CHAPTER II.
Seward County - Name Changed - First Settlers - First Homestead - First Death - First Birth - First Representative in Legislature - Winter Flood - Milford Founded - Camden Founded - Earnest Work to Secure Settlers - Organization of the County - First Officers Elected - Unorganized Territory to the West - First County Seat Election - Impeachment of County Clerk - Storm of Indignation - County Commissioners Arrested - Ludicrous Scenes - The Winter of Desolution, 1866 and 1867 - Loss of Stock - The Capital Located - Increase of Settlement - Seward Surveyed - Its First Settlers and Business - Seward Outgeneralized - Atlas Founded - First Railroad Bond Proposition - Second Bond Proposition - Third Proposition - County Seat Fight and Seward's Final Triumph - Midland Road Completed - Blue Valley Record Founded - Reporter Founded - Newspaper War - Churches Established - Schools - Grasshopper Scourge - Clough Murder - Utica Founded - Leading the Mormons - Cassler Murders Monroe - His Trial and Execution
Seward county was an attache of Lancaster until its organization in 1865. It originally bore the name of "Greene," having been named for Gen. Greene, of Missouri, under the administration of President Buchanan. When Gen. Greene cast his lot with the rebels, the Nebraska legislature concluded that none of her fair counties should bear the dishonored name if a rebel, therefore the great secretary was honored by having his glorious name (Seward) perpetuated in one of the brightest and fairest of the noble counties of our beautiful Nebraska.
It is a matter of dispute whether Thomas West, who located on the South Blue at what is known as West Mills, or Daniel Morgan, who settled on the North Blue about four miles north of Milford, were the first permanent white settlers. We think it very doubtful if either party kept the right date of their settlement. Mr. Morgan claims to have made his settlement as early as 1858. Mr. West also claims to have made his in 1859. We think Mr. West is much nearer correct. At a very early day it was our understanding that Mr. West was the first permanent settler, and that he dropped out of the throng of gold seekers that were on their way to the mountains in 1860. Tradition tells us that a Mr. McKinley and a Mr. Morton lived on the North Blue, near where Ruby station now is, for a little time in about the year 1858, and that they got into trouble with the Indians and killed two of them, and were compelled to vacate.
The graves of these Indians (or the supposed graves) have been pointed out to us on the side hill near the old Morgan settlement. J. L. Davison opened a ranch one mile west of the old Camden bridge in the autumn of 1862, and W. J. Thompson opened one about the same time near the mouth of Walnut creek.
In the same fall A. J. Wallingford also opened his ranch at the old Camden bridge, John E. Fouse at the mouth of Beaver creek, and Daniel Millspaw opened what was known as the Hole in the Ground, farther to the west and near the line of York county. The Hole in the Ground puts us in mind of a little story connected therewith.
One dark night some freighters were stopping with Uncle Daniel, as he was called, and while Uncle Dan was cooking supper on his great fire-place the boys were out looking after their teams, and concluded to have some sport at the old man’s expense. The chimney was very large and with an uncommonly wide mouth. The boys were pretending to be groping their way around in the dark, amid all at once one of them purposely blundered into the great chimney mouth and came down like some fiery demon into the fire and scattered Uncle Dan’s supper right and left. The old man thought Satan had come for him.
The old Camden bridge was built in the summer of 1860 by Nebraska City enterprise, and to secure a shorter and better route for the overland traffic. Wm. E. Hill was the builder. Prior to this all the travel across the plains went via what is now Ashland and the Platte valley. Job Reynolds and Samuel Long located on the North Blue in the spring of 1863; also C. J. Neihardt and T. L. Rogers. Jesse R. .Johnson and David Barton made settlement on the South Blue in 1864.
Robert T. Gale made the first homestead entry on the 2d day of January, 1863, and the second day that homesteading was fashionable. The homestead law took effect January 1, 1863. His entry was No. 7 in this land district, and comprised a portion of section 21, township 11, range 3 east, and is partly occupied by the eastern portion of the city of Seward. Mr. Gale, however, was not able to make his permanent home on his claim until the spring of 1861. Mr. Gale is entitled to the honor of being the first permanent settler in this portion of the county, where he resided until his death, which occurred in the spring of 1867. Mr. William Imlay and his father, David Imlay, Sr., and their families, made their settlement in the same spring. A Mr. William Wymore and a Mr. Olmstead wintered in this neighborhood the previous winter, but vacated in the early spring.
The first entry of public lands was made in the summer of 1861 by E. L. Ellis, a part of section 18, township 11, range 3 east. Mr. Ellis did not make his settlement until the spring of 1865.
John Scott made the first permanent settlement at Oak Groves in the spring of 1864.
During the cold and dreary winter of 1863-64 the writer and wife were in a deep study to know just what to do. The salt business had completely played out, and they found "their occupation gone," an ever-increasing family on their hands. Sickness had blighted their home, and it was a question of deep solicitude as to what could be done to secure a competency for the future. After discussing the pros and cons of a life on a homestead, we made the firm resolve to try and build for us and our children a permanent home.
It was an earnest struggle, for we knew but little about farming, and the long siege of sickness of the wife for nearly a year had so impoverished us that it would have taken a full dozen like us to make one respectable shadow. But the resolve was taken, and one bright morning in February, on foot and alone, the writer started to look up a claim. At that time timber was deemed a prime necessity, and it was so. Be it remembered that there were no railroads to bring lumber and coal. The settler must have timber.
We took Mr. Greeley’s advice and went west. Our way led across the Middle creek hills and the great plains to the west, and just as the bright sun was sinking behind the western hills, there opened to our view the grand valley of the North Blue, with its lung lines of timber stretching far away to the southward and northward, and the diverging lines of Lincoln creek and Plum creek. Oh! to us it was a grander view than Moses had from Pisgah’s top. It was an enchanting, rapturous scene. We said in our heart, ‘‘this is the place we long have sought," And we will go and possess it.
As we stood gazing at the meandering streams converging to the common center, we saw a city in the future crowning that beautiful plateau by the eve of faith. That faith was with us from that moment "like an anchor to the soul, both sure and steadfast." It’s right there, and a magnificent little city it is. Shortly after this we secured our choice of claims by purchasing of a prior claimant, and we struck for Nebraska City on foot to file our papers on our new home.
We are happy to say that We still own that old homestead, and while we have not lived on it for fourteen years, the nine years residence with the joys and sorrows has made it to us the dearest spot of all this earth. It was our privilege and pleasure to guide some others to our chosen home, among whom were Hon. William Imlay and his father, Grandfather Imlay, as we called him, and his family, and others. We had a tedious preparation to make before it was possible to move, and the Indian troubles of that summer were ever before us like a horrid nightmare. After our return from the last stampede, we visited our new home to put up our hay for winter, and a pathetic incident occurred, the story of which we quote from the History of Nebraska, to which the writer contributed it some years ago.
Father Dunaway, as he was familiarly called, settled on his homestead in section 8, township 11, range 3, about three miles north of the site of Seward, in July, 1864. His family had not yet arrived. He had made a small lumber shanty and was making other improvements. In the month of September, the writer, being yet a resident of Lancaster county, was here putting up hay preparatory to moving later in the fall.
Grandfather Imlay was taking a stroll for recreation, and made it a point, as had been his custom, to call on Father Dunaway and have a chat. He went to the shanty, but the old man was not to be seen. He supposed the old man was hunting his oxen. He sat down and reach a book that his eye chanced to meet. Waiting awhile, he went out and hallooed, but heard no response. He then began a search, and a little way to the south of the shanty he found the tall grass wallowed down. His suspicions being aroused, he continued the search, and following a slight trail further to the south, he found the old man dead and cold, in the midst of a large patch of wallowed grass.
He hurried home and told his son, David P. Imlay. Dave mounted a horse and hurried to Lincoln creek (the land that is now Lewis Anderson’s farm), where R. T. Gale, William and Joseph Imlay, and the writer, were putting up hay.
What shall we do? was asked by one and all. It was suggested that Mr. Cox, being a justice of the peace for Lancaster county, would probably come nearer having a coroner’s jurisdiction than any other available person, there being no officers yet in Seward county. Where can we get enough men for jurors? was the next question. Mr. Gale thought they could be found at the Morgan settlement, about six miles down the river. A venire for a coroner’s jury (the first, last, and only one ever issued by this officer) was issued (in rather a crude form, we expect). Mr. Gale was sworn in as a special constable, with power to fill in names as occasion might require. All was hurry, and horseflesh was not spared, and just as the sun was setting behind the western hills that beautiful September evening, the little company arrived at the scene of the death of their friend and neighbor. Parties present were: R. T. Gale, special constable, David Imlay, Sr., D. P. Imlay, William Imlay, Joseph Imlay, Job Reynolds, Thomas Morgan, William Morgan, and W. W. Cox.
It was a solemn scene. A little meadow nearly surrounded by a fringe of beautiful timber, a calm autumn evening, a sad stillness in the presence of death. With uncovered heads and uplifted hands the jury took their solemn oath, which, considering all the surroundings, made a deep impression upon all present. The inquest resulted in finding a verdict that the death of Father Dunaway was caused by cramp colic, as they verily believed.
A rough board coffin was improvised from lumber of the shanty, and we buried him beneath the waving branches of a sturdy oak, there to rest until called on the morning of the resurrection, and we returned to our homes sadly, because the death angel had so early visited our little settlement. The hoods and chattels of the deceased were properly cared for and turned over to the widow upon her arrival.
On the morning of the last day of November, 1864. we loaded up the remainder of our earthly goods, assisted by our old friend and neighbor, Hon. William Imlay, and started for our new home in the wilderness, where we arrived on the first day of December. The day we reached the homestead was a cold and gloomy one, and the sight of our beautiful grove made our hearts glad. We hastily built a huge fire of dry wood at hand, and while the north wind whistled around, making a melancholy sound, rustling through the timber, we rejoiced in the pleasant comfort of a good fire at our own home. Our little cabin with its huge fireplace was a home of comfort and many pleasant memories.
We must return to Lancaster county and relate a little incident which seemed to Seward county her first representative in the legislature of 1865. As before stated, Seward was attached to Lancaster for judicial and legislative purposes. The writer was a delegate to the Lancaster county convention in the autumn of 1864, and we urged upon the convention the propriety of giving Seward county the float. It was conceded. William Imlay was nominated and elected without opposition. We were somewhat chagrined, however. when we learned that at the election in Seward county (held at the house of R. T. Gale) there were only seven votes cast. This election was held near the house, in a wagon belonging to Mr. Wooley. A cigar box served for a ballot box. Fred Wooley, then a lad, held the box while the men voted. They were all for Mr. Imlay, and he made a good member. The Lancaster fellows felt rather cheap that Seward county, without a delegate in their, convention and only seven votes at the polls, should furnish a member to help represent them.
There were four families of us in our neighborhood. We put in the time as best we could during the winter. Mr. Imlay put in most of the winter at Omaha.
For the benefit of modern legislators we would remark, our member walked from his home to Plattsmouth and thus squarely earned his mileage.
Inasmuch as we were to blame for his election he required of us that we should do his chores, chop the firewood for the family, etc. We did it like a little man. Indians were strolling through continually, and were a great annoyance. They were intolerable beggars during the early part of the winter the first white child was born in this settlement to Mr. and Mrs. Gale, viz., Miss Clara Gale, now a resident of Oregon.
March 16, 1865, our son, Lincoln W. Cox, was born, and was the first boy born in the north half of the county.
In the month of February, just after Mr. Imlay had returned from Omaha, there came a heavy winter rain, which raised the Blue river to a then unprecedented height. Messrs. Imlay and Gale had each built their cabins on low ground, as they never once dreamed that the river would get on such a bender. On the second night of’ the rain the river flooded all the bottoms and caught the people napping.
Mr. Gale discovered water rushing into his cabin, carried his wife and young babe to the roof of his cabin, wrapped up as best could be done with bedding, and himself waded out and reached Father Imlay’s house, where a team was obtained and the family rescued from a most perilous situation. A few hours more nothing was to be seen of the cabin, as the wild waters rolled entirely over it. Mr. Imlay’s family were awakened by a child crying that was sleeping in a trundle bed. Mr. I. jumped out of bed to attend to the child, and to his horror he stepped into water knee deep. He rushed to the. door, opened it, and a flood of water rushed in. The family made their escape by crawling out of a window at the rear of the house,. where the ground was much higher. The family took refuge on a hay stack, and were entirely surrounded by water, where they were compelled to remain four days and nights. They were on the west side of the river and beyond the reach of human help. Were it not getting in too much of self we could relate how we struggled to rescue them from their perilous position and came very near 1osing our life in two unsuccessful attempts in their behalf. Mr. Imlay may tell you about that. After spending four nights of suffering with cold and hunger, we, i.e. Mr. Imlay and myself, succeeded in making a foot crossing by cutting tall trees on each side and interlocking their branches. We carried the children over, and happy they were to get to a warm fire and a good breakfast.
During the winter Lewis Moffit visited the settlement and entered the townsite of Seward, and filed papers on a homestead near what is. now Marysville, on Lincoln creek. Mr. Moffit moved his family to the neighborhood in the following July.
Lincoln creek received its name about the first of March, 1864,. the time of the second visit of the writer to this locality. In company with William and David Imlay, we were exploring the valley of Lincoln creek and admiring the beauty of the stream, and all at once we happened to remember that the stream had no name, and we christened it then and there with the name immortal (Lincoln).
In the early spring of 1865, Richard Sampson, Thomas Skillman, John Roberts, Jr., and John Durland, together with their families, arrived from Illinois, and each made settlement on their present farms. The family of Mr. Dunaway, deceased, also came and took possession of the homestead. The first sermon preached in the neighborhood was in the month of June, 1865, by Rev. Dr. McKesson, in a grove near the residence of the writer. The second by Rev. E. L. Clark, during the autumn, at the house of the writer. Mr. Clark joined our settlement in October, 1865.
In the summer of 1864 Thomas West erected a saw-mill and attached a corn burr and was prepared to grind a little corn for us.
Milford was founded by J. L. Davison in April, 1864, and then the long struggle commenced between the people of the south part of the county and those of the north part as to whom the prize of county seat should belong. Milford had many advantages over its rival (Seward). The southern part bad by far the most settlers, and Milford had the great steam wagon road with the overland traffic passing through it. Besides it bad a very superior water power. It also had such men as the irrepressible John Cadman and William Fields to back it and render it great assistance by pointing out to incoming immigrants its superiority over other localities on the Blue; and, by the way, J. L. Davison was no slouch in making the best of an opportunity. He was always ready for any enterprise.
During the summer of 1856 Hon. H. W. Parker made settlement at Camden, near the old bridge, and commenced the erection of a grist-mill. Camden for a time had the promise of the B. & M. railroad, and it aspired to become the principal city of the Blue valley. It was in the best settled portion of the county, near the junction of the North and West Blue rivers, and seemed to be on the great national highway. Parker was wide-awake and full of business pluck. He put up a fine flouring mill for that day, and by his own energy succeeded in building up quite a little town. Camden aspired to be the county seat, but its geographical position forbid that, and the moment she discovered it to be impossible to gain that prize, she determined to throw her votes and influence against Milford and in favor of Seward, and from an early date Camden and Milford were at war.
Seward and Camden were fast friends. Thus Milford was between two fires, and they were pretty hot ones at that. Seward had secured the friendly aid of the Lancaster folks, and had quite the advantage in being more centrally located in the county. Her friends were ready to dare and do any work to secure the coveted prize. For the years of 1865, 1866, and 1867 the principal public business was to secure settlers for the various local ties. In that line there was lively work. The lands were equally good north and south, and it would be most amusing at this day to see the strategy resorted to catch settlers and get them located. Every cabin was a free hotel, "the latch string was always out." We would drop all holds and go a mile or five miles to meet a prairie schooner and invite them to stay all night. We would just make the immigrant think we were the best folks in all the world. We made no charges for showing land. We all had the story of the coming grandeur of our locality thoroughly learned, and when we bad finally secured our new made friend to our neighborhood, he at once became so interested in the coming struggle that he would willingly sacrifice all his wife’s relation to secure an advantage for his pet locality. Each party made free use of the press of the territory in setting forth the special advantages and beauties of their neighborhood. Some of their articles were quite spicy reading. Each writer was careful to impress the reader with the central idea that his was just the place above all others in the Blue valley to locate. These newspaper artic1ce helped to rally to the county many intelligent citizens. They also helped to inflame the people to impassioned zeal to work and win or die in the harness. Thus matters stood prior to the organization of the county. The lines were as sharply drawn between the north and south as in national affairs.
During the summer of 1865 the preliminary steps were taken to effect a partial organization, and at the territorial election that year first county officers were elected. The board of county commissioners elected were three men that were thoroughly representative in their make-up. They were each of them identified with the interests of the people. All bud the benefit of a long residence in the territory. Two of them had served terms in the territorial legislature (Sirs Parker and Imlay), and Mr. Thompson was a business man of more than ordinary ability. Mr. H. W. Parker represented the interests of the Camden people, W. J. Thompson those of Milford, and Wm. Imlay those of Seward. While each of these gentlemen were thoroughly in earnest in matters pertaining to the interest of their own particular constituency, they were truly loyal to Seward county.
Thomas West was honored by being elected county clerk; C. J. Neihardt, treasurer; J. L. Davison, probate judge; and — Chapin, sheriff. The first meeting of the commissioners was held at Thompson's ranch, on Walnut creek; afterwards they met at Thomas West’s, and at C. J. Neihardt’s, on the North Blue. Our commissioners at this time had jurisdiction over an immense scope of unorganized territory, including York, Hamilton, Adams, and a part of Hall counties.
We notice buried up, as among "the ancient and forgotten lore" t the county clerk’s office, a petition asking to have a precinct formed and a justice of the peace appointed for the following described district of country: Commencing at a point on the Platte river at the north-east corner of township eleven north, range seven west of the sixth principal meridian; thence south to the south-east corner of township eight; thence west to the east boundary line of Kearney county; thence north to the Platte river; thence eastward to the place of beginning. Please examine the map and trace the boundaries of that precinct. You will find that it includes the southern portion of Hall and the northern portion of Adams counties. We find that the first tax levy was six mills on a dollar, and it would produce, if it was all collected, $428. This was for the general county fund. At this time there were no legal roads in the county, no school-houses, no bridges except on the old freight road at Camden, Walnut, and Beaver creeks, all of which were built by private enterprise. Also a low water bridge on North Blue, on the farm of Wm. Imlay.
The spring of 1866 brought many new-corners to all parts of the county, among whom were John Roberts, Sr., Joseph Sampson, Rev. E. W. Johnson, James A. Brown, E. B. Shafer, Roger Cooper, George Rogers, and Wm. Cooper, who settled in the Seward settlement; and the Milford settlement had a goodly number of valuable acquisitions among whom were William Reed, Abram Courtright, Henry Woetendyke, Samuel Brown, and others. Milford Mills were built by Messrs. Davison & Reed, and the nucleus of the town of Milford was formed. The county seat question was agitated during that year, but as the settlements were so sparse, it was deemed inexpedient to submit the location of it to a vote until another year. The southern portion of the county was anxious to have the matter brought before the people at the earliest possible date, but the northern portion of the county thought there would be luck in leisure. They knew that they were gaining steadily, and it would only be a question of time when they would be able to more fairly cope with them single-handed. It was finally agreed that the county seat should be voted for at the October election of 1867. Milford, Camden, and Seward contested for the prize. We very much regret that we find it impossible to get from the records the number of votes cast at that election. The returns of the election of that year seem to have been entirely lost. We remember that Milford led and Seward was second, with Camden in the rear, having about thirty votes; and we also remember that the whole vote cast did not much exceed one hundred. A special election was then called, and Camden from that time threw her votes in favor of Seward.
Well Reed here comes upon the scene, and cuts a very important figure He was elected county clerk at the October election, consequently at the special county seat election he had an important part in the canvass of the votes. He chose the canvassers, and so arranged that Milford’s interests should be well cared for. Seward had a clear majority of the votes cast of ten votes, but our friend Reed was not to be trifled with. So he, together with his canvassers, concluded to go behind the returns and throw out such votes as they found or thought to be illegal. They found a sufficiency, of course, and threw out twelve votes, which left Milford two majority.
At the next meeting the commissioners and clerk wraug1ed over the matter, and it is very hard to tell just what they did do. Two of the board, Imlay and Parker, assert one thing, and Thompson and Reed assert to the contrary. The clerk, however, made a record of the following import: "It was resolved that the county clerk be instructed to post not ices of the location of the county seat in the various precincts.
At the next meeting of the board Mr. Imlay offered the following:
"That so much of the record of December 2 as relates to posting not ices of the location of the county seat be expunged from the record."
Imlay and Parker supported the motion, and insisted that no such resolution had been passed at the meeting above stated. Mr.. Thompson voted in the negative, and the clerk also assumes to record his vote in the negative in the language following: "And so saith the county clerk."
Articles of impeachment were filed against the clerk for falsifying the record, and then commenced a long, tedious litigation that assumed different shapes at every change of the moon, and continued for four years wit varying successes. Interested parties threw their whole soul and lots of their money into the contest. Reed’s trial lasted until late in the winter. Much bitterness was manifested on the part of partisans of either side. The first session of the court of impeachment was held at Seward, in the old log school-house, and the jury of course disagreed.The second trial was held at Camden, and resulted in a verdict of acquittal There were numerous arrests of commissioners and clerk at different times during the next year, first on the one side, then the other. Every court in the county and in Lancaster county was brought into requisition at various stages of the game. One fracas we must relate, it being so full of fire and vinegar that it ought not to be lost to the children. Warrants had been issued by Judge Cadman (then a probate judge in Lancaster county) for the arrest of Messrs. Parker and Imlay, on some charge—we forget what. Officers, under the guidance of Lawyer P., of Lincoln, and in company of that gentleman, went one dark night to the residence of H. W. Parker, in search of him. Mr. Parker had smelled a rat and was not there. Lawyer P. was very anxious to secure his game, and believing Parker was in the house, rushed into the bedroom and stripped the clothing off the bed in which Mrs. Parker’s hired girl, now Mrs. Dan. Harris, was sleeping. This raised a storm of indignation at Camden and Seward that would have cost the sleek young lawyer his life had he been seen at either place before the blood was cooled.
Parker came to Seward neighborhood and put Imlay on his guard. It seems that one object was to hinder these commissioners from attending a suit that was to take place at the office of Judge J. D. Maine, at Oak Grove, the following day. Parker and Imlay evaded the officers and posse and made their way to Judge Maine’s office. Court was duly opened, and the trial of the case was in progress, when these officers, led by the young attorney and a large posse from Milford, broke in upon them and arrested the two commissioners and started with them for Lincoln. John Olney, we believe it was, mounted a horse and rushed over to Seward and spread the news, and the settlers rallied at the house of Lewis Moffit just at dark, and it was a dark, dreary night, having rained much during the day. About a dozen of us resolved to go to Lincoln that night to the relief of the prisoners. We went way around by the Oak Grove settlement, and rallied them to our assistance. The night was so very dark that one of the company bad to go on foot ahead and carry a lantern. We reached Lincoln just at daylight. It was raining. We were mad when we left home, and by the time we had reached Lincoln we were ready to fight a tiger. Our crowd was the biggest, and we were probably the maddest. You ought to have seen those Milford fellows keep out of our way. The sympathy of the Lincoln people was with us, and we had everything our own way on the streets. In due time Judge Cadman opened his court.
We remember that Judge Pound was employed by our folks to conduct the defense, and he made on that occasion probably the ablest speech of his life, and probably that speech gave him the boost that has resulted in his splendid success in life.
We have never been able to find out where Judge Cadman got his jurisdiction over cases arising in Seward county. Mr. 1mlay was dismissed, but Parker was held to bail for his appearance at the district court. This he peremptorily refused to give. The Seward boys said, "They can’t take you to jail, Mr. Parker," and they didn’t try. They wanted us all, including Parker, to go home. We were in no hurry, but we went when we got ready. The Lincoln folks cheered us, and the Milford fellows went home chop fallen. That case was never heard of in the courts afterwards.
This was only one of the many ludicrous scenes connected with the contest. It seemed in many instances that each party vied with the other to see which could act the most ridiculously. Both parties were fleeced out of hundreds of dollars by smooth-tongued Lincoln lawyers, which only helped to complicate matters and get us all into deeper trouble. This sectional strife so embittered the people against one another that they could not reason about the matter as intelligent men should. Looking backward through the years, we can see many
things that were done in haste and anger, that were born of prejudice, that we should all be heartily ashamed of. We were many times misled by unscrupulous lawyers into snares which cost us dearly. Our time and our treasure were sacrificed without stint. In many instances our prejudice and our ambition got away with our better judgment. The county seat cost many of us that got it more money and time and hard labor than it has ever been worth to us, while those that lost it were still worse off. It is our advice to the children to never engage in a county seat contest, for when a stubborn fight ensues it will cost more than it will be worth.
The winter of 1866-67 was one long to be remembered by all the old-timers. The snow began falling December 1st, and continued with short intervals until April. It was a succession of storms following each other rapidly through the whole winter, and on the first day of April there were two feet of solid snow. As an index of what some of the storms of that winter were we will relate this instance: were teaching the first school that winter in a little log schoolhouse that stood near Mrs. Spear’s residence. The building was comparatively tight, with a sod covered roof. It began snowing during the day on Friday, and continued over Saturday and Sunday, but calmed down so that we thought we must go to the school on Monday morning.
We waded through the drifts to the school house, and attempted to open the door. It would not open, and upon investigation we found the house full to the roof of snow.
We were compelled to abandon the school. On the 6th day of April the waters began to find their way through the huge drifts into the river, and it was a sight to behold the torrents of water rolling down from the high lands. The bottom lands became a sea of water—every ravine was a river. All the settlers on the bottom lands were driven from their homes. Communication was entirely cut off, provisions were very short, and much suffering ensued. Breadstuff had become entirely exhausted. Some painful scenes of suffering occurred, among which we note the removal of Mother Rogers from her death-bed from her home, which was inundated by the rising waters near Ruby station. Her deliverers barely escaped being overwhelmed by the floods. They took her to Milford, where she died a few days afterward. No such an amount of snow has accumulated in this country try since that winter, and Blue river has never been on such a wild rampage since. It was a happy circumstance that all the settlement was handy to the timber, else they would have perished. It would have been utterly impossible to have opened a road anywhere across the high prairie during January, February, and M arch. Small game, such as rabbits, quails, and prairie chickens, nearly all perished. The settlers lost a large proportion of their stock. Cattle and horses that lived through the terrible ordeal were but walking shadows when grass came to their relief in the spring. We were all in a sorry plight that spring. The people were half starved themselves, so that the had but little strength or courage to work, and their teams were still worse off; and it was almost next to impossible to get in crops. The summer proved to be a good one for crops of all kinds, and we were all blessed with an abundant harvest. We soon forgot; our trouble, and renewed our courage, and from that time fair success crowned the efforts of the early pioneers. The formation of the state government and the location of the capital in an adjoining county gave a wonderful impetus to settlement during the summer and fall of 1867.
The Seward folks held out all possible inducements to the commission to locate the capital on section 16, just north of Seward, but their efforts were of no avail. While our location was acknowledged to be by far more central in the state, and in every way more desirable for the building of a great central city, convenient to the people of the whole state, and surrounded by scenery most magnificent, the influence brought to bear from Nebraska City was so great that the commission yielded to their demands to locate on Salt creek. Nebraska City has had occasion to regret her own fatal mistake, for her child has grown so great as to suck her life-blood and left her to mourn her departed greatness. While we were cheated out of what we were justly entitled to by our position, yet we were in condition to be largely benefited, and we gracefully accepted the situation, and went to work with a will to make the best of our opportunity. The building of a city so near us must facilitate development and advance values very greatly. A flood of immigrants poured in upon us during the fall and following spring. These were happy days for all who had produce to sell. Those fellows that were building Lincoln were awfully hungry, and they had plenty of money. They would buy anything good, bad, or indifferent, if it could be eaten. 1 Hay grain, meat, and wood brought very high prices. The oak groves that filled the canons in the north-east part of the county were stripped of timber to keep Lincoln warm and cook her victuals. Under the stimulus of high prices and the general prosperity a large proportion of the government land in the county was taken up during the spring of 1868.
During this summer Seward was surveyed and platted. It was a misfortune that the place had not been surveyed and platted two years previous. Had this been done we would have probably fared better in our county seat contest, for while we were fighting for a prospective town, one that only existed in the minds of men, Milford was a town, in fact ready to welcome anyone that desired to make it their home. We would also have been better prepared to contest for the capital prize, but this the community could not help. This matter was, of course, in one man’s hands, and he was inclined to move slowly. But better late than never. The new town was popular from the first with all the people north of what we called Mason & Dixon’s line. Mr. John Roberts built the first frame building in June, 1868, and rented it to Beatty & Davis for a general store. It was a small affair, and occupied the lot on the west side of the square, where Mrs. Tressler’s restaurant now stands. J. N. Beatty built the first frame residence on the Windsor hotel block.
This was followed by the residence of W. R. Davis, at his present home. The Commercial house, in embryo, was built by W. H. Tuttle. Dr. L. Walker had located on a farm three miles north-east of town, and what proved to be a lucky wind blew his house to pieces, and scattered it and the family all over the prairie. The doctor was induced to gather up the fragments and rebuild his house in town, on the site of the opera house. By the 4th of July we could fairly say that we had a town, and were ready to celebrate. A flag staff was found in an adjoining grove, and our fair women hastily made a flag. We raised the pole where its many successors have stood and fallen, and sent our little flag skyward to flutter in the gentle zephyrs for the first time. A pile of dirt from the public well served as a platform, and many eloquent speeches were made to the assembled multitude (about twenty persons). Sweet songs were sung, and a general jolly good time was had. Seward grew and prospered, and was the road bond proposition. This was the first proposition by the Midland Pacific company, in which they agreed to build their road to the west bank of the Blue river in Seward county for $50,000 in 10 per cent bonds.
The proposition was so indefinite that it created neither opposition nor enthusiasm. It sort of went through by default, having fifty-two majority. But the railroad company did not build the road, and our railroad matters rested until the winter of 1871—72, when Dr. Converse requested the business men of Seward and other citizens of the county to meet him at Lincoln, when he offered to build the Midland road through Seward county via the city for $150,000 in 10 per cent twenty year bonds. This proposition was submitted to a vote of the people in the spring of 1872, when a most bitter sectional fight ensued. There were so many of the folks that were opposed to railroad bonds from principle living in and around Milford and Beaver Crossing, and in fact all over the south half of the county, that the proposition was defeated, and Seward was clothed in sackcloth and fairly rolled in ashes for a little season. We remember, when the election returns came in showing our defeat, the long faces of some of our prominent citizens. It would seem that they had lost the last friend they had on earth. A photograph of W. H. Tuttle, J. N. Beatty, Dr. Walker, W. R. Davis, and Jim Harris, together with some others (the writer not included), would, if taken that morning, clearly show how woe-begone our little city appeared, but "behind the clouds were all the stars," and the day of deliverance was near at hand.
We must return to the county seat embroglio. Every effort to get the decision of Reed’s board of canvassers overruled by the courts had
proved unavailing, and we were in a dilemma to know just what to do. We were afraid to attempt the removal by a two-thirds vote. They understood voting too well over at Milford. We must get the assistance of the legislature, and finally we got their help in the winter of 1870—71. One day while the enemy was napping we got such legislation as gave us the privilege of locating anew the county seat by majority vote.
Now we must measure swords on an even plane, but we had a wily foe. A new project was sprung to locate a B. & M. town at the exact center of the county, about two and a half miles south-west of Seward, with Mr. Phillips, of Lincoln, at the head. This new enemy had for a time most terrible proportions.
Milford had made up her mind to die happy if she could effectually kill Seward, and now was her opportunity. She would throw all her force in favor of the new town. Seward men trembled for awhile, but the clouds rifted. The B. & M. concluded to build her road through Saline county, and was content to take a lion’s share of our land-her road she would give to others—and leave us to settle our own domestic affairs The day of final battle came, and on the 10th day of October, 1871, in one of’ the most hotly contested elections ever held in Nebraska, we triumphantly established the county seat at Seward by twenty-two more than two-thirds of the votes cast. Then was an hour of rejoicing. Seward was now the "big Ingun," and poor Milford was sorry. But she had made a brave fight and left no stone unturned.
There is an old saying that, "everything is fair in war." Many in Seward county acted upon that principle, and they were not all Milford people, either, but it is safe to say she had her full share, and if many of her generals and soldiers didn’t throw as much dirt as the Seward folks, it was because they were not smart enough. Their intentions were to keep their end up. It is our pleasure, however, to note the fact that in all the bitter fight of four years we believe there was not a fist fight connected with the contest, and, what is to the credit of all concerned, the most bitter partisan of Seward was cordially entertained by all the better class of the Milford people, and vice versa. Hospitality was so much a part of their very nature that their sectional enemy must be fed and kindly cared for. This was the universal rule among the whole people, and we are heartily glad that it was so. We are also glad to know that those who fought one another the hardest are to-day the warmest of friends.
Among the notable workers in the interest of Milford, those that were ever read to bear her banner aloft and fight her battles, first we mention Hon. J. L. Davison, the founder of Milford, and one of the best citizens the county ever possessed Judge Henry Wortendyke; Abram Courtwright, now resting from his labors in the better land; Hon. D. C. McKilIip, now of Seward; Win. H. Reed, the irrepressible county clerk. He was a "Hector" in the fight. His watchword and battle cry was "Greece or Troy must fall." His battles fought, he rests with his fathers. Then comes Hon. J. H. Culver, who was at the head of the firm of Culver & Parsons, who had the honor of printing the Blue Valley Record. The Record was sent out to an admiring world on the 29th day of December, 1870. Friend Culver tells us that the Record was a financial success, that they started it on a cash capital of twenty-five cents, and when the paper was retired some years afterward the cash balance was thirty-three and one-third cents and lots of experience. It was a good paper and used to whoop it up for the Seward fellows lively.
The Record steadfastly refused to pander to the whisky interest in any way, but was forever pouring broadsides of hot shot into their camp, and the "Shogo Island Picnickers" thought it rather thin.
There were many others worthy of mention, such as Uncle Sammy Brown, Fat her Merriam, L. D. Laune Lee Smiley, Gcorgc B. France, now of York, Father Hazlewood. These men and many others acted well their part and strove manfully to make Milford the prominent city of the valley, but stern fate was against her. But if Milford would not be what her founders desired to make her, she has accomplished very much in the race, and is to—day a fine village with pleasant surroundings—a pleasant home place, a beautiful resort. Her splendid water power has helped her to one of the largest and best flouring mills in the state. Her sanitarium and her pleasure grounds will make her prominent through all the years to come.
Seward, now happy in the possession of. the prize she long had sought, was on a genuine boom (in a small way). A comfortable court house was built, principally by subscription, new enterprises were started and new people flocked in by the score.
In the summer of 1872 the third proposition of the Midland railroad was made to the people, and was somewhat different from the previous ones and was more liberal and more definite. Its salient points were are as follows:
One hundred thousand dollars in 10 per cent twenty year optional bonds, to be issued and delivered, first $75,000 when track was completed to the city of Seward, or within one—half mile of the public square, if said track was completed and cars running regular trains by the first day of March, 1873, and $25,000 to be turned over to them when said track was completed and trains running to the west line of the county. Time indefinite. Also coupled with this proposition was a like proposition for $25,000 for Seward precinct, comprising what is now F and G precincts.
One notable specimen of cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s own face was manifest in this bond fight. Dr. Converse offered to bind himself to build this road to within a half mile of Milford, thence up the river to Seward, if our southern brethren would withdraw their opposition, but they had voted so unanimously on principle a few months before that they would not yield, but treated the offer with contempt. Therefore the doctor made overtures to the Oak Grove people and took the road just as far north as the ground would permit, and promised a station at Germantown, thus securing their votes, to the discomfiture of Milford.
The old-time bitterness was manifested again in this contest. Every family in the county was visited, and the most desperate struggle ensued. Victory perched upon Seward’s banner again, and Milford was in deep distress and refused to be comforted. She had made a most fatal mistake. In her fit of anger she had seriously blundered, and it well nigh cost her her life. She was in splendid condition to have fairly rivaled Seward had she taken the tide at its flood. The cars rolled into Seward on the first day of March, 1873, according to contract, and the future of Seward was assured. The first brick building (Joel Tishue’s) was built during the summer of 1878. Wooden structures sprang up as if by magic. This remained the terminus of the road for four seasons, and trade centered with us from all the regions round about. Butler, Polk, York, and Hamilton counties hauled their grain here and were supplied by our merchants. It was a common thing to see the public square fairly blocked with load of grain.
The capacity of the railroad was insufficient to carry away the wheat, and we have seen thousands of sacks of it piled up around the grain houses. Money was plenty and everybody was prosperous. Our first bank (state bank) was opened that June by Claudius Jones, in a little wooden shanty which was about twelve feet square, but it. held plenty of money. Mercantile establishments multiplied and everything was hurrah. The little town began to put on metropolitan airs. The year had been an exceedingly prosperous one with the farmers. Crops were most excellent and brought good prices. Improvements went on at a rapid rate in town and county. Sod. houses and log cabins were rapidly disappearing, being replaced by the churches. This was the first between Lincoln and Denver. Nearly all the people, old and young, met at the Sabbath-school, and they ‘were greatly benefited.’ The old log school-house was brought into use during the fall of 1866, and was .our meeting place until the summer of 1869, for all public purposes.
The Presbyterian church was organized in the summer of 1868, by Rev. Dr. McCandlish, of Omaha, with a very small membership, and Rev. George B. Smith was called to the pastorate and filled their pulpit very acceptably for several years.
Under the leadership of Rev. E. L. Clark, the missionary Baptist church was organized March 1, 1870, with seven members. The good old man continued pastor of his flock until the close of his honored life, which terminated in the early spring of 1873. Elder Clark was a great favorite with all the people, and was honored by the county with a seat in the last territorial and first state legislature. He was highly respected by all his colleagues and honored with a place on several important committees.
The Nebraska Reporter was first issued in the summer of 1871, by Charles Crony, shortly after the platting of the Harris, Moftitt & Robert’s addition to Seward. Mr. Crony was here with his paper in time to take a hand in the county seat fight in our last campaign. Also in the railroad fight of 1872. The Reporter was a good fighter in its younger days. It was continually at war with the Blue Valley Record and with its contemporary, the Atlas.
About this time Cloyd and Ingharn purchased the Atlas and tried to convert it into a mammoth literary paper, which proved a splendid failure. Later Prof. Ingham withdrew from it and Mr. Cloyd converted it into a Democratic paper, and so it remained during the remainder of its romantic career, which terminated in 1874.
About this time the Reporter fell into the hands of Thomas Wolfe, and under his guiding hand it improved its fighting qualities. Born in times of excitement, its chief joy was to have a hand in all political and sectional strife. Its life was a vigorous one. It came to stay, and was ever ready to give or receive the hardest of blows, and like all vigorous papers, had the warmest of friends and the most bitter enemies.
Its contemporaries, the Atlas and Record, had given up the ghost, and left it master of the field for a little season, but its rest was of short duration. In February, 1877, W. S. Walker, a peculiar and erratic character, emerged from his mountain home, and started the Seward Advocate. The two papers soon found occasion to declare war, and they kept the air fairly blue. Notwithstanding both papers were Republican in politics, they were out of their element unless they were in the midst of a fight. In June, 1879, J. H. Betzer bought the Advocate, and rechristened it with the name, Blue Valley Blade. From the first the Blade seemed to have both edges sharp, and was prepared to cut a wide swath.
The bright glimmer of the Blade had about the same effect on the Reporter as the shaking of a red rag in the face of an angry bull. It seemed that both these papers were born to fight, and fight they must. Mr. Wolfe retired from the Reporter in 1882, and F. G. Simmons became the manager, when the hatchets were buried, and these two bright and valuable papers have found more congenial and profitable employment than scratching for each other’s eyes, in working for the interests of Seward, the county, and the state. They have each made for themselves a splendid record in the later years. There have been several other attempts to maintain newspapers here, but none have succeeded until H. E. Maclellan started the Seward Democrat during the campaign of 1884. It seems to have good staying qualities.
In the winter of 1876-77, Rev. Mr. Haw made a futile attempt to. 8tart a Democratic paper, and again in the winter of 1881-82 James Brinkerhoff tried the same experiment, but failed.
Under the leadership of Rev. Mr. Skaigs, a class of the M. E. church was formed in the summer of 1867, but we fail to find the records of the same, and consequently all that we are able to say of the matter is from personal recollection. We remember that our young friend Skaigs was a wide awake young fellow, and worked faithfully for his little flock. The next important epoch in the history of the M. E. Church, was under the pastorate of Rev. Combs. (now deceased), in about the years 1874-5. When their church edifice was built, our friend Combs was a zealous and fearless worker in the vineyard, and his church flourished remarkably under his pastorate. Among the noble men that have honored the pulpits of Seward through so many years, there are none that more surely won the affections of the whole people than Brother Combs, and his early removal from the labors of life wits keenly regretted by all that knew him. In connection with the building of the M. E. church, there was a peculiar character who certainly deserves more than passing notice. The person alluded to still lives, and is a member of this community and the church, but her life is so secluded that she is almost lost to the world, and but few of the present membership of the splendid congregation that worship within the walls of the edifice know of her existence, much less of her sacrifices in behalf of the church she so dearly loved. We are apt to forget our benefactors when we have become independent of them, but inasmuch as the business of the church is labors of love, we suggest that it would be well that the church should call to mind the debt of gratitude it owes to Mother Herrick in her old age. The principal part of all her worldly goods were freely laid upon the altar of the church, and were used to build its walls, and now she is living under its shadow in poverty, and we fear in sad neglect.
Great progress was made in town and county from the time of the completion of the Midland Pacific road in March, 1873, until midsummer, 1874, when the grasshopper scourge fell upon us. The summer of 1874 was dry and well suited for the development of grasshoppers, much more so than for a vigorous growth of vegetation.
It is an old saying that calamities never come singly, and it was so with us that memorable year. In the early days of July it was exceedingly hot, and the wheat crop was seriously injured, so that the yield was light, and the quality was very poor; thus a very large slice of profits was clipped from each side of the wheat crop. Wheat at that time was the main dependence of our farmers, and they felt the loss seriously, and a general stagnation of business was the immediate result; this loss we could have borne, but in the hour when "we thought not," an invading army came on the wings of the northwest wind. The sun almost refused to give her light at noonday. The whole heavens were a living sea of insect life. As far as the eye could penetrate the skies, there seemed scarcely room for another hopper. They had come a long distance and were hungry and they proposed (like all hungry tramps) to dine with us. We were not pleased with our guests, but little did they care. They came for corn, and they took what we had, and made dessert of our garden truck, such as cabbage, turnips, onions, and in fact about every living plant, and finished by each taking a chew of green tobacco, i.e., if the few tobacco patches furnished each a chew, at least took the last vestige of it, and our observation showed that they spit tobacco juice, or something like it.
Of this we are sure, they are the worst lot of tobacco chewers we met. Those who never saw a swarm of grasshoppers can form idea of the immensity of their number; we should judge Seward County cannot produce the same heft in cattle in fifty years as would these insects weigh that foraged on our fields, meadows, and gardens in those memorable days of August, 1874. This calamity fell like a wet blanket on all interests in the county, not only in Seward county, but the whole West.
Great numbers of our people were very poor, and the loss of a crop was virtually losing their all. Lands depreciated in value, and all classes of personal property were a drug in the market, except grain, of which we had none to sell, and hardly half enough for home use. Hogs were sold as low as one and one-half cents per pound, and slow sale at that.
Quarter sections of land that would now readily bring $4,000, were begging for a market at $300 to $400. Destitution and want stared the people in the face, and had it not been for kind people in the old states, the suffering would have been fearful to contemplate. Thousands of noble men and women came to the rescue, and sent of their stores food, clothing, and fuel for the relief of the people, and right here it is fitting that we should acknowledge the important part the railroads had in this work of relief. They generously brought thousands of tons of coal, and millions of pounds of merchandise to the very doors of these famishing people without money and without price, and in those dark hours of sorrow they earned the lasting gratitude of all concerned.
The well-to-do people of our own county and state were divided into two distinct classes. One class, and we are happy to say the larger class, were ready and anxious to do all in their power for the relief of their less favored neighbors. Many of them gave freely of their own scanty store of money, food, and clothing, and organized relief associations, and used their influence with their eastern friends, and denied themselves of ease and comfort to save others from cold and hunger. These people are entitled to the gratitude of all recipients of their good favors.
Then the other class are entitled to remembrance, but in a different way. We mean the vultures that were not only blessed with plenty, and ought to have been anxious to give of their bountiful store, but instead of that, they were ever on the alert to steal from famishing children and helpless widows what better people were sending to them. We speak what we know, for it was our fortune or misfortune to be brought into very close relations with thousands of the suffering, and we well remember what a fight we had to keep these vultures at bay. There were scores of them who richly deserve to have their names published, that they might enjoy the just execration of mankind. Their names should be covered with everlasting shame.
During the year 1875, everything pretty much was at a standstill, both in business circles and with the farmers. The railroad lands that had been purchased were nearly all abandoned, and hundreds of homestead entries were shifted off at whatever they would bring, and a feeling of despondency was brooding over all our land. Many fields were permitted to grow up to tall weeds.
A mortal dread of a return of our implacable enemies was imbedded in the minds of the people, and the best of them were cogitating in their minds as to whether they had not made a mistake in coming to Nebraska. Some brave spirits were able to look through and beyond the gloom to brighter days, and such did all they could to encourage people to hold their lands.
Fair crops blessed the faithful efforts of the husbandmen, and hope revived, and in the spring of 1876 things began to move again as in other years. New people began to come forward and occupy the vacant places.
Some valuable improvements were made during the summer and fall in town and county. Walker’s opera house and one or two other brick blocks were added to the permanent structures in Seward. The Midland road had been graded to York in the summer of 1875, but no track was laid until the summer of 1877.
Grasshoppers visited us again in 1876 in great numbers, but they came a little later in the season; and while the devastation wrought was great, it was not so complete as before. They left us a sufficient amount of corn with which to tide over. Our small grain was fairly good that year, and it was secure, and our people were able, with close pinching, to get through the winter without assistance. The centennial year brought many new people into the county, who were attracted by our cheap lands, and generally they were men of more means than emigrants of former years, and they began making more extensive improvements in the way of building better houses, building barns, fencing pastures, introducing the tame grasses, bringing in improved breeds of cattle and horses, planting trees, forest and fruit. One special event of this season was our centennial celebration on the 4th of July. This was the most notable gathering that had ever met in the county, both in numbers present and in the general interest manifest. At least five thousand assembled to celebrate the hundredth anniversary of our independence, and it comprised much more than half the entire population of the county. All the people took hold of the matter with an enthusiasm that was truly commendable, and we think that celebration is worthy to be marked as an epoch in our history.
Now it becomes a painful duty to record the most sorrowful event in all our history. Thus far no tragic event had occurred to mar the peace of our people. We had been noted for sobriety, industry, and general good behavior, notwithstanding we were drawn together from so many localities in our own country and foreign lands. With all our diversified peculiarities, and with all our different, and in many cases antagonistic, interests, no human blood had been shed in all our borders until the sad event of which we now write. One beautiful morning in the month of May, while all nature was smiling with gladness, and our little city was basking in the sun, enjoying the fragrance of the opening buds of spring, there breaks upon our ears the astounding news that a man, a neighbor, had been murdered. A chill of horror ran through the community as the news rapidly spread that Nathan Clough was the victim, and that he lay in the loft of the Blue Valley House barn wrapped in a bloody mantle of death. Suspicion was fastened upon various characters who harbored around the hotel, and a close surveillance was kept upon many while the coroner and his jury were trying to fathom the mystery.
The air was filled with rumors, and the people were almost wild with excitement. The jury was in session for about nine days. Meantime the excitement spread from Seward throughout the county, and then to the uttermost bounds of the state, and far into adjoining states, and it was the absorbing theme of conversation everywhere through-out the country. The newspapers were full of it. The pleasant sunshine of that morning was turned into a dark cloud that hung like a pall over our fair city. There was apparently an instantaneous suspicion arising in the minds of the people far and near that the foul deed was committed by the brother of the deceased. It seemed to float in the very air, without the aid of the telephone. The business men of Seward were wisely cautious of theirwords, but the women and children would indiscreetly say, upon the spur of the moment, "It’s nobody but Warren Clough." People from far in the country would come in and whisper, "I believe it’s Warren Clough." Traveling men on the cars would read in a daily paper of the murder in Seward, an(l they would exclaim, "It’s Warren Clough." Without evidence, or in advance of evidence, it was whispered into the ears and hearts of thousands of persons that Warren Clough was the murderer of his own brother. We confess that the impression darted through our mind unbidden, and entirely without evidence, and fastened itself upon us so firmly that we have never been able to shake it off. Why it was so it is impossible to explain. The jury traced every shadow to its substance, or until it entirely disappeared in the mist, and finally fastened the crime where the multitude had placed it without evidence. Warren Clough, after a long and tedious trial in another county (York), was convicted and condemned to death, which sentence was commuted to imprisonment at hard labor for life. We hope the jury acted only on evidence, and not preconceived impressions. Now long years save passed, and Warren Clough has become an old man. His punishment has certainly been severe. He was convicted entirely on circumstantial evidence or impressions. We are not certain which had the most weight. Ls it not time to remember mercy? We do not know whether it would be a mercy to restore him to the world, considering that his friends and property are gone, but, should he desire it, would it not be proper to give him the last few days of his life to enjoy freedom? Let us remember the sentiment of Pope’s universal prayer, "That mercy I to others show, that mercy show to me."
The year of 1877 brought several changes of importance, and marked a new era in the development of the county. The Midland Pacific railroad passed into the hands of the B. & M. company, the road pushed on to York and the town of Utica was founded.
Among the first settlers of Utica we mention Hon. G. A. Derby, who settled on a homestead, a little to the north and west of the town, in 1872, and was among the first to commence improvement on the great prairie between Seward and York. Mr. Derby made very creditable improvements for that early day, and his house was the genial home of many a weary traveler, it being the only stopping place between Seward and York. He was a wide-awake man, and as soon as the railroad was assured, lie projected the town of Utica. He saw at a glance that the rich farming country that surrounded the place must of necessity have a trading point, and he went to work with that energy and determination that always brings success, and the flourishing town is the result. Mr. Derby has always been to the, front as an enterprising citizen of that part of the county, and has used the best energies of his life for its development and advancement. Utica has grown and prospered until it has become an important village, with many fine business houses, good schools, commodious churches, and many excellent residences, with an intelligent and busy population, and is the third town in the county in population, business, and wealth, beautifully situated, surrounded by a splendid farming country on all sides. Of her business interests we will speak more fully in a future chapter.
Howard M. Colman was also one of the first to settle on a homestead in the locality of Utica. The date of his settlement was May, 1871. Mr. Colman has been thoroughly identified with the improvements and progress of Utica. We remember him when lie was a homesteader and had to haul wood from the Blue river to keep the family from freezing. We are happy to note the fact that he don’t have to haul wood now fifteen miles to keep the wife and baby warm.
George Liggett, who commenced the grain trade in Utica in the fall of 1877, took up a homestead on Lincoln creek in 1869, and after one year’s enjoyment of a farmer’s life, he moved to Seward and tried his hand at making harness for a time, when he’ thought he could see wealth or glory in Antelope county, and removed to that county; after securing all the glory he needed he gave up the idea of getting wealth there, and returned, like a sensible man, to Seward, and studied the art of buying grain, and after graduating among the grain-buyers of Seward, commenced the practice of his profession at Utica, with marked success, as his ample possessions demonstrate.
Oscar Ragan, another of the first business men of Utica, settled on Lincoln creek as early as 1867. Mr. Ragan commenced the grain trade on a small scale in the fall of 1877, and has gradually grown rich, and may fairly be counted as one of the rich and prosperous men of the county. We must tell a little story of him that demonstrates some of the hardships of pioneer life. Mr. R. was very poor when he located on the homestead, as were all the neighbors. Many times the entire settlement would get very short of provisions, and at this time Oscar’s family had been without meat for a long time. The elk and antelope had taken their departure, but Oscar thought he must have meat, and he went hunting. A long day’s tramp, and nothing could be found except a chicken-hawk. Oscar said to himself: "We’re out of meat. I don’t know how hawk will taste. I have heard of politicians eating crow. Guess it’s all right." So he takes the hawk home, and it was prepared for the next day’s dinner. A nice hawk pie was prepared, and, as Oscar was a generous soul, some of the neighbors were invited to the feast. The good wife had made all things ready, and the guests were seated at the table, with Oscar in his place at the head of the table. Each person was served with a plate of the dainty dish, and all commenced eating at the same moment. One mouthful partly swallowed, and Oscar, with a heaving breast, found it necessary to find the way to the door. The hawk showed great discontent in his stomach. Oscar was quickly followed by his guests, but they were not going to see what was the matter with Oscar. They each had serious business interests of their own to look after. Oscar has always, since that dinner experience, wondered how it can be that men can eat crow without wincing, as so many politicians have to do. He is quite sure that he never hankers after a hawk pie.
Thomas Standard and Joseph Jones have the honor of erecting the first building on the new town site, and opened the first stock of merchandise in the month of August, 1877. These enterprising gentlemen were homesteaders, each settling, in the year 1870, on lands in the western part of the county. We remember Mr. Standard, at an early date, as being the Standard thresherman of the county, and we are glad to be able to say that he proves Standard in all his undertakings. These men have proved to be quite successful as farmers and business men, and have helped, in no small measure, in building up Utica. George Goodbroad erected the first hotel in the same month, and Fritz Beckord opened a lumber yard at the same time. In the month of September Messrs. Goehner & Wilkins opened the second store, and C. C. Turner opened a blacksmith shop in October. Wm. Alexander also opened a grain house, and some other business interests were inaugurated during the same fall, and Utica at once assumed quite respectable proportions as a business center. It enjoyed from the beginning a large grain trade, and what is peculiar, her grain dealers have been prosperous in a marked degree.
We believe that Rev. C. E. Phinney was the first resident minister. Relocated in the neighborhood in 1874, and organized a Protestant Methodist church. However, a class of the M. E. church was organized in 1872, at what was known as the Kincade school-house, three miles east of town, in the summer of 1872, by Rev. A. J. Folden, which class was re-organized by Rev. G. M. Couffer, of Milford, and established its permanent quarters at Utica in 1878. The church was quite prosperous and built a very creditable church edifice in the season of 1881. They had previously built a parsonage. The United Brethren church was organized in the summer of 1873 by the Rev. E. W. Johnson (now an honored presiding elder in his denomination), at the Oliver school-house. Rev. Father C. J. Quinn established a Catholic mission about the spring of 1880, and they now have a very neat house of worship. Miss Clara Derby taught the first school in that section of the county, in 1878, and Miss Rosa Hartley was the first teacher of Utica, in the spring and summer of 1878. The schools of Utica have kept pace with other improvements, and they now have a first-class graded school and a commodious building, with ample accommodations.
We can hardly forego telling how and when we got our impressions of the great prairie upon which the fair little city stands.
Early in the summer of 1864, while yet a resident of Lancaster county, a project was set on foot to open a great freight road from the Missouri river leading through Lancaster (now Lincoln) and prospective Seward, and to the west. Uncle Jacob Dawson, of Lancaster, made terms with the Mormon freighters, who had established their outfitting headquarters at Wyoming, five miles north of Nebraska City, and led one of their great freight trains through Lancaster, and then secured our assistance as a pilot to conduct the train over the unbroken prairies through Seward county, and to a western connection with the great overland trail to the mountains. We led the train in triumph as far as the mouth of Plum creek, a half mile south of the present city of Seward. Here we had hoped to find an easy fording place, but when the trainmaster saw the river, he said that it would be out of the question, and a bridge must be built. So we summoned the entire neighborhood to our assistance, consisting of Wm. Imlay, R. T. Gale, David and Joseph Imlay, with Grandfather Imlay to watch the maneuvers and give words of encouragement, and with the help of sixteen stalwart young Mormon teamsters, we slashed down a hundred or more fine trees and built a log bridge and crossed the river with the huge wagons, and wended our way to the westward. Night overtook us on the great plain a little to the south and east of the future Utica. A corral was formed and supper provided, and it fell to our lot to be stationed as one of the outer pickets to guard the cattle. The night was exceedingly hot, and we were in our shirt-sleeves. A heavy thunderstorm was rapidly approaching. The heavens were all aglow with the flashes of lightning. The thunder drums began to play at a fearful rate. Only when the sharp flashes would light up the ghostly surroundings could a thing be seen. The very blackness of the darkness veiled all from our sight, when, all at once, a terrific peal of thunder, with stunning effect, stampeded the cattle, ninety-eight head of great steers, and they came directly toward us, with all the fury of a full grown cyclone. Few and short were the prayers we said, and we thought not of writing these reminiscences, but thought good—by to all this world, but fortunately for the reminiscences, when, like a solid wall, like a great avalanche, they had reached within twenty feet of us, there was a vivid flash that lightened up the whole heavens, and our white shirt, we suppose, caused the herd to divide, and they thundered by us on either side so close as to almost graze our shirt sleeves. We devoutly thanked God for that flash of lightning and the white shirt. We are free to acknowledge that we were badly frightened—so much so that it effectually stopped our growth, and perhaps that night’s experience accounts for our diminutive stature.
It only took our party two days to get the cattle back to camp. The next morning the level prairie was a sea of water. It certainly would have convinced any unbeliever that it rained occasionally west of Salt creek. When Uncle Jake Dawson, Mr. Imlay, and myself got rid of that Mormon train, we were fully satisfied with our experience in leading trains through the wilderness. We tried it no more.
In the forepart of July, 1878, a stranger from the state of Kansas, by the name of U. L. Monroe, was traveling through this neighborhood, and happened to fall into the company of Orlando J. Cassler, a resident of the south-western portion of this county. The two camped just west of the city on the river bank, on the afternoon of July 7th, and during the night, while a violent thunder storm was raging, Cassler murdered his comrade and new-made friend, sunk the body in the river, and took possession of the team, telling his neighbors that he had bought the team. Some of the citizens of the city happened to be fishing a day or two after the occurrence, and found the body floating in the river. The coroner’s jury soon found a clue to the murder, and Orlando was arrested, tried, and convicted, and sentenced to be hanged on the 20th day of May, 1879. The black Friday arrived, and a great host of people gathered into the city from all the surrounding country, as word had gone out that the barracks would probably be torn down. The sheriff had taken what he sup posed to be ample precautions for the protection of the barracks. He had placed quite a large number of deputies and policemen, properly armed with billies, around the barracks, and had constructed a barb-wire fence around a space surrounding the building, which was denominated a dead line, and all the people were warned not to step over that line; but little did they heed the mandate. There seemed to be an inordinate desire to see the wretched man hung, and five or six thousand men, women, and children surged back and forth with an irresistible force, and just before noon some reckless fellow gave a whoop and a hurrah, and those barracks were scattered as if a cyclone had struck them in far less time than it takes to write a line of this paragraph. The sheriff saw in a moment that he was in the hands of the mob, to do the will of their good pleasure; their pleasure was to see Orlando hung, and if the sheriff was unwilling to transact the business in their presence they would do the work for him in his presence, and that right soon. So he assured the mob that the execution should occur in proper time, and that he did not need their help. The drop fell in due time, and Orlando J. Cassler paid to the full, as far as possible, the penalty of his crime, but the demoralizing spectacle of a public execution produced a bad effect upon our people, and brought out a spirit of lawlessness that barely missed producing another murder before the day closed.
We do not wish to mince matters, or in any way excuse the lawless spirit of many people on that occasion in tearing down the enclosure, but we would say that the governor was short-sighted, that provisions to maintain the dignity of the law were not made, and especially so when a like occurrence had happened at Minden only a short time previous. If the law is worth a place on our statute books, then when necessary use all the powers of the state to enforce it, and not allow lawless ruffianism to control.
We quote for the curious the last words of the doomed man: "Well, now this will finish Orlando Cassler’s life. Behold the scaffold with Orlando Cassler standing on it here. This is the last of trouble and sorrow. I am sorry, gentlemen, that I have to die here, but there is a world above, where there is no trouble and no sorrow. Good-bye, gentlemen." His spiritual adviser was Rev. Shank, of the M. E. Church, who delivered an eloquent and fervent prayer.