THE SURVEYORS
The entire Little Crow reservation consisted of about two million acres
of land, four-fifths of which was unopened and lay west of Megory
County. Of the two million acres, perhaps one million, five hundred
thousand ranged from fair to the richest of loam soil, underlaid with
clay. The climatic condition is such that all kinds of crops grown in
the central west, can be grown here. Two hundred miles north, corn will
not mature; two hundred miles south, spring wheat is not grown; two
hundred west, the altitude is too high to insure sufficient rainfall to
produce a crop; but the reservation lands are in such a position that
winter wheat, spring wheat, oats, rye, corn, flax, and barley do well.
Ever since the drouth of '94, all crops had thrived, the rainfall being
abundant, and continuing so during the first year of settlement.
Oristown and other towns on the route of the railroad had waited twenty
years for the extension, and now the citizens of Oristown estimated it
would be at least ten years before it extended its line through the
reservation; while the settlers, to the number of some eight thousand,
hoped they would get the road in five years. However, no sleep was lost
in anticipation. The nearest the reservation came to getting a railroad
that summer was by the way of a newspaper in Megory, whose editor spent
most of his time building roads into Megory from the north, south, and
the east. In reality, the C. & R.W. was the only road likely to run to
the reservation, and all the towns depended on its extension to overcome
the long, burdensome freighting with teams.
With all the country's local advantages, its geographical location was
such as to exclude roads from all directions except the one taken by the
C. & R.W. To the south lay nine million acres of worthless sand hills,
through which it would require an enormous sum of money to build a road.
Even then there would be miles of track which would practically pay no
interest on the investment. At that time there was no railroad extending
the full length of the state from east to west, most lines stopping at
or near the Missouri River. Since then two or three lines have been
built into the western part of the state; but they experienced much
difficulty in crossing the river, owing to the soft bottom, which in
many places would not support a modern steel bridge. For from one to two
months in the spring, floating ice gives a great deal of trouble and
wreaks disaster to the pontoon.
A bird's eye view of the Little Crow shows it to look something like a
bottle, the neck being the Missouri River, with the C. & R.W. tracks
creeping along its west bank. This is the only feasible route to the
Reservation and the directors of this road were fully aware of their
advantageous position. The freight rates from Omaha to Oristown (a
distance of two hundred and fifty miles) being as high as from Omaha to
Chicago, a distance of five hundred miles.
But getting back to the settlers around and in the little towns on the
Little Crow. The first thing to be considered in the extension was, that
the route it took would naturally determine the future of the towns.
Hedrick, Kirk, and Megory were government townsites, strung in a
northwesterly direction across the country, ranging from eight to
fifteen miles apart, the last being about five miles and a half east of
the west line of the county. Now the county on the west was expected to
be thrown open to settlement soon, would likely be opened under the
lottery system, as was Megory county. After matters had settled this
began to be discussed, particularly by the citizens of Megory, five and
one-half miles from the Tipp County line. This placed Megory in the same
position to handle the crowds coming into the next county, as Oristown
had for Megory County, excepting Megory would have an advantage, for
Tipp County was twice as large as Megory. When this was all considered,
the people of Megory began to boost the town on the prospects of a
future boom. The only uncertain feature of the matter then to be
considered was which way the road would extend. That was where the rub
came in, which way would the road go? This became a source of continual
worry and speculation on the part of the towns, and the men who felt
inclined to put money into the towns in the way of larger, better, and
more commodious buildings; but when they were encouraged to do so, there
was always the bogy "if." If the railroad should miss us, well, the man
owning the big buildings was "stung," that was all, while the man with
the shack could load it on two or four wagons, and with a few good
horses, land his building in the town the railroad struck or started.
This was, and is yet, one of the big reasons shacks are so numerous in a
town in a new country, which expects a road but knows not which way it
will come; and the officials of the C. & R.W. were no different from the
directors of any other road. They were "mum" as dummies. They wouldn't
tell whether the road would ever extend or not.
The Oristown citizens claimed it was at one time in the same uncertainty
as the towns to the west, and for some fifteen or twenty years it had
waited for the road. With the road stopping at Oristown, they argued, it
would be fully ten years before it left, and during this time it could
be seen, Oristown would grow into an important prairie city, as it
should. Everything must be hauled into Oristown, as well as out. So it
can be seen that Oristown would naturally boom. While nothing had been
raised to the west to ship out, as yet, still there was a growing
population on the reservation and thousands of carloads of freight and
express were being hauled into and from Oristown monthly, for the
settlers on the reservation; which filled the town with railroad men and
freighters. Crops had been good, and every thing was going along
smoothly for the citizens and property owners of Oristown. Not a cloud
on her sky of prosperity, and as the trite saying goes: "Everything was
lovely, and the goose hung high," during the first year of settlement on
the Little Crow.
And now lest we forget Calias. Calias was located one and one-half miles
east, and three miles south of Megory, and five miles straight west of
Kirk. If the C. & R.W. extending its line west, should strike all the
government townsites, as was claimed by people in these towns, who knew
nothing about it, and Calias, it would have run from Kirk to Megory in a
very unusual direction. Indeed, it would have been following the section
lines and it is common knowledge even to the most ignorant, that
railroads do not follow section lines unless the section lines are
directly in its path. If the railroad struck Kirk and Megory, it was a
cinch it would miss Calias. If it struck Calias, perched on the banks of
the Monca Creek, the route the Nicholsons, as promoters of the town,
claimed it would take; the road would miss all the towns but Calias.
This would have meant glory and a fortune for the promotors and lot
holders of the town. It would also have meant that my farm, or at least
a part of it, would in time be sold for town lots.
After I got so badly overreached in dealing in horses, for a time the
opinion was general that the solitary negro from the plush cushions of a
P----n would soon see that growing up with a new country was not to his
liking, and would be glad to sell at any old figure and "beat it" back
to more ease and comfort. This is largely the opinion of most of the
white people, regarding the negro, and they are not entirely wrong in
their opinion. I was quite well aware that such an opinion existed, but
contrary to expectations, I rather appreciated it. When I broke out one
hundred and twenty acres with such an outfit as I had, as against many
other real farmers who had not broken over forty acres, with good
horses and their knowledge of breaking prairie, acquired in states they
had come from, I began to be regarded in a different light. At first I
was regarded as an object of curiosity, which changed to appreciation,
and later admiration. I was not called a free-go-easy coon, but a
genuine booster for Calias and the Little Crow. I never spent a lonesome
day after that.
The Nicholson Brothers, however, gave the settlers no rest, and created
another sensation of railroad building by their new contention that the
railroad would not be extended from Oristown, but that it would be built
from a place on the Monca bottom two stations below Oristown, where the
track climbed a four per cent grade to Fairview, then on to Oristown.
They offered as proof of their contention that the C. & R.W. maintained
considerable yardage there, and it does yet. Why it did, people did not
know, and this kept everybody guessing. Some claimed it would go up the
Monca Valley, as Nicholson claimed. This much can be said in favor of
the Nicholsons, they were good boosters, or "big liars," as their rivals
called them, and if one listened long and diligently enough they would
have him imagine he could hear the exhaust of a big locomotive coming up
the Monca Valley. While the people in the government townsites persisted
loudly that the C. & R.W. had contracted with the government before the
towns were located, to strike these three towns, and that the government
had helped to locate them; that furthermore, the railroad would never
have left the Monca Valley, which it followed for some twenty miles
after leaving the banks of the Missouri. All of which sounded
reasonable enough, but the government and the railroad had entered into
no agreement whatever, and the people in the government towns knew it,
and were uneasy.
I had been on my claim just about a year, when one day Rattlesnake
Jack's father came from his home on the Jim River and sold me her
homestead for three thousand dollars. My dreams were at last realized,
and I had become the owner of three hundred and twenty acres of land;
but my money was now gone, when I had paid the one thousand, five
hundred dollars down on the Rattlesnake Jack place, giving her back a
mortgage for the remaining one thousand, five hundred at seven per cent
interest, and it was a good thing I did, too. I bought the place early
in April and in June the Interior Department rejected the proof she had
offered the November before, on account of lack of sufficient residence
and cultivation. The proof had been accepted by the local land office,
and a final receipt for the remaining installments of the purchase
price, amounting to four hundred and eighty dollars, was issued. A final
receipt is considered to be equivalent to a patent or deed, but when
Rattlesnake Jack's proof of residence got to the General Land Office in
Washington, in quest of a patent, the commissioner looked it over,
figured up the time she actually put in on the place, and rejected the
proof, with the statement that it only showed about six month's actual
residence. At that time eight month's residence was required, with six
months within which to establish residence; but no proof could be
accepted until after the claimant had shown eight month's actual and
continuous residence.
From the time the settlers began to commute or prove up on the Little
Crow, all proofs which did not show fully eight month's residence, were
rejected. This was done mostly by the Register and Receiver of the Local
Land Office, and many were sent back on their claims to stay longer.
Many proofs were also taken by local U.S. Commissioners, County Judges,
and Clerks of Courts, but these officers rarely rejected them, for by so
doing they also rejected a four dollar and twenty-five cent fee. About
one-third of the persons who offered proof at that time had them turned
down at the Local Land Office. This gave the local Commissioners, County
Judges, and Clerks of Courts, a chance to collect twice for the same
work. It may be interesting to know that a greater percentage of proofs
rejected were those offered by women. This was perhaps not due to the
fact that the ladies did not stay on their claims, so much as it was
conscientiousness. They could not make a forcible showing by saying that
they had been there every night, like the men would claim, but would say
instead that they had stayed all night with Miss So-and-So this time and
with another that time, and by including a few weeks' visit at home or
somewhere else, they would bungle their proofs, so they were compelled
to try again.
A short time after this and evidently because so many proofs had been
sent back, the Interior Department made it compulsory for the claimant
to put in fourteen months' actual residence on the claim, before he
could offer proof. With fourteen months, they were sure to stay a full
eight months at least. This system has been very successful.
When Rattlesnake Jack was ordered back, after selling me the place, she
wanted me to sign a quit claim deed to her and accept notes for the
money I had paid, which might have been satisfactory had it not been
that she thought I had stopped to look back and failed to see the rush
of progress the Little Crow was making; that the long anticipated news
had been spread, and was now raging like a veritable prairie fire, and
stirred the people of the Little Crow as much as an active stock market
stirs the bulls on the stock exchange. The report spread and stirred the
everyday routine of the settlers and the finality of humdrum and
inactivity was abrupt. It came one day in early April. The rain had kept
the farmers from the fields a week. It had been raining for nearly a
month, and we only got a clear day once in a while. This day it was
sloppy without, and many farmers were in from the country. We were all
listening to a funny story Ernest Nicholson was telling, and "good
fellows" were listening attentively. Dr. Salter, a physician, had just
been laid on a couch in the back room of the saloon, "soused to the
gills," when in the door John M. Keely, a sort of ne'er do well popular
drummer, whose proof had been rejected some time before, and who had
come back to stay "a while longer", stumbled into the door of the local
groggery. He was greeted with sallies and calls of welcome, and like
many of the others, he was "feeling good." He sort of leaned over, and
hiccoughing during the intervals, started "I've," the words were spoken
chokingly, "got news for you." He had by now got inside and was hanging
and swinging at the same time, to the bar. Then before finishing what he
started, called "Tom," to the bar tender, "give me a whiskey before I",
and here he leaned over and sang the words "tell the boys the news."
"For the love of Jesus Keel" exclaimed the crowd in chorus "tell us what
you know." He drained the glass at a gulp and finally spit it out. "The
surveyors are in Oristown."