WPA Historical Records Benton Co. Oregon

[Dave Robertson]

http://www.rootsweb.com/~orbenton/wpa/IntervW.html

WPA Historical Records
Benton Co., Oregon
Mark Phinney

Recollections Of Elizabeth KING WELLS

(From the papers of Mrs. R.M. Peffer,517 N. Second Street., Corvallis, Oregon)

"In the spring of 1852 father and his wife, three girls, and one boy joined my mother's brother, William HENKLE, to come to Oregon. It was the largest train that had crossed the plains that year. Father had three horses. One of my brothers and sister took turns in riding to help drive the loose stock. I was not old enough to ride alone, so only rode now and then, not very often, and I did not care much after a few times. The other two horses were used on a light wagon called a "democrat wagon" that mother and the children rode in. Father owned three yoke of oxen and an ox-cart, or wagon that held our provisions for the six months trip, our clothing, a few necessary household articles, father's plow, and a few utensils like a saw, hammer, etc.. He also had a half interest in another ox team and ox-cart, my uncle owning the other half; the wagon had to be left on the plains. The provisions had been used down so that what was left could be put in the other wagon. The oxen became sore footed and the alkali did not agree with them. They were poor and one by one died, (until) at last the poorest were left to shift for themselves near some water-hole. It was a case of "the survival of the strongest".

"I had a cousin about my own age. We were great friends and chums. We spent hours riding in that wagon and sadly missed it when it was left. We could not bring our playthings so we had to make our own. It is surprising how many things a child can make if left to her fancy and imagination.

"There was a great gatherings at my Uncle's in Cincinnati, Ohio, all those who were going to the far county, Oregon, and the relatives and friends who had come to bid them good-bye. Those who were going were full of hope, and had their faces turned to the West; those who stayed behind, anxious and filled with fear for the travelers' safety realized it must be a long time before they could hope to hear from their loved ones, and they might never hear from them. You who have never bidden farewell under similar circumstances can never understand what it is. Little they knew of the hardships and trials they would be obliged to endure on the long weary trip.

"I was always fond of pets, and at that time I had a little, black dog I called Colonel. When we were ready to start I climbed up in the wagon seat and had Colonel hugged tight in my arms. Aunt Isabel ARMSTRONG came out to say Good-bye and mother said, "You must give Colonel to Aunt Isabel". I hugged the little black dog up closer to me, thought I just could not do it, but they at last made me give him up. I thought my heart would break, and how I did cry. That was the first sacrifice I was called on to make in our journey, not knowing where we were going only in a general term, "To Oregon". We had one uncle that we all, in a way dreaded. He was very kind but did like to boss us youngsters; whenever he said, "Come out of that", there was not a moment's hesitation about our doing what he said.

"The winter of 1853 we spent in the Waldo Hills. In the spring of 1854 we moved up south and west of Philomath and all bought land of men who had got tired of pioneering and wanted to sell their donation claims. My father and mother's brother built the first saw mill in this part of the country. Many of the old houses you see in Corvallis now were built from lumber from that mill.

"There were no roads up past our place, only an Indian trail that the Salt-chucks, Klickitats, and Calapooias traveled over going from the Ocean to the Willamette Valley and back. The Indians did not like the Whites being here, and tried to scare them away. They never really did anything, but were uneasy. I remember that a report came in that a squaw had got mad at a white and declared she would eat his heart, and that there was a fight in which every white person was killed and the Indians were coming out into the valley to finish the rest of the Whites.

"There was great excitement in our settlement. They hurriedly gathered the most needed things and drove the stock to Father WELLS' place as he was the best prepared to fort up in. They made things as strong as possible. Father WELLS owned three big dogs who were not very friendly to Indians. He said, "Well, the Indians can not slip up on us, as one of the dogs will give us ample warning if one comes near." Every time a dog would bark we were sure Salt-chucks were coming. I held on Mother's dress,--so scared. After a while, when no Indians came, I got very brave and stated positively that "I could kill every Indian out there." Such is the feelings of youngsters who do not realize there is danger unless they can see it. My idle boast caused a great deal of amusement and temporarily relieved the tension on my elders' minds. It was always a great joke to tell on me in the after years. In fact, I have never heard the last of it. It was just a report that soon blew over. It will give you an idea of the dread we lived in, and often it would be mischievous whites that spread such reports.

Father hauled freight from Oregon City to Corvallis--then called Marysville--with the same span of horses and wagon that hauled my mother and us children across the plains. Flour was one dollar a pound.

Father cleared some land and put in some wheat. He cut it with a "cradle", bound it by hand, and hauled it to the threshing floor. The threshing floor was made of heavy planks nailed to a solid foundation, very smooth, with no cracks, and was walled up about two feet. They would throw a load of grain in on the threshing floor, put the horses in on the floor, and round and round they go, treading out the grain. It was one of my jobs to ride one of the horses and my brother the other. The men would shake the straw up and down with forks. My father had a steel-tines fork he brought with him across the plains and some wooden forks. When the grain was all thrashed out of the straw the straw was all piled up in a stack and the grain was swept into a pile at one side of the threshing floor, and the fanning mill was brought onto the floor. Brother and I helped to run the fanning mill, but I liked best to keep the spout clear so the grain could run free on the threshing-floor. It was then sacked and taken to a grist mill that had been built, seven or eight miles off.

We had only three months of school in the year. It usually began in April or May, then no more school until the next spring. They said girls did not need to learn much but spelling; they had no use for arithmetic. So I learned the old elementary spelling book from cover to cover. I believe now I could begin at the first and spell each page through to the last and not miss very many words. Afterwards we had Sanders' Speller, but it was still spelling for us girls. Father would send us to a private school whenever he could.

We called our place Pleasant Valley. I was married there July 26, 1860, to John C. WELLS. Father WELL'S house was the first house on the road to Alsea and my father's house was the next. When we were married we built our house the next, so my house was the last one going to the ocean. My father owned a sawmill, so my house was a plank house. There were three rooms and a porch. There were three windows, two in the front room and one in the kitchen, a back and a front door and a middle one. We were quite well set up in household goods. Among the fine things, I had a cook stove, so never had to cook on the fire place.

At first I was afraid to stay alone, as the Indians would watch and if they found the men folks were gone they did not hesitate to demand anything they wanted to eat, as they seemed to know the women were afraid of them, and we were, too. Often I have stepped out of the door for a few moments and on returning found as many as half a dozen old Indians squatted around the fire place. They would get up and tell me in Chinook, "wa wa" how far they had come and how tired they were and how hungry. I learned to talk their language, could talk it as well as the English. A Klickitat named Alpia married a Salt-Chuck wife. He would make yearly visits to her people out on the coast. When he came past my house he would walk right in and insist on shaking hands with every one, saying "All my tillicums", meaning friends.

During the Civil War cotton was prohibitive in price, and often it could not be gotten at any price. We all owned sheep, so had plenty of wool. I learned to spin and weave. Father and Mother's brother built two looms that did for the neighborhood. When one had done up her weaving the loom was taken to the next one, so everyone had their turn and the weaving was all done. A man named SHIPLEY made some spinning wheels. We spun the wrap for our cloth as well as the filling, so our cloth was "all wool and a yard wide". For colors we had logwood for black, madder for red, indigo for blue, and alder bark for brown, all fast colors. That made some variety in color.

I had twelve children, all living but three. There are twenty-two grandchildren and six great grandchildren. With them all there is but one grandson to carry on the name of Wells.

Jacob HENKLE was the first president of the HENKLE reunion. He held that office until his death in 1914. Members of the HENKLE family come to our reunion from the East. There are usually 125 to 130 at every meeting. Jacob HENKLE was a droll old fellow. I remember he would always say, "As long as we live, we live, and when we are dead we are dead a long time." His daughter, Mrs. CONNER, of Portland, is now our president. Uncle Jackson HENKLE, ninety-two years old, is our honorary president."




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