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BRUSH PRAIRIE
MEMORIES | VAN
ATTA FAMILY ANCESTRY
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Brush Prairie Days 1863-1880
by Martha Clark Lyman
My parents, John Jay and Elizabeth Van Atta
Clark, and my grandparents, Gearshum and Sarah Palmer Van Atta, crossed the plains in 1854, coming from
Sugar Grove, Illinois to Oregon Territory. Father bought a small farm four
miles from Halsey where I was born, for which he paid $600.00. After
living
there nine years and making many improvements, including a new house, he sold
the place for $1200.00 and together with Grandfather Van Atta, Eslem Hall,
who in the meantime had married Aunt Mary, and Oren Clark, Father's oldest
son, who had married Lydia Bond, moved to what was then Washington
Territory. Before taking their families there they had gone to 'spy out
the
land'. Being pleased with it Father and Uncle Eslem took up homesteads and
built log cabins at Brush Prairie. Oren settled on Salmon Creek and
Grandfather bought a place of a Mr. Laken. This place was partly under
cultivation, had a small house, a little out-building which he called a
grainery and a very fine, deep well with a windlass. The county was very
heavily timbered while Oregon where they had lived was prairie country. So it
seemed very strange and forbidding to be able to see only in one direction,
up. Mother hadn't pictured it just like that and nothing could daunt her
spirits for long. She had six children to care for and she must see that the
little log cabin was sufficient. It had three rooms, two rather large ones
and one small one, two large fireplaces and a little chimney for the cookstove. True, they had lately built a new and very comfortable house on
their place in Oregon, but they could do it again.
The first thing was to cut down some of those big trees so they could not
only see out but could plant a garden and have some flowers to beautify the
place. She had saved both garden and flower seeds and had brought them with
her. She must get busy. Thus her spirits rose to the occasion though it was
often a struggle to keep them there.
top
So trees were cut down and to see a large one fall is an unforgettable
sight. The direction in which the tree should fall is decided and a deep cut
made on that side called the lower cut and a cut higher up on the opposite
side. The tree begins to tremble, it's top starts to wave and soon it comes
down with an awful cash. The limbs are chopped off and piled for burning but
the trees, now logs , are not so easily disposed of. They must be put in
shape to be rolled together and burned as there were no sawmills there then.
About every 10 or 12 feet holes were bored from the top to the center of the
log and others from the side to meet them and a fire placed in the opening.
Those fires often had to be rekindled but eventually the logs were ready for
a calling together of the neighbors for a 'logrolling'. With the trees out of
the way a place was soon cleared for a garden and we had a view to a range of
mountains to the northeast which was very spectacular and pleasing.
There were other first things to be thought of. Father was a Baptist
minister and his father and grandfather before him, also his older brother,
Alvin Clark, who had crossed the plains in 1852. He, too, had taken up a
homestead in Brush Prairie but was then living on Burnt Bridge Creek and it
was at his house we spent our first night in Washington Territory. He had
persuaded Father to leave Oregon and come to Washington where he thought
there were greater opportunities. Father had organized a Baptist church where
they lived in Oregon which afterwards became the Halsey Baptist Church and
there must be one here. So in August 1863 he and his brother Alvin organized
the Salmon Creek Baptist Church, afterwards known as the Brush Prairie
Baptist Church. It is still an active organization and is the oldest Baptist
Church of continuous existence in the State. In 1865 the Church organized a
Sunday School. It is the oldest Baptist Sunday School in the State.
There was no church building so they cleared a small place in the dense forest a short distance from our house and built a little log cabin which
would do for a church building till they could provide something better. It
would also do for school for the few children that were there, two, possibly
three, families only being there before us. The building, as I remember faced
south. As you enter the men sat on the left or west side and the women on the
right, east side, on benches facing each other.
top
A long desk was fastened to the wall on each side with a long bench in front
of each desk. Other shorter benches were placed in front of those, with a
stove in the center of the room. The teacher's desk and a blackboard were at
the back and a bench for a water bucket was placed near the front door.
School was held three months in the year, usually during the winter. Often in
the afternoon when school was in session a hand would be raised and you'd
hear a boy's voice, 'Teacher, may I pass the water?'. Then everything was
stopped while the water bucket went around. As the water bench was on the
boy's side it began there, each child using the dipper and putting it back in
the bucket. Germs were not known them.
Uncle Alvin and father taught the first two terms before I was old enough to
go to school. My sister Irene, Charles Rambo, the Rev. Mr. Stearn, Libbie
Whipple, Letty Lyons and James Anderson were the teachers during my school
days there.
One day the little schoolhouse was racked by an earthquake. It came from the
north and seemed just as if a heavy animal had suddenly jumped onto the roof,
made a leap towards the front, lighted again, and then bounded off. The
children gave one glance at the teacher and ran for the door, she following.
There was no more school that afternoon. I have often wondered what became of
the little schoolhouse in which I spent many pleasant and profitable hours. I
think it was still there in 1882.
Vancouver was our only market or trading place and the only mode of travel
was by wagons drawn by horses or oxen. The roads in winter were almost
impassable with mud up to the hubs of the wheels. In some places poles were
laid down to make a corduroy. In summer the dust was almost suffocating. It
took a whole day to drive to Vancouver, to do a little trading and get back
before dark. Fortunately, we didn't have to go often as there were not many
things we absolutely had to buy or trade for with butter, eggs, and home-knit
wool socks. Butter and eggs varied in price, but we always got 'four bits' in
trade for a pair of socks. Those were the days when two ten-cent pieces, 'two
bits', were equal to twenty-five cents and four ten-cent pieces 'four bits',
would pass for fifty cents. Pennies were not in use in Washington Territory
and I think the use of the five-cent piece came later. We had our sheep,
their wool was carded by hand and made into rolls which Mother spun.
Sometimes she dyed the yarn. If she wanted it dyed a mixture of white and
some other color she wound corn husks tightly around the skein where she
wanted it left white. We raised our own meat which was salted down or cured
for future use, and the boys often killed wild ducks and occasionally a deer.
If we wanted something extra we could get a sixty pound salmon for fifty
cents. Sugar was bought by the-hundred pound sack, flour by the fifty pound
sack which lasted a long time, as we used mostly cornbread. New clothes had
to be bought occasionally, although Mother made some of them from sugar and
flour sacks. Also a roll of cowhide was needed for shoes which Father made.
They were not beautiful shoes but was strong and comfortable and plenty large
as we had to stand on a paper with a heel against the bed post and have our
feet measured with some added to grow on. They were also greased to keep the
leather soft and dry as we had no rubbers then. When "squeaking shoes"
became
stylish an extra piece of leather was placed between the soles for that
purpose. I never had any made to squeak but Irene, who was a grown young
lady, had a squeaky pair. I still remember how proud and happy I was when I
had my first store shoes.
top
That meant a trip to Vancouver which was an unusual and exciting event. The
trip itself, in spite of the mud or dust, was something to look forward to.
There was Fourth Plain, a strip of prairie country where the horses could
trot. How exhilarating after miles of slow walking! In summer the prairie was
covered with beautiful flowers, birdie bills, buttercups, and many other
which I so longed to stop and pick but there was no time for that. Wild
strawberries grew there then too, and sometimes we made a special trip to get
them. It was there we had our first wonderful view of Mt. Hood. Then there
was Burnt Bridge Creek to drive through in order to wet the wagon wheels so
the spokes would swell and prevent the tires from falling off. Then the
cemetery and the Fort grounds to see, both of them so beautifully kept.
General Howard was stationed at the Fort at that time and the country was
excited and alarmed over threatening Indian wars of Eastern Washington and
Oregon.
Arriving in Vancouver, the horses were tied to the hitching post, the
baskets of butter and eggs carried into the store and exchanged for
necessities. Mother traded mostly at Sohns and Schvele's. She made good
butter and sometimes packed down a large crock full for the storekeeper's
own use. The store was a place of enchantment with its bolts of beautiful
calico, red topped and copper toed shoes, glass jars of candy and other
delectable things. I had come to select my new shoes and calico for a dress.
I chose the red topped shoes and a dress from the bolt of yellow with a
little red flower. Mother soon made the dress and I wore it to church.
Looking across to the men's side I saw a boy with a shirt just like it. I was
a bashful little girl and didn't enjoy wearing the dress any more. For a new
hat we went to Mrs. Jaggy's. For everyday wear we used a sunbonnet or if we
wanted a hat we took wheat straw, soaked it in warm water until it was soft,
then braided it and sewed it into shape.
As children we had very few toys, some marbles, hoops to roll, tops made
form a piece of leather or an empty spool with a shoe peg to twirl it by: as
girls we had no China dolls but the instinct of mother love was just as
strong then as now and I'm sure we loved our rag dolls Mother made so
carefully just as dearly as girls do now their more realistic, expensive
ones.
top
At Christmas time we hung up our stockings, more from tradition than
expectation. Sometimes we'd find in them an apple or a few sections of an
orange, a bit of candy or a lump of sugar, but Christmas was not merely a
time for gift giving. There was the old-time custom of getting one another's
"Christmas Gift" that gave us the most pleasure and excitement. It
didn't
mean anything visible or touchable, but was like a game of tag, the one
saying it first being the winner. I well remember the first time I heard the
words "Merry Christmas". I thought them very expressive and very
elegant and
decided I'd use them ever after. But there was no contest, no spirit of
rivalry about them: so I went back to the old custom and now my
great-grandchildren enter into the sport of it with just as much enthusiasm
as we did such a long time ago.
We were a busy, happy family. We loved the outdoors, to hear the birds and
the frogs sing, to watch the clouds and the great eagles in the sky, the
nighthawks swooping down for their prey, then the coming to darkness and the
myriad of stars. In the evening we played indoor games, told riddles, knit or
shelled corn to be taken to the mill to be ground into meal while Father
read aloud to us. The book I remember best was the "Pilgrim's
Progress".
We had a large library for that time and place and we all loved to read. A
'colporteur' sometimes came around and Father never failed to buy and the
church soon secured a small Sunday school library.
top
There were no electric lights or even coal oil lamps at that time but Father
always had a pitch knot on hand which, added to the hearth-fire, made a
brilliant light. When there was any evening gathering he always carried a
pitch torch which lighted the road for everyone going his way. Mother made
candles which we used to light us to bed.
In the early morning we vied with each other in seeing who could first find
the apples which had dropped off during the night. Father had planted a large
orchard, more than twenty varieties of apples, other fruits, berries, and
pieplant as it was called then. There were wild berries too, black-berries
were plentiful, especially any place that had been burned over. Raspberries
grew around every old stump and red huckleberries were plentiful at first but
people were careless and broke off the branches in order to pick them more
easily so they were soon mostly gone. There were no fruit jars for canning in
those days. I remember Mother's first canning was done in stone jars using
wax for sealing. The only way to have fruit, except apples and pears, for
winter use was to dry it or make it into preserves or jelly. Dried berries
were mostly seeds so she gave that up but she did dry lots of apples and some
pears, setting them up piece by piece in the sun. Grandmother strung hers and
hung them around the kitchen stove. They evidently didn't know corn could be
dried. That would have been a wonderful addition to their winter's diet. Wild
flowers grew in the woods, especially the wild currants and trilliums which
we called 'bethroots'. We didn't know they should not be picked so prodigally
which they suffered from later. There was a large patch of them near the road
between our house and Aunt Mary's. Going to Aunt Mary's or to Grandma's to
spend the night was one of our greatest pleasures. Father would come in from
work carrying a big pole to be cut into firewood (he never came empty-handed)
saying, 'Well, let's go to Aunt Mary's and stay all night'. He'd take the
baby on his shoulder, Mother would carry the carpet bag and the boys would
take some blankets as Aunt Mary didn't have room or beds enough for so many.
The boys slept in the barn and the girls on a big pallet on the floor. At
Grandma's there was a loft reached through a hole in the ceiling by ladder in
the chimney corner. The boys slept there. How I wished we had a loft! We
didn't need one but it seemed to me a sort of fairy place. While we enjoyed
going away to spend the night, we enjoyed still more having them come to our
house. They didn't have any separate room for children to play in. We had a
big fireplace in the kitchen where children would play Blindman's Bluff,
Pussy wants a corner, Jacks Alive, Forfeits, or just tell stories while the
grownups would gather around the fire in the living room or 'other room' as
we called it. Bedtime came all too soon, but there was room for everyone.
Mother had five large beds and a trundle bed, a low bed which was pulled out
from under a larger one and when not in use could be pushed back again. It
was then not visible as curtains were used around the lower part of the beds
at that time. There was, too, the big cradle which was often used for naps in
the daytime and sometimes for a bed at night. It was large enough for four or
more to sit in and almost long enough for a grown person to lie in. It was a
wonderful cradle. Father's workmanship, and such a help and comfort to Mother
in caring for her large family of twelve children, six boys and six girls,
though only nine at that time. A sad scene connected with the cradle I shall
never forget. I still see Mother kneeling and bending over the cradle in
an
agony of grief as she watched her little daughter, Annie, four years old,
breathe her last. Then with what unspeakable bravery she laid the little body
away and took up again the burden of her household. To her it was not a
burden. It was mother love so great that she anticipated and supplied every
need both willingly and lovingly. I was then eleven years old.
top
Other things said and done but I will mention but one. The boys were out in
the woods and Cephas, being a bold, venturesome boy, climbed up a tree. After
reaching quite a distance he lost his balance and fell. One of the boys ran
for Father who carried him home on his back. He was never well after that and
passed away when he was nineteen. The second break in the family.
As we grew older we loved to sing together. We had no musical instruments
but what we had never had or never heard we didn't miss. Father had a fine
voice, had studied music and could read it, and had a tuning fork. There was
no musical instrument in the church and no hymn books furnished as they are
now, so the hymns were 'lined', that is, two lines were read, than sung, two
more read and sung, all through the hymn, the congregation joining in the
singing. Mr. and Mrs. Messinger were fine singers and a great help in the
musical part of the service. There were others, I wish I could name them all.
We had lived in the log cabin ten years and I was thirteen years old when
Father and the boys built the new house. It was made of lumber and the
chimneys were made of brick instead of boards and mortar as there were in the
log house. There were four rooms downstairs and four up, the upstairs being
unfinished when we move in. There were three fireplaces, three porches and
two pantries. Father believed everything should be convenient and handy so
there were six outside doors which, needless to say , were never locked.
Sometimes 'Old Bones' would unexpectedly walk in, but he was a friendly old
Indian and often visited white people. There were no Indian troubles in that
part of the Territory. The house was burned after we all came away so it is
no longer standing. Grandfather, too, built a new house, a large one painted
white which I think is still there, not far from the cemetery.
top
Battle Ground, a few miles north east had already been somewhat settled. It
was less wooded than Brush Prairie, almost like a prairie country, thus
making it easier to clear and cultivate. There was a post office both at
Battle Ground and Brush Prairie, the one at Brush Prairie being kept by Mr.
Rambo at first, then moved to our house. The mail was carried on horseback by
a man named Joe Wooden. He was almost the most unforgettable character I have
known. A silent, modest man but most kind and accommodating. He would be
stopped on his route by any number of people and asked to bring back
something, anything, a paper of needles or pins, a sack of salt, a pound of
soda, nothing was too much trouble. The young people often sent notes to each
other which should have gone through the mail. He never objected and never
forgot anything. He always had lunch at our house, as a good many of the
men
from Battle Ground did, and Mother never charged anything. But those men were
neither beggars nor tramps and would slip money into the hand of one of us
children. We had not been in that country very many years before there was a
great influx of people to that locality and almost all the land was settled
upon. There was a community east of Battle Ground and northeast of Brush
Prairie called Eureka settled mostly by Swedes and Finns. When the post
office was established there it was kept by a man named Hockinson. Either to
commemorate his memory or for some other reason the name of the locality was
changed from Eureka to Hockinson. A bank was established at Battle Ground in
1871 and at Hockinson in 1884. The road from Hockinson to Vancouver was
located on our east boundary line near enough to the house that we could see
and hear people pass and we always enjoyed hearing 'Old Man Lieser' as he was
called 'Gee Hawing' to his oxen as he passed on his way to or from Vancouver.
The road from Battle Ground to Vancouver was near our west boundary line, the
two roads joining about a mile farther on. There was a connecting road in
front of our house which later was closed and one opened farther north. The
increase in population meant wider, more varied interests. A debating
society, singing school, and a Good Templer's Lodge were organized and
spelling bees held. All of which meant a more united neighborhood. The little
schoolhouse was getting too small. A new and larger building made of lumber
was built about 1872 on the Battle Ground road west of us, dividing the
neighborhood into two districts. The Baptist church held its services there
until 1888 when the present Baptist Church was built. A Christian Church was
organized and their services held in the little log house. Sometimes there
were two services on Sunday with lunch in between. Everyone brought something
and when the first service was over boards were placed on trestles outside
making a large table which was soon loaded with good things which everyone
enjoyed. After lunch a second service was held but the young people often
took that occasion for a walk.
Both the Baptist and the Christian Church believe that baptism should be
administered to believers only and that only by immersion. There was no
baptistery in the buildings, no water supply except from wells, no water
pipes, no bath tubs, so the only place available for administering the rite
of baptism was Salmon Creek. The place was very beautiful and the service
very solemn and impressive. I have since witnessed an immersion in a
baptistery but it seemed a travesty in comparison to one in a flowing
stream
out in the open with only the sky above. There was no organized church in any
of the neighboring districts except Dublin where there was a Catholic Church.
But Father often held services at Battle Ground and at Maple Grove. He loved
to walk and always walked to all his appointments. When Mother went with him,
as she sometimes did , she rode on gentle, old, swaybacked Fannie, while
Father walked by her side, often holding her bridle. Father was elected to
the Legislator in 1869 and walked from Vancouver to Olympia. He passed people
with wagons who offered him a ride but he always declined saying he could
walk faster. The horses had to take the middle of the road with all its mud
and chuck holes while he could keep to the dryer spots on the side.
The country grew and changed. There were births, marriages, and deaths,
Father officiating at all three. There was no resident doctor. Father, having
studied medicine before coming West, bringing medical supplies with him, was
called upon. Often in the night we would hear the call 'Uncle John, you're
wanted.' In the morning the news spread that another inhabitant had been
born. Being the only resident minister he performed many wedding ceremonies,
sometimes the couple coming to our house for the wedding. He never charged
for his services. If people offered to pay he accepted it gratefully, but his
greatest desire was to serve.
top
We lived there several years before there was need of a cemetery when
Grandfather Van Atta gave a plot of ground from his property for that
purpose. The first buried there were Lillie May and Oscar, children of Mr.
and Mrs. John Messinger. Then came the epidemic of diphtheria and three
little girls aged 3, 5, and 7, daughters of Mr. and Mrs. Diedterich, died
from it and were all buried in the same grave. Our own little Annie came next
and then little Martha Rambo. These graves are all in lots adjoining in the
corner of the cemetery next to the church. The cemetery gradually filled and
more land was added. My Father, Mother, four brothers and tree sisters are
buried there.
Before leaving Oregon Irene had gone to Oregon City to school, then to
Forest Grove, graduating from Pacific University in one of the early classes.
I had the urge to go too, but where could I get the money it would cost?
Father couldn't afford it so I must find some way to earn the money myself.
Teaching school seemed to be the only way. I took the examination for a
certificate and got a school at Dublin for which I received $50.00 for the
term of three months and boarded around. I taught at Battle Ground, Maple
Grove, a second term at Dublin, at Brush Prairie and one term in Oregon. I
boarded around at all these schools except the one in Brush Prairie where I
lived at home and the one in Oregon where I paid $10.00 for the three months.
The summer I taught at Brush Prairie was the time of the big wind storm
about 1880. It came in the afternoon shortly before closing time. Had it come
a little later some of us might have been killed. Logs were piled high on top
of each other on the road. We had to either climb over, find a place to crawl
under or wander around through the woods to find a way through. It took a
long time to clear the roads for travel.
Thus I paid my way, teaching in the summer and going to college in the winter working for my board. I was a minister's daughter. Minister's children
paid only half fare for tuition and money went a good deal farther than it
does now.
One winter when I went home for the Christmas holidays the river froze over
and I lost three weeks of school. No boats could run and there was no other
way of getting across. Sometimes the river was frozen hard enough that stages
could cross on it but not that winter. I was on the first boat that went
across.
top
So, despite a few obstacles, I realized my one great ambition to go to
college. Many years have gone by since then and many changes and improvements
have been made. Now busses carry the school children to and from school. How
I remember the long walks it used to take! Sometimes on Monday morning after
being home for the weekend I would walk form Brush Prairie to Dublin. Someone
had come for me on Friday but the farm work was too pressing for the horses
to be spared, especially after their long rest on Sunday, and we were all
used to walking.
While it didn't appeal to me to settle down in the country where I grew up,
I still love to come back to it, travel over the roads now so smoothly paved,
see the country so filled with lovely farms, fine school buildings, beautiful
churches and the appearance of general prosperity everywhere. A feeling of
home is still there.
Contributed by Wesley Cherry
[ HOME
| BLACK HAWK WAR STORY | EMAIL
PEGGY | JOIN VANATTA/HALL EGROUP |
WILLARD
COOP/DAISY HALL MARRIAGE | EARLY
MEMORIES | GRANDMA CLARK'S RIDDLES
|
BRUSH PRAIRIE
MEMORIES | VAN
ATTA FAMILY ANCESTRY
]
