Sarah L. Byrd, Portland, OR (WPA interview)
David D. Robertson
ddr11 at COLUMBIA.EDU
Tue Jul 23 04:59:25 UTC 2002
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American Life Histories: Manuscripts from the Federal Writers' Project,
1936-1940
Item 5 of 18
[Pioneer Life]
W9655
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Accession no.
[?] 9655
Date received
10/10/40
Consignment no.
Shipped from
Wash. Office
Label
Amount 9p.
(incl. forms A-D)
WPA L. C. PROJECT Writers' UNIT
Form [md]3
Folklore Collection (or Type)
Title Pioneer life
Place of origin Portland, Oregon Date 3/3/39
Project worker Sara B. Wrenn
Project editor
Remarks
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Form A
Circumstances of Interview
Federal Writers' Project
Works Progress Administration
OREGON FOLKLORE STUDIES
Name of worker Sara B. Wrenn Date March 3, 1939
Address 505 Elks Building, Portland, Oregon.
Subject Pioneer Life
Name and address of informant Mrs. Sarah L. Byrd 1537 N. E. 13th St.,
Portland, Oregon
Date and time of interview February 28, 1939 1:30-3:00
Place of interview Home, at above address
Name and address of person, if any, who put you in touch with informant
Mr. Gearhart, Clergyman, Community Church, Oak Grove (Nephew)
Name and address of person, if any, accompanying you --
Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.
Plain, comfortably furnished living room of the usual type: over-stuffed
furniture, plain rug, radio, few pictures, fireplace with no fire. No
individuality. Old and rather shabby square house of two-stories; enclosed
verandah in front, in which the daughter, Miss Byrd, maintains her
chiropody practice. A small yard, with no particular evidence of care. The
neighborhood is but a block from the business artery of Broadway, East
Side, with modest homes and apartments, most of them rather old.
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Form B
Personal History of Informant
Federal Writers' Project
Works Progress Administration
OREGON FOLKLORE STUDIES
Name of worker Sara B. Wrenn Date March 1, 1939.
Address 505 Elks Building, Portland, Oregon
Subject Pioneer Life
Name and address of informant Mrs. Sarah L. Byrd 1537 N. E. 13th St.,
Portland, Oregon
Information obtained should supply the following facts:
1. Ancestry
2. Place and date of birth
3. Family
4. Places lived in, with dates
5. Education, with dates
6. Occupations and accomplishments with dates
7. Special skills and interests
8. Community and religious activities
9. Description of informant
10. Other points gained in interview
1. Father, Philip Gearhart; Mother, Margaret Logan Gearhart Ancestral
stock; German-French-Irish and English.
2. Iowa. 1843.
3. Widow for 45 years, living with only child, a daughter of about 50.
Deceased husband, Frank N. Byrd. Four children deceased.
4. Aside from two years in California and five or six years in Washington,
life, since age of 5 years, has been spent in Oregon, chiefly in Clatsop
County.
5. Such district schools as were available.
6. Home-keeper, much of the time "doing the work of a man" on farm.
7. Interested in everything of a general nature. No special interests.
8. No church affiliations. Brought up a Presbyterian. Member Townsend Club.
9. Small, wiry and active, with weather-beaten, wrinkled skin, bright eyes
and plenty of gray hair. Neatly dressed and cordial in manner. As "chipper
as a little chipmunk."
10. Mrs. Byrd's memory proved to be somewhat impaired as to dates.
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Form C
Text of Interview (Unedited)
Federal Writers' Project
Works Progress Administration
OREGON FOLKLORE STUDIES
Name of worker Sara B. Wrenn Date March 1, 1939
Address 505 Elks Building, Portland, Oregon
Subject Pioneer Life
Name and address of informant Mrs. Sarah L. Byrd 1537 N. E. 13th St.
Portland, Oregon
Text: I ain't no hand for dates, so don't bother me about 'em. I do
remember though when we came to Oregon. We came from I-O-WAY in 1848.
That's a long time ago, ain't it? Joe Watt was captain of our train. Bein'
so little, I don't remember how many wuz in the train, but I've heard 'em
say it wuz a big one. Every night when we camped the wagons wuz pulled in a
circle an' hooked together with chains an' oxen yokes. The folks camped
inside that circle, an' close along-side wuz the stock, an' a guard wuz set
up for the night.
Yes, it must hev ban an awful job cookin'. I wuz too little to do
anything. 'Course they hed to cook on the open fire, an' on the plains,
most o' the time ther wuz nothin' to burn but buffalo chips. I guess they
got us'd to it, but I wouldn't like to.
The Indians wuz peaceable when we cum across. We didn't hev eny trouble o'
any kind. Oh, once, I b'lieve the Indians stole a cow or somethin'. But the
biggest excitement I c'n remember is a herd of stampedin' buffalo thet
almost got us. It was dusk, an' we'd gone into camp, when, all at
once, 'way off in the distance we see a big cloud o' dust. It cum near'r
an' near'r, an' perty soon
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somebody yelled, "It's buffalo -- looks like a million of 'em, an' they're
comin' this way." Mebbe ther wuzn't a fuss then. Everbody wuz shoutin' to
everbody else, an' givin' orders, an' rushin' 'round like crazy people.
Some o' the men got out on horses, an' some way or 'nother, what with ther
yellin' an' wavin' whatever they cud get hold of, they kept the buffalo
from comin' thru the camp. I c'n remember it all ez plain ez day, seein'
them buffalo tear by, with their tails up an' ther heads close to the
ground. Ther must 've ben a hunderd or more. That's a long way from a
million, but the ground jest shook as they went by. Some o' the men got
some good shots, an' we had plenty o' buffalo meat for awhile.
Bein' so little I can't remember very much about crossin' the plains. When
we first got here we went to Oregon City an' stayed for a while. When we
started from I-o-way father meant to go to Californy, but when they got to
wher the roads parted to Oregon an' Californy, he came to Oregon. When we
wuz in Oregon City we wuz perty close to where Doctor McLaughlin lived. I
remember seein' a squaw out in his yard. She wore dresses, but she had bare
feet. I remember thet, an' I remember hearin' 'em say thet wuz Doctor
McLaughlin's wife. Ther wuz a man named Jewett in Oregon City thet father
knew in I-o-way, an' he got to tellin' father 'bout the Clatsop Plains
country, so father decided he'd go down ther. Ther wuzn't any roads then,
o'course -- jest Indian trails. Finally it wuz decided father an' my oldest
brother would drive the stock down over the trail. I think he hed a cow, a
yoke o' oxen an' two horses, an' Mr. Jewett tuk mother an' the rest of we
young'uns down the river. We went in a big Indian canoe, with two Indians
to paddle it. Goin' down the Willamette we passed a place where ther wuz a
few cabins, an' Mr, Jewett sed, "That's Portland." Mother al'ays laughed
when she tol' that. Oregon City wuz a lot bigger then. I wish I c'd
remember thet trip
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down the Columbia. Jest mother, we three young'uns, thet strange man, an'
the two siwashes, in a canoe on that big, lonesum river. It tuk sever'l
days o' course, an' we had to camp at night, an' I remember once when we
wuz climin' ashore on a log I perty near fell in. I wuz scared nigh to
death. We went up the Skipanon River frum Astoria, wher father settled an a
squatter's claim. It wuzn't surveyed then. They jest had squatter's claims.
We jest camped at first, an' then father built a log cabin with shake roof,
an' a fireplace made o' sticks an' mud. It hed a floor too, sort o' what
you'd call a puncheon floor I guess -- logs hewed flat on all sides an' put
together. We'd brought two chairs across the plains thet father'd made in I-
o-way. They hed cowhide seats in 'em. Later on. here in Oregon, he put
rockers on 'em, an' they wuz al'ays father an' mother's chairs. Father c'd
make furniture real good. He made tables an' cupboards an' benches, real
good they wuz. We c'd be usin' them yet if they hadn't got burned up. I
still got one o' the li'l ol' rockin' chairs down on the farm.
They wuz lots o' elk down in thet country in them days, an' we got salt an'
pervisions from the Hudson's Bay Co. No, we never used salt from that ol'
salt cairn. Mother brought all kinds o' garden seed from I-o-way, an' the
next year we had a good garden. Before the gold excitement wuz over in
Californy we wuz sendin' butter down on the boats to the miners. I remember
hearin' the folks say they got a dollar a pound fer butter, an' $5.00 a
barrel for potatoes. I guess folks'd like to get thet much now fer butter
an' potatoes.
'Course we us'd to make our own lights then. They wuz wick candles. The way
we made 'em wuz to take wicking out the length of a candle, an' through a
loop made at each end o' the wicking we'd put a stick. Then, holdin' 'em by
the stick at each end -- mebbe there'd be half a dozen or more wicks --
we'd dip 'em in melted tallow. As soon as they'd harden we'd dip 'em again,
doin' it over an' over 'til the candles wuz big enough to use. My! but
didn't coal oil lamps seem wonderful
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when we got to usin' 'em. An' wuzn't I glad, 'cause I al'ays hed to help
make the candles, soon as I wuz big enough. No, them candles wuzn't very
good light, but ev'rybody went to bed early then -- an' got up early too.
Ev'rybody hed chores an' work to do - an' ther wuz plenty o' work I can
tell you. All the cookin' o' course wuz done at the fireplace. Meat wuz
roasted by putting a big piece o' tin in front o' the fire. It wuz a sort
o' reflector; the meat wuz put between it an' the fire, an' you never
tasted anythin' better then meat roasted that way. Bread an' pies and cake
all wuz baked in the dutch oven, a big iron, round kettle that sat on short
legs an' hed a long handle, an' a lid thet curved up 'round the edges. The
kettle wuz set on coals, an' coals an' ashes wuz heaped on the lid.
Later, when we got pigs, father smoked ham an' bacon for the winter. First
after the hogs wuz killed, he'd make a heavy salt brine, then he'd rinse
the hams an' sides in thet, an' then hold build a fire on the ground o' the
smoke house an' hang the hams an' sides over it, an' thet would go on fer
days an' days. 'Course he didn't hev only just fire enough to make a good
smoke, an' he never us'd anythin' but crabapple or alder; mostly it wuz
wild crabapple.
No, we didn't hev much amusement when I wuz a young girl. It wuz wicked to
do most anythin' in them days. My father thought cards an' dancin' wuz the
devil's own. Down on Clatsop Plains wuz where the Presbyterians built their
mission, you know, I don't remember much about that. I think a Mr. Lewis
Thompson started that. But I remember how good everybody wuz. I us'd to
hear about a boy that went fishin' one Sunday to a place called Stanley
Point. He caught a salmon, an' he had to pass the church goin' home with it
an' his folks wuz there an' they scolded him terrible. He wuz tellin'
somebody about it, an' they ask'd him what they did with the salmon, an' he
sed, "Why they et it -- they et every bit of it." The Presbyterians us'd to
preach fire an' brimstone all right, an' so did the Methodists and
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the Baptists when they cum. Once at a campmeetin' at Skipanon all the
people wuz down on their knees prayin' an' groanin' an' the preacher an'
the saved were goin' about, puttin' their hands on the folks kneelin' an'
sayin' "The Lord bless you," "Thank the Lord, came to glory," an' all over
the place you old hear "Amen! Amen! Amen!" It wuz jest terrible an' I wuz
just about scared to death.
When we went to school it wuz in an ol' log house, an' there wuz an empty
room, an' there we young uns learned to dance. All the music we had wuz an
ol' jewsharp one o' the boys had, an' he could play it perty good. But what
made me mad wuz when my father, after he got along in years, learned to
dance. Can you beat that? I wuz 17 or 18, an' there wuz a dance in Ross
Hall at Astoria, an' father took sister an' me to the ball, an' he paid
$5.00 a ticket. I al'ays did resent that, even though it wuz a grand ball,
all decorated an' everythin'. We waltzed some, but mostly it wuz square
dances and the Virginia Reel.
I ought to be awful good, but I'm not. It al'ays made me mad when a
preacher put his hand on my shoulder an' sed, "An' how is it with [your?]
soul, sister?"
My husband died 46 years ago. I wuz on a farm, an' after he went I stayed
there, lookin' after the stock, an' plowin' on, gettin' in the hay, jest
like a man. My daughter, Dick, the only one of my children left, wuz with
me, an' we did everythin', jest havin' a hired man to run the mowin'
machine mebbe. Sometimes me milked from eight to ten cows, an' we made
butter an' sent it to Astoria.
Yes, it wuz my father thet first owned all of what is now Gearhart. After
father died my oldest brother administered the estate, an' he sold the
property to Mr. Kinney, who first started a resort there. It wuz Ben
Holliday who started the first resort down that way though -- the one at
Seaside. He built a big wooden hotel an' he had a quarter-mile race track,
an' then his friends
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begin to come down from Portland, an' they would have horse races. My! I
c'n remember seein' them people when they first got there. The roads wuz so
dusty, an' their faces wuz jest like a siwash. Thet ol' hotel stood there a
long time. It wuzn't so many years ago it burned down.
I us'd to talk jargon like a siwash. Once down at Gearhart some ladies wuz
visitin' me, an' they c'd talk jargon too. We had lunch, an' we wuzn't to
say anythin' but in jargon. One of 'em, Mrs. Vantine, wuz perty good, so I
sed to her, "Potlatch nika mika seopose" (Give me your hat) First she
looked kinda puzzled, an' then, all at once she smiled an' took off her hat
an' giv it to me.
Well, I'm gettin' a little old -- 96 years my next birthday, but I feel
chipper as a chipmunk, an' I jes like to see anybody call me "Grandma" thet
I ain't "grandma" to.
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Form D
Extra Comment
Federal Writers' Project
Works Progress Administration
OREGON FOLKLORE STUDIES
Name of worker Sara B. Wrenn Date March 1, 1939
Address 505 Elks Building, Portland, Oregon
Subject Pioneer Life
Name and address of informant Mrs. Sarah L. Byrd 1537 N. E. 13th Street,
Portland, Oregon.
Comment:
Mrs. Byrd was remarkably clear-minded for a woman of 96 years, but she was
very nervous, making it necessary to refrain from as few questions as
possible, as questions seemed to confuse her. The interviewer had hoped to
gather considerable information on the Presbyterian Mission of Clatsop
Plains, but of this Mrs. Byrd could remember practically nothing.
(Use as many additional sheets as necessary, each bearing the heading given
above).
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