A Backward Glance at Eighty: Recollections & Comment

by Charles A. Murdock

We had a very pleasant home and were comfortable and happy. We had a horse, cows, rabbits, and pigeons. Our garden furnished berries and vegetables in plenty. The Indians sold fish, and I provided at first rabbits and then ducks and geese. One delicious addition to our table was novel to us. As a part of the redwood's undergrowth was a tall bush that in its season yielded a luscious and enormous berry called the salmon-berry. It was much like a raspberry, generally salmon in color, very juicy and delicate, approximating an inch and a half in diameter. Armed with a long pole, a short section of a butt limb forming a sort of shepherd's crook, I would pull down the heavily laden branches and after a few moments in the edge of the woods would be provided with a dessert fit for any queen, and so appropriate for my mother.

California in those early days seemed wholly dependent on the foreign markets. Flour came from Chile, "Haxall" being the common brand; cheese from Holland and Switzerland; cordials, sardines, and prunes from France; ale and porter from England; olives from Spain; whiskey from Scotland. Boston supplied us with crackers, Philadelphia sent us boots, and New Orleans furnished us with sugar and molasses.

The stores that supplied the mines carried almost everything—provisions, clothing, dry goods, and certainly wet goods. At every store there was found an open barrel of whiskey, with a convenient glass sampler that would yield through the bunghole a fair-sized drink to test the quality. One day I went into a store where a clever Chinaman was employed. He had printed numerous placards announcing the stock. I noticed a fresh one that seemed incongruous. It read, "Codfish and Cologne Water." I said, "What's the idea?" He smilingly replied, "You see its place? I hang it over the whiskey-barrel. Some time man come to steal a drink. I no see him; he read sign, he laugh, I hear him, I see him."

There was no school in the town when we came. It troubled my mother that my brother and sister must be without lessons. Several other small children were deprived of opportunity. In the emergency we cleaned out a room in the store, formerly occupied by a county officer, and I organized a very primary school. I was almost fifteen, but the children were good and manageable. I did not have very many, and fortunately I was not called upon to teach very long. There came to town a clever man, Robert Desty. He wanted to teach. There was no school building, but he built one all by his own hands. He suggested that I give up my school and become a pupil of his. I was very glad to do it. He was a good and ingenious teacher. I enjoyed his lessons about six months, and then felt I must help my father. My stopping was the only graduation in my experience.

My father was an inveterate trader, and the year after our coming he joined with another venturer in buying the standing crop of wheat in Hoopa Valley, on the Trinity River. I went up to help in the harvesting, being charged with the weighing of the sacked grain. It was a fine experience for an innocent Yankee boy. We lived out of doors, following the threshers from farm to farm, eating under an oak tree and sleeping on the fragrant straw-piles. I was also the butt of about the wildest lot of jokers ever assembled. They were good-natured, but it was their concerted effort to see how much I could stand in the way of highly flavored stories at mealtime. It was fun for them, besides they felt it would be a service to knock out some of the Boston "sissiness." I do not doubt it was. They never quite drove me away from the table.

In the meantime I had a great good time. It was a very beautiful spot and all was new and strange. There were many Indians, and they were interesting. They lived in rancherias of puncheons along the river. Each group of dwellings had a musical name. One village was called Matiltin, another Savanalta. The children swam like so many ducks, and each village had its sweathouse from which every adult, to keep in health and condition, would plunge into the swiftly flowing river. They lived on salmon, fresh or dried, and on grass-seed cakes cooked on heated stones. They were handsome specimens physically and were good workers. The river was not bridged, but it was not deep and canoes were plenty. If none were seen on the side which you chanced to find yourself, you had only to call, "Wanus, matil!" (Come, boat!) and one would come. If in a hurry, "Holish!" would expedite the service.

The Indian language was fascinating and musical. "Iaquay" was the word of friendly greeting. "Aliquor" was Indian, "Waugee" was white man, "Chick" was the general word for money. When "Waugee-chick" was mentioned, it meant gold or silver; if "Aliquor-chick," reference was made to the spiral quill-like shells which served as their currency, their value increasing rapidly by the length. [Footnote: In the Hawaiian Islands short shells of this variety are strung for beads, but have little value.] There are frequent combined words. "Hutla" is night, "Wha" is the sun; "Hutla-wha" is the moon—the night-sun. If an Indian wishes to ask where you are going, he will say, "Ta hunt tow ingya?" "Teena scoia" is very good. "Skeena" is too small. "Semastolon" is a young woman; if she is considered beautiful, "Clane nuquum" describes her.

The Indians were very friendly and hospitable. If I wanted an account-book that was on the other side of the river, they would not bother for a canoe, but swim over with it, using-one hand and holding the book high in the air. I found they had settled habits and usages that seemed peculiar to them. If one of their number died, they did not like it referred to; they wished for no condolence. "Indian die, Indian no talk," was their expression.

It was a wonder to me that in a valley connected with civilization by only a trail there should be found McCormick's reapers and Pitt's threshers. Parts too large for a mule's pack had been cut in two and afterwards reunited. By some dint of ingenuity even a millstone had been hauled over the roadless mountains. The wheat we harvested was ground at the Hoopa mill and the flour was shipped to the Trinity and Klamath mines.

All the week we harvested vigorously, and on Sunday we devoted most of the day to visiting the watermelon patches and sampling the product. Of course, we spent a portion of the day in washing our few clothes, usually swimming and splashing in the river until they were dry.