Lewis was an interested spectator, and before the capital of the state
was changed he predicted its location in the salt basin, almost on the
spot where Lincoln now stands. He accordingly purchased property in the
vicinity of what is now Beatrice, making a comfortable fortune as the
result of his wisdom and foresight. By Ford Lewis' liberality to those
purchasing land from him, in selling at reasonable prices, and extending
their contracts during hard times, instead of making purchasers forfeit
their land because of inability to meet their payments, he encouraged
and assisted many settlers who are now some of Nebraska's most
prosperous farmers to keep their land, which is now the source of their
prosperity. During the period when he was borrowing money for his
investments in Nebraska land, many Illinois people remarked that Ford
Lewis was "land crazy," but have since wished they had had his vision,
and courage to hold their purchases through the crop failures and
drouths which are sometimes the portion of every community: those who
followed his advice now "rise up and call him blessed."
That he was not alone in his judgment is evidenced by the large land
holdings of the late Lord Scully of England and the late John W.
Bookwalter of Springfield, Ohio, who recently died in Italy, and was a
warm personal friend of my father's, having purchased some of his land
from him.
Mr. Lewis married Miss Elizabeth Davis of Jerseyville, Illinois, in
1864. She was the first girl baby born in that town, her parents being
among the earliest pioneers there from New Jersey; so her childhood
memories of bears, Indians, and slave refugees during the civil war, and
roaming the woods surrounding their home prepared her to be a capable
and sympathetic helpmate for my father during his many pioneer trips to
Nebraska.
A BUFFALO HUNT
BY W. H. AVERY
In the fall of 1866, about the last of October, a party of nine men,
myself included, started out from Rose creek for a buffalo hunt. At
Whiterock, Kansas, we were joined by another party of four men with "Old
Martin Fisher," an early Whiterock settler, as official guide. Our
equipment consisted of four wagons, one of which was drawn by a double
ox team. There were numerous firearms and plenty of provisions for the
trip. The party was much elated over the first day's experiences as
night found us in possession of four fine buffalo. That evening while we
were riding out after one of the buffalo our ears were greeted by the
Indian yell. Looking back up a draw we saw five redmen galloping toward
us. At the time we did not know they were friendly, but that was proven
later. They came up to us and wanted powder or "bullet" and also wanted
to swap guns. All they succeeded in getting was a necktie which one of
the men gave them. After a short parley among themselves they left,
going back to our camp where we had left one man to guard the camp and
prepare supper. There they helped themselves to the loaf of bread the
guard had just baked, a $12 coat, a $22 revolver, and one good bridle;
away they went and that was the last seen of them. The night was passed
in safety and the next day we hunted without any exciting experiences.
The following day we met with only fair success so thought we had better
start for home. In the morning the party divided, our guide, Fisher, and
two men going on and leaving the rest of us to hunt as we went along. We
succeeded in getting only one buffalo, but Fisher's men had done better
and were ready to make tracks for home. That night they had suspicions
that there were Indians near so built no fire and in the morning soon
after breaking camp a party of Indians came upon them. There was
considerable parleying about a number of things which the Indians wanted
but the men were unwilling to make any bargains whatever. All the
Indians but one started off and this one still wanted to parley and
suddenly drew his revolver and shot Fisher in the shoulder. The Indian
then rode off at breakneck speed and that was the last seen of them.
Fisher warned the men not to shoot as he was uncertain as to how many
redmen might be in their vicinity and he did not want to take any great
risk of them all being killed. Our party did not know of the accident
until we returned home and we had no encounter with the party of
Indians. We were thankful to be safely home after a ten days hunt.
A GRASSHOPPER RAID
BY EDNA M. BOYLE ALLEN
Perhaps children who live in a pioneer country remember incidents in
their early life better than children living in older settled countries.
These impressions stand out clearly and in prominence all the rest of
their lives.
At least there are several things which happened before I was six years
old that are as vivid in my memory as if they had happened but
yesterday. Such was the coming of the grasshoppers in 1874, when I was
two years old.
My father, Judge Boyle, then owned the block on the north side of Fifth
street between I and J streets, in the village of Fairbury. Our house
stood where J. A. Westling's house now stands. Near our place passed the
stage road to Beatrice. A common remark then was, "We are almost to
Fairbury, there is Boyle's house."
Father always had a big garden of sweet corn, tomatoes, cabbage, etc.,
and that year it was especially fine.
One day he came rushing home from his office saying, "The grasshoppers
are coming." Mother and he hurried to the garden to save all the
vegetables possible before the grasshoppers arrived. I put on a little
pink sunbonnet of which I was very proud, and went out to watch my
parents gather the garden truck as fast as they could and run to the
cellar door and toss it down. I jumped up and down thoroughly enjoying
the excitement. Finally, the grasshoppers, which were coming from the
northwest like a dark cloud, seeming so close, father shut the cellar
door before he and mother returned to the garden for another load. They
had just filled their arms when the grasshoppers began to drop and not
wishing to let any down cellar they threw what vegetables they had on
the ground and turned a big wooden wash tub over them. By this time my
little pink sunbonnet was covered with big grasshoppers. Mother picked
me up in her arms and we hurried into the house. From the north kitchen
window we watched every stalk of that garden disappear, even the onions
were eaten from the ground.
When father went to get the vegetables from under the wooden tub there
wasn't a thing there. The grasshoppers had managed to crawl and dig
their way under the edge of that tub.
The only time an Indian ever frightened me was in the fall of 1875. I
was used to having the Otoe Indians come to our house. Mother was not
afraid of them so of course I was not. Among them was a big fellow
called John Little Pipe. The door in the hall of our house had glass in
the upper half. One afternoon mother being nearly sick was lying down on
the couch and I took my doll trying to keep quiet playing in the hall.
Looking up suddenly I saw John stooping and looking in through the glass
in the door. I screamed and ran to mother. He didn't like my screaming
but followed me into the sitting room and upon seeing mother lying down
said, "White lady sick?" Mother was on her feet in a moment. He sat down
and after grumbling a while about my screaming he began to beg for a
suit of clothes. Mother said, "John, you know well enough you are too
large to wear my husband's clothes." Then he wanted something for his
squaw and children. Finally mother gave him an old dress of hers. He
looked it over critically and asked for goods to patch it where it was
worn thin. Grabbing his blanket where it lay across his knees he shook
it saying, "Wind, whew, whew." After receiving the patches, he wanted
food but mother told him he could not have a thing more and for him to
go. He started, but toward the closet he had seen her take the dress
from. She said, "You know better than to go to that door. You go out the
way you came in." He meekly obeyed. I had seen him many times before and
saw him several times afterward but that was the only time I was
frightened.
EARLY DAYS IN PAWNEE COUNTY
BY DANIEL B. CROPSEY
In March, 1868, I left Fairbury, Illinois, with my two brothers and a
boy friend in a covered wagon drawn by two mules. We landed at Nebraska
City after swimming the mules to get to the ferry on which we crossed
the Big Muddy. We then drove to Lincoln the first week in April. My
father had purchased a home there on the site where the Capital hotel
now stands. Lincoln then was but a hamlet of a few hundred people. There
were no shade trees nor sidewalks and no railroad. Later father built a
larger house, out a considerable distance in those days, but today it
faces the capitol building. The house is a brick structure, and all the
bricks were hauled from Nebraska City. Afterwards father sold the home
to Chancellor Fairfield of the State University.
The year before we came father had come to Nebraska and had bought a
large body of land, about ten thousand acres, in Pawnee county. I being
the oldest boy in our family, it devolved upon me to go to Pawnee county
to look after the land, which was upland and considered by the older
inhabitants of little value; but the tract is now worth about a million
dollars. Among other duties I superintended the opening up of the lines
and plowing out fifty-two miles of hedge rows around and through this
land. I am sorry to say that most of the money and labor were lost for
prairie fires almost completely destroyed the hedge.
I had many experiences during my two years' sojourn in Pawnee county.
The work was hard and tedious. Shelter and drinking-water were
scarce--we drank water from the buffalo wallows or went thirsty, and at
times had to brave the storms in the open. The people were poor and many
lived in sod houses or "dugouts," and the living was very plain. Meat
and fruit were rarities. The good people I lived with did their best to
provide, but they were up against it. Grasshoppers and the drouth were
things they had to contend with. At times our meals consisted of bread
and butter and pumpkin, with pumpkin pie for Sunday dinner. The barn we
usually carried with us. It consisted of a rope from sixty to a hundred
feet long for each mule or horse and was called the lariat. I put the
pony one night in the barn across the ravine, I well remember, and in
the morning I found a river between the barn and me. A rain had fallen
in the night and I had to wait nearly a day before I could get to the
pony.
Our only amusement was running down young deer and rabbits and killing
rattlesnakes.
We often met the red man with his paint and feathers. He was ever ready
to greet you with "How!" and also ready to trade ponies, and never
backward about asking for "tobac." As I was neither brave nor well
acquainted with the Indians I was always ready to divide my "tobac."
Later I found out I was easy, for the boys told me whenever they met the
beggar Indian they told him to "puckachee," which they said meant for
him to move on.
We had no banks, and we cashed our drafts with the merchants. David
Butler was governor at that time. He was a merchant as well, and made
his home in Pawnee, so he was my banker. On two occasions I had the
pleasure of riding with him in his buggy from Pawnee to Lincoln. It was
indeed a privilege to ride in a buggy, for we all rode ponies those
days, and I think I was envied by most of the boys and girls of Pawnee.
On one of my return trips with the governor my good mother had baked a
nice cake for me to take with me, which I put under the seat along with
a lot of wines of several kinds and grades which the governor's friends
had given him. Of course mother didn't know about the liquids. I'll
never forget that trip. We grew very sociable and the Nemaha valley grew
wider and wider as we drove along; and when we arrived at Pawnee the
next day the cake was all gone, our faces were like full moons, and it
was fully a week before I had any feeling in my flesh.
I also well remember the first train which ran between Lincoln and
Plattsmouth. That was a great day, and the Burlington excursion was made
up of box cars and flat cars with ties for seats. Crowds of young people
took advantage of the excursion and we enjoyed it much more than we
would today in a well-equipped pullman.
EARLY EVENTS IN JEFFERSON COUNTY
BY GEORGE CROSS
Along in the seventies, when everyone was interested in the project of
the erection of a United Brethren college in Fairbury, the leading
promoter of that enterprise held a revival in the Baptist church. The
weather was warm and as his zeal in expounding the gospel increased he
would remove his coat, vest, and collar, keeping up meantime a vigorous
chewing of tobacco. The house was usually crowded and among the
late-comers one night was W. A. Gould, who was obliged to take a seat in
front close to the pulpit. The next day some one offered congratulations
at seeing him in church, as it was the first time he had ever been seen
at such a place in Fairbury. "Yes," said Gould, "I used to attend
church, but that was the first time I ever sat under the actual
drippings of the sanctuary, for the minister spit all over me."
The most closely contested election ever held in Jefferson county was
that in 1879 on the question of voting bonds to the Burlington and
Missouri railroad to secure the passing through Fairbury of the line
being built east from Red Cloud. The proposition was virtually to
indirectly relieve the road from taxation for ten years. As bonding
propositions were submitted in those days this was considered a very
liberal one, as the taxes were supposed to offset the bonds and if the
road was not built there would be neither bonds nor taxes. It required a
two-thirds vote to carry the bonds and as the northern and southern
portions of the county were always jealous of Fairbury the contest was a
bitter one. Some of the stakes of the old Brownville & Ft. Kearny survey
were yet standing and some still hoped that road would be built. The
people of Fairbury resorted to all known devices to gain votes, some of
which have not yet been revealed. It was long before the days of the
Australian ballot and more or less bogus tickets were in circulation at
every election. On this occasion a few tickets containing a double
negative were secretly circulated in a precinct bitterly opposed to the
bonds. Several of these were found in the ballot box and of course
rejected, which left on the face of the returns a majority of one in
favor of the bonds. It has always been believed that Fairbury lost the
road because the officials of the road, who also comprised the townsite
company, thought they could make more by building up new towns of their
own.
[Illustration: MONUMENT ON THE OREGON TRAIL, THREE MILES NORTH OF
FAIRBURY
Erected by Quivira Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution.
Dedicated October 29, 1912.
Cost $200]
EARLY DAYS OF FAIRBURY AND JEFFERSON COUNTY
BY GEORGE W. HANSEN
The first white settler in what is now Jefferson county was Daniel
Patterson, who established a ranch in 1856 where the Overland, or Oregon
trail crosses the Big Sandy. Newton Glenn located the same year at the
trail crossing on Rock creek. The first government survey of land in
this county was made in 1857, and the plat and field notes show the
location of "Patterson's Trading Post" on the southeast quarter of
section 16, town 3 north, range 1 east.
Early in May, 1859, D. C. Jenkins, disappointed in his search for gold
at Pike's Peak, returned on foot pushing a wheelbarrow with all his
possessions the entire distance. He stopped at the Big Sandy and
established a ranch a short distance below Patterson's place. A few
weeks later, on May 25, 1859, Joel Helvey and his family, enroute for
Pike's Peak, discouraged by the reports of Mr. Jenkins and other
returning gold hunters, settled on the Little Sandy at the crossing of
the trail. About the same time came George Weisel, who now lives in
Alexandria, James Blair, whose son Grant now lives near Powell, on the
land where his father first located, and D. C. McCanles, who bought the
Glenn ranch on Rock creek. The Helvey family have made this county their
home ever since. One of Joel Helvey's sons, Frank, then a boy of
nineteen, is now living in Fairbury. He knew Daniel Patterson and D. C.
McCanles, and with his brothers Thomas and Jasper, buried McCanles, Jim
Woods, and Jim Gordon, Wild Bill's victims of the Rock creek tragedy of
1861. He drove the Overland stage, rode the pony express, was the first
sheriff of this county, and forms a connecting link between the days of
Indian raids and the present. Alexander Majors, one of the proprietors
of the Overland stage line, presented each of the drivers with a bible,
and Frank Helvey's copy is now loaned to the Nebraska State Historical
Society. Thomas Helvey and wife settled on Little Sandy, a short
distance above his father's ranch, and there on July 4, 1860, their son
Orlando, the first white child in the present limits of Jefferson and
Thayer counties, was born.
During the civil war a number of families came, settling along the
Little Blue and in the fertile valleys of Rose, Cub, and Swan creeks. In
1862 Ives Marks settled on Rose creek, near the present town of
Reynolds, and built a small sawmill and church. He organized the first
Sunday school at Big Sandy.
The first election for county officers was held in 1863. D. L. Marks was
elected county clerk, T. J. Holt, county treasurer, Ed. Farrell, county
judge. In November, 1868, Ives Marks was elected county treasurer. If a
person was unable to pay his entire tax, he would accept a part, issue a
receipt, and take a note for the balance. Sometimes he would give the
note back so that the party would know when it fell due. He drove around
the county collecting taxes, and kept his funds in a candle box. He
drove to Lincoln in his one-horse cart, telling everyone he met that he
was Rev. Ives Marks, treasurer of Jefferson county, and that he had five
hundred dollars in that box which he was taking to the state treasurer.
Fairbury was laid out in August, 1869, by W. G. McDowell and J. B.
Mattingly. Immediately after the survey Sidney Mason built the first
house upon the townsite of Fairbury, on the corner northwest of the
public square, where now stands the U. S. postoffice. Mrs. Mason kept
boarders, and advertised that her table was loaded with all the
delicacies the market afforded, and I can testify from personal
experience that the common food our market did afford was transformed
into delicacies by the magic of her cooking. Mrs. Mason has lived in
Fairbury ever since the town was staked out, and now (1915), in her
ninety-sixth year, is keeping her own house and performing all the
duties of the home cheerfully and happily.
Mrs. Mason's grandson, Claiborn L. Shader, son of Mr. and Mrs. A. L.
Shader, now of Lincoln, was the first child born in Fairbury.
One of the most vivid and pleasant memories that comes to me after the
lapse of forty-five years is that of a boy, tired and footsore from a
hundred-mile walk from the Missouri river, standing on the hill where
the traveler from the east first sees the valley of the Little Blue,
looking down on a little group of about a dozen houses--the village of
Fairbury. This was in the summer of 1870, and was my first view of the
town that was ever after to be my home.
On the second floor of Thomas & Champlin's store I found George Cross
and my brother, Harry Hansen, running off the _Fairbury Gazette_,
alternating in inking the types with the old-fashioned roller and
yanking the lever of the old-fashioned hand press. This was about the
first issue of the _Gazette_ entirely printed at home. The first issues
were set up at home, hauled to Beatrice in a lumber wagon, and printed
in the office of the Beatrice _Express_, until the press arrived in
Fairbury.
When subscriptions were mostly paid in wood, butter, squash, and
turnips, you can imagine what a time Mr. Cross had in skirmishing around
for cash to pay for paper and ink, and the wages of a printer; so he
decided if the paper was to survive and build up the country, he must
have a printer for a partner, and he sold a half interest in the
_Gazette_ to my brother and me. The principal source of our revenue was
from printing the commissioners' proceedings and the delinquent tax
list, taking our pay in county warrants. These warrants drew ten per
cent interest, were paid in a year, and we sold them to Editor Cramb's
grandfather for seventy-five cents on the dollar. On that basis they
yielded him forty per cent per annum--too low a rate, we thought, to
justify holding.
Prairie grass grew luxuriantly in the streets. There were not enough
buildings around the public square to mark it. On the west side were
three one-story buildings, the best one still standing, now owned by Wm.
Christian and used as a confectionery; it was then the office of the
county clerk and board of county commissioners. The second was the
pioneer store of John Brown, his office as justice of the peace, and his
home; the third was a shanty covered with tarred paper, the office and
home of Dr. Showalter, physician, surgeon, politician, and sometimes
exhorter; and a past master he was in them all. On the north side were
two of the same class of buildings, one occupied by Mr. McCaffery, whose
principal business was selling a vile brand of whiskey labeled
Hostetter's Bitters, and the other was Wesley Bailey's drug store and
postoffice. George Cross had the honor of being postmaster, but Wes drew
the entire salary of four dollars and sixteen cents per month, for
services as deputy and rent for the office. On the east side there was
but one building, Thomas & Champlin's Farmers' store. On the south side
there was nothing. On the south half of the square was our ball ground.
Men were at work on the foundation of the Methodist church, the first
church in Fairbury. We were short on church buildings but long on
religious discussions.
Where the city hall now stands were the ruins of the dugout in which
Judge Boyle and family had lived the previous winter. He had built a
more stately mansion of native cottonwood lumber--his home, law and
real-estate office. M. H. Weeks had for sale a few loads of lumber in
his yard on the corner northeast of the square, hauled from Waterville
by team, a distance of forty-five miles. All supplies were hauled from
Waterville, the nearest railroad station, and it took nearly a week to
make the round trip. Judge Mattingly was running a sawmill near the
river, cutting the native cottonwoods into dimension lumber and common
boards.
The Otoe Indians, whose reservation was on the east line of the county,
camped on the public square going out on their annual buffalo hunts. The
boys spent the evenings with them in their tents playing seven-up, penny
a game, always letting the Indians win. They went out on their last hunt
in the fall of 1874, and traveled four hundred miles before finding any
buffalo. The animals were scarce by reason of their indiscriminate
slaughter by hunters, and the Otoes returned in February, 1875, with the
"jerked" meat and hides of only fifteen buffalo.
The Western Stage Company ran daily to and from Beatrice, connecting
there by stage with Brownville and Nebraska City. The arrival of the
stage was the great and exciting event of each day; it brought our mail
and daily newspaper, an exchange to the _Gazette_; and occasionally it
brought a passenger.
After resting from my long walk I decided to go on to Republic county,
Kansas, and take a homestead. There were no roads on the prairie beyond
Marks' mill, and I used a pocket compass to keep the general direction,
and by the notches on the government stones determined my location. I
found so much vacant government land that it was difficult to make a
choice, and after two trips to the government land office at Junction
City, located four miles east of the present town of Belleville. I built
a dugout, and to prevent my claim being jumped, tacked a notice on the
door, "Gone to hunt a wife." Returning to Fairbury, I stopped over
night with Rev. Ives Marks at Marks' mill. He put me to bed with a
stranger, and in the morning when settling my bill, he said: "I'll
charge you the regular price, fifteen cents a meal, but this other man
must pay twenty cents, he was so lavish with the sugar." On this trip I
walked four hundred and forty miles. Two years later I traded my
homestead to Mr. Alfred Kelley for a shotgun, and at that time met his
daughter Mary. Mary and I celebrated our fortieth anniversary last May,
with our children and grandchildren.
The first schoolhouse in Fairbury was completed in December, 1870, and
for some time was used for church services, dances, and public
gatherings. The first term of school began January 9, 1871, with P. L.
Chapman for teacher.