called the second colony from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Captain F. J.
Pearson, who was in charge, later became editor of the _Pioneer_. Judge
Robert B. Pierce and the Tucker family were also with this colony. On
our arrival the only town we found was a mile east of the present site
of Lexington. It consisted of a section house, a small shanty called the
Johnson restaurant, one story and a half log house run by Daniel Freeman
as a general store, and a stockade built of ties used as a place of
safety for the horses and cows. The upper story of the Freeman building
was occupied by the Johnson family, who partitioned it off with blankets
to accommodate the immigrants, and the only lights we could depend on
were candle dips from the Freeman store at twenty-five cents each. At
this time bread sold at twenty-five cents per loaf.
There was also an immigrant house 20 by 40 feet located on the north
side of the railroad nearly opposite the other buildings referred to.
This house was divided into rooms 6 by 8 feet square with a hall
between. The front room was used as Dawson county's first office by John
H. MacColl, then county clerk. There was also a coal shed and a water
tank on the south side of the track. The depot was a mile west on a
railroad section where the town was finally built.
The reason for the change of townsite was a fight by Freeman against the
Union Pacific company. Freeman owned the quarter section of government
land, on which the buildings referred to were located.
The first house in Plum Creek was built by Robert Pierce, whose family
got permission to live in a freight car on the side-track while the
house was being built. While in the freight car the family was attacked
by measles. In order to gain entrance to this temporary residence a
step-ladder had to be used, and in visiting the family while in the
car, I would find them first at one end of the switch and next at the
other, and would have to transfer the ladder each time. Later on Robert
Pierce was elected probate judge and served until by reason of his age
he retired.
Tudor Tucker built the first frame house on Buffalo creek five miles
northeast of town. The first store building in Plum Creek was built by
Mr. Betz. The first hotel was built by E. D. Johnson, who deserves much
credit for his work in building up Dawson county. In 1873 the population
numbered about 175. The old townsite was soon abandoned and the town of
Plum Creek on its present site became a reality.
The completion of the Platte river bridge was celebrated July 4, 1873,
by a big demonstration. It then became necessary to get the trade from
the Republican Valley, Plum Creek being the nearest trading point for
that locality. Since there were no roads from the south, a route had to
be laid out. With this object in view, Judge Pierce, E. D. Johnson,
Elleck Johnson, and I constituted ourselves a committee to do the work.
We started across the country and laid up sod piles every mile, until we
reached the Arapahoe, 48 miles southwest. Coming back we shortened up
the curves. This was the first road from the south into Plum Creek, and
we derived a great amount of trade from this territory. It was no
uncommon thing for the Erwin & Powers Company, conducting a general
store at this time, to take in from one thousand to twelve hundred
dollars on Saturdays.
The first church and Sunday school was organized Sunday, April 13, 1873,
three and one-half miles north of town at the farm of Widow Mullen.
Those present, including myself, were: Mrs. Mullen and family, Captain
John S. Stuckey, afterwards treasurer of Dawson county, Joseph Stuckey,
Samuel Clay Stuckey and wife, Edgar Mellenger, and one negro servant.
Joseph Stuckey was appointed leader, James Tipton, superintendent of the
Sunday school, and I took charge of the music. The first regular sermon
was preached by a Mr. Wilson who came to Overton to live on a homestead.
He consented to preach for us until we could fill his place by an
appointment at general conference. We held the first regular service
both of the church and the Sunday school in the old frame schoolhouse
located in the east ward. We also held revivals in the Hill hall where
Smith's opera house now stands.
On this Sunday afternoon about five o'clock the great April storm
started with blizzard from the northwest. It was impossible for any of
us to get away until Tuesday afternoon. On Monday night Captain Stuckey,
Doc Mellenger, and I had to take the one bed. During the night the bed
broke down and we lay until morning huddled together to keep from
freezing. Mellenger and I left Tuesday afternoon, when the storm abated,
and started back toward the old town. The storm again caught us and
drifted us to Doc's old doby two and one-half miles north of the
townsite. By this time the snow had drifted from four to five feet in
depth. The horses took us to the dugout stable in which we put them.
Then we had to dig our way to the doby where we remained from Tuesday
evening until Thursday morning. We had nothing to eat during that time
but a few hard biscuits, a little bacon, and three frozen chickens, and
nothing but melted snow to drink. The bedstead was a home-made affair
built of pine boards. This we cut up and used for fuel and slept on the
dirt floor. The storm was so terrific that it was impossible to get to
the well, fifteen feet from the doby. We became so thirsty from the snow
water that Doc thought he would try to get to the well. He took a rope
and pistol, tied the rope around his waist and started for the well. His
instructions were that if I heard the pistol I was to pull him in. After
a very short time the pistol report came and I pulled and pulled and Doc
came tumbling in without pistol or bucket. It was so cold he had nearly
frozen his hands. Thursday was clear and beautiful. One of the persons
from Mullen's, having gone to town, reported that we had left there
Tuesday afternoon. On account of this report a searching party was sent
out to look for us.
Another item of interest was the Pawnee and Sioux massacre on August 5,
1873. It was the custom of the Pawnees, who were friendly and were
located on a reservation near Columbus, Nebraska, to go on a fall hunt
for buffalo meat for their winter use. The Sioux, who were on the Pine
Bluff reservation, had an old grudge against the Pawnees and knew when
this hunt took place. The Pawnees made Plum Creek their starting point
across the country southwest to the head of the Frenchman river. They
camped about ten miles northwest of Culbertson, a town on the B. & M.
railroad. The camp was in the head of a pocket which led from a
tableland to the Republican river. The Sioux drove a herd of buffalo on
the Pawnees while the latter were in camp. Not suspecting danger the
Pawnees began to kill the buffalo, when the Sioux came up, taking them
by surprise. The Pawnees, being outnumbered, fled down the caÒon. The
Sioux followed on either bank and cross-fired them, killing and wounding
about a hundred. I was sent by the government with Mr. Longshore, the
Indian agent of Columbus, and two guides to the scene of the massacre,
which was about one hundred and forty miles southwest of Plum Creek, for
the purpose of looking after the wounded who might have been left
behind. We made this trip on horseback. The agent had the dead buried
and we followed up the wounded. We found twenty-two at Arapahoe and ten
or fifteen had left and started on the old Fort Kearny trail. We brought
the twenty-two wounded to Plum Creek, attended to their wounds and then
shipped them in a box car to the reservation at Columbus.
My first trip to Wood river valley twenty miles north, was to attend
James B. Mallott, one of the first settlers. They were afraid to let me
go without a guard but I had no fear of the Indians, so they gave me a
belt of cartridges and a Colt's revolver. Finally MacColl, the county
clerk, handed me a needle gun and commanded me to get back before dark.
I started on horseback with this arsenal for Wood river and made the
visit, but on my return I stopped to let the horse rest and eat
bluestem. Soon the horse became frightened and began to paw and snort.
On looking back toward the divide, I saw three Indians on horseback were
heading my way. We were not long in getting started. I beat them by a
mile to the valley, arriving safely at Tucker's farm on Buffalo creek.
The Indians did not follow but rode along the foothills to the west. A
party of four or five from Tucker's was not long in giving chase, but
the Indians had disappeared in the hills. A little later, Anton Abel,
who lived a mile north of town, came in on the run and stated that a
file of eight or ten Indians, with scalp sticks waving, were headed
south a half mile west of town. A number mounted their horses and gave
chase to the river where the Indians crossed and were lost sight of. We
never suffered much loss or injury from the Indians. Many scares were
reported, but like the buffalo after 1874-75, they were a thing of the
past in our county.
My practice for the first ten or twelve years among the sick and
injured, covered a field almost unlimited. I was called as far north as
Broken Bow in the Loup valley, fifty miles, east to Elm Creek, Buffalo
county, twenty miles, west to Brady Island, Lincoln county, thirty-five
miles, and south to the Republican river. Most of the time there were no
roads or bridges. The valley of the Platte in Dawson county is now the
garden spot of the state. As stated before the settlement of 1872 was on
the extreme edge of the frontier. Now we have no frontier. It is
progressive civilization from coast to coast. I have practiced my
profession for over forty years continuously in this state, and am still
in active practice. I have an abiding faith that I shall yet finish up
with an airship in which to visit my patients.
EARLY RECOLLECTIONS
BY C. CHABOT
After repeated invitations from my old boyhood companion, Dr. Bancroft,
to visit him in his new home in western Nebraska, I left Philadelphia
and arrived in Omaha the early part of April, 1878. Omaha at that time
did not impress me very favorably. After buying my ticket to Plum Creek
(in those days you could only buy a ticket to Omaha) the next thing in
order was to get in line and have my trunk checked, and witness baggage
"smashers" demolish a few trunks, then coolly offer to rope them at
twenty-five cents each. Our train left at 11 a. m. and arrived in Plum
Creek at 11 p. m., good time for those days. The train left with all
seats occupied and some passengers standing. Everybody was eager to see
the great prairie country. We expected to see Indians and buffalo, but
only a few jack rabbits appeared, which created quite a laugh, as it was
the first time any of us had ever seen one run. After we had traveled
about twenty miles, "U. P. Sam," as he called himself, came into our car
and treated us to a song of his own composition. In his song he related
all the wonders of the great Union Pacific railroad and the country
between Omaha and Ogden. I saw him two years later in Dawson county,
playing the violin at a country dance, and singing songs about different
persons at the gathering. All you had to do was to give him a few points
as to a man's disposition and habits with a few dimes and he would have
the whole company laughing.
We stopped at Grand Island for supper, and in due time arrived in Plum
Creek. Dr. Bancroft was waiting for me and after being introduced to
many of his western friends, we retired for the night. Next morning
feeling the necessity of visiting a barber shop, I asked the doctor if
there was a barber shop in town. Judging from the accommodations at the
hotel I had my doubts. "We have a good barber in town," he replied, "but
I will go with you." On arriving at the corner of what is now Main and
Depot streets we entered a building which I discovered to be a saloon.
I protested, but before I had had time to say much, the doctor asked the
barkeeper where Ed. (the barber) was. "Why, he has gone south of the
river to plaster a house," was the reply. Then I thought "what kind of a
country have I come to, barber and plasterer the same person." Then my
mind wandered back to the far East where I saw a comfortable bath room,
and I thought "What can the doctor see in this country to deny himself
all the comforts of home?" Before I had time to recover from my
reveries, I was surrounded by cowboys who insisted that I drink with
them. I protested and if it had not been for Dr. Bancroft I suppose they
would have made me dance to the music of their six shooters or drink,
but as I was a friend of "Little Doc" (as they called him) that was
sufficient and the tenderfoot was allowed to leave. Then and only then I
saw in the northwest corner of the room the barber's chair.
I accompanied Dr. Bancroft on many drives over the country going as far
north as the Loup and Dismal rivers. We went several times south to
Arapahoe; in fact it was but a short time before I was acquainted with
most all the settlers in Dawson and adjacent counties. The population at
that time was hardly 2,000 in Dawson county. In a very short time I
began to feel more at home. The hospitality of the people was something
I had never dreamed of; the climate and good fresh air so invigorating
that I soon adjusted myself to surrounding conditions, and before I had
been here a month I decided to cast my lot with the rest of the new
settlers and became one of them.
While I have had many ups and downs I cannot say that I regret having
done so. When I look back and think of the many friends I made in the
early days and how we stood hand in hand in our adversities as well as
in our good fortunes, I cannot help feeling that we are more than
friends and belong to one big family.
RECOLLECTIONS OF THE FIRST SETTLER OF DAWSON COUNTY
BY MRS. DANIEL FREEMAN
I came from Canada to Leavenworth, Kansas. Mr. Freeman was a freighter
to Pike's Peak, but was not always successful. He spent $4,000 on one
train and came back with only a team of oxen and a team of ponies. The
next spring, 1862, I bought a stage-coach and using the pony team, I
took my three children, the youngest only two months old, and drove all
the way to Nebraska. My husband was there and had started a little store
just across from the pony express station on Plum creek. He bought
buffalo hides of the Indians and shipped them east. The buffalo were in
easy reach and we had fresh meat every day. We had a big sign with the
word "Bakery" on it. I baked a hundred pounds of flour every day. I
would make yeast bread over night and bake it in the forenoon, and make
salt-rising in the morning and bake it in the afternoon. We got St.
Louis flour that the freighters brought from Denver when they came back.
I sold my bread for fifty cents a loaf and made as much as thirty
dollars a day. I made cheese, too. We had seventy-five head of cows and
milked twenty-five. We would take a young calf and let it fill its
stomach with its mother's milk, then kill it. Then we took the stomach
and washed and wiped it and hung it up on a nail to dry. When it was
perfectly dry we would put it away carefully in a cloth and used it for
rennet to make the cheese. I would put a little piece of it in new
milk and it would form a solid curd. My husband made me a press and a
mold. I got twenty-five cents a pound for my cheese, and sold lots of
it. I got up fine meals and charged two dollars a meal. The people were
glad to pay it. There was plenty of firewood. The trees drifted down the
river and we piled the wood up on the islands, but after the settlers
came they would steal it. There was no need of anybody going hungry
those days, for anyone could kill a buffalo. One day a herd of thirty
came within ten feet of our door, and our cows went away with them. The
children and I walked three miles before we came up to the cows and
could get them back home. We were near the river and it was not far down
to water. We dug holes in the ground and sunk five salt barrels. The
water came up in these and we always had plenty of water. Sometimes we
dipped the barrels dry, but they would be full the next morning. There
wasn't a pump in the country for years.
The people who kept the Pony Express station were named Humphries. These
stations were about fifty miles apart. There would be lots of people at
the station every night, for after the Indians became troublesome, the
people went in trains of about a hundred wagons. There were many six
oxen teams. The Indians never troubled anybody until the whites killed
so many buffalo and wasted so much. There were carcasses all over the
prairies. The Indians used every part, and they knew this great
slaughter of the buffalo meant starvation for them, so they went on the
warpath in self-defense. They would skulk on the river bank where the
trail came close, and would rush up and attack the travelers. The
soldiers were sent out as escorts and their families often went with
them. One night at Plum Creek Pony Express station twin babies were born
to the lieutenant and wife. I went over in the morning to see if I could
help them, but they were all cared for by the lieutenant. He had washed
the babies and had the tent in order. I do not remember his name now. We
often saw tiny babies with their mothers lying in the wagons that came
by. They would be wrapped up, and looked very comfortable. Water was so
scarce that they had to pay for enough to wash the babies.
Brigham Young made trip after trip with foreign people of all kinds but
blacks. Most of these could not speak English, and I don't think Brigham
bought any water for them, as they were filthy dirty. Brigham was a
great big fat man, and he kept himself pretty neat. He made just about
one trip a year. One company of these immigrants was walking through,
and the train was a couple of miles long. They went south of the river
on the Oregon trail. There was no other road then.
On August 8, 1864, the Sioux people killed eleven men at 11:00 o'clock
in the morning, on Elm creek. I was afraid to stay on our ranch, so I
took the children and started to Fort Kearny. On the way we came to the
place of the massacre. The dead men were lying side by side in a long
trench, their faces were covered with blood and their boots were on.
Three women were taken prisoners. I heard that there were two children
in the party, and that they were thrown in the grass, but I looked all
around for them and didn't find any signs of them. Friends of these
people wrote to Mr. E. M. F. Leflang, to know if he could locate them.
The Indians never troubled us except to take one team during this war,
but I was always afraid when I saw the soldiers coming. They would come
in the store and help themselves to tobacco, cookies, or anything. Then
the teamsters would swing their long black-snake whips and bring them
down across my chicken's heads, then pick them up and carry them to
camp. I think the officers were the most to blame, for they sold the
soldiers' rations, and the men were hungry.
When the Union Pacific railroad was first built we lived on our
homestead north of the river and the town was started on our land. We
had the contract to supply the wood for the engines. They didn't use any
other fuel then. We hired men to cut the wood on Wood river where
Eddyville and Sumner are now. I boarded the men in our new big house
across from the depot in old Plum Creek. The store was below and there
was an outside stairway for the men to go up. That summer Mr. Freeman
was in Washington, Philadelphia, and New York talking up this country.
Mr. Freeman was the first county clerk and his office was upstairs over
the store. We rented some of the rooms to newcomers. We did a big
business until the railroad moved the town to their section, a mile
west. Mr. Freeman kept on trapping, and finally was drowned near
Deadwood, South Dakota. I stayed by Dawson county and raised my family
and they all are settled near me and have good homes.
EARLY DAYS IN DAWSON COUNTY
BY LUCY R. HEWITT
Mr. and Mrs. Thomas J. Hewitt, in June, 1873, journeyed from Forreston,
Illinois, to Plum Creek, Nebraska. Their object was to take advantage of
the offer the government was making to civil war soldiers, whereby each
soldier could obtain one hundred and sixty acres of land. They stopped
at Grand Island and Kearney, but at neither place could they find two
adjoining quarter sections, not yet filed on. They wanted two, for my
grandfather, Rockwood, who lived with us was also a soldier. At Plum
Creek, now Lexington, they were able to obtain what they wanted but it
was six miles northwest of the station.
Plum Creek at that early date consisted of the depot. The town was a
mile east and when my parents arrived at Plum Creek, they were obliged
to walk back to the town, in order to find lodging for the night. Rooms
seem to have been scarce for they had to share theirs with another man
and his wife. They found a place to eat in the restaurant owned by Mr.
and Mrs. E. D. Johnson.
In August of the same year, they made a second trip to Nebraska, this
time with wagon and carriage, bringing with others a carpenter who built
their house upon the dividing line of the two homesteads. This house had
the distinction of being the first two-story house in the neighborhood.
All the others were one-story, because the settlers feared the high
winds that occasionally swept over the prairies. For a few months it was
the farthest away from town.
In the three months between the two trips the town had moved to the
depot, and had grown from nothing to a village of sixty houses and
stores. The Johnsons had brought their restaurant and placed it upon the
site where a little later they built a hotel called the Johnson house.
Mr. T. Martin had built the first hotel which he named the Alhambra. I
have a very faint recollection of being in this hotel when the third
trip brought the household goods and the family to the new home. It was
in December when this last journey was taken, and great was the
astonishment of the older members of the family to see the ground
covered with a foot of snow. They had been told that there was
practically no winter in Nebraska, and they had believed the statement.
They found that the thermometer could drop almost out of sight with the
cold, and yet the greater part of many winters was very pleasant.
My father opened a law office in the town and T. L. Warrington, who
taught the first school in the village, read law with him, and kept the
office open when the farm required attention. The fields were small at
first and did not require so very much time.
The first exciting event was a prairie fire. A neighbor's family was
spending the day at our farm and some other friends also came to call.
The day was warm, no wind was stirring until about 4 o'clock, when it
suddenly and with much force blew from the north and brought the fire,
which had been smoldering for some days in the bluffs to the north of
the farm, down into the valley with the speed of a racing automobile. We
children were very much frightened, and grandmother who was sick with a
headache, was so startled she forgot her pain--did not have any in fact.
Mother and Mrs. Fagot, the neighbor's wife, were outside loosening the
tumble weeds and sending them along with the wind before the fire could
catch them. In that way they saved the house from catching fire. My
father, who had seen the fire come over the hills, as he was driving
from town, had unhitched the horses and riding one of them as fast as
possible, reached home in time to watch the hay stacks. Three times they
caught fire and each time he beat it out with a wet gunny sack. I think
this happened in March, 1874.
That same year about harvest time the country was visited by
grasshoppers. They did considerable damage by nipping off the oat heads
before the farmers could finish the reaping. My aunt who was visiting us
suggested that the whole family walk through the potato field and send
the hoppers into the grass beyond. It was a happy thought, for the
insects ate grass that night and the next day a favorable wind sent them
all away.
The worst grasshopper visitation we had was in July, 1876. One Sunday
morning father and mother and I went to town to church. The small grain
had been harvested and the corn all along the way was a most beautiful,
dark green. When we were about a mile from town a slight shade seemed to
come over the sun; when we looked up for the cause, we saw millions of
grasshoppers slowly dropping to the ground. They came down in such
numbers that they clung two or three deep to every green thing. The
people knew that nothing in the way of corn or gardens could escape such
devastating hordes and they were very much discouraged. To add to their
troubles, the Presbyterian minister that morning announced his intention
to resign. He, no doubt, thought he was justified.