NOTE.--The material from which this paper has been prepared
was derived from the following sources: manuscript account
of "Woolen Mill," the "Journey to Washington," and the
"Cargo of Wheat to Liverpool," written by Mr. Watt and
loaned to the author by Mr. S. A. Clark, of Washington, D.
C., in whose possession it has been. A series of articles in
the _Oregonian_ in 1881, by Mr. S. A. Clark, describing the
journeys across the country and other incidents, obtained
from manuscript and from conversations with Mr. Watt, with
whom Mr. Clark was on most intimate terms; a paper
containing recollections of his brother's life and incidents
by Ahio Watt, of Portland; conversations with the widow and
daughter of Mr. Watt, who are now living at Forest Grove,
Oregon.
A unique place in the industrial history of Oregon must be given to
Joseph Watt, the first to undertake the manufacture of woolen goods on
the Pacific coast and the first to send a cargo of wheat to the market
at Liverpool, both of which acts mark the beginning of important
industrial and commercial policies in the history of Oregon.
Joseph Watt, or "Joe," as he is more commonly called by those who
mention him in connection with the history of Oregon, was born at
Mount Vernon, Knox County, Ohio, on the 17th of December, 1817. His
earliest ancestor in America was a silk weaver of Scotch-Irish descent
who came to this country about 1760, settling in the vicinity of
Philadelphia. His grandfather, Joseph Watt, crossed the Alleghany
Mountains in 1802 and took up a donation claim in western
Pennsylvania. His father, John Watt, who had taken part in the war of
1812 and served with Perry in his first cruise on the Great Lakes,
migrated to Knox County, Ohio, in 1815. Here he married and reared a
family of ten children, of whom Joseph was one.
As a boy Watt seems to have been always a dreamer, building castles in
the air and planning great schemes of business and adventure. Because
of these dreams of verdant fields and herds of cattle, he desired to
join the movement for the settlement of Texas, then being effected
under the leadership of Sam Houston, and was prevented only by the ill
health of his father and the large family which needed his aid. As a
sort of compromise his father agreed to migrate to Missouri in 1838.
This move resulted only in hardship and privation, and soon young Watt
was turning his thoughts again toward the prairies of Texas. In the
winter of 1840 and 1841 he started south, stopping in the country of
the Creeks and Cherokees to earn money at his trade of carpentering.
It was at this time that the Oregon country was coming prominently
before the people in Missouri. Watt became interested and returned to
his home with the intention of migrating to Oregon. On his way through
the southwestern part of the State in the spring of 1843 he came in
contact with many who were planning to start that year. Senator Lewis
F. Linn, of Missouri, had introduced a bill into the Senate in 1838
providing for the settlement of Oregon and offering six hundred and
forty acres of land to each settler. Watt read all that he could find
upon the subject, listened to everything which he could hear and
talked much with his associates. By the spring of 1843 he was ready to
start, but his father had become equally anxious to better his
condition and proposed that the whole family prepare to go the
following year. By the spring of 1844 it was clear that the expense of
so long and difficult a journey could not be met, and Watt, unwilling
to defer his hopes longer, started with two companions, expecting to
earn his way across the plains by driving the teams or cattle of
well-to-do emigrants. The assets all told with which he started on
this long journey were $2.50 in cash and a stock in trade of a pair of
new boots, some pins and fishhooks, to be used in trade with the
Indians.
Watt had succeeded in securing employment as driver for a well-to-do
emigrant, but fell out with his employer before they had gone far.
With a job here and there, and a trade to his advantage, he managed to
reach Burnt River with a cow and a rifle to his credit. As the journey
neared the end however provisions grew scarcer, and those who
possessed them were less able or willing to share with others. Finding
that he was not welcome at the camps of the emigrants, and obedient to
vigorous hints, he started ahead with a single companion and began the
dangerous and difficult journey over the Blue Mountains. The snow lay
from twelve to eighteen inches deep, and the trail could only be
followed by scratches made on the trees by wagons that had passed over
before. Watt's moccasins had given out and were mended with leather
cut from his buckskin pants. For provisions they had but a loaf of
bread between them. The rifle was useless because there was no game in
the mountains. His cow had been left in the charge of a friend in a
party behind. All difficulties were surmounted however and the valley
of the Umatilla was reached. Here they were in the region of game. A
number of prairie chickens were shot, powder was traded to the Indians
for a few potatoes, a kettle was borrowed and the weary travelers gave
themselves over to a feast, which, at intervals, was prolonged through
the night. Their spirits rose when hunger was appeased, and they knew
that soon they would be at the mission station at Waiilatpu. Ragged
and disreputable in appearance they were not cordially received, and
the independent nature of Watt ever cherished a dislike for missions
and missionaries. Remaining at the station until the party having
charge of his cow arrived he effected a trade by which he secured a
supply of provisions for the last part of the journey to the Dalles,
where he expected to take a boat down the river. Various experiences
were yet to be met. Fate decided that he should partake of but a
single meal from the supply of provisions which he had earned so
dearly. He escaped death by the arrival of unexpected help when he was
grappling with an Indian in which encounter the expectoration of
tobacco juice figured as a peculiar weapon of defense. Finally,
however, he reached the Dalles where boats belonging to the Hudson Bay
Company were at anchor. Those who had money to pay their passage were
packing their goods on board and going themselves, but the chances for
a passage for a penniless and ragged traveler were small. It was
Watt's purpose to work for his passage and he made application to the
boatman. "You are like one of those worn out oxen," was the reply,
"you haven't strength enough to hold yourself up, let alone work;" and
the boatman went on with his loading. Sitting on a rock by the river
Watt was a despondent figure. But the boatman, turning back with the
exclamation that "it was too bad to leave the poor devil to starve"
for he might have some "come out to him after all like a lousy
yearling in the spring," asked if Watt could sing. On learning that he
could he bade him find a place on the bow of the boat and earn his
meals as best he could. Under the title of the "figurehead,"
therefore, he kept his allotted place on the bow, and by his skill in
singing and telling yarns earned his meals as well as his passage down
the river. One song, entitled "the bobtailed mare, or the man who went
to heaven horseback," made a decided hit, and Watt fared sumptuously
for the remainder of the journey down the Columbia.
Ever at the van across the continent Watt was the first of his party
to reach his destination at Oregon City, in November of 1844. A
curious spectacle he must have made as he appeared upon the streets
with his walnut roundabout, buckskin pants reaching to the knees and
patched with antelope skin, with a red blanket for an overcoat and
woolen hat, so worn in the crown that it hung about the neck rather
than rested on the head. Such was the young castle builder who had
made his way across the plains with a capital of $2.50 in cash and a
stock in trade of pins, fishhooks, and a pair of new boots. Such was
the picturesque appearance made by one who was destined to play no
unimportant part in the industrial development of Oregon.
For a time he slept in the shavings of a carpenter shop. He tried to
trade his last possession, his beloved rifle for decent clothes but
failed. One day in his wanderings along the street he chanced to meet
the chief factor of the Hudson Bay Company, the hero of his life.
After a few inquiries Doctor McLoughlin gave orders to a clerk to
furnish Watt with clothing. "Tut, tut, tut," said the old man, "what
people these Americans are, wandering vagabonds across a continent.
What are they coming here for? Give him some clothes." After a bath
behind the shade of a neighboring bank of the river Watt emerged clad
in his suit of British corduroy and with all his preconceived and
inherited antipathy toward the British and the Catholics removed. With
the first money earned from the task of bricklaying, an employment
given him by Doctor McLoughlin, he sought to pay for his clothes, and
purchasing a bath tub, a cake of soap and some tobacco, which was his
one luxury, he had begun his career as one of the pioneer captains of
industry in Oregon.
It was not long before an opportunity for advancement presented
itself. The Catholic Church on the French Prairie was then in process
of construction and its builders were in need of a workman competent
to complete the cornice. As Watt was something of an adept at the
carpenter trade he was offered the work of constructing seven hundred
feet of cornice at $3 a foot, when he was on the point of offering to
do it for fifty cents. The return from this employment was sufficient
to give him a financial start. Not only industrious but shrewd in the
matter of trade, Watt made the most of the opportunity. About this
time the brig Henry came up the river at a time of high water, with a
cargo of goods, among which was a stock of Seth Thomas clocks, an
article for which the demand was great in this remote region. With the
savings from his carpenter work Watt purchased the lot, and found
little trouble in disposing of them in exchange for wheat. The harvest
for the year had been abundant, while the demand was small, and the
clocks, which had cost but $4 apiece, were sold for sixty to eighty
bushels of wheat. Shrewdness in anticipating the oversupply of the one
year would be followed by the scarcity of the next was more than
rewarded. Wet weather and other climatic conditions caused a small
supply while a large emigration increased the demand and the bushels
of wheat were in turn exchanged for the pieces of gold. Thus in the
space of two years the capital of $2.50 had increased to over $1,000,
and the way was open for larger plans.
Watt had never in the meantime ceased his dreaming. It was not now,
however, the broad plains of Texas and the herds of cattle, but,
rather, the luxuriant meadows and hills of the Willamette Valley,
which his imagination covered with flocks of sheep. Pleased with the
opportunities of a country which had profited him so much, and
desiring his parents and family to come, he started back to Missouri
in the spring of 1847. The return was also to be made the means of
realizing his dreams. It was his intention to bring back a flock of
sheep. Already he seemed to see the demand that would grow up in a
damp country like Oregon for woolen garments, and perhaps, likewise,
the need of suitable clothing for his eight sisters. There were but
few sheep in the country at that time. Some were in the possession of
the Hudson Bay Company; others had been driven over in the emigration
of 1844, and possibly there were a few besides. The return journey was
made by the southern route. Evidences were visible of the terrible
sufferings of the party who, in 1847, had been induced to come that
way. Along the Rogue River the Indians were hostile, and Watt was
enabled at various times to kindle his fire for breakfast with the
arrows which lay thick about the camp. On the broad plains he was
frightened by a band of hostile Pawnees, but, escaping all danger, at
length reached in safety his home in Missouri.
Before his return to Oregon Watt made a journey to the East, mainly on
business. Boston, however, with its bleak weather, had few charms for
him. "With all their steamboats, railroads, fine stores, fine cities,
fine women and all, give me Oregon," is the reflection which appears
in the reminiscences of his visit. While in the East and in the
neighborhood of Washington he decided to visit the national capital
and carry back to his fellow pioneers in the Far West whatever he
could learn of the disposition of the administration toward his
country. As this "self-appointed delegate" was walking about the
streets of the capital city he was indulging in the reflection,
typical of the western spirit, that "a great deal of money was being
spent foolishly in that city." He took occasion to look up old friends
upon whom the city life failed to exert a helpful influence. His
purpose there, however, was not curiosity, but information that might
be of value, and to gain this he sought admission to the Chief
Executive. President Polk was at the time too busily engaged to give
him audience, and the disappointment was great, for his reminiscences
record the exclamation: "What right had he to be busy when I was
there, all the way from Oregon?" Unable to see the Secretary of War,
Mr. Davis, for similar reasons, he finally was advised by his friends
to visit the little brick house, on a back street, which was occupied
by Senator Benton of Missouri. There he felt he would surely receive a
cordial welcome. "I must go and see Benton," he says: "Haven't I
shouted for him in Missouri, and hasn't he made speeches in favor of
Oregon? Yes, he can tell me what the government is going to do for
Oregon." Admitted into the house by the colored servant, he stood in
the presence of the Senator whom he thought well named "Burly Benton."
The interview was far from pleasant, if we may judge from Watt's
account. Upon learning the residence of his visitor, the Senator
immediately began a eulogy upon the services to Oregon of his
son-in-law, Colonel Fremont, which aroused the ire of the westerner.
"Ah, yes," said Benton, "we know all about Oregon. My son-in-law,
Colonel Fremont, has traveled all over that country. The country is,
or ought to be, under everlasting obligation to him for the
information he has given at the greatest sacrifice a man ever made."
To this his visitor warmly replied: "As to any information given you
by Mr. Fremont regarding what the people are doing and their
prospects, it is certainly guessed at, for I know he was never there.
His map of the road is good, but when it comes to making roads, he
never did. He followed the road to Oregon made by emigrants, men,
women and children to the Dalles, took bateaux to Fort Vancouver, got
supplies, returned to The Dalles and struck out for California on the
east side of the mountains."
Watt says in his reminiscences that he shall never forget the look
that Benton had on his face as he started across the room, rubbing his
hands and storming, "Perhaps I don't know the movements of my own
son-in-law." While the picture is completed by the clerk, to all
intents writing at a desk near by, but whose sides were "prying out
and in like a pair of bellows."
A tribute paid by Watt to the services actually rendered by Colonel
Fremont mollified the old senator and the remainder of the interview
was pleasant. The conversation turned to the object of the visit which
Watt had expressed to Benton in the following words: "I was in the
neighborhood of the city and was anxious to learn something about the
intent of the government concerning Oregon so that I could have
something to tell the settlers on my return, for we only get the news
once a year." Watt told him of his plan of transferring his family
across the plains and of driving sheep and introducing the manufacture
of wool. To Benton it seemed "quite an undertaking," but Watt, with
the true pioneer spirit, replied, "Yes, but the people out there do
not mind hardships and dangers. Somebody has to do it if the country
is ever settled." To the praises paid by Watt to Oregon and the need
of an extension of government, Benton replied, "There are a great many
things to contend with, I am afraid, before that can be done. England
has to be treated with, for they have some claims out there; and we
have many designing men here who will give us trouble. I am sure I do
not know how it will be done, but I think something will be done that
will satisfy you people. I have been frustrated in some attempts to
relieve the country but am still in hopes we can do something." The
conversation then drifted to mutual acquaintances in Missouri, and
Watt left with some maps and reports of Fremont, presented by the
Senator, under his arm.
The journey by boat down the Mississippi River was the occasion of
another experience. A collision occurred just before daylight and
many of the passengers, unable to get to land, were drowned. Watt
narrowly escaped by reaching the hurricane deck and wading out of the
cabin waist deep in the water. "I thought that worse than all the
Indians in the world," is the remark with which he sums up this
experience.
Upon reaching home the preparation was made for crossing the
continent. A band of sheep had been gotten together during Watt's
absence, much to the amusement of the neighbors, who could not believe
the enterprise would succeed. The progress, indeed, was slow. When
rain fell the mud was deep and in dry weather the dust was equally
trying. "I have driven day after day, pushing the sheep along by my
knees, and could not see them for the dust," says Watt.
The emigrants of 1848 had a comparatively easy time, and a comfortable
journey. They were more numerous, were better provided with
necessities and better organized than those of former years. How great
the contrast between crossing the plains in 1848 and that which had
been the occasion of so many difficulties four years before. The ample
outfit consisted of two large freight wagons with five yoke of cattle
to each. There was loose cattle and sheep and drivers and herders to
help with the work. Watt's familiarity with the route, his knowledge
of the best camping places and sources of water supply caused many to
look naturally to him as a leader, although the dust that rose from
the path of the flock of sheep was too much for a close following.
Watt was a lover of a practical joke, and his knowledge of the country
often gave him an opportunity to indulge this taste. By his advice a
company of the emigrants had been induced to camp by the Dry Sandy
with the promise that water would be abundant. When they reached the
place there was none to be seen. The bed of the stream was as dry and
dusty as a desert. To the surprised and indignant inquiries of the
fellow travelers for water Watt only said, "I have struck the rock and
water will soon be here." Doubt and despondency, however, were clearly
seen on the faces of the emigrants, and many thought that they had
trusted too far. Those who were fortunate enough to have kegs of water
in possession for such an emergency now brought them out and began the
preparation of supper. Those less fortunate gathered in groups where
grumbling could be heard in undertones; but Watt was calm and
unconcerned through all. Without warning, when darkness came on, a
thread of ice cold water that the midday sun had released in the
snow-capped mountains, came trickling down. It grew larger and larger
and shouts on every side arose "Here's water! Water for all! Moses
still lives." The thirsty cattle rushed in without questioning the
source of supply, but the emigrants touched it reverently, half
doubting the reality of their senses.
The usual vicissitudes of the long but somewhat monotonous journey
across the plains were enlivened one night by the sudden arrival in
camp of a messenger, on horseback, from the West. He had been riding
hard and seemed anxious to proceed as fast as possible. It was Joseph
Meek, messenger of the Oregon colonists, on his way to Washington to
announce to the government the Whitman massacre and the Cayuse war.
"The Cayuse Indians have broken out," he said, "and are murdering far
and near, sparing neither man, woman, nor children. Men are all up
from the valley fighting them hand to hand. Our boys charge and the
Indians charge back, death and destruction at ever charge." The effect
of the vivid account, that none could give better than Meek, was
great. Women and children were frightened and crying. Even the men
questioned the wisdom of proceeding. Watt, however, being well
acquainted with Meek knew his proclivities for exaggeration when
striving for effect. Gradually the facts were brought out and the
situation, though still serious, was not sufficient to turn back the
emigration. For the rest of the journey Watt was the most cautious of
the party. No Indians appeared and the fear of the emigrants wore off;
but, like the water from the mountains, the Indians might come
unannounced into camp at any time, as the experienced traveler across
the prairies well knew. Even the seriousness of this occasion
furnished Watt material for his practical jokes. When the party had
exceeded the usual limit of carelessness in sitting late and burning
the camp fires in the enjoyment of social intercourse, Watt arranged
with the guards of that night a plot. The alarm for Indians was to be
sounded at early dawn. The plan worked to a charm. The emigrants, who
had retired to rest with a feeling of security, now crept out in
confusion or hid themselves away in ridiculous positions. The bully of
the crowd who had boasted that he "would like to eat an Injin for
breakfast every morning," was now pushed from the wagon by his
delicate wife, with a rifle in one hand and his pantaloons in the
other. The heroine of the hour was a young girl, Mary Greenwood, the
daughter of one of the reliable men of the party. She was seen amidst
all the confusion kindling a fire and beginning to mold bullets for
the men to use.
The journey was made without mishap to the sheep until Snake River was
reached. Here the current was strong and they were carried down the
stream. The dreamer of Oregon's new industry stood on the bank,
helpless, and awaited the issue. The enterprise might easily have
terminated at that point; but fate decided otherwise. One fellow in
the flock, with all the qualities of a leader, struck out for shore
with a strong stroke and soon the larger part of the flock reached
the land and the wool industry for Oregon was safe.
Without other incidents of importance the journey was finally ended
and the family were all together in their new home in Oregon. The wool
weaver had proved a worthy successor to the Scotch Irish silk weaver
of colonial days. He had shown the stuff from which new countries are
settled and new industries started. The sheep, after their long and
dusty drive, were placed upon the rich pastures of the farm in Yamhill
County, and to all appearances were well pleased with the new
environment. The cards and reeds and castings for loom and spinning
wheel were put in place and cloth was made, sufficient to meet the
needs of the family and in particular of those eight sisters whose
needs had played so important a part in the beginning of the wool
industry for Oregon.
The wise dreamer, however, had been unable to see fully the future. He
had not known that while his plan was under way the discovery of gold
in California had attracted the notice of the world; that the
population flocking there would cut off the demand for his woolen
cloth, while abundance of goods would come in from the East by water
to increase the supply. The enterprise was well conceived, but as a
financial move it was doomed to temporary failure. The sheep, however,
were here and could wait for more favorable conditions. "About six or
seven years after the gold mining excitement wore off," says Watt,
"and people began to sober down to the home business, a few began to
think about the prosperity of the country. We were buying too much and
had nothing to sell. Stock had run down; there was little inducement
to go into wheat largely. We must do something to prevent so much of
an outlay for merchandise from other countries. Wool was almost
worthless and there was plenty to keep a small mill going if we could
only get the mill." Being interested in sheep himself Watt was anxious
to make that industry profitable. He believed that the time had come
when woolen goods on a considerable scale could be manufactured at a
profit; that the cheapness of raw material would overbalance the high
price of labor.
Watt had no personal knowledge of woolen mills but there were in
Oregon, at the time, two millwrights who understood the subject and
were anxious to be employed in such an enterprise. As the subject was
canvassed the interest grew. In 1855, therefore, articles of
incorporation were drawn up for the erection of a woolen mill to be
located somewhere in the Willamette Valley. Subscriptions to stock
were sought and offers of bonuses solicited. The articles provided
that the capital stock should be $25,000, and that when $9,000 was
paid in a meeting should be held to decide upon the location of the
mill. A committee of five was appointed to take charge of the matter.
The meeting to decide upon location was held at Dallas when the
requisite amount of stock was paid in. It was a meeting of
considerable importance, as much rivalry had arisen regarding the
location. One party wished it to be placed on the Luckiamute, west of
the Polk County hills, and the other desired it to be located at Salem
on the east side of the hills. Lively work had been done; the party
favorable to the Salem location had secured a bonus worth about $7,000
and had control of the voting stock. Considerable scheming,
preliminary to the vote occurred, and when it was taken "you could
hear a pin drop," says Watt. The result was favorable to the Salem
site, and plans were begun for the construction. Within a few weeks
all the stock was paid in and the company had possession of a piece of
land for the mill. A board of five directors was elected and orders
were given to begin the work. The water power was to be brought from
the Santiam River by means of a ditch. The task was not great as the
bed of Mill Creek could be used and the water power was soon secured.
An agent was sent East to purchase the machinery and by the time it
arrived the building was ready for its occupation.
Before the machinery was placed the introduction of this new industry
was the occasion of a splendid ball in the spacious building. It was
one of the most brilliant social affairs ever held in Oregon up to
this time. Among the list of those present from all over the territory
were dignitaries of state, including the Governor; dignitaries from
the army, including Lieut. Phil Sheridan, and as Watt himself says,
"even dignitaries from the church were present." Watt was an
inveterate lover of song and dance, and would go many miles at any
time to engage in such festivities. He was therefore in the height of
his glory, which was not even destroyed by the fact that his chosen
lady, Miss Lyons, beautifully adorned in a gown of blue velvet, with
golden stars, was led to the dance by the Governor. Indeed, he had no
reason to be uneasy, for the understanding between them was good, and
a few years later, 1860, he was married to her, dressed for the
occasion in a suit of wool made in the mill which he had done so much
to establish.
By the first of May the machinery was in place, and everything was in
running order. Cloth bearing the name of "Hardtimes" was produced, and
the first blankets ever made west of the Rocky Mountains were sold at
auction. The first pair went to Mr. Watt for $110, and the others
brought $75 to $25. At first all the product that could be turned out
found a ready market; competition, however, soon set in and the
managers of the mill were undecided what course to pursue. Unwilling
to discontinue the enterprise Watt was consulted, and agreed to take
the entire product of the mill for a period of three years at a fixed
price. By an aggressive process of advertising, in which he personally
carried the goods into all the important places along the line of the
old Holladay stage route, both in Oregon and California, a market was
created for the goods. In three months after the agreement had been
made the managers of the mill were willing to give a large
consideration in return for a relinquishment of his contract. The
goods found such ready market that the building and machinery were
doubled. Prices continued to rise; debts were paid off; the value of
the stock rose; a gristmill was built by the company; the race through
the town constructed, and salaries of officials were raised "as high
as their consciences would allow them to take." A woolen fever began
to spread through the country. Mills were built at Oregon City,
Brownsville, and Ellendale. This was the period of greatest
prosperity. Conditions changed, but Watt was not then connected with
the business. Divisions had arisen among the stockholders of the
company, and Watt had disposed of his stock in 1866, when it sold for
a value of $800 per share. He continued to be interested in sheep to
the close of his life, and large flocks of the finest breeds were kept
on his farm under the care of a Scotch herder employed for the special
purpose. He was ever interested in furthering the sheep industry in
other parts of Oregon, and it was partly through his influence that
sheep were first placed upon the ranges of eastern Oregon.
But the dreams of the dreamer broadened as time passed. In 1866, when
divisions led to his withdrawal from the woolen mill, the crop of
wheat in the valley was unusually large. The wheat industry had been
increasing for years. Oregon was rapidly passing from the fur trading
and pastoral stages of industrial life to that of agriculture. With
an ever-increasing supply the market was restricted, and here was a
problem to attract the mind of Watt. Shipments of wheat were made to
California, but the markets beyond had tempted only the most daring.
One line of steamers had been established between Portland and New
York and four or five vessels had been drawn into the trade. The Sally
Brown was the first to make the trial and Watt was the man who
gathered up the cargo which she carried from the wheat fields of the
Willamette. Ever in the van through life Watt conceived the idea that
a cargo of wheat could be sent to Liverpool, the market of the world.
With him to think was to act, and in 1868 he went through the valley
gathering wheat for the first cargo to the greatest wheat market in
existence. It was an adventure in magnitude exceeding anything that he
had tried before. Failure would mean a heavy loss, and success would
usher in a new day for the industrial life of Oregon. The cargo was
gathered and the vessel set forth on the long voyage. The destination
was reached and the grain inspected. It was unlike any that had ever
been seen before on the docks of the great market. The inspectors had
never seen kernels of wheat so large. The decision was pronounced that
it could not be right, and the whole cargo was condemned as water
soaked and unfit for the market. The loss fell heavily upon the
consignor of the cargo, but a beginning had been made that was
destined to grow until Oregon's industrial isolation should be ended.
In closing this paper it requires but a few words to sum up the chief
characteristics of Joseph Watt. He is best seen in the narration of
his life. Ever engaged in enterprises that were ahead of his time, he
belonged to the vanguard of industrial development in Oregon. Ever a
dreamer, he met with heavy reverses but yet retained a competence
sufficient for a comfortable old age. Independent and genuine in his
character, there was no cant in his make-up. One of the company of
kindred spirits that includes the names of Nesmith, Matthieu, Clark,
Boise, Minto, Crawford, and others, his company was always
appreciated, for he was genial and sociable in disposition. By the
Indians he was loved, and they gathered about him at his home in
Yamhill as they would about no other. Deeply interested in all that
pertained to Oregon, he was truly one of her benefactors. Always loyal
to the early state builders, he conducted a party of them in an
excursion to the East when the railroad connection was completed.
Always deeply interested in the Pioneer Association, Watt was its
president for a time and rarely was absent from its meetings. By gift
from his widow the author of this paper has deposited in the vaults of
the Oregon Historical Society the little book in which he kept the
names of the members in their own handwriting. It is worn and soiled
through frequent use, but it will ever be a valuable reminder of the
earliest of our state builders, as well as a reminder of him whom the
author has chosen to designate as a "pioneer captain of industry in
Oregon."