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The Umatilla Trail: Pioneer Days In The Washington Territory
The Umatilla Trail: Pioneer Days In The Washington Territory
The Umatilla Trail: Pioneer Days In The Washington Territory
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The Umatilla Trail: Pioneer Days In The Washington Territory

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First published in 1951, this book is a recollection of the memories of the pioneer days in Horse Heaven Hills, gleaned from letter correspondence between the author and early settlers. From the early days of pioneer, James Gordon Kinney, the fertile undisturbed rolling landscape attracted many settlers. Helga Travis recounts the history and legends of the area from 1850’s up to the Second World War.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateNov 6, 2015
ISBN9781786256300
The Umatilla Trail: Pioneer Days In The Washington Territory

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    The Umatilla Trail - Helga Anderson Travis

    This edition is published by PICKLE PARTNERS PUBLISHING—www.picklepartnerspublishing.com

    To join our mailing list for new titles or for issues with our books – picklepublishing@gmail.com

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    Text originally published in 1951 under the same title.

    © Pickle Partners Publishing 2015, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.

    Publisher’s Note

    Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.

    We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.

    THE UMATILLA TRAIL: PIONEER DAYS IN THE WASHINGTON TERRITORY

    BY

    HELGA ANDERSON TRAVIS

    TABLE OF CONTENTS

    Contents

    TABLE OF CONTENTS 5

    DEDICATION 6

    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 7

    LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 8

    Call Them Never Lonely 10

    CHAPTER 1—HORSE HEAVEN HILLS 11

    CHAPTER 2—THREE WAGONS NORTH 17

    CHAPTER 3—TILLER OF THE SOIL 22

    CHAPTER 4—THE HYAS TYEE 25

    CHAPTER 5—FEAR RIDES THE RANGE 29

    CHAPTER 6—MURDER AT BEDROCK SPRINGS 34

    CHAPTER 7—WEBBER SAGA 38

    CHAPTER 8—CITIZENS OF CLOVERDALE 46

    CHAPTER 9—NEIGHBORS 54

    CHAPTER 10—SETTLERS’ SHACKS 58

    CHAPTER 11—VILLAGES OF THE VALLEY 64

    CHAPTER 12—HORSE TALES 71

    CHAPTER 13—MORE HORSE TALES 76

    CHAPTER 14—THE COLUMBIA RIVER 84

    CHAPTER 15—TEE-HEE 90

    CHAPTER 16—KLONDIKE DAYS 95

    CHAPTER 17—TSOLO (LOST) 101

    CHAPTER 18—FROM THE LAND OF THE MIDNIGHT SUN 109

    CHAPTER 19—READING, ‘RITING, AND ‘RITHMETIC 117

    CHAPTER 20—PETE AND BRIDGET 124

    CHAPTER 21—THE JINGLES 131

    CHAPTER 22—WATERHOLE YARNS 135

    CHAPTER 23—WATER BUCK PARABLE 142

    CHAPTER 24—BLEATING HERDS 144

    CHAPTER 25—THE IRRIGATION PROJECT 148

    CHAPTER 26—THE WEBFOOTERS 152

    CHAPTER 27—THE FOLKS FROM LUNDY 158

    CHAPTER 28—NORTH AGAIN, HOME 165

    CHAPTER 29—RIDE ‘EM, COWBOY 171

    CHAPTER 30—WAR YEARS: WORLD WAR II 177

    CHAPTER 31—LETTERS FROM THE FRONT 182

    CHAPTER 32—OLD TIMER TAKES A READING 187

    CHAPTER 33—UMATILLA TRAIL 192

    CHAPTER 34—INTO THE FUTURE 195

    REQUEST FROM THE PUBLISHER 198

    DEDICATION

    Dedicated to Marie Smith and Minnie Travis Wheeler, pioneer mothers of Horse Heaven, and to my husband, whose understanding and encouragement has never failed me.

    H. A. T.

    ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

    To all those who have helped by giving me information about the old timers, I want to express my thanks and appreciation, especially to Mr. and Mrs. W. F. Sonderman, Mr. and Mrs. Horace Dimmick, Nina Buck, Mrs. Emma Mathews, Charles Tyacke, Paul Craddock, Mr. and Mrs. Will Webber, Ed Layton, Billy Rasmussen, Harry Pearson, Clara Travis, Edith Hines, Maude Denson, Bernice Tomaske, O. K. Williamson, Alec McIntyre, Ed Bean, Winifred McB. Christen, Frank Richman, and the Prosser Record-Bulletin.

    H. A. T.

    LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

    Autograph Verse From John Webber to His Sister Minnie

    Mary Webber

    Solomon Webber

    Ladies Hall at Whitman College, With Minnie Sitting on the Steps

    The Travis Threshing Outfit

    The First Car in Horse Heaven, or in Benton County an Oriole Owned by Nat Travis

    Bedrock Springs

    Call Them Never Lonely

    "The lonely hills? But the hills have never been lonely.

    Only the unshared heart is a thing alone,

    These hills have been sanctuary and home to unnumbered,

    A cavalcade which moves on, ever swollen and grown."

    "Here came the red man when this was his nation,

    Here the wild creature, unhunted, knew freedom and peace,

    Here in the glory of sunrise, the bright blaze of sunset

    Came in the autumn the winging wedge of wild geese."

    "Here to these hills came the white man, and liked what he visioned,

    The abundant growth of grass on the wide plateau’s sweep,

    Here, said the white man, is wealth a-waiting the taking,

    Wealth measured in dollars, in well-fed cattle and sheep."

    "Here too, said the white man, where grass grows richly, untended,

    The soil should be good for the cultivation of grain;

    Then to the hills came the homesteader’s wagon and cabin,

    And virgin prairie knew first the plowshare’s sharp pain."

    "The procession grew greater; from Denmark and Norway and Sweden,

    From England’s and Scotland’s moors, from the shores of France,

    Women and men knew these hills from a homesteader’s cabin,

    And mingled as one in their work, their frolic and dance."

    "Here grew their children, and some to the fifth generation

    Look up to the hills, and down to the soil which was home;

    Those who have wandered afar found their feet had been traitor

    To the heart which remained with the hills, refusing to roam."

    "Call them never lonely, the unchanging hills which encircle,

    For at their feet sleep the many who loved them best,

    Come back, one by one, as to enter the greatest cathedral,

    And lie guarded and blessed by the hills, in eternal sleep."

    —WINIFRED MCBEE CHRISTEN

    CHAPTER 1—HORSE HEAVEN HILLS

    This is surely a heaven for horses! It was with these very words that the plateau over the top of Prosser Hill was named.

    In 1837, a boy was born in Michigan to an already large family. Times were hard, but the boy grew in stature as well as in spirit. When he was sixteen he started West on horseback. For four years he was on the trail, always westward. He worked whenever he could find a job, and when the work ran out he saddled his horse and went on.

    In 1857, he arrived at the Columbia River at Wallula, Washington Territory. Camping that night, he rested, and in the morning boy and pony swam the river. From there he still headed west over hills of pungent sage and plateaus of bunchgrass, until, riding along a ridge in the purpling dusk, he came to an Indian trail. The trail led down into a valley, to Tap-teil, as the Indians called the Yakima River. Here there was food and water.

    His tired horse, turned out to feed during the night, wandered away the following morning, up the side of the hill. The boy caught the pony, and riding over the top, he looked the country over in the light of the early morning sun. He saw the Yakima and the Columbia rivers gleaming to north, east, and south; snow-capped mountains, Rainier, Adams, and Hood lay to the west. Bunchgrass was knee-high, thick as a carpet. It covered the ground as far as his eye could see. It was then that he said to himself, This is surely a horse heaven!

    People do not realize now that when this boy named the country, he was taking in the Yakima valley and the Rattlesnake Hills as well as all of Horse Heaven as it is known now—all of the lands south, north, and west of the Columbia River. Before his arrival the area had been called the Bedrock country or the Columbia Plateau.

    This boy, or man, was James Gordon Kinney. He settled later on land that became known as Prosser’s Evan’s addition. He called it Kinneyville, and it was located a mile from the Lone Tree precinct. Prosser Falls and Kinneyville later combined and became Prosser.

    The Indians had a trail across the country along which for centuries they had traveled from the shadows of their loved, and feared, Mt. Takoma (Rainier) to the Umatilla landing, ferrying over the Columbia. It wound like a cow trail, passing by where the Mathews family later lived at the top of the hill, then wandered down to Bedrock Springs, where the travellers camped overnight. From there it meandered in a leisurely manner southeast over miles of sand, sagebrush, and bunchgrass to the river—the Umatilla Trail. The Indians called the plateau We-hope-pum, but the early comers liked Kinney’s name, even though Oregon had its Horse Heaven, too.

    Many things have happened in Horse Heaven since it first got its name, and settlers arrived. Wild animals have been killed—coyotes, sagehens, geese, rabbits, bobcats, even a few deer and bear. Murder and greed, a little child lost—all of these stories are here as told by the early yarn-spinners to Old Timer. Although many of them occurred before his time, he had a wonderful memory and never forgot the things he heard.

    The first homesteaders came about 1883; at first they were mostly stockmen. Between 1895 and 1900, a second influx of homesteaders arrived, and by 1902 there were lots of them. Getting together, they built a hall, calling it the Modern Woodman hall; later it was known as the Grange or Community hall. At any time it was a meeting place for good times, suppers, and dances. Prosperity or hard times, everyone attended. Cowhide boots and overalls, it made no difference. The people were not stuck-up; they were all hungry for fun and sociability.

    More people came and began farming. Instead of raising cattle and horses, they experimented with wheat and rye. There were good years and bad ones, but the pioneers had what it took—they stuck—and finally they began to win.

    After the old threshing machines were discarded, wheat was cut by big wooden combines pulled by from thirty to thirty-six horses. The driver sat out over the wheel team on a swinging, swaying seat. Two lines were all that he needed to control the big team, except for the box at his feet which was kept replenished with small pebbles to throw at the lagging horses. Six bushels of wheat to the acre, sometimes ten, and everyone was happy.

    Threshing finished, there was the long haul to Kiona or Prosser, or, in other parts of the country, to Wallula, Plymouth, or Lyle. Chuck holes in the roads were eighteen inches deep and filled with fine, acrid dust that rose in clouds over wagon, horses, and teamster. Eight, ten, or twelve horses, according to their willingness to pull, were all day in going. Returning late in the night, the skinner might yell, Hi, cook, get them biscuits hot! I’m hungrier than a she-wolf! He meant it, too.

    It was a fine country, though, and the soil deep and rich. Rocks were almost unknown. Today the young men may talk of hard work, but they have never known what it is to pitch in for sixteen hours of labor—from dawn to dark—as the boys did then for twenty or thirty dollars a month and board. They worked all day and raised Cain all night!

    There were several tough years, when the going was rough. Many were unable to weather the lean times. Families became discouraged and moved out with little more than the clothes on their backs. For a while it looked as if the country would go back to the Indians.

    Then, with new machinery came better farming; the harrows were discarded in favor of weeders and disc plows which conserved moisture and cut down soil erosion. Wheat production increased. Weather cycles seemed to change—there was more rain—and with the improved methods the farmers were on their way to better living. There were many changes. What used to be an all-day trip to Prosser by wagon or hack could be made in less than a half-hour by car, and by plane it was a matter of minutes.

    Plows, weeders, drills, and combines—all were improved and different. It is possible now to plow 100 acres every 24 hours and to weed 150 acres in a day with tractors. With four drills instead of one, the caterpillar pulls right along. The one-man combines are gas-powered. People no longer live in shacks; they have nice homes with bathrooms, they have electric light plants, and outside electric current has been promised. Buildings are well-made and painted. Water does not have to be hauled from the Yakima River; wells have been drilled, though the old county well still gives plenty of water.

    Chuck holes have given way to good oiled roads, and the people don’t have to live on jackrabbits and prairie chicken. The wild horses are gone, cattle and sheep have been crowded out—wheat fields take their place.

    You no plow, an Indian passing through once told Ira Carter, spoil country. Many think this is still true in spite of the thousands and thousands of bushels of wheat that pour into Benton County grain elevators every summer. It has been said that Horse Heaven raises over two million bushels annually. Sometimes the average is higher.

    An Englishman, looking over the plateau for the first time on a hot, dry July day, remarked, The bloody blighters can call it Horse Heaven all they like. It looks like Mule ‘Ell to me!

    Anyway, the land kept on calling. Settlers kept coming—more and more of them—until there were hundreds. The general idea began to be, give me land, lotsa land, just any old land.

    About 1840, the first cattle in the Yakima valley were brought from Fort Vancouver. Chief Kamiakin, of the Yakima tribe of Indians, had traded horses for them to the Hudson Bay Fur company. To the Indians also goes the credit for bringing irrigation to the valley. The first flumes were located on Kamiakin’s place and were in use before 1864. This was in the upper end of the valley.

    Yakima County was born January 12, 1865. Charley Splawn, Billy Parker, and J. H. Wilbur were the County Commissioners. Gilbert Pell was sheriff.

    In 1867, mail service arrived in the valley. The settlers took their turn going after the mail once a week at Umatilla. Later a man by the name of Parsons instituted a regular system of delivery.

    The first house in the valley was a log cabin. The oldest cabin still standing is still to be seen at Buena. Its sole means of support seems to be the big tree that overshadows it. Every time there is an electric storm, Old Timer worries for fear the cabin has dissolved into dust from a lightning stroke. But the first cabin built in this community was erected by Bill Badger, who came here in March of 1883 with his brother Bob. Bill only stayed five or six years, but he left his mark and helped in getting the wheat industry started.

    Wallula, on the Columbia and farther up the river than Umatilla, was the nearest town for mail and supplies this side of Walla Walla. Jim Dodson had the post office near there. The ranchers of the western part of Horse Heaven traveled to Wallula by way of the Umatilla Trail, then farther east they branched off into the Wallula road, going across by way of Coyote Springs. So mail delivery was a slow affair, depending on weather and the pressure of farm work. It was sixty-four miles to the river, where it cost two dollars to ferry over to Wallula.

    Jump-off Joe mountain, located in the southeastern part of the plateau, was named for an Indian medicine man as Old Timer heard the story. It seems the Indian’s medicine was bad, so to keep from having his enemy scalp him, he leaped off the mountain and killed himself. Old Timer wondered if he kept telling himself, Jump off, Joe. Jump off—and some darn bird told on him!

    As Old Timer describes the early ferry at Wallula, it was horse-operated. The ferry was towed upstream for about a quarter of a mile, then the horse was loaded onto the ferry and put on a tread. This created power, which was helped by a long sweep-oar moving against the current. On reaching the opposite side, the horse walked off the ferry and was ready to start all over again.

    Ainsworth was the frontier town that later became Pasco, and a rip-roaring construction town it was! Something happened almost every minute, and not always good. It was a momentous day in its history when in 1885 the entire town climbed on flatcars and rode the Northern Pacific train across the newly-completed Snake river railroad bridge. It was a toot-tooting, handkerchief-waving and hurrahing crowd, and the cheers might well have been punctuated by gun blasts, too. Not long after this the town went into a decline.

    At this time, Kennewick was only a very small village. There was a roundhouse and a turntable where children gathered to watch the engines by the hour. Fred Miller operated the Billings ferry between the two sides of the river. In hot weather the children loved to ride the ferry to get the cool breeze from the river. But sometimes the winds blew hot off the sand hills, and then there was no cooling off anywhere.

    Angus Forbis ran the hotel in Ainsworth from about 1883 to 1887. It is said that he was quite a traveller, and that he made a trip to the Grand Coulee, which impressed him with its history and its possibilities.

    In more recent years, excavations made by the scientists along the Columbia river have revealed many interesting facts about the original Americans—the Indians. Old Timer was intrigued by the knowledge that they lived along the Yakima, Snake, and Columbia rivers as long as 6000 years ago. It was on Clover Island, below the present Pasco-Kennewick bridge, that the Indians held a hy-yu muck-a-muck (fine feast) for Lewis and Clark and their followers in 1805.

    Walla Walla Indians ranged from the mouth of the Snake River (near Sacajawea Park) to the mouth of the Umatilla River. Their main camp was at Wallula, and they were called Wallulas. This tribe also claimed the country on the opposite side of the Columbia to the mouth of the Yakima. Their horses and camps could be seen from the Twins (buttes) in all directions.

    Wallula was important in frontier days as a point of contact and for supplies for expeditions going either east to the mines or west to The Dalles. Like many early towns, it had several setbacks by fire, when business blocks were burned with great loss of property and supplies. One of these fires took an entire business block in 1884.

    One of Old Timer’s favorite stories told how the Yakima valley came to be. It seems that Paul Bunyan, (yes, he was here, too) was out walking one day. His shoestring came untied and dragged in the dirt. Being spraddle-legged, his footsteps wavered from Horse Heaven to Rattlesnake, with the loose shoestring making a wide furrow between his legs. This furrow was the origin of the beautiful Yakima valley.

    Old Timer was always alert for stories and especially the legends of the Indians. They were even more interesting than the tall tales about Bunyan.

    There was the time the old man was delayed at the river by a severe dust storm. Near him stood a tall Umatilla Indian, stoically waiting for the ferry. Old Timer combed the dust out of his mustache and grumbled.

    Where in the devil does all this dust come from? he muttered as he tried to see across the murky water.

    Devil no do this, answered the Indian to Old Timer’s surprise with a grin. "Long time ago, twin girls, tenas papooses, born to Cayuse mother living on Umatilla River. Makes trouble, the Indian said shaking his head, twins, cultus, not good."

    What’s wrong with having twins? Old Timer was keen on the scent of a story at first hand.

    Twins bad luck, say Chief. Then he told the rest of the story. The two children were so adorable that the parents could not give them up; they grew up strong, talented, and beautiful. Warriors from all over the plains fought for their favor.

    While all these young braves were busy quarreling among themselves over the girls, some of the young bucks from the Idaho tribe crossed the Blue mountains and carried the lovely twins back to their own tribe, the Bannocks. Then the war was on!

    The Bannocks, hearing that the Walla Walla and Cayuse and Umatillas were in council, surprised them at the mouth of the Umatilla River. The Cayuses and their friends in the scrimmage began to lose. They had lost a number of their best fighting men, and defeat seemed imminent. When it looked as though defeat was staring them in the face, a terrible commotion arose on the sand dunes. The disturbance swelled into a storm—a fury of wind, dust, and sand. It swirled in such heavy clouds that the Bannocks were blinded. They could not see to fight, so they fled, the storm at their heels. The storm followed them along the river for a long way; then came rain, and the turmoil was over.

    Wrapping his blanket closer, after a moment the tall Indian went on with his story.

    When we have dust storm, Bannocks have left graves. They come here to fight again. He rubbed his streaming dust-filled eyes. Cayuse braves climb from graves, fight back. Dust storm come—stop fight! Old Timer felt that this particular time the warriors must be having a tougher battle than usual, but having been enemies for so many centuries, it was hard to stop their fighting once they were well started.

    Old Timer had heard that at one time there was a very large encampment of Indians near Whitcomb Flats as well as a burial ground; another was said to be located back of Plymouth. In the hills above Gibbon, on the Horse Heaven side of the Yakima River, and near Cliff Springs, is supposed to be an old burial ground. It is on a part of the old Linthicum place. Indians made camp, too at the Paterson springs, even though it was not on the main trail.

    While Indians never lived on this plateau as far as anyone knows, they did camp and live along the bordering waterways. They crossed these hills and canyons as they went from one hunting or fishing ground to another.

    On the Henry Anderson place in Rattlesnake is a circle where it is said the Indians kept a fire burning for over a hundred years and never let it go out. Large camps had been made, as indicated by the hard, packed ground. It is so solid and beaten-down that a pick does not dent the surface.

    The Narrow River (Yakima) Indians were called Tap-teil-min, and they occupied the land below the mouth of Satus Creek, while the Chem-na-pams lived near the mouth of the Yakima and down to Wallula. From there the Walla Wallas or Wallulas continued on along the Columbia. This was long before settlers.

    Benton County, separated from Yakima County, is shaped like a boot. The toe was the Wallula area, the extreme western side was the Bickleton country, the south was the Umatilla slope, while to the north was White Bluffs. The Columbia River, which forms part of this boot, was discovered by Capt. Gray as early as 1792, and David Thompson was the first white man to travel the river from source to mouth. This was in 1811.

    As the years and seasons went by, Horse Heaven began to have prominence and importance. Much has been said and written, of the big-time operators who came into the region with the money or the financial backing to fairly bulldoze their way to success. Scant is the mention of the little guy who struggled through the hard horse-and-buggy days on a half-section of land. By labor and much self-sacrifice, he was able to add more acres for his children. Old Timer was one of these—and this is their story.

    CHAPTER 2—THREE WAGONS NORTH

    Wake up, Eddie! the voice seemed to say over and over. It brought to a rude ending the wonderful dream the boy had been having of cowboys and wild horses. It was the last thing he remembered hearing his parents discussing the night before as they planned an early start for the long trip north, toward Washington Territory.

    Is it tomorrow already? the boy asked, rubbing sleepy eyes, yet ready to jump from his warm, tangled blankets if necessary.

    It certainly is. Mary Webber assured her sturdy son. Breakfast is almost over. We want to get an early start, so don’t dawdle. Papa and John need your help.

    The wagons made an interesting and impressive sight as they stood packed and ready, waiting for Solomon Webber’s word to take off. Used for freighting, they bore the imprint of the long hauls to the mines of Nevada and California. The sides were six feet high, with hoops, and they were canvas-covered. Solomon had built in an extra floor about five feet above the bottoms. This upper deck, so to speak, was to be used for sleeping quarters. The wagon bottoms were stored with household goods.

    The first wagon was the Webber home; the parents, Solomon and Mary, and the younger children: Ed, sixteen, Minnie Belle, who was fifteen, and Will, nine. The second wagon was the Getchels—William and Sarah, the oldest daughter of the Webbers. They had two small children. John, the second son of the Webber family, and his wife, occupied the same wagon.

    The third wagon was the important one; it was the parlor car. Here the folks rode in comfort. The children played while the women sewed, crocheted, or did whatever women are supposed to do to pass the time away. Space had been provided in the front of the wagon to carry camping equipment. There was a place for everything, and everything was expected to be kept in its place.

    Axles creaked and the doubletrees snapped back against the wagon bed as Grandpa Webber cracked the big blacksnake whip, making it hiss and pop over the backs of the mules. The caravan was off! Grandpa could kill a fly sitting on a mule’s rump and never touch the mule; he could pop the head off a rattlesnake quicker than nothing—he’d had lots of practice on long

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