The establishment of law and order on western plains

Preface

When I began to write this little book I did so with the intention of having about one hundred copies printed to be used by my family and myself for gifts to a few personal friends. As the book grew and I went over the old scenes with my wife and children we began to feel a tingling in our veins — the return of the wanderlust fever. As the weeks lengthened into months and the springtime came on, a time of year when the great outdoors calls to us one and all, my wife said to me one day, "Let's go.''

lip to that time I had said nothing to any member of the family about "going," none of them had said anything to me ; and yet I soon found that we had all been laying plans towards again taking to the road. Yes, the old fever of wanderlust, handed down from our forefathers, is not to be kept down by such sordid things as business and convenience.

Had we been less fortunately situated here in Oregon I might not be about to start upon the trip we have planned. Bi^ a kind

A4nil47 W-O-^l providence has guided all of our actions since we came to Portland on a beautiful June day in 1893, when the roses were in bloom and the whole city looked to us like a fairyland. I thought that day that it was the most beautiful place I had ever seen; I now know it is not only such but one of the loveliest cities in this country. When my family .and myself arrived here twenty-two years ago the city had a population of 46,000 people ; at the time this book is going to press we have almost 800,000. In June, 1893, the state of Oregon contained 317,000 people ; now we have 750,000.

I have resided in many places in many states, as a perusal of this book will shovv% but this Oregon country beats any place I ever saw. I do not say this simply because my family and I have here accumulated a goodly share of worldly goods since we came here — I say it because I see on every hand people who came here a few years ago with nothing in the way of capital and are today independent.

I am now speaking of Oregon as a whole; and Oregon is an empire in extent. It is twice as large as the state of New York, twelve times as large as Massachusetts and 88 times as large as Rhode Island. We have one county, Harney, which has practically the same area as the two latter states combined. For the size of the state our population is very small, but it must be remembered that the great Mississippi and Missouri valleys, the eastern slope of the Rockv Mountains and the fine states of Montana, Utah and Idaho to the east of us, and the states of Arizona and New Mexico to the south-east, have been calling as loudly for settlers as have we. Then California, bordering us on the south, and Washington on the north — those two states have been fortunate in being cobwebbed with railroads and have taken population that would have normally come to Oregon.

Remember I came here the year prior to the 1894 panic. For the three following years Portland, like the balance of the country, practically stood still. So I began here under very unfavorable auspices ; one can come here now and start in almost any sort of business or take part in any occupation suitable and do better than I have done in the same length of time. From all over the state the cry comes for more people on the land, and it is people to go on the land that we hope for from the crowded states of the East.

If Oregon was populated as densely as New York we would have 18,250,000 souls in our state ; if we had as many people to the square miles as Massachusetts has we would have a population of 40,000,000! And with the population of 509 per square

i mile that Rhode Island has we would have 48,385,896 inhabitants! Just think of it! And our soil is capable of maintaining five people where the Massachusetts or Rhode Island soil would not sustain more than one! Why, dear reader, there is no such land, no such seasons for crop growing east of the Rockies as in Oregon. Our Willamette Valley alone will one day produce more crop values each year than all of New England and New York combined.

Oregon ought to be and will some day be the wealthiest state per capita in the Union. We have more latent advantages than the Middle West. We have one river that could furnish more power than all of the streams in New England and the Southern states combined. This is the Deschutes, which flows into the mighty Columbia, the grandest river in the United States. We have seven rivers about the size of the Hudson River that rise in our state and discharge their waters either into the Columbia or the Pacific Ocean, not a drop of the water arising in nor passing into another state.

We raise the finest fruit in the world — and our growers have taught the apple growers of the United States how to plant, cultivate and prune orchards and how to grade and pack the fruit. Our Spitzenberg, Newtown Pippins and many other varieties of apples are sold in every civilized nation on earth, and bring the highest prices. For dairying Oregon offers better inducements than any other part of the country, for we have green feed, all-winter pasture, for our herds in over half of the state. That is why two of the largest milk condenseries in the world have within recent years, one of which is now doubling its capacity, located here.

We have more different kinds of climate than any other state. We have snow capped mountains where the thermometer may register 25 below zero in June ; a short walk down will bring you to as lovely roses as v/ere ever plucked; down a little farther you will find the temperature in the 80's. We have places where the rainfall reaches as high as 100 inches a year — and in those neighborhoods are our most prosperous dairies, in many of which the cows each net their owners $125 per year. Then in the irrigated sections there are places where the precipitation sometimes falls as low as six inches per annum; but with irrigation the landowners there get from three to five cuttings of alfalfa a year, and these arid sections are now becoming famous for all sorts of small fruits, as well as for all animal industries and dairying.

All over the state there are openings for the intelligent, the thrifty, the honest and the industrious man or woman who wants a home, and particularly the married man or woman who is looking for a place to educate the little ones. For we have one of the finest school systems in the country. And the whole state is dotted over with churches, every demonination being represented in almost every county.

When I think of these things, and think of what I am about to do — pack up with a part of my family and leave — I wonder what sort of a creature I am, and hark back to my great-grandfather Pierre as he tramped towards France from Poland through the snows with the remnants of Napoleon's army and imagine that there was some sort of an attraction in that journey that left its virus in his veins, to be handed down to his descendants.

But I am not leaving here for good. No, I never will forsake Oregon. I am leaving my property behind and two of my children to run our business and look after our affairs until our return. Soon my wife, our daughter Estella and our son Dewain, together with your humble servant will hit the trail for a journey of several thousand miles to cover a period of several months.

Perhaps on this trip we can do some good for our adopted state, our dear Oregon, by inducing now and then a settler to come and become one of us. Which would not only benefit Oregon but the persons that came to join us. The time to come is right now, while land values are low and opportunities great.

Very truly, Willian Deveney. 150 East 80th St. North, Portland, Oregon.

April, 1915.

Chapter I

HIS book might better, perhaps, ^ have been given the title of "A Child of the Wanderlust," for it deals with my life, which has been an eventful one from the time I was fifteen years of age up to the present; and I intend that it shall so continue for I expect to die with my boots on. I came naturally by my nomadic traits, I inherited them from my forefathers and no doubt the actions of those known to me were but a repetition of the acts of their forefathers.

In tracing my genealogy back through my ancestors I have never been able to go farther than the rise of Napoleon, owing' principally to the difference in names. For I find that the cognomens Deveney, Devinny, Devmne, Devney and DeVeney, as well as Devenny and even de Veney, are practically interchangeable and signify the one lamily. Just which is the proper name I do not know further than that we read there were three brothers of the name of DeVeney with Napoleon in his campaign against Russia. One of these was an omcer of the line and must have been rather close to the Little Corporal for I find that on the retreat from Moscow, when the Napoleonic sun was setting, one Pierre DeVeney was decorated with the cross of the Legion of Honor and his two brothers mentioned for bravery on that terrible march, which cost Napoleon almost fivesixths of his army.

This Pierre DeVeney later went to inlanders and while there the change in spelling of his name to Devenev occurred perhaps by design, perhaps by accident! i5ut I have been able to find that he was an honorable man who was somewhat of a rover, for later he went to England and nnally to Scotland, where he was married to an old sweetheart from his beloved 1< ranee, for that he was a native of France ^"a that his birth occurred in the year of

I uJ ^^ ^^^^ ^^^^ *^ *^^c^ beyond a doubt. As to the younger brothers of Pierre who were with him on the retreat, 1 have been unable to discover what became of them ; that they and my paternal ancestor parted company soon after the return of the Legion seems undoubtedly true.

This Pierre Deveney was my great-grandfather. He was not married until late in life and died in Pennsylvania in 1828, having come to this country soon after his marriage. My grandfather and father were born in Pennsylvania, the latter in 1818. My father was married in that state in 1845. Soon after his marriage he removed to Henry County, Illinois, where I was born on December 18, 1852.

In reading of my ancestors I find that, while they were not great men, they always stood on the side of law and order and never were in any sort of trouble arising from disobeying the laws of the land where they resided. That they never accumulated any great amount of property is true, perhaps for the reason that they never remained long enough in one place to do so; and yet they were far from paupers and probably enjoyed life more than many of their neighbors who had more money.

I was unfortunate enough to lose my mother when I was only nine years old. Up to that time I had been happier than the usual run of children for my mother was a woman of great charm and I was like the apple of her eye. I had three brothers and one sister and after the death of my mother my father found it difficult to manage the family, so a year or so after her death he married a widow who had quite a family of children.

I am not going to say a word against my stepmother for the chances are that the reason I did not get along with her was due as much or more to me than to her. But I remember very distinctly that we did not get along peaceably and that before I was ten years old I was sent out to sort of hustle for myself. But I must not permit myself to pass over this period of my life without saying something more about my mother, who was, I have always felt sure, the sweetest, dearest, most patient and charming woman on earth. Even though I was only nine years old when she died it seems now, as I look back, that I must have been a good deal of a man, at least in her eyes, for I remember very distinctly how she would very often take me in her arms, cuddle up on a sofa or in a chair, and talk to me like a sister or a dear friend and advise with me as to my future and tell me how it would not only be the best and wisest thing to always be honorable and truthful but it would bring me the most happiness. And when I was put in my little crib at night and the bedding tucked in around me, and after my little prayer was said, she would kiss me and call me mother^s little man and say she knew I was going to be a great comfort to her all of her life. At such times I remember w^e both shed many tears, tears which I believe cleansed both of our hearts.

My stepmother was, no doubt, a very good woman and wanted to do her whole duty to my father and his children, but having children of her own, whom she loved perhaps as my own mother loved me, she found it difficult, even impossible to treat us all on an equality. At least it seemed so to me and my home life became unbearable, boy that I was, and I left home for good and all. I tell you it is a terrible thing for a boy or girl to lose his or her mother. I suppose it is worse for a girl than a boy, but it is the greatest blow that can befall either. Many boys and girls do not realize this fact and do not treat their mothers as they ought to be treated. I can only say to such young people that for every harsh or cruel or unkind word a boy or girl says to his or her mother there is a day of reckoning coming and a punishment will surely be meted out to pay for it. It may not come for many years, it may not be recognized when it does come; but just as sure as there is a God in Heaven the First Commandment means as much if not more than any of the other nine and the first six words of that commandment are

Honor thy father and thy mother. While the commandment must be taken as it stands, meaning that both parents must be honored, it has seemed to me that the honoring of the mother is of more importance than obeying the father, not, of course, recognizing any cause save absolute dishonor for swerving one iota from the whole commandment.

A boy without a father to guide him is like a ship without a captain; a boy without a mother to love, counsel and advise him is like a ship without a rudder. And I surely have seen this exemplified many, many times during my life and in my own case it was literally true. Young as I was when my mother died I know now that I became a changed boy almost at once, certainly as soon as my new mother, as I was told she was to be to me, made her appearance in our home. Assuredly some step-mothers have the faculty of taking their step-children right to their hearts and making them feel that the real mother's place is to be completely taken and the measure of the real mother's love to be more than filled. Yes, there are such women, God bless them. I have seen them, have known them, and if there is a chosen spot in heaven reserved for the best beloved of Jehovah then surely many of these proxy mothers will sit there close to the Savior.

When I left home I went to work doing chores for my keep and schooling with a farmer by the name of Morse, and remained with him until I was nearly twelve years old ; then the real wanderlust struck me and I began my Nomadic career which lasted — we will see later how long. From the time I was twelve until I was nineteen years old I had almost as many occupations as I lived months. I was some of the time working on a farm for my "board and keep" and a little schooling during the winter. Then I went with a circus and did about everything that a lad of my age could do. This was a rough life among rough people, a life that every young fellow should try and steer clear of. From the circus and its side show I drifted into a minstrel company, a set of barnstormers, and this was about on a par with the circus. With both of these companies I filled about every position that a boy could be expected to fill, aside from being a professional performer.

Let me say right here that in this career, which lasted seven years, and carried me all through the eastern, southern and middle western states, I kept honest and sober. And those good habits kept me from getting into trouble, with also the remembrance of the teachings of my mother. But even with her words ringing in my ears, and with all the stamina I possessed,

I am sure I never could have kept myself as morally clean as I did had I not from the very first fought shy of evil companions. In all of my life I have made it a rule to " flock by myself" unless I could find good company to flock with. One boy, one young man, one man of scarcely any age, very rarely commits a crime entirely unaided; nine times out of ten the start in crime is rnade jointly by one or two young fellows aided by an evil companion who started his career in the same way. I always knew this I guess. Perhaps my mother taught it to me, surely she taught me the principles that led to my resolve.

Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of times when I was wandering over the country, often not well clothed or well fed, many times hungry and footsore, the temptation has been strong to join with others in some alluring enterprise by which we could make a ''bundle'' of "easy money.'' But the ways to this "easy money" I always found were very crooked, and I wanted to keep straight. When I was very young, at my mother's knee perhaps, I had this thought, founded upon some words from Epicticus, impressed upon me, never to be forgotten: "When a thing is straight it is straight; there are no degrees of straightness ; but a thing can be crooked in as many ways as there are stars in the heavens."

So I always resolved that I would be straight and to best keep myself so I knew the easiest way was to associate with straight people. Or, to take the matter up from the other angle, I knew, I seem always to have known, that the surest and quickest way to get crooked was to associate with those who either were themselves crooked or were associating with others who were. And I have kept straight. It has well paid me, so well that I would say to all boys and young men that nothing in the world pays as big interest or as heavy dividends as being straight.

Chapter II

When I had reached my nineteenth year, which was six years after the close of the civil war, or about 1871, 1 found myself back in the neighborhood of my old home. One of my uncles and his family were contemplating a removal to central Nebraska, there being then quite an exodus going on from the valleys of the Ohio, Mississippi and even the Missouri, to the plains states, such as Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming and eastern Colorado. So I decided to go with my uncle's outfit. But affairs turn out different in this world from what we expect, and a word lightly spoken by one of my cousins caused me to change my plans and strike out by myself.

I bought a ticket over the Union Pacific railroad to Omaha, where I had to change cars to get to the new town of Hastings, in Adams County. I went to a hotel and asked for a room for the night. I was sent to one with three beds in it. I objected and asked for a single room, but none was vacant, the landlord saying he more than likely would not have to put anybody in with me. Anyhow I thought I was pretty well fixed for any wild west troubles that might come up, having a terrible weapon of defense and offense in the shape of a .22, which I carefully loaded and placed under my pillow. I soon dropped off to sleep and was in the throes of a terrible dream. I thought I was on a field of battle awaiting a terrific onslaught from the enemy which was sure to come off the next day. So I was taking a little rest trying to sleep on the ground with a cannon under my head as a pillow — when I awoke with a start to find myself grasping my .22 and the landlord ushering in two strangers, both of them pretty full of booze. As soon as the landlord left they began to undress, meantime talking about some terrible shooting scrape they had been mixed up in that night. I was taking it all in and wondering what they had been shooting with when presently each one of them unbuckled a belt from about his waist and in each belt were two .45's which compared with my .22 about as a war ship of the Dreadnaught class compares wath a Missouri River catfish boat.

Say! I immediately lost confidence in that .22 and in myself and a cold sweat broke out all over me. I was sure I was to be murdered before morning. But nothing happened, the greatest disturbance coming from the beating of my heart which was making so much noise I was sure it would awaken everybody in the hotel. After awhile both of the strangers fell asleep and pretty soon I got up as quietly as a mouse, dressed myself full as quietly, and was soon out on the street with my gripsack — and my .22, in which I had lost all confidence.

I tell of this event not because it was anything out of the ordinarj^ in any way whatever but just to show how awful, awful green I was. I had come from a neighborhood where only the very toughest rowdies carried a "gun^^ as we called the little .22s like the one I h?.d. I surely never thought of carrying one or even owning one. But when I started for the ^'wild and woolly west," where it was supposed by my neighbors every man went armed to the teeth, why I just had to have a "gun'' for the protection of my life and property. So after much cogitation and shopping I bought a second hand .22, and two boxes of cartridges. I tell you the first time I loaded that weapon, placed it in my hip pocket and went out on the street, laying myself liable to arrest at any moment of the day or night for carrying concealed weapons — I can tell you I felt like a bad, bad man. I remember as I walked along the streets and passed now and then an officer how I laughed to myself to think what a chump he was, how little he knew — and wondered what he would think if Fd unlimber my gun and commence shooting up the town. And sometimes, as I felt back in the pocket to see if the precious gun was safe, I felt that I just must begin shooting at something just to show the people of the town what a bad, bad man they had among them. This story will be read no doubt by many young men who are just about as green as I was and who are "packing a gun" as the saying is, most likely an innocent little .22. Let me say to any who are committing such folly that the idea of keeping out of trouble by carrying a shooting iron of any caliber is all nonsense. Revolvers have caused more trouble to those who owned them than to anyone else. You can take it from me, and I have been in many a tight place in my life, that the less you have to do with pistols of all descriptions the better.

Leaving Omaha I made my way to the little town of Hastings, on the Burlington railroad. It was a typical western frontier "city/' consisting of a sort of hotel, a post office, blacksmith shop, "store" and three or four saloons. Like every other place along the road Hastings was a "city of destiny,'^ bound to become a metropolis within a very few months. Speculators were busy staking off town lots and selling them, with a sort of guarantee, but not quite a legal one, that for every dollar invested the purchaser would receive anywhere from one hundred to five hundred within thirty days, three months at the farthest.

I remained in Hastings, doing such odd jobs as I could find to do, until my uncle and his family arrived. After looking over various sections near by my uncle took a homestead on the Little Blue river. I was not old enough to take up government land, so I alternately visited and worked until the following spring when I went into the locating business, the inrush of settlers being considerable. I had learned much about the country during my short stay and made pretty good money from the start, and as soon as I was old enough took up a claim of 160 acres on Crooked Creek, in the same neighborhood. About this time I met a gentleman who had a recipe for a corn remedy and I began experimenting with it the result that I soon became more expert chiropody than anybody in those parts. Then I began to take trips to Omaha, St. Joe and other cities nearby, meantime going on with m.y experiments as a chiropodist, an occupation I now determined to follow and a profession in w^hich I made up my mind to excel all others.

I visited laboratories, consulted chemists and physicians, studied anatomy and medicine, put in practically all of my time for two years endeavoring to formulate a way of removing corns instantly, painlessly and permanently.

I must digress here for a few paragraphs to show that in my labors in my profession I have met with greater success than any person I know of, and my two daughters, a son and myself have built up the largest business in our line in the West. Our offices are in the Gerlinger Building, in Portland, Oregon, where we have an elegant suite of rooms, which are practically filled by patients from nine o'clock in the morning until six o'clock at night, and in addition I fill an average of twenty outside appointments every day.

For several years I alternately worked at my profession, traveling around among the cities of Nebraska, Missouri, Kansas and Iowa, and living on my homestead. In the late fall of 1878, when I was 26 years of age, I was married to Miss Martha R. Ellis, who had come to Nebraska a few years before with her parents from Illinois. They had settled in Clay County, Nebraska, where Martha had taken up a homestead close to that of her parents. To get the marriage license I had either to make a trip of 25 miles to the county seat of Clay County, or of ten miles to Hastings; but having secured the license in Clay County it was a long distance to get to the preacher's. So Martha agreed to meet me on the county line where I had the preacher and some witnesses. Although the day was bitterly cold, the thermometer standing 20 degrees below zero, Martha met me as per arrangement and choosing a place alongside the road just inside the line of Adams County we were married, the minister cutting the ceremony mighty short owing to the extreme cold.

Some time before this I had begun to take a good deal of interest in the political doings of our county and was pretty well informed on county affairs. Juniatta was the county seat, had been since the organization of the county years before, long before the advent of the railroads. Now Hastings had grown to be a much larger place than the old county seat and the voters became mixed up in a fight as to the removal of the capital from Juniatta to Hastings, and this had been going on in a mild form for five or six years. We thought we were having a jim dandy of a scrap and that we were something fierce as fighters, while we were willing to admit that the Juniattans were no amateurs at the game.