Somewhat cast down by the loss of my first earnings, but not totally discouraged, I shipped with six others on board a prairie schooner, well supplied with provisions and three good horses and headed for the north and fortune. After thirteen days of frontier hardships, we landed at the mouth of the Chien River where it empties into the Red River of the North. Here we erected two or three good log houses, surveyed and platted our town, and planted common vegetables. They grew wonderfully well. We caught fish and shot ducks and geese. On paper our town could not be excelled, with its streets and boulevards, its parks and drives, its churches and schools and public buildings. It was so inspiring to look at, that we each took one hundred and sixty acres adjoining the town, intending them as an addition to plat and sell to the on-rushers when the boom should commence.
We also built a boat here, or rather made a dugout, so we could explore the river. We had amusements in plenty, for wolves, Indians, mosquitoes and grasshoppers were in great abundance. The wolves were hungry and told us so, congregating in great numbers for their nightly concerts. We had to barricade our doors to keep them out and burn smudges on the inside to keep mosquitoes out as well. Sixty-five Indians paid us a visit one day and they were not at all pleasant. We had a French half breed with us and he influenced them to leave. They only intended to take our yoke of cattle, but finally, after much parleying they moved on, and we breathed easier.
All things come to an end, and so did this wild goose chase after riches and in time we got back to God's country and St. Anthony. I will not worry you by reciting our experiences in getting back, but they were vexatious and amusing.
To sum up my reward for this five months of hard work, privation and danger, I had one red flannel shirt, one pair of boots, one pair of white duck pants and $13 worth of groceries. Wasn't this a jolt?
It was late in the fall, with a long cold winter ahead and things looked rather blue. Judge Isaac Atwater was the owner of "The St. Anthony Express," a good looking weekly paper of Whig politics. I went to work in this office at four dollars a week and as I advanced in efficiency, my salary was increased to twelve dollars. About this time an important thing happened. I married the daughter of Alonzo Leaming, who had come here in 1853. My wife was the first teacher of a private school in Minneapolis. The school being located near Minnehaha, she boarded with the Prescott family who lived on a farm not far from the Falls. After the Indian outbreak in August 1862, as we were marching up to the Lower Agency, we found Mr. Prescott's body about twelve miles out from the fort, and I helped bury him. His wife and children were prisoners at that time, held by the hostile Sioux.
I think it was in 1858, the people got clamorous for railroads and voted the State credit for Five Million Dollars. The pamphlet exploiting the celebrated "Five Million Dollar Loan Bill," was printed in the "St. Anthony Express" office and I pulled the issue off on a very antiquated hand press, known as the "Foster". It was too early for railroads. Times were too hard. But half the issue was made, and a foundation laid for some of our great railroad systems. The St. Paul and Pacific was built and operated for a few miles and was the pioneer of the Great Northern system. The first locomotive landed in St. Paul was the "William Crooks," named in honor of the Civil Engineer of the road, Col. William Crooks, who was the Commander of the "Sixth Minnesota," in which I served. Colonel Crooks is buried in Oakland, St. Paul and the locomotive is on the retired list.
As I said, one half of these bonds were issued and after several legislatures had bandied them about and pigeonholed them, the debt was wiped out at fifty cents on the dollar with interest, which gave the holders par, and the credit of the state was saved. The bonds were thrown about as worthless and I had an opportunity to get some of them at $1 each.
I erected the first street light in St. Paul. You could not see it a block away. All the rest of the town was in darkness. Minneapolis had one of these lights also, located on Bridge square. Burning fluid for lamps was one dollar a gallon. Candles were mostly used. Matches, hand made, were sold for five cents a bunch—five cents being worth twenty-five cents now.
In 1858 Minnesota was overrun with "Wild Cat" money. Perhaps I had better explain this. It had no value outside the state and was not a sure thing in it. You took money at night, not knowing whether it would be worth anything in the morning. However, it looked well and we all took chances. Any county could issue money by giving some sort of a bond, so we had among others "Glencoe County," "Freeborn County", "Fillmore County," "Chisago County," "La Crosse and La Crescent," and many others. Daily bulletins were issued telling what money was good. In the final round up, the only money redeemed at face value was "La Crosse and La Crescent." I printed a directory with a Mr. Chamberlain of Boston. I sold my book and took "Wild Cat" in payment and, after paying the printer, had quite a bunch of it on hand, but merchants would not take it at its face value. We had no bank of exchange then. Orin Curtis had a little place he called a bank, but I never saw money go in or out of it.
I found what was termed a bank on the west side of the river—a two room affair, up one pair of stairs, and presided over by J. K. Sidle, who afterwards was president of the First National Bank. He was at that time loaning money at three per cent a month. The nearest bank of Exchange was that of Borup & Oakes of St. Paul, and the only way to get there was to walk or pay Allen & Chase one dollar and a half for the round trip. I preferred to walk, and so did, to receive an offer of eighty five cents on the dollar for my "Wild Cat." "No, sir," I said, "I'll go back home first," and walked back. I made three other trips and finally took twenty-five cents on the dollar and was glad to get it, for in a short time, it was worthless. Merchants issued their own individual scrip and payed many local bills that way. For instance: "David Edwards will pay five dollars in goods at his store upon presentation of this paper, etc." Times were hard, but pioneers never desert. They are always on deck. Hence our Minneapolis of today.