own regula- tions. Their laws may have been somewhat lax, but woe to the culprit caught overstepping the fixed bounds of right and propriety. To be sure avarice and greed sometimes goaded men to violate these laws the same as any others, but the perpetrator well knew that once caught he would see his finish. In spite of the tradi- tional 'slick-earing,' and stories of vast wealth accumulated on the range from no capital whatever, these old ranchers were as honest as could be found in any other avocation, and their hospitality was renowned. To be sure it has been said that all one needed to establish a drove or a herd was a good stout pony, a cowboy saddle, a lariat and a branding iron, but that story is, certainly the offspring of envy and constitutes an unmitigated slander.
"There is an old tradition of the early days which belies that statement. One season a re- port was current to the effect that a stranger was riding the ranges of the Kenneway and Crab Creek, accoutred with that fabled capital for the acquirement of stock. He possessed. besides these necessary articles, a blanket, a frying pan and a rasher of bacon. He must have been some tenderfoot who had long heard of the ease with which wealth could be ac- quired in the Big Bend and imagined that all stock was common property. Rumor passed from man to man that a trespasser had ap- peared and was unlawfully roping and brand- ing stock. A council of war was held and it was decided that a mortal offense had been committed, and that the mysterious stranger had committed a crime worthy the death pen- alty. These men will be condemned as mur-
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derers, but they could see no other way of pre- serving the sacred right of private ownership. If one man was allowed to appropriate what- ever he could reach it would not be long until all custom would be thrown to the wind and only anarchy would reign. What they did may seem harsh, but those frontiersmen could see no other means of self preservation. They abandoned the search for horses or cattle and inaugurated a man hunt. The same tradition says that the interloper was found, quickly corralled and with few preliminaries rendered powerless to violate regulations of the ranges any more. Also it was said that his little "kit" or riders's outfit was divided by lot and the episode ended.
"Whether or not this tradition be true or false, it serves to illustrate the character of the stockmen and to indicate the spirit and prac-, tices which made property secure to the owner in the absence of courts or any other constitu- tional machinery of law."-Wilbur Register.
KILLED A BEAR ON MAIN STREET.
The town of Wilbur made vast strides dur- ing the early 90's towards becoming a city. The Wilbur Register, always faithful to the little town, had its columns filled with matter cal- culated to make outsiders believe that Wilbur had emerged from the frontier town and was fast approaching the staid and quiet status of an eastern city. The following from its issue of December 16, 1892, however, led one to believe that even at that late day the bears sometimes resented the encroachment of civil- ization and wandered through the town:
"A crowd of men were seen hurrying to and fro on Main street last Wednesday, with here and there a gun in sight, and for a few seconds horrible sights flashed before the imaginary vision of those who were not in- formed as to their purpose. A lone shot was heard in the vicinity of the Big Bend block and as the crowd congregated at that point a
Register reporter timidly approached from the opposite side of the street, expecting to find the mangled remains of some dear friend, or bank robber, cold in death. He was agreeably disappointed. Before his gaze lay the bulky form of a brown bear, the result of a rifle shot from the unerring aim and keen eye of J. M. Rose. The wild beast had been shot in the eye. Mr. Rose afterward informed the reporter that the eye was the safest place to shoot a bear, as it was sure to destroy eyesight when it failed to kill. Lyse Brothers, the butchers, secured the carcass and proceeded to dress it for use. It had been a long time since a bear has been killed on Main street, and as it is late in the season it is not likely that an- other one will be seen this winter."
February 10, 1893, the Register said :
"Since the heavy snow it is not an uncom- mon sight to see a deer going through town and almost every day the boys and dogs about town have fun with jack-rabbits which stray within the city limits. For game, of all the towns of the state, Wilbur is in the lead. As it is unlawful to kill deer at this time of the year all that pass through are unmolested."
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IN THE EARLY DAYS.
From the Wilbur Register: "The enor- mous grain shipments from northwestern Lin- coln county last year, and the prospect for another large crop the present season forms a striking contrast with the condition of the same section eleven years ago, when I first settled here," remarked a pioneer to the Register the other day. (This was in July, 1894, that the pioneer told his story.) "At that time stockraising was not only the princi- pal industry, but I might say the only industry in the greater portion of this territory. I set- tled south of Wilbur, and the country at that time was thought to be suitable for nothing but grazing. Cattle and horses were the only output. A few hardy vegetables were occas-
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sionally grown for home consumption, and a little grain was raised to feed the work team and saddle horses. The man would then have been considered a rank enthusiast who should venture the prediction that in a few years mil- lions of bushels of grain would be exported annually from the locality.
"In those days the country was new and the neighbors were few. At that time John Turner, H. McManis, William Hunter, T. D. Geer and the Harveys lived on what is now known as 'Wheat Ridge.' The next spring came W. H. McQuarie, I. N. Cushman, Henry Rich, C. C. Pryor, Charles Prather, William Allen, Charles Schroeder and A. E. McDole, and from that time on the country was rapidly set- tled up. At that period the nearest lumber yard was thirty-five miles distant, and the set- tler had to camp out until he could secure lum- ber and build a house. Spokane Falls was the nearest trading point, and it was sometimes more convenient to do without needed grocer- ies than to 'run down to the store' and procure them. Until the Geer postoffice was estab- lished our nearest one was Brents. The first breaking done in our settlement was by Mr. McManis and Damain Wagner in 1884, I be- lieve. The first threshing on the 'ridge' was done in somewhat primitive style. Mr. Mc- Manis had raised a few acres of wheat, and necessity, always the mother of invention, spurred him to evolve a unique plan for thresh- ing. He simply stacked his grain in a little round corral and turned his horses in to tread it out. In 1887 the Cole Brothers, of Brents, secured a small, second hand threshing ma- chine in the Walla Walla country; and this was the only machine in Lincoln county for two years, when Portch Brothers, of Sher- man, brought in a new machine. From that time on' the introduction of machinery kept pace with the rapid progress of grain raising until now the music of the steam thresher is heard on every hand.
"The first header in this section was owned
by the same parties, and in the same relative order, the first being used by Cole Brothers in 1887 and Portch Brothers following shortly after. Until grain had become the well es- tablished staple crop the squirrels, which now cause the farmers so much trouble, and loss, were unknown. I do not remember to have seen a single squirrel in this region prior to 1885. The opinion of the early settlers that the country was suitable only for grazing pur- poses appears to have been a reasonable con- clusion from the conditions then existing. Ow- ing to the lack of rain in those years eight to ten, bushels an acre was considered an average crop. With the changing needs, climatic con- ditions appear to have changed also, and the tendency seems to be constantly toward an in- creased average rainfall and consequently larger yields and more certainty of crops."
A MYSTERIOUS DEATH.
In the summer of 1883, when there were, probably, not over fifty inhabitants in the whole territory of what is now Douglas coun- ty, there occurred a death which at that time attracted earnest attention on account of the mystery connected with it. The victim was a man named Frazer. Frazer and Hector Pat- terson, the latter well remembered by all old timers, had been working for the Northern Pacific Railroad Company at Ainsworth. In the summer of 1883 these two men came to the settlement on the north side of Badger Moun- tain, and both took claims, Mr. Frazer set- tling on the land now known as the "Billy Wilson place." Frazer had some money due him at Ainsworth and he received word that a couple of his horses which had strayed away, had wandered back to the Northern Pacific town. He borrowed a couple of horses of Platt Corbaley and left for Ainsworth to close up his business there and bring back his horses.
Arriving at Ainsworth he secured the ani-
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mals and the money due him. Having received the mail for himself and Mr. Patterson he started back. He made a Camp at Crounce Island in the Columbia river and this is the last time he was seen alive. This was in the month of August. A Mr. Crouch found where Frazer had camped at the horn of Moses Lake in the Coulee. Mr. Crouch came to the Bad- ger Mountain settlement and his report of having found Frazer's camp, who was evi- dently on his way home, alarmed his friends. Platt Corbaley went down to Moses Lake and recognized the camp there as Frazer's. He found his own and Frazer's horses. The ani- mals had nothing on with the exception of the pack horse, which had carried its load for 26 days. About the same time Henry Mansel found Frazer's saddle at a point about ten miles southeast from the camp. On the sad- dle was found some writing evidently made with a nail, but with the aid of the strongest magnifying glass the only word that could be deciphered was "water." After a diligent search Mr. Corbaley found a few bones, sup- posed to be the remains of Frazer. These were later brought to Badger Mountain by Hector Patterson and Jack Coby and interred.
This was the most mysterious death that ever occurred in Douglas county, and will, probably, forever remain a secret. Several theories were advanced at the time. One was that he died of thirst. Another was that he died from the bite of a rattlesnake. There was some suspicion of foul play, but there were no clues to work on, and the mystery still remains unsolved.
"JIM ODGERS'" FIRST PAPER.
James Odgers, publisher of the Davenport Tribune, is one of the pioneer publishers of the Big Bend country. In 1889 he became the proprietor of the Almira Journal and this is generally supposed to have been his first ex- perience in the newspaper business in the Big Bend.
But is was not. The year previous Mr. Odgers and Pat Grantfield, now a resident of Hartline, came to the little town of Water- ville from Nebraska. They came west to look up a location in the Big Bend country, which was that year attracting considerable attention. During the winter of 1888 Messrs. Odgers and Grantfield remained in Waterville waiting for spring to open and for "something to turn up." They made thein headquarters at the office of the Big Bend Empire, which had been estab- lished the previous winter by L. E. Kellogg. Occasionally they assisted Mr. Kellogg in run- ning off the paper. In the manner Mr. Odgers secured an insight into the printing business and it fascinated him. It was at this point that the idea took possession of him to be- come a newspaper man, and he has since been continually in the business.
One day it became necessary for Mr. Kel- logg to leave town for a short period. He left Odgers and Grantfield in charge of the office, telling them to keep an eye on the place and to refuse no money that might come in on subscription. He informed them that he would be back in time to get out the next week's issue of the Empire. Several days passed but the editor did not return. Heavy snows blockaded the roads and all traffic was suspended. Publi- cation day was approaching, and not a line of type was up for the issue. The situation looked serious to Mr. Odgers, who was alive to Mr. Kellogg's desire to always have the paper out on time.
"I'll tell you what it is," he is reported to have said to Mr. Grantfield one day, "Pat, we've got to get the bloomin' paper out our- selves."
The two Nebraskans set to work preparing copy. Odgers had paid more attention to the mechanical part of the business than had his companion, and he volunteered to set the type. In the course of time enough matter was put into type to make a respectable showing, and late on press day the forms were locked "? and
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ready for the week's run. Just as they were about to be placed on the press Mr. Kellogg, who managed to break his way through the snow and reach home, came into the office. The reader can imagine the joyful surprise of Mr. Kellogg to find everything in readiness for the press, when he expected to have several days' work ahead of him before the issue could appear. The readers can, also, imagine that Mr. Odgers exhibited some little pride in this, his first newspaper venture. A feeling of satis- faction prevailed among all concerned.
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