An Oregon Trail Story

The old antique store looked as old outside as the furniture, household items and other assorted junk I found on the inside. I wouldn't have ventured inside except for the fact I was in Salem, Oregon for review of one of my building designs with the city Building Codes people. Because of my schedule and the time of the Monday meeting, and also to get the lowest fare, my flight left O'Hare at a little after four in the afternoon, flew to Atlanta, Georgia of all places, and then on to land in Portland, Oregon at about seven that night.

In Portland, I rented a car and drove another hour to get to Salem and my hotel. By the time I got checked in and settled, then got a burger and fries from a fast food joint, it was after nine. I fell asleep watching a movie on TV.

I had all day Sunday to do whatever I wanted to do. I just didn't know what that was. I'm an architect and I enjoy looking at buildings, so after breakfast, I asked the desk clerk if there were any older buildings around. The little brunette smiled and said I should go to Stayton to see the covered bridge. She said it wasn't the original covered bridge, but had been built in the exact same manner as the one that burned after being moved from Thomas Creek to the park.

It was a pretty drive of only a few miles, so I followed her directions and was soon walking through the bridge and examining the truss design used by the original builders. It was on my way back to Salem for lunch I passed the old building that sat beside a river. It looked interesting so I pulled into the parking spot and went inside.

The building, except for the front, had been sided with white steel siding on the outside and the roof was new-looking brown sheet steel. The front and inside were the original logs. There was no ceiling, just the rough hewn beams that supported the same rough-hewn rafters and purlins of the roof. I was looking up at them when I heard a man's voice.

"Don't make 'em like this anymore. Costs too much, but they'll outlive any o' them newer ones made outa factory lumber."

He looked almost as old as the building with his bald head and stooped posture. The furrows in his face got deeper when smiled and it was obvious the gleaming white teeth he showed me were dentures. He grinned at me and his eyes sparkled with life through the wire-framed reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

"Yep, these old log buildings'll last a long time yet, long's as you keep the roofs in good shape. This'n was the original saw mill building built by ol' Drury Stayton back in 1866. When it closed up, they took out the wheel and live shafts, but over there's the hole where the wheel shaft come through. I left it when they sided the building so's it'd look more proper. That's what they said, the building commission -- it needed to look more proper -- like they'd forgot all about how Stayton got started. Either that or they were ashamed it used to be a logging town for a while."

The old man grinned at me again.

"You looking for somethin' in particular? I got about everything you can think of in here. Most folks would have just throwed most of it away if I hadn't taken it. I like old stuff." He chuckled. "Must be 'cause I'm pretty old stuff myself."

I said I was an architect and I liked looking at old buildings to see how they were made.

He waved his hand.

"I can do you one better'n that. I got a few books over here someplace...used to be in this drawer...yep, here they are."

He lifted a stack of eight old books in his shaking hands and offered them to me.

"These are all about building stuff when they didn't have no sawed lumber, just trees and axes and two man saws. Got 'em from a man selling off his great grandpa's stuff. Kids today don't have no need to know how they used to do things and he didn't want 'em. Been savin' 'em for just somebody like you to come along. I'll take ten for the bunch."

It looked like he could use the money and I wouldn't miss the ten, so I walked out of the antique store with them in a paper sack. Once I was back in my hotel room, I opened the sack to have a look.

What the old man said was true for all the books except two, and those weren't really books as such. They were hand written journals, one by a man and one by a woman, and were of their experiences when traversing the Oregon Trail in 1850.

The books were made of pretty good paper like a lot of books were in those days, so the pages weren't really brittle and the ink hadn't soaked through both sides. It was difficult to read both. The man's handwriting was almost a scrawl, the woman's, a flourishing hand I'd seen before in pictures of old manuscripts. I sat down to read the woman's first, and after fifteen minutes realized I had a valuable piece of history in my hands. After reading a few pages of the man's journal, I realized two more things. One, both journals should probably be in a museum collection somewhere, and two, the two people had traveled the Oregon Trail together.

The woman was Elizabeth Mayes Crocker, the wife of Samuel Crocker, a farmer from Missouri, and the man was Jedediah Marshal. Jedediah, or Jed as Elizabeth referred to him was Samuel's "hired hand" and had made the trip as such for the free meals his work would earn him.

As I read, I began comparing the entries in both journals for the same dates and discovered there was a story worth retelling. It was a story of high hopes and crushing despair, of strong men and strong women, a story of hardship and satisfaction, a story of tears and joy. It was a story that deserves to be known outside of the confines of the library in Salem where both journals now reside, protected from the further ravages of oxygen and moisture by carefully regulated atmospheric controls, and secreted from view by any except a select few.

I make no claim of being a great author. I merely relate the situations that resulted in the journal entries as I believe they might have happened. The words of both Elizabeth and Jed conveyed both pictures of those situations as well as the emotions those situations caused each to feel. Those emotions led me to imagine the conversations between them as well as with other people. It is my hope both Elizabeth and Jed would be pleased at my telling of their story.

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"You can not be serious, Samuel. Oregon is so far away and the way is difficult and dangerous. You would leave all we have here to go there?"

Samuel frowned.

"Elizabeth, what do we have here? Just a house Mr. Owens lets us live in while I farm his fields and tend his stock. When was the last time you bought material for a new dress? When little Mary was born, did you not tear up your best dress for material to make her baby dress? Does Martin not wear pants made from those I have worn out?"

"But it is safe here and we know the people who live here. Who lives in Oregon? I have heard there are savage Indians who live there. And who travels along the same path? Reverend James says the ruffians who go to California to mine gold do. They are nothing but riff-raff who would steal the shirt from your back without so much as batting an eye."

Samuel smiled and squeezed Elizabeth's hand.

"What you say is all true. We have a roof over our heads and we do not want for food. But what of the future? There will be no work on the farm for Martin when he comes of age. What will he do then? Mary can find a man who will care for her needs, but Martin will have to fend for himself.

"In Oregon, a man and wife will be given six hundred and forty acres of farmland. Given...can you believe that? All that is expected is they make improvements to the land and make it productive. A single man will be given a hundred and sixty acres. Martin is nearly thirteen and only a few years after we reach Oregon, he will qualify for his own allotment.

"We will have to work hard, but with that much land, we will be able to have the things I can never give you if we stay here."

Elizabeth frowned.

"How would we afford to make the trip? Mrs. McClairy's son did last year. She told me at church he had to have a wagon and oxen to pull it and enough food to last the trip."

Samuel patted her hand.

"I have given both much thought. The railroad will buy logs for ties if I cut them. By the winter, most of the farm work will be done. Martin can help me cut trees and saw them to length and I've already asked Mr. Owens if I might use one of the teams to drag the logs to the railroad. He agreed if I pay him a dollar a day. I'll get half a dollar for each log and Martin and I should be able to cut twenty a day. That will yield nine dollars a day. Over the winter, well be able to save over seven hundred dollars. That will buy a wagon and six oxen to pull it.

"We have two milk cows and three hogs. If I sell one cow and butcher all the hogs, we should be able to buy enough food if we take along the hams and bacon from this year and what vegetables you can dry. We already have enough clothes, pots and pans and tools. I will need a rifle and ammunition, but...well...we won't be able to take much of our furniture, so we can sell it to pay for those."

Elizabeth was worried and those worries were increased when she told the women of the Methodist church about their plans. A few had received letters from other family members who had made the trip and those letters were filled with gruesome tales of graves alongside the trail and of travelers begging for food when their own supply ran out.

Elizabeth was a good wife, though, and trusted her husband's judgement. She planted extra seeds that spring and by fall had filled basket after basket of leather britches beans, potatoes, carrots, and onions. From the woods around the farm she had gathered wild blackberries and dried them. In the fall, she and Mary had picked and dried and sulfured apples from the tree in their back yard. When the days of late fall cooled, Samuel butchered the hogs and Elizabeth cured the meat with salt, sugar, and maple syrup. Samuel then smoked them until they were cured well enough to keep for the months on the trail.

All winter long, while Samuel and Martin cut logs and dragged them to the side of the railroad, she mended every stitch of clothing they owned except for what she cut up to make new clothing for Mary and Martin. Her mother gave her some material which she used to make two new dresses for herself and Mary. Samuel's mother gave her two heavy quilts and material scraps to sew more.

On March 25, 1850 Samuel's father drove them the twenty miles to the gathering point for the wagon trains in Independence, Missouri. The wagon was piled high with things they wanted to take along and Mary and Martin had to sit on top of Elizabeth's hope chest. Elizabeth had refused to sell that chest. Her father had made it with his own hands, and just as it had before she and Samuel were married, it held her wedding dress and the two quilts her mother had made so Elizabeth and her future husband would have blankets for the winter. Also in the chest were the two new quilts Samuel's mother gave her and the baby dresses Elizabeth had sewn for Mary and Martin before they were born.

Samuel had laughed when she put the baby dresses in the chest.

"I doubt you're going to need those again. Why don't you give them to your sister?"

Elizabeth hadn't replied. She just carefully folded the dresses and put them in the trunk. They were her way of remembering the tiny babies she'd held to her breast so long ago. Mary was ten now and Martin was twelve. Elizabeth needed a way to remember how they came into this world since they were growing up so quickly. She also had thoughts about Mary's future children. They would need baby clothes too, and Elizabeth longed to see Mary's babies in the same dress.

In a rough wood box were the cooking things they'd need along the way -- just a frying pan, a dutch oven, a tea kettle, and a couple large pots. In another was all their clothing and six others held their supply of dried vegetables and fruit. All the boxes were the same size. Samuel had learned the correct size to fit in the wagon bed to allow a narrow passage for walking between them. The height of each box was the same to allow for two serviceable, if hard and narrow beds.

On top of these boxes at the rear was a wood cage that held six hens and a rooster. The hens would furnish fresh eggs along the trip. The rooster would be there to increase their flock when they reached Oregon.

Jewel, the milk cow Samuel had decided to keep was tied to the rear of the wagon.

They unloaded Samuel's father's wagon and while Elizabeth watched over their goods and supplies, Samuel and his father went in search of a wagon and oxen of their own. It was late in the day when the yoke of six massive oxen pulled the heavy prairie schooner wagon up beside where Elizabeth, Mary and Martin sat. It took an hour to load all the boxes and Elizabeth's hope chest in the bed. Samuel then built a fire beside the wagon, and Elizabeth cooked a meal of leather britches beans, ham, and potatoes. Samuel's father didn't join them. He'd left for home as soon as the oxen had been hitched to the wagon. Both sets of parents had met at Samuel's and Elizabeth's house to help load the wagon. They'd said their good-byes there along with the request they write letters when they could. Samuel's father didn't want to be seen crying in the midst of so many strangers. He knew it was the last time he would see his son.

The next morning was spent filling the two water kegs that rode on shelf-like supports on each side of the wagon. Once that was done, Elizabeth and Mary climbed to the seat at the front of the wagon under the overhanging canvass top. Samuel spoke to the oxen who began to slowly pull the wagon to the area where supplies were sold. Martin walked proudly beside his father.

After purchasing the wagon and oxen, Samuel had four hundred dollars left. A hundred dollars of that went to purchase enough flour, sugar, salt, and other spices to last them through the trip. A spare wagon wheel, spare axle, and spare wagon tongue cost another seventy five. He bought a new Henry rifle with 100 cartridges for an additional twenty dollars and a double barrel shotgun with 100 shells for another twenty.

Samuel intended to hunt wild game as they moved across the land to supplement their food supply, but thought it prudent to take along some beef just in case. For sixty dollars he purchased six steers that would feed them if necessary. If not, he could sell them for much more in Oregon. The cattle dealer had four heifers for the same price, and Samuel bought them too. He had noticed there weren't many milk cows with the other livestock on the train. There would always be a need for milk, butter and cheese, and if he had the cows, he could sell the milk. The four heifers would be the start of his milking herd when they reached Oregon. Ten dollars for chicken feed completed his purchases and left him with seventy-five dollars for ferry fees and anything else they needed along the way.

When Samuel came back to the camp driving the cattle he had another man with him. That man was tall and rather slim, and his clothes looked very worn. Samuel introduced him as Jedediah Marshal, and told Elizabeth that Jedediah would be making the trip to Oregon with them. Jedediah had been working for the man who'd sold the cattle to Samuel, and had asked if he needed someone to drive them. At first, Samuel had said he couldn't afford to pay a hired hand. Jedediah had said he'd take the job if Samuel would buy him a suit of new clothes and feed him along the way. Samuel had accepted the offer.

Jed had little to take with him, just two other changes of clothes, his winter coat, and an extra pair of shoes. These were wrapped up in the three wool blankets he would used to make a bed under the wagon every night.

After waiting in the staging area for the rest of the wagons to assemble, on Monday, April 1, 1850 the Wagon Master gave the order to move out. Slowly, the line of a hundred heavily laden prairie schooner wagons rolled out of the staging area and headed west. Samuel and Martin walked beside the oxen. Jed drove the cattle at the rear of the wagon. Elizabeth and Mary rode on the wagon seat for a mile or so, and then decided it would be easier going if they walked as well. The road was little more than a path over the prairie and the wagon had no springs to ease the jolts. The oxen were slow so they didn't have to walk fast to keep up and walking was less tiring than holding on to the wagon seat for dear life. In order to spare their shoes, Elizabeth and Mary took them off and walked barefoot just as had Samuel, Martin, and Jed.

Because many of the wagons had livestock behind them and the livestock raised a lot of dust, the wagons spread out until they were a comfortable distance from the wagon in front to avoid constantly breathing in dust. As a result, the wagon train was stretched out over almost a mile.

In a meeting of the wagon train after the church service on the Sunday before, the wagon master had explained how the trip would progress. He would lead the wagon train as a guide, but the members would also elect a Captain and a Lieutenant to represent them. Between the three of them, they would decide the various affairs of the wagon train such as rules to be obeyed and punishments for those who did not.

The wagon master would match the speed of travel to the speed of the oxen, but if a wagon was slower than the rest, they would have to travel longer to keep up or they would be left behind. Their times of travel would be from daybreak until sunset unless they were delayed because of weather or other calamity. If that happened, they would travel some at night to make up the lost time. This was necessary in order to cross the mountains before winter snows closed the trail.

That first night, it was already dark when Samuel drove into the next spot in the circle of wagons and yelled whoa to the oxen. He and Jed un-yolked them and then drove them and the other cattle to the grazing grounds beside the wagon camp while Martin gathered firewood from the nearby trees. Elizabeth began making supper and as soon as the fire had burned down to coals, she sat the stew pot over the glowing bed of heat.

After the meal, the wagon master called the men of the wagon train together for the election of their officers. After some debate, Mr. Hayes, a doctor, was elected as Captain, and Mr. Jordan, a carpenter, was elected as Lieutenant.

The first order of business was establishing a guard watch. As the wagon master explained, there was always a danger of livestock wandering off in the night. This would cause a delay in travel, so a few men should be assigned to watch over them as they grazed.

There would also be some danger from Indians. While most Indians were peaceful, they sometimes stole livestock from wagon trains. The guards would be on the watch for such a thing and alert the camp if they suspected that to be the case. As they traveled deeper into the West, wolves and pumas also were a danger.

Samuel came back from the meeting and told Elizabeth he and several of the other men would stand guard over the grazing animals for two hours at which time others would take their place. Jed would serve as a guard later on during the night.

Samuel was excited about the events of the day and wanted to talk about what he'd seen and what they'd do tomorrow and the next day. Elizabeth was just tired. She had walked over twenty miles that day and still had fixed three meals, fed the hens and rooster, and gathered the eggs. She listened until Samuel had eaten his fill, then put the pot under the wagon seat, climbed inside and laid down on the bed she'd made on top of the left row of boxes. She was asleep by the time Samuel laid down on the other bed. Mary and Martin were already asleep on beds on the floor of the wagon.