To the American Indian

by Lucy Thompson

Jack Paupaw and George White went to their own homes. Jack Paupaw was a blacksmith by trade and was working in Crescent City. He was an old pioneer of Crescent City and the Klamath river. He returned to Crescent City while White went up the river to a place known as Big Bar, thus leaving McGarvey with the soldiers, as everything was now quiet. Things proceeded smoothly while the soldiers were there and all thought that the trouble was forgiven and forgotten and the soldiers were ordered back to their command.

But the Indians of the Cortep village began to scheme for another plan for revenge of their lost relatives, but gave up McGarvey and chose this time a man by the name of Bryson who was the superintendent of the Klamath Bluffs Mine, situated only about two hundred yards up the river from the store. Bryson had a miner’s cabin which he lived in while working at the mines, up from the river out of the way of high water. The mine was down close to the river. He was coming up the trail to his cabin for dinner just about twelve o’clock when one of the Cortep Indians shot him down in his tracks with one of the old muzzle loading rifles; this Indian was named Lotch-kum. Then all the Indians left for the timber to get out of the way of the whites and friendly Indians. This started the row going again and McGarvey barricaded his store until the friendly Indians came to his assistance. The first family to come was Weitch-ah-wah (my father) and his brother (my uncle).

At that time they were camped at the mouth of Tec-tah creek, some four miles down the river from the store, and as soon as they heard of the killing of Bryson they started for their home at the Pec-wan village about one mile above the store and on going home went by the store and stopped to learn the particulars of the killing. McGarvey made arrangements with Warrots (my uncle) to go up the river and give notice to the whites, T. M. Brown, the Sheriff of Klamath County, and to the soldiers stationed at Camp Gaston in Hoopa Valley, some twelve miles up the Trinity river from its junction with the Klamath. After Warrots had delivered the message at all points he stealthily returned to his home at Pec-wan in the night so the other Indians would not find out he was on this errand against them. On the day following Warrots’s return, the Sheriff and other white men came among them. George A. White, who was a cripple as has before been stated, started to walk on the front porch of the store when some of the angry Indians said to him, Melasses White you can’t fight, you are crippled (Melasses was his Indian name).

White went back into the store and got one of the first makes of Henry rifles. (The one Warrots had let McGarvey have to defend himself with, and was the one my brother had brought from Oregon while he was up there with the white men and was the only one to be found on the Klamath of the kind and make at that time). As soon as the Cortep Indians saw the rifle they knew at once that Warrots had given it to the whites to shoot them with and it caused them to swear vengeance against Warrots and his brother. Upon further inquiry they also found out that Warrots had been up to Hoopa and told of the killing of Bryson. T. M. Brown having been the Sheriff of Klamath County a number of years and also a pioneer of the Klamath river was quite well acquainted with the habits and customs of the Klamath river Indians and he counseled with the friendly Indians and agreed to pay them for their services if they would bring in the guilty Indian Lotch-kum dead or alive. So Warrots set out to find Lotch-kum and kept watching different places to find where he was hiding. The country being heavily timbered Lotch-kum kept out of sight for nearly a year but at last Warrots found where he was hiding in a creek some eight miles down the river from the store and about one mile up the creek from the river in the heavy redwood timber, in a large pile of drift logs. He first heard Lotch-kum’s little fist dog bark and on watching patiently for awhile saw Lotch-kum come out. At this he went back to his home in the Pec-wan village, then visited with the Ser-e-goin village and told them that he had found the hiding place of Lotch-kum. When they got ready three of them, the other two being from the Ser-e-goin village, Monmonth Jack and Marechus Charley, with Warrots leading the way arrived close to Lotch-kum’s hiding place. They commenced to keep a close lookout for him, as they could see his tracks in the soft dirt and sand in the bed of the creek; and had to keep up the watch for about ten days. Finally they saw him come creeping out to the creek where he began to bathe himself. Warrots raised his rifle to his shoulder, took aim and fired, Charley and Jack firing next. Lotch-kum fell to the ground but kept raising up and falling down again, trying to get away, when the three of them ran up to him as fast as they could, drew their long heavy knives and severed his head, put it in a sack and carried it back to the old store in triumph. Inside they rolled it out on the counter, which satisfied the whites for the killing of Bryson. Bryson was buried in a pretty spot a little north-east of the store, with hardly a mark to show the place where he was to sleep, and all settled down to peace and quietness again between the Indians and the whites. But the Pec-wan Indians were divided between the Indians and the whites, some of them were friendly to the whites while others took sides with the Cortep Indians. Warrots was a Pec-wan Indian and full brother to Weitch-ah-wah. The Sheriff and Government officers gave to the three Indians who had killed Lotch-kum, letters of very high recommendations for their services and to the good graces of all the whites. (I have seen these letters with the signatures many times in my girl-hood days.)

Now the Cortep village and part of the Pec-wan village began to make plans to kill Warrots, and as he was considered to be a good and faithful friend of the whites by these Indians, it must be done in a way so as to deceive the whites and not to let them know it was being done as a revenge for the part he had taken in killing Lotch-kum. So they bided their time waiting for a good chance, but all the time Warrots was hearing of their schemes through his friends and he went to the Sheriff and Government officers and told them that Lotch-kum’s friends were planning to kill him and all of them promised him that no one would be allowed to harm him. Sheriff Brown sent him word to meet him at Trinidad as Trinidad was at that time in Klamath County. Warrots came and laid the facts before him and the Sheriff promised him protection and Warrots went back home. After about three weeks his brother Weitch-ah-wah and all the family except myself (I was about eight years of age) went away, thereby Warrots’s enemies got their chance to carry out their plans. Early in the morning Warrots went down to the creek which was only a short distance, to bathe and there he met a little boy, the son of Pec-wan Ma-hatch-us. He spoke to the boy, bathed in the creek and went back up to the house, when he saw another Indian coming up the river trail from the Cortep village, and as he passed the boy Warrots saw him stop, talk to the boy and give him a piece of bread which he ate. The boy then came up to the Pec-wan village while the Indian, who was from the Cortep village, kept on up the river. As the boy got to his house he became ill and in about thirty minutes died. Evidently the Indian had given him a piece of poisoned bread which had killed him. They gave no attention to the one that gave the bread but instead laid all the blame on Warrots for the death of the boy and as soon as the ceremony and burial was over they pounced upon Warrots and shot him at the door of his sweat-house, killing him. The next day Warrots was laid to rest in the grave-yard of his own folks in Pec-wan village. None of the whites ever made any attempt to punish any of the Indians or stop them from killing him. This is the reward he received for being a faithful friend to the whites in times of need. His brother with his family was forced to leave their home in Pec-wan village and move to Ser-e-goin village, where lived the friends and helpers of Warrots, Mermis Jack and Ser-e-goin Charley. After living there for awhile we moved up to Hoopa so as to get farther away from our enemies and where we could have a better chance for protection. I took a position with the Agent which they said I filled with credit to myself and satisfaction to them. Mermis Jack and Ser-e-goin Charley lived for many years but were never friendly with the friends of Lotch-kum. Mermis Jack finally died suddenly and in a manner that pointed strongly that he was given poison in his food. Ser-e-goin Charley died a natural death in 1886.

In 1876 Bill McGarvey died in the old store that went by his name so long. He had not been feeling well for some time. In the large room at the west end of the store building he had a large stone fire-place, put in many years before and he used this room as his bed-room and also a sitting room. In this room he was taking his bath in a tub when he fell over dead in front of the fire-place. The same evening his Indian lady friend died in her home which was just a short distance from the store. McGarvey had outside shutters to his windows which fastened from the inside and these he had fastened, and in the morning as he did not open the store, his Indian friend Solomon waited until late in the morning for the opening of the store, when he became suspicious of all not being right. He pried open the shutter of the window on the south side of the store which would give him a view of everything in the room where McGarvey slept, and there before the large stone fire-place lay McGarvey cold in death and beside him was the tub in which he was taking his bath. When the Indians heard of his death they all said Bill McGarvey and Mollie have both gone over to the other side together. (Mollie was closely related to all my folks.) Bill McGarvey was laid to rest by the side of Bryson, on the flat above the store, and the store passed into the hands of James McGarvey, a brother of Bill. James McGarvey made the claim that he was the only living brother which was afterwards said to be false, yet he got the store and ran it for several years. He kept whiskey and sold it to the Indians and the whites. The Indians would get drunk and have fights and kill each other until he finally got mixed up with them by having a row over one Indian finding a pistol in the trail that belonged to a white man by name of Jim Douglas. McGarvey thought he would make the Indian give up the pistol in short order and he went into the Wah-tec village which is situated but a short distance from the store and as he got within a few yards of Ray-no, the Indian, he drew his pistol and commenced to shoot at him. McGarvey’s shots went wild and the Indian drew his pistol and shot McGarvey, striking him in the back on the left side, just missing the back-bone and went clean through the body on the striffin of his stomach and he fell to the ground. The white men went to his assistance and carried him to the store and the Indians that were in the row left and went up the river to other villages with the pistol in their possession. This raised quite a furor of excitement and the whites were counseled with by the Indians that were friendly to both sides and they were asked to bring back the ones that were in the shooting of McGarvey and to bring back the pistol to the rightful owner. The next day they came back and returned the pistol to James Douglas and he gave them five dollars to be given to the one that found it. In some three weeks Jim McGarvey was up and walking around and in a short time went to Orleans Bar, where there was a Justice of the Peace and tried to swear out a warrant for the arrest of the Indian but the warrant was refused by the Justice who told him that he had commenced the row himself by shooting first, while intoxicated. Several years before this, Klamath County was taken off the map by being absorbed into Humboldt and Del Norte Counties, leaving this old Klamath Bluffs store in Humboldt County.

Jim McGarvey was selling whiskey to the Indians and causing so much trouble among them that it caused a number of killing scrapes. After this trouble was settled and Jim McGarvey got well of his wounds, he sold the store to Peter Kane and moved down the Klamath River to within about three miles of the mouth of the river and settled at the mouth of a small creek close to the bank of the river, taking with him all of his ill gotten gains and his beautiful little Indian woman that had lived with him for years and to whom he had never been married by any law. She was neat and tidy and a good cook but McGarvey got mad at her for crying over the death of her mother and struck her on the back of her head. From this she began to lose her mind and he finally abandoned her and she became a raving maniac and died, leaving no children. Her body was taken back up to her birthplace and laid to rest with her kin in the family grave-yard, while Jim McGarvey lived on his place for a few years and then died.

Peter Kane now had the store and he also kept whiskey and a rough house. He would sell whiskey to the Indians and get drunk himself, having trouble all around. He said one fall that he had two five gallon kegs of whiskey and that the Indians close around there had four hundred dollars and that he would get it all out of them for the two kegs of whiskey. His selling to them was the cause of four of them getting killed. Peter Kane had an Indian woman belonging to Redwood creek. She spoke the Hoopa tongue and bore him three children. One day one of the little girls about seven months old was crying and Kane grabbed her roughly by the neck, held her out, shook her at the same time, he walked out through the kitchen and threw the child flat on the ground with its face down, then turned and walked back into and store cursing the child and its mother. The next morning the mother got her things together and started for her home on Redwood creek. Arriving at the Klamath river which she had to cross she proceeded to cross over with her children and had almost reached the other side before Kane found that she was leaving. As soon as he discovered that she was going he ran into the store, grabbed his rifle and ran down the bank to the water’s edge and began firing. He fired several shots at her, the bullets striking close by but failing to strike her. She went to her home in the night, some twenty miles away, over a rough mountain trail and through heavy timber most of the way. She never came back. The Indians preventing him from following her that night was all that kept him from killing her. It got too warm for him and he sold the store to C. H. Johnson and afterwards went to the Indian woman on Redwood creek and remained there with her. This brute took the same little girl by her legs and dashed her brains out against a large redwood post, so every one said. The woman again had to flee for her life. She left for Hoopa Valley, where she could get some protection and Kane did not dare to follow her there. He drifted down on the coast and lived for a number of years but finally took sick and died in the County Hospital. The woman he had lived with and bore him children remained at Hoopa and raised the other children. Can you expect children, born to such fathers under such conditions to grow up to be good and respectable men and women? Many of them are a credit to their Indian mothers while those who have good respectable fathers and are born under wed-lock, having a birth that they can be proud of, over the average, make the best of men and women.

I have strenuously fought the whiskey traffic carried on by the unprincipled white men for years and did all that I could to stop it, and made bitter enemies in doing so. Yet it is going on just the same under the very eyes of some of those who are employed by the U. S. Government to put it down. It looks as if they were paid to keep their eyes closed and not see it.

When C. H. Johnson took over the store he cleaned it up and built an addition to it and put in a large stock of provisions, made friends with the Indians and did not keep any intoxicating liquors and he allowed no one to drink around the store. He gave the Indians good advice so that all looked up to him as a friend among them and he never meddled with any of their wives but treated them with respect, so that all could come and go, trade and chat with perfect ease and freedom. Many of them would lay their troubles before him and he would listen patiently and always try to give them good advice and keep down trouble among them as far as it was in his power to do so. Mr. Johnson kept this store for over twenty-five years and the Indians never at any time made a threat against him or offered to harm him in any way. He began with the help of the settlers and succeeded in getting the government to establish a post office at the store and which he named Klamath Post office, while he was the Postmaster. He ran the Post office with the store and made a good official, striving at all times to do what he could for the patrons of the office. It was very few times that any complaint was made for mislaying mail. He ran the Post office for about twenty-two years and during this time many of the Indians sent letters and received others and he used to read their letters for them and did much of their correspondence for them. He kept the office until he died. Mr. Johnson used to keep quite a stock of patent medicines and acted as doctor to the Indians if any of them were sick, often going to see them and give them medicine if he thought by doing so he could cure them. In serious cases he would advise them to go to a white doctor which they would sometimes do.