Some Pioneers and Pilgrims on the Prairies of Dakota / Or, From the Ox Team to the Aeroplane

by John B. Reese; H. B. Reese

My partner did not express himself much as to the new country, but what he thought about it can be guessed by the fact that he wanted none of it for his own. However, I bought a quarter section of it adjoining the tract which J.B. Reese had already bought, before returning home, thinking it might do for pasture. I paid less than $5.00 per acre for it, so I felt that I could not lose much anyway.

May we digress for a moment here and point out the history of the original homesteaders of this section we are just describing, for it is full of interest and has also not a few of the tragedies of the prairie. This part of the state has seen more than the average of the disappointments incident to pioneer life. It has been the grave-yard of many bright hopes and furnished a burial place instead of a building place for not a few pioneers of the prairie.

The valley between Templeton to the north and Crow Lake to the south, with some of the adjacent land as well, was settled mostly by people from New York, Virginia and Pennsylvania in the early eighties. These people had some means, according to the standards of those times; were above the average pioneer in education and in general started in to build homes embodying not merely necessary shelter but even refinement and comforts. They planted trees, both shade and fruit trees; also flowers and shrubs.

The first years of their settlement were sufficiently wet and the crops were correspondingly good, some getting upward of 30 bushels of wheat per acre on the newly broken ground. This encouraged the settlers even to going into considerable debt for equipment to carry on larger farm operations. Land rose in value from free homesteads to $300.00 to $500.00 per quarter. Then came the dry years of 1893-'4-'5 and others as well of small or no crops. Not only no crop, but all the wells dried up so there was the greatest scarcity of water for man and beast. Many of these people were heavily in debt and it was almost impossible to borrow any more to tide over the emergency.

Then it was that the people began to stampede, as it were, going out as many as 30-40 in one company. Some who had many obligations but few scruples are said to have made their departure less conspicuously, quietly creeping away between sunset and dawn and without bidding anyone good-bye.

It was these conditions of the early years and the people who ran away from here to report their experiences far and wide which gave South Dakota a black eye and a bad name for years to come.

Yet after the great exodus, when the country was almost depopulated in a few months, there were found a few left behind. These were generally the ones who had had little or nothing to begin with and who now did not have enough to go anywhere else even if they wanted to do so. Those who were left by 1900 had gotten their second wind, as it were, having learned to adapt themselves to the country and were getting a start in cattle.

The big fire referred to above, sweeping over the section in '99 and destroying many of the vacated buildings, as also the remnants of orchards and groves, completed the wiping out of the visible monuments of the first settlers, so the country was nearly back again to the primitive conditions in the early years of 1900.

It was at this time (1904) that we decided to remove from Charles Mix county to Jerauld and the vicinity just described. To move such a distance overland with all one's belongings, including cattle, as also a family in which were several small children, and in the treacherous month of March, was no joy ride for any one concerned. After looking about for a partner in this difficult enterprise, I finally made arrangements with one, Knut Lien, to join me. He had about 40 head of cattle and was a single man. I took with me about 60 head, so on a morning in the early spring of 1904 my partner and I started with our first loads for the land of wide and roomy pasture if not of still waters. On the evening of the second day we stopped in front of the old house on my brother's place, which was to be our future home. But the situation which met us was not especially encouraging to tired, cold and hungry men. The window lights were broken; the floor, too, the house having been used for a granary, had given way. There was no shelter for our horses and, worst of all, not a drop of water on the place.

I was, indeed, discouraged at the outlook and said to Knut: "We will not unload. We shall rest until morning and then return." He made no reply, and after doing what we could for our horses we lay down on the floor to get what rest we could.