PIONEER LIFE IN PUYALLUP.
This account of pioneer life in the Puyallup would be incomplete
without looking closer into their manner of living. The cabins were
built under stress for immediate shelter, and so lacked completeness
that otherwise would not have been had the builders had more time.
All the early built cabins were of logs, rudely constructed, small,
and without floors. Indeed, no lumber could at the time be obtained,
and the pioneers did the best they could. Most of these cabins were
burned during the Indian war. I will describe one built after the war
that I am more familiar with than any other, as it became my home
for twenty-four years and the remnants of which are still preserved
in Pioneer Park, Puyallup. Jerry Stilly took a squatter's right on
the quarter section of land that afterwards became my homestead and
built the first section, or room, to which I afterwards added. Stilly
did not succeed in raising much of a crop, in fact did not stay long
enough, but he did succeed in after life in raising a crop of ten
children, all yet living I think in the State, but never succeeded in
gathering much of the world's goods around him. In fact he moved too
often to do so, but he did enrich his mind, drawn from the best store
of literature. He was a dear lover of Shakespeare and a close student
of the Bible. Gibbon also was one of his favorite authors. He could
repeat almost verbatim the twentieth and twenty-first chapters of the
"Decline and Fall," not that he had memorized it, but had grasped the
whole meaning from repeated readings of that wonderfully comprehensive
work. Stilly was a typical pioneer, made no pretension in dress, seldom
went to church, but was exemplary in his habits, though inclined toward
pessimism in his later life. The cabin that Stilly built was of inch
board walls, eight feet high and sixteen feet square and covered with
clapboard, or "shakes" as many designate them. Soon after coming into
possession of the claim I built another of same dimensions, leaving a
space of five feet between the two for a double fireplace and chimney.
These fireplaces became a source of great comfort for many a long
winter evening, furnishing both warmth and light. They were built of
float lava rock that had been belched from the throat of the great
mountain (Ranier) and brought to the lower level by the avalanches and
later the mighty floods that had inundated the valley ages ago. They
were so light in weight that an ordinary farm wagon box full was not a
heavy load and so soft they could be shaped with an ordinary chopping
ax without injuring, except dulling the sharp edge just a little. To
have fireplaces with smooth faced stones, and a chimney that did not
"smoke" seemed to be the very acme of elegance and comfort. The inside
of the cabin was first covered with newspapers and a little later with
real wall paper for warmth, and appearance as well, and really we
felt as proud of the cabin home, "our home", as we afterwards did of
the more pretentious homestead described elsewhere. An ivy vine[29]
planted next to the entry way between the two cabins, now nearly fifty
years old, which yet marks the spot, soon climbed to the top of the
roof and spread out, assuming the shape of the roof, ferreting out all
niches and cracks, and finally invaded the sitting-room of the cabin
as a cheerful reminder of what was above our heads. The last time I
measured the main stalk at the ground it was found to be nine inches
in diameter; overhead, what used to be in the loft, there are now main
branches as big as a man's arm with the whole surface covered with a
beautiful bright green mass of foliage.
[Illustration: PIONEER PARK, PUYALLUP, WASH.]
In course of time the land upon which the cabin stood was dedicated by
my wife and myself as Pioneer Park, Puyallup, and given over to the
care of the city. The cabin walls in the lapse of years weakened and
the roof fell in. Temporary props held the remnants of the ceiling in
place, which in turn supported the over-spreading vine. Finally the
ladies of the now grown up little city of six thousand people took a
hand, placed six heavy cement columns to support overhead cement joists
to in turn support the ivy vine.
A cement floor, a drinking fountain in the center of the cabin floor,
the ivy bower, and a few cement seats attest the faithful efforts
those lovers of the almost forgotten past have made to preserve in
perpetuity the identity of the spot where the first cabin of the now
pretentious city was built. The last vestige of the old decaying walls
were removed and placed overhead, but under the ivy vine, where in the
lapse of years the roots of the vine that have taken firm hold of the
decaying relics will absorb and transmit not only the memory of the
cabin for all time to come, but the very substance of the cabin will be
transformed into a new life of everlasting green.
A stone tablet inscribed "Site of Ezra Meeker's Cabin Home," completes
the record to be read by the many generations to follow.
Just who is the person that first conceived the idea to erect
this memorial is unknown to the author. The organization known as
the Puyallup Ladies' Club assumed the responsibility and carried
the work to completion. A letter from the President reached me at
Elm Creek, Neb., while on the last drive with the ox team homeward
bound, informing me of the arrangement for dedicating the tablet and
requesting if possible to be present and "make a short address." This
was the first information I had of the contemplated work. I could not
possibly leave my work on the Oregon Trail in time to reach home and
be present, so I bethought myself to be present in spoken words and
voice even if I could not be in person. My address was spoken into
the wonderful "thing of life," shall I call it? No, not of life, "the
spirit of life," that is named the "phonograph", that recorded the
very tones of my voice that would be familiar to my friends at home,
although at the time these words would be reproduced I would be nearly
two thousand miles distant, climbing up the eastern slope of the Rocky
Mountains, or more accurately speaking on the summit and above the
clouds of the midsummer day. The records of the address reached the
hands of the ladies in due time, when lo and behold, instead of a few
friends as anticipated more than a thousand came to see and listen,
and as all could not hear, the address was read in full after a part
had been reproduced from the phonograph. As a part of the history of
the cabin and of pioneer life it is here reproduced for the greater
audience, the readers of this volume:
"This is Ezra Meeker talking, June 8th, 1912, Elm Creek, Neb., 211
miles west of Omaha. I am on my way home to the Pacific Coast.
This is my fourth trip with an ox team over the Oregon Trail. I
crossed the Missouri River ten miles below Kanesville, now Council
Bluffs, Ia., and drove out from the river on my first trip, May
19th, 1852, and arrived at the straggling village of Portland,
Ore., Oct. 1st of the same year. We encountered the buffalo before
reaching Elm Creek, and did get some scourge of cholera, which
also soon after that caused the death of thousands of pioneers.
On my second trip I started from my home at Puyallup, Wash., Jan.
29, 1906, and drove over the Trail getting people to erect granite
monuments to perpetuate the memory of the Oregon pioneers, and to
mark the Trail they had made, which has resulted in the erection
of fifty of these monuments.[30] I then drove to Washington City
to invoke the aid of the Government, where I arrived Nov. 29,
1907; met President Roosevelt, secured favorable committee report
on a bill appropriating money to blaze and mark the Trail. I
returned home during the summer of 1908, shipping most of the way.
I made my third trip in 1910 to secure data to estimate the cost
of the work, and now have 1,600 miles of the Trail platted showing
the section line crossings."
I am 81 years old, 44 years a farmer in the one location where
this cabin is.
THE ADDRESS.
"My mind harks back to the virgin forest surrounding the cabin;
to the twilight concert of the bird songsters; to the dripping
dews of the dense foliage of the trees; to the pleasant gathering
within the cabin; to the old time music of the violin, flute,
melodeon, and finally the piano, mingled with the voices of many
now hushed and hidden from us; to the simple life of the pioneer;
to the cheerful glow of the double open fires within the cabin;
to the more cheerful glow of contentment notwithstanding the
stern battle of life confronting the inmates of the cabin—all
these visions vividly arise before me, and not only intensifies
my interest in this occasion, but brings uppermost in mind the
importance of this work.
"As we better understand each other or the ways of each generation
we are sure to profit by their failures on the one hand, as well
as by their successes on the other. The difference between a
civilized and untutored people lies in the application of this
principle, and we perhaps build better than we know or can
realize in the furtherance of such work consummated here today.
"May we not for a few moments indulge in some old time
reminiscences? When we entered this cabin we were without a
team, without a wagon, without money and with but scant supply
of household goods and clothing; seven cows and a steer (Harry),
a few pigs and a dozen or so of chickens comprising our worldly
belongings, albeit the bears divided the pigs with us and the
skunks took their share of the chickens. One cow traded to Robert
Moore for a steer (Jack) to mate the one we had, gave us a team.
"The loss of the steamship Northerner had carried all our
accumulations with it and also the revered brother, Oliver Meeker,
who, had he lived, was destined to make his mark in the annals of
the history of this great State.
"If the walls of this cabin had had ears and could speak, we
could hear of the councils when the shoes gave out; of the trip
to Steilacoom for two sides of leather, a shoe hammer, awls,
thread and the like; of the lasts made from split alder blocks;
of shoe pegs split with a case knife and seasoned in the oven; of
how the oldest pig suffered and died that we might have bristles
for the wax ends; of how, with a borrowed auger and our own axe a
sled was made and work in earnest in the clearing began; of how
in two years the transplanted orchard began to bear; of how the
raspberries, blackberries and other small fruit came into full
bearing and salmon berries were neglected and Siwash muck-a-muck
had lost its attraction; of how the steamed ladyfinger potatoes
would burst open just like popcorn and of how the meat of the
baked kidney potatoes would open as white as the driven snow;
small things to be sure, but we may well remember the sum of
life's happiness is made up of small things and that as keen
enjoyment of life exists within the walls of a cabin as in a
palace.
"Shall we strive to look into the future a little way? When the
spot we dedicate will have become an integral part of the greater
Tacoma; when the name Puyallup, so troublesome for strangers to
spell, pronounce or remember, will have disappeared; when the
great ships passing through the completed Panama canal will ride
at anchor in basins undisturbed by the tides in sight of this
monument and almost within the present border limits of our city;
when the trolley car shall have taken the place of the train and
aviators are competing for passenger traffic; when the wireless
telephone has replaced the present way and banished the hello
girls, we may well exclaim in amazement: 'What wondrous change
time has wrought since this cabin was built,' and safely predict
greater changes will greet the generation to follow in the no
distant future.
"That tremendous event approaching the completion of the Panama
canal, thus giving direct, quick and cheap water carriage from
our ports to the marts of trade of Europe, is destined to
revolutionize conditions on the Pacific coast. Instead of sending
trainloads of our fruit to Eastern ports and to Europe as now,
ship loads will be dispatched in ever-increasing quantities as
freight is cheapened and supplies increased and with this stream
of traffic will come a vast throng of immigrants to aid in
developing the land, build up our cities and bring in their train
new problems to solve."
The song sung by Mrs. Montgomery was written to the tune of "Home,
Sweet Home." The words, composed by Mrs. Mills, were:
"We welcome you gladly
To our Valley of Homes.
These trees are more stately
Than pillars and domes.
This park is the gift
Of a brave pioneer;
This stone marks the site
Of his old home so dear.
CHORUS—
All honor and praise
To our brave pioneers.
They have worked for the home
Through all the long years.
On memory's tablet
We'll carve each dear name,
For home is far sweeter
Than power, wealth or fame."
FOOTNOTES:
[29] See illustration on page 247.
[30] Now over a hundred and fifty.