REMINISCENCES OF WM. M. CASE.
By H. S. Lyman.
William M. Case, a pioneer of 1844, who is still living on the donation claim taken by him in 1845 on French Prairie, was born in Wayne County, Indiana, not far from the Ohio line, in 1820. He is consequently now eighty years of age, but is still vigorous, of unimpaired memory, firm voice, and still master of affairs on his large farm of over one thousand acres. He is six feet tall, of wiry build, and rather nervous temperament, and very distinctively an American. In mind he is intensely positive of the most definite views and opinions, and has the peculiarly American qualities of fondness for concrete affairs. His hair and beard are now nearly snow white, and worn long; and his face is almost as venerable as that of the poet Bryant, which it somewhat resembles.
His life covers almost numberless interesting experiences, but is perhaps most intimately connected with the part played by the Oregonians in the California mines. This sketch will be confined more particularly to the peculiar facts of his life not common to all the pioneers. Mr. Case is particularly the man who can tell of the effects of the gold mining and California life upon Oregon and Oregonians, and he can explain a number of facts, quite apparent in their effects, but seldom or never given in their causes, of the feeling that has arisen between Californians and Oregonians.
It was an interesting incident that first directed his attention to Oregon. By William Henry Harrison, while serving as delegate to congress from the then territory of Indiana, public documents were forwarded freely to his constituents. To William M.’s father, who was an acquaintance of Harrison’s, there came, among other volumes, a journal of the Lewis and Clark Expedition to the Columbia River. Over this the boy used to pore, even while still young, and out of the crabbed volume, whose matter (certainly not the literary style) interested the whole nation, a most vivid picture was constructed of Oregon scenery, with the big trees, and the mild climate, and grass green all the winter. He made up his mind to come to Oregon when he was old enough. Before he was twenty he told his father of his intention, and was met with no opposition, the father being both considerate and intelligent; but with his consent, was given this advice: “Don’t go, William, before you are married; take a wife with you.” This wise and not at all unpleasant counsel young Case put into execution; hating, like all born men of action, to keep an idea long which he did not carry out in performance. By his young wife, who was from New Jersey, he was encouraged, rather than otherwise, to make the journey. She said, “My father used to dip me in the surf of the Atlantic on the New Jersey shore, and I would like to go and dip in the surf of the Pacific Ocean.”
Proceedings in congress in regard to Oregon were carefully watched by Mr. Case, especial note being taken of the Linn bill, by whose provisions there were to be given a square mile of land to each man, another to his wife, and a quarter section to each child. It was well understood that the United States government could not give title to land in Oregon; but this bill was introduced as a promise of what it would do; and was in reality a test of the American spirit. Would the American people settle Oregon? If so, the United States would claim the territory.
Men like Case were found, who had a broad outlook, who understood the value of land in the Columbia or Willamette Valley, and who saw that the United States must front the Pacific as well as the Atlantic. These ideas were largely formed by the broad spirit of the west, the Ohio and Mississippi Valley, whose chief representatives were men like Doctor Linn and Colonel Benton in congress. Such men wished to live their lives on a more liberal scale than was possible even in the old west. Mr. Case, like his father, was an old line whig, and later an uncompromising republican. He says: “The United States Bank helped the country a great deal. But when, upon the expiration of its charter, the bill to grant a second charter was vetoed by President Jackson, there followed a crash such as can never be described. The country never fully recovered from the depression until the discovery of gold in 1848.” Wages, he says, were twenty-five cents a day in Indiana, or $6 a month, or $100 a year, in special cases. Under such circumstances, a young man saw no chance for accumulating a competence, but in Oregon he might begin with a better outlook.
During the year of 1841, when he was married at the age of twenty-one, Case was making his preparations, and on April 1, 1842, started out for Platte City, Missouri, which he reached June 10. However, he was too late to catch the Oregon train, which had left the first of the month. Going to Northern Missouri, he remained until 1844, but was on time to catch the first train of that season. The crossing of the Missouri River was made at a point about ten miles below the present City of Omaha, at a place now called Bellevue. The train of sixty wagons was organized under Captain Tharp; and a regular line of march was established, the train moving in two divisions, on parallel lines, and about a quarter to half a mile apart, to be in easy supporting distance in case of an attack by Indians. The whole train was brought together at nighttime, the wagons being driven in such a way as to form a perfect corral, inside of which the tents for the night were placed; although frequently no tents were set, especially after Nebraska was passed, where the season of 1844 was very late and stormy. With the company of General Gilliam of that year, traveling with which were R. W. Morrison, John Minto, W. R. Rees, and other well-known pioneers, the company of Captain Tharp and Mr. Case had no connection, and were in advance all the way. John Marshall, however, who went to California in 1846, and discovered gold in 1848, was a member of the train.
The three following incidents on the plains may be mentioned as presenting something new. One was a charge, or stampede, of about one thousand buffaloes. This occurred in the Platte Valley. As the two divisions were moving along deliberately, at ox-speed, in the usual parallel columns, the drivers were startled by a low sound to the north as of distant thunder. There was no appearance of a storm, however, in that or any other direction, and the noise grew louder and louder, and was steady and uninterrupted. It soon became clear that there was a herd of buffaloes approaching and on the run. Scouring anxiously the line of hills rimming the edge of the valley, the dark brown outline of the herd was at length descried, and was distinctly made out with a telescope, as buffaloes in violent motion and making directly for the train. The front of the line was perhaps half a mile long and the animals were several columns deep, and coming like a tornado. They had probably been stampeded by hunters and would now stop at nothing. The only apparent chance of safety was to drive ahead and get out of the range of the herd. The oxen were consequently urged into a run and the train itself had the appearance of a stampede. Neither were they too quick; for the flying herds of the buffaloes passed but a few yards to the rear of the last wagons, and were going at such a rate that to be struck by them would have been like the shock of rolling boulders of a ton’s weight. Mr. Case recalls measuring one buffalo that was six feet, two inches, from hoof to hump, and was over four feet from dewlap across the body.
Another most important occurrence was near Fort Platte, where a Frenchman by the name of Bisnette was in command, and in which another Frenchman, Joe Batonne, was also an important actor; something, perhaps, that has never been related, but which probably prevented the destruction of the train. It happened that at Bellevue Mr. Case found and employed a young Frenchman by the name of Berdreau, and about two hundred miles out from Omaha he was asked by this Berdreau to take in another young Frenchman, Joe Batonne, who had started with a Doctor Townsend of the train, but had fallen out with him and now was seeking another position. Batonne was therefore traveling with Case. As they were approaching Fort Platte, however, word was received from the commandant, Bisnette, to come forward no further; but if they had anyone in the train who knew the Sioux language to send him. “There is a war party of Sioux Indians here,” was his information, “and I cannot understand why they should be here. The place for them at this time of the year is on the Blackfoot or Crow border, while this is in the very center of their territory. I fear they mean some mischief to the train.” Batonne was the only one in the train who understood Sioux. He was accordingly sent forward, being inconspicuously dressed, along with some others, all riding their horses. The party reached Fort Platte and passed freely among the Sioux Indians. These formed an immense host, being a full party of six men to a tent, and five hundred tents, which, although crowded together irregularly, still covered a considerable space.
Batonne kept his ears open as his party rode here and there, but said nothing. Finally, as they were passing a certain tent, a young Sioux was heard to exclaim, “It always makes me itch to see an American horse; I want to ride it so bad.” A chief answered him in a low voice, “Wait a few days, until the immigrants come up, and we shall have all their horses.” This was soon reported by Batonne to Bisnette, who at once sent word back to the train to wait until he had contrived some plan to send the Indians off. The plan he hit upon was this—and he told it afterwards only to Mr. Case and Joe Batonne, under strict promises of secrecy:
He called all the chiefs together with the message that he had very important news for them. They accordingly assembled and sat in solemn council. After the pipe was passed and smoked, the first whiff, as usual, being directed to the Great Spirit, Bisnette began:
“I have lived with you now many years and have always dealt honorably.”
“Yes,” answered the Sioux.
“I have never told you a lie.”
“Never,” said the chiefs.
“And have been as a brother.”
“You have been our white brother,” they said.
“Well,” he continued, “I have just heard news that is of utmost importance to you. The immigrants who come from the sunrise and will soon be here have been delayed; a man died; they buried him; he had the smallpox. I advise you, therefore, to leave this place as soon as possible, and to go to your northern border and not return for over a month.”
No news could have been more alarming to the Indians, who understood only too well what the smallpox was; not many years before infected blankets having been distributed among them through the agency of white trappers whom they had been allowed to rob, as a sort of punishment for having robbed lone trappers heretofore; and by this the whole tribe had been decimated by the scourge, very many dying, and some even of those who recovered, but were badly marked, had killed themselves. They had been told by the trappers that the smallpox pits were the mark of the devil. “The devil will get you sure now” they told them. As soon as Bisnette told these Indians that there was smallpox in the train the chiefs slid out to their tents, and within fifteen minutes the whole army was on the move, going to the north, and not returning while the immigrants of that season were passing.
The other point was the cause of the breaking up of the organization. After passing the Sioux country, fear of the Indians wore off, and the necessity of rapid travel became more and more apparent, but among the one hundred and twenty men of the train—as many at least as two to the wagon—at least one hundred, says Mr. Case, were “worthless,” or dangerously near that line. The daily labor of the march was devolved more and more upon the twenty men or so that felt the necessity of pushing on. The majority, however, often spent their evenings playing cards to a late hour, or dancing and fiddling with the young folks around the fire, and slept the next morning until called for breakfast by the women. Various ways were devised to equalize these matters; the women, among other devices, being put up to taking and burning the packs of cards, unbeknown to the men. But it finally became old—getting up 2 o’clock of a morning to hunt the cattle, which, in grazing, always attempted to go ahead of one another, and thus sometimes were spread out for several miles on the prairie. Doing this again and again, for men who would not take their turn, but were sleeping at the camp, was finally too much to be borne. Case and some others, accordingly made ready, and one morning struck out with their wagons, and before night the whole train was resolved into two sections; the jolly boys who danced and fiddled being left behind.
Arriving in Oregon, Mr. Case first stopped at Linnton, but soon went over to Tualatin Plains, and settled first near Mr. Hill’s place, now Hillsboro. In 1845, he recalls that he was employed in building the first frame barn in Oregon (W. M. C.), on the Wilkins place; and he here made the acquaintance of the old mountain men, Wilkins, Ebberts, Newell, Meek, and Walker. He was not well satisfied, however, with the locality. It was a long way over the hills and through the deep woods to the Willamette River at Linnton, or at Oregon City—Portland then being a mere camping station on the Willamette. Case wished to locate on the river, and accordingly, in 1846, moved to French Prairie, and acquired, partly by donation claim, and afterwards by purchase, two sections of land, being about one-half prairie, and the other half timber. It was three miles from Champoeg, where Newell acquired the Donald Manson place, and became town proprietor. Here he has remained, engaged in farming, saw milling, and running a tile factory, performing his duties as a citizen, being known during the war period as an unyielding union man, and occupying the responsible place during that time and later of County Judge of Marion County. He has had a family of thirteen children, eight of whom are now living. He has twenty-three grand-children. His life has been one of intense activity, and he has performed almost no end of hard physical work, and has borne heavy responsibilities.
He says, however, that the most intense and thrilling experiences of his life were during the season that he spent in California, and going to and returning from the mines. This was 1849. It is worthy of the most careful record, being remembered to the most minute details by Mr. Case, and affording a chapter in human experience seldom equalled. It also shows the moulding influences brought to bear upon Oregon men, who showed themselves as perhaps of the firmest fibre to be found on the Pacific slope in 1849; which is saying a great deal. It deserves to be told in the language of Mr. Case himself, and perhaps it will be. But for some reasons it will be proper to give these recollections in a somewhat condensed form, as in their entirety, as told by himself, they would compose a volume. Indeed, in his rapid and energetic conversation, with which only the most experienced stenographer could keep pace, it required him four hours to tell the whole thing—even omitting many of the details that he remembers. However, it is only an idle thought or wish to imagine that what men were years in living in the fastest period of Pacific Coast history, can ever be told in full or the life itself be reproduced. There are distinct parts to his narrative. The Voyage; the Oregon Miner’s Vengeance; and The Return Overland.