A Survivor's Recollections of the Whitman Massacre

by Matilda Sager

In early days, dishes were not very plentiful. Most people had only tin dishes and these were hard to get. One man, to avoid the risk of loss, nailed his dishes to the table. When he wanted to wash them he would turn the table on it's side, take the broom and some hot water and scrub them well; after rinsing them, he would turn the table back with the dishes thoroughly cleansed.

The Rev. Childs (the abolitionist preacher) took a claim with two young men who were both in their teens and full of pranks. The Reverend often used to tell them of the fine eels he used to have in the East, what good eating they were and how he longed for one again. The boys concluded they would treat him to one for his dinner some day. One day they caught a rattle snake and skinned it. As one of them always prepared the dinner, the snake was cooked and sizzling hot when time for dinner arrived. The frying pan was put on the table, containing what the boys said was a nice fat eel. The minister stuck his fork into a portion and put it on his plate, saying, "This is the toughest eel I ever saw." The boys were a little dubious about allowing him to eat it, for fear it might poison him; so one of them said, "If you had seen the string of rattles on it, you would have thought it was tough." The preacher took the frying pan and snake and threw them into the Klamath River.

Ministers were frequently the victims of the rude wit of the times. One day one drove into town with a team and buggy, saying he was the Reverend Bullock and that he had been told there was no church nor anything of a religious nature in the place; so he had come to try to convert the people and build up a church. He made an appointment to come and conduct services in two weeks. He was there, true to his promise, and most of the people attended the service. When the collection was taken up, they responded liberally.

In time the people tired of his preaching, so a committee was appointed to call upon him and tell him that no one cared to listen to him longer; but he was not to be deterred and when the regular day for service came, he was on hand again to preach. The boys decided they would get rid of him for good. A man by the name of George Horner had collected five hundred pieces of Chinese money. He went to the store keeper who had the only safe in town and told him that he had five hundred dollars which he wanted to deposit in his safe. The old man took it and put it safely away. On the appointed day for church services, George had this money distributed among the boys and they all attended church, well prepared for the collection. The church was full and the minister's face beamed with delight to see so large an audience. There were a few men in the place who had been church members in their Eastern homes. Some had been exhorters in these churches and when the minister was fervently praying, outpourings of the spirit, "God grant it" and "Amens" came from all parts of the church and one could well imagine that they were in one of the old time Methodist revival meetings.

The minister seemed to sense that there was something unusual in the air and hurriedly brought his discourse to a close; but the boys were determined that the collection must not be overlooked, so two of them passed the hat among the congregation and the Chinese money soon filled the hats. The minister closed without the usual benediction and made for the door, where the collection was handed to him. When he saw what it was, he made a hasty retreat to the barn where his team was and ordered it ready. When he got into the buggy, he found that some one had not forgotten to put in a few decks of cards and several bottles of whiskey. He drove away and was not seen again for a number of years.

The town was not to be abandoned by the clergy altogether, however, so another minister came. It always fell to me to entertain the traveling ministers and this one was sent to my house. He told me he saw the need of work in the community and he thought we should have a church. He asked me what I thought of the outlook. I told him about the other minister and his collection and he laughed heartily. He preached that evening and left the next morning. That ended the religious effort in our town for a long time.

The ministers did not have all the mishaps, however. A man named Thomas owned the Eagle grist mall in the Rogue River valley, Oregon. In 1856 he surveyed and built the toll road across the Siskiyou mountains. He also owned and operated a salt works down the Klamath river. On one of his trips he had in addition to his load of salt a barrel of whisky and a grindstone. It was late in the evening when he reached the Klamath ferry and the ferryman told him not to try to cross Cottonwood creek as it was high and dangerous. The tailings from the placers formed ridges and holes that were dangerous in high water. He cautioned him to stay in a house of his close to the crossing until morning, when it would be safe to cross. He replied, "I will cross so quick that my salt won't get wet." Fortunately, he had picked up a traveler on the road and was giving him a lift to his destination. They attempted the crossing of the creek and when they overturned in mid-creek this man succeeded in cutting the horses loose and they all managed to swim ashore. Then they went on to their camp, returning in the morning to see what they had left. The wagon and the grindstone were there buried in the clay, but the salt and whisky had vanished.

The winter of '62 was very severe and all the stock in the whole country perished. Mr. Hazlett owned five hundred head of cattle in the fall and in the spring had about five left. He had to go back in March to be operated on again for cancer. He was quite a while in recovering. I went down in June to see him and he returned with me, but lived only until the next spring. He left me with five children and I had to build a house to shelter them. I traded a cow for some lumber and some of my friends helped me. The house was not finished inside. I used to take in washing, which was the only thing to be done. Goods were very high during the Civil war. The orchard had begun to bear and quite a lot of gooseberries had set on. One year we had three hundred pounds of them. I managed to care for my children and in '67 I married Mr. Fultz, my first husband's partner. We lived there twenty-seven years. I had six daughters. We at last sold out and came up into Washington to live and settled in the town of Farmington, going into the hotel business. Some of my girls were grown and lived with me. We bought a livery business, then Mr. Fultz started a furniture business and finally took on undertaking. Mr. Fultz lived but a year after coming to Farmington and I was left with four businesses on my hands. All the responsibility rested on me. One daughter died. With the help of the girls, the house was enlarged to three stories. After three years one of the girls married, a year after another, and then another. I had one daughter in California; my youngest was with me. Six years after Mr. Fultz died I married Mr. Delaney. We still had the hotel. Then I became crippled with rheumatism and was given up to die, but finally recovered, though told I would never walk again. I laid helpless and drawn up for five months, with life dispared of; but my children came to me, one from California, one from Lewiston, Idaho, a son and daughter living in the house and another in town. They all did everything possible and cared for me continually. My doctor was faithful and the neighbors were kind to come and do everything they could for me. The Chinaman cook brewed good herbs and steamed my limbs and straightened them out and some of the Coeur d'Alene squaws said they prayed for me. Another friend furnished me a lot of Medical Lake salts, which he thought was good for all ailments. After five months I was carried out in a chair and placed in the sunshine; then came gradually returning strength and little by little, with the aid of crutches, I walked and with continual effort and perseverence I at last recovered the use of my limbs. With my sister, who came to visit me, I went to visit Perrin Whitman, our old friend.

In the spring of 1843, when Dr. Whitman returned to his Mission, he brought with him his nephew, Perrin B. Whitman, a motherless boy of thirteen years. Perrin learned the different Indian languages very readily and at an early date helped the Rev. H. H. Spalding to translate the three gospels into the Nez Perce tongue. He also helped to print them on the first printing press brought to Oregon. In the month of September, 1847, he was sent by his uncle to The Dalles to learn the Wascopean Indian language, as Dr. Whitman had bargained for the Methodist Station at that place and intended to move his family and belongings there the following spring. The Doctor also hired a man named Hindman to go there with his family and take charge of the place, as he had left most of his supplies at that point. Four days after the massacre, an Indian came to the house and told them that another Indian had been at their camp and told them that Dr. Whitman's wife and all the men at the Mission had been killed and the other women and children taken captive. Mr. Hindman was so alarmed for the safety of his family that he hired an Indian with his canoe to take him to Fort Vancouver for help. He had not been gone long when four Cayuse Indians came to the house and wanted Perrin to let them in. With Perrin was Mrs. Hindman, her fourteen-months-old baby and a young girl of sixteen years of age named Mary Warren.

At the approach of the Indians Mrs. Hindman sank into a chair with her babe in her arms. She was speechless and helpless. Perrin stood at the door and talked from the inside. He afterward said that if he ever talked Walla Walla, he did that day. Miss Warren stood at the other door with uplifted ax and vowed she would kill the first Indian who attempted to enter. They tried in every way to induce Perrin to come outside, but he refused to go. They finally left and Perrin said that Miss Warren was the bravest woman he ever knew. She never showed any sign of fear throughout the trying ordeal. He also said that he was satisfied that the Indians came with the intention of killing all of them. In a few days Mr. Hindman returned with help and they moved to Oregon City.