The following story was written by my grandmother Lu's older sister Mabel May Lord Imus. I do not know the date it was written. My great-Aunt Mabel was born May 27, 1887, the second child of Richard Ela Lord and Ida May Butler. I hope it is okay to share this story on our family blog as Mabel did not have any surviving children from whom I could obtain permission to publish here. I think it is a wonderful glimpse into the lives of Richard Ela Lord and Ida May Butler, and I hope you enjoy it. Throughout the story I will interject some tidbits of information to help set the time and place into perspective.
The Pioneer Spirit Personified
These are my recollections when reminiscing on the "Pioneering Spirit" of Richard Ela Lord, born in 1862, at Toolsboro, Iowa, a small town on the banks of the Mississippi River, and Ida May Butler, born in 1864, in Illinois, on the opposite side of the Mississippi.
These two young people had much in common, both being fond of skating, boating, and dancing. They could each row a boat about as speedy as anyone and thought it great sport to join the skating groups from both sides of that wonderful Mississippi. They were also good dancers, and their happiest moments were spent on the dance floor, dancing their then-popular waltz.
It was at a dance that these two young people met and fell in love, and having a short courtship, were married in October 1883. Ela being twenty-one, and Ida, nineteen, making their home for a short time in Toolsboro. But they were soon prompted to go over into Nebraska, where available work seemed more desirable. By 1887, they found themselves, in Kansas, where I, the author, their second daughter, was born in a "sod" house near Sawyer. When I was two months old, they went back to Iowa, in and around Wapello and Muscatine, neighboring towns of Toolsboro. At times they acquired small farms and grew sweet potatoes, watermelons, and the like, but always having the great desire to "go west," which their relatives all opposed, having fear of the Indians and wild animals. However, in the spring of 1896, they were influenced by their "itching feet," along with the opportunity to take advantage of a proposition whereby they were given a tract of land on a percentage basis, providing they put up their own buildings with the material furnished by the Company, this company influencing people to go west and settle on this unimproved land in South Dakota.
So along with another family, friends of theirs, they migrated west. Emigrants were going from everywhere, taking advantage of this offer. The tracks of land that Father and this Mr. Fitzsimmons, their friend, accepted were three miles from Edgemont, South Dakota, the men going ahead of the families to get the houses ready and sending for their families later. http://www.edgemont.info/living-here/facts-and-history.html
At that time, there were six children in the Lord family and two children in the Fitzsimmons family. The men took the stock they owned at that time and the household furnishing when they went, the owners having to accompany their livestock to care for them while en route. All of the other trips to the neighboring states had been made by team and wagon. This trip was made by train, a new experience.
Living in this newly settled country was also a new experience and an interesting one. Everybody burned wood for all their heat, which they got by going up into the Black Hills that were near, cutting the trees and hauling them home. This required a permit, only with no other cost.
On each trip made to the mountains after wood, they would take along their rifles and bring home, besides wood, much of their meat as well, sometimes deer, antelope, sagehens, pheasants, quail, rabbits, and the like. Everyone there built an icehouse to keep their wild game in.
Hunting was a wonderful recreation for the men, as there was no other recreation for adults, besides being economical. Weekends, most families took to the Black Hills with tent and camping equipment, and the men would hunt. I still have that mental picture of those lines of antelope marching single file along a hillside, sometimes a dozen or more in the group.
On one of these trips, we had a most exciting day. After settling camp and looking over the hills some distance away, we saw a long line of antelope marching single file. The men with their rifles and on ponies started out to get one. In just a short while, here came an antelope right down to camp, running on three legs, and dropped exhausted, with Mr. Fitzsimmons at his heels. Dismounting and getting his arms around its neck to stick it and not riddle it with bullets, the antelope lunged right up through his arms and was off on another chase. It dropped completely exhausted in a short distance, and he brought it in on the saddle. That was one of their fondest hunting stories, the families seeing the whole procedure.
Many of the people living there were either sheep or cattle owners in a large way and they were always feuding among themselves over grazing rights, which neither owned, just claimed, sort of squatter's rights, and sometimes trespassing thereby, agitating the situation.
A neighbor of ours, Mr. Clayton, was sitting in his home one evening about dusk with the lamps lighted, being visible from the outside as the binds were not drawn. Suddenly, a bullet came through the window, hitting the man and killing him. It was presumable done by one of the cattlemen with whom he had been feuding, he being a sheep man. That caused a lot of excitement in the neighborhood for some long time.
But things seemed to be going nicely for us until suddenly their received notice that the Company had gone bankrupt. They couldn't find out what to do under the laws of litigation. The property not being theirs, having no deed, they could see no future. Some stayed to be put off if it came to that. The Lord and Fitzsimmons families, wanting no trouble over the land, packed their belongings and headed West with Father's brother joining the group. There were thirteen people, five adults, and eight children ranging from two to thirteen years, with five covered wagons and two saddle ponies extra, starting May 26th, 1898. There was much excitement with five schooners all in a line going West for a new home, no one knew where.
Crossing the state line into Wyoming was a beautiful sight. Miles and miles of level prairie land, carpeted with cactus and tulips in bloom, and every few feet a prairie dog sitting up, yipping away. There was sagebrush in places, and last, but not least, the wood ticks, making it compulsory to search each human as well as the animals each evening before retiring.
But on and on we went into Montana, much of it being a continuous uninterrupted succession of carpeted prairie land with the tulips and cactus and many herds of horses and cattle, apparently wild. We crossed two Indian reservations, the Crow and the Flathead. The Indians were operating a ferry across the river and took us across safely, giving us pointers as to what not to do while on the Reservation. The greatest restriction was to not touch the graves searching for beads, which some people would try to do. They permitted us to fish for trout in the stream and to stroll or ride anywhere but always watching us very closely. Many times when sleeping in the tent, we would be awakened by the screaming of a cougar, making your book turn cold. But we had two watchdogs, as well as the rifles, so we were well protected.
When reaching East Helena, Montana, they decided to rest for a month as it was extremely hot. The foreman in the smelter there was Mother's brother, whom she had not seen for twenty years. That made the stay there an interesting one as well as a profitable one for Uncle put the men to work in the smelter. Each day, two of we older children had to carry lunch to our men at work. One day on our way home after delivering the lunch, we came to a dilapidated and vacant old shack with a fence around it. There two teenage boys were in the yard digging. Like all children, we were curious and tarried awhile to see what they were doing. They finally dug up a large tin can and when opening it, found that it was full of money, gold pieces of different denominations. Gold was used in those days instead of paper. I told them that they should take it directly to the police. They picked it up, although heavy, and went their way, and we had to get home.
When telling Uncle of what we had seen, he said that an elderly man had occupied that shack for many years and supposedly had scarcely enough to eat. He had passed away, and apparently having no relatives, left no will for none had been found. Upon inquiry, we were told that if no one proved or claimed it by right of relationship, the money would be given to the boys who had turned it in. We were not there long enough to learn the outcome, but it was thought that the boys would get it and there would be enough to put them through college and more.
At the end of that month, we went on our way, taking to the road again. We went up into Northern Idaho, having heard so much about the beauty of the country, especially around Lake Coeur d'Alene. On reaching Coeur d'Alene, we parked our five covered wagons across the road from the Soldiers Forte. This Forte was later removed.
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Father having the largest family, the three men went to work building our home first to the point of being a shelter. Then it would be time to reciprocate. Everybody moved into our log cabin as soon as possible until the second house could be built. By that time it had snowed and was getting cold, and in a short while we could sleigh ride over the fence posts as though there were none. There was a lot of labor but little money going out and everyone was happy to be settled, making every moment delightful, yes, really thrilling.
It took the wildlife some time to learn that we were there to stay. In the early evening, the deer would come into our yard and the bear were visible many times. The mountain lions would come into our yard, sometimes seen around the edge of the clearing, investigating surroundings, and if having found food, a calf or a carcass, would let out a scream calling its mate, sounding like a woman's scream when in great distress. On day, Father saw a bear circling the edge of the clearing and through perhaps he could get it with the rifle. He and the oldest son took off to try their luck. They got reasonably close so Father took time to put the boy up a tree for fear of attack and shot at the bear. He hit it, he thought, but the bear just turned his head around and looked at Father, then walked away under thick underbrush. They never did find the bear. Many times when out riding, we would meet a bear when waiting to cross the road and we always gave him the right of way by waiting and letting him pass. The bear liked the wild fruit, strawberries and huckleberries, and so did we, and having several berry patches spotted, planning to pick the berries when ready. It depended on which got there first for the bear could strip a patch of its berries in a few minutes. But the wild life finally moved farther back and gave us the right of way so we ceased to fear them.
We remained there about six and a half years until logging grew to be so dangerous for the men, the felling of the big trees, hauling the logs three miles to put them into the lake for the steamers to tow to a lumberyard. Father had an accident once, it being a miracle that he survived after getting his head caught when leaning over one log and another log accidentally breaking loose its anchor, rolled, catching him. My brother and I hearing him scream, reached him in time to release him, saving his life, bu the pressure was great, his teeth cut through his lips. From then on we were most fearful, and that, along with some of the children needing higher schooling facilities than provided there, Father decided to sell the homestead.
From there they went over into the State of Washington, but not for long. From there, into Southern Idaho near Pocatello, purchasing a beautiful ranch in the mountains, remaining there longer than usual, being about nine years before selling. From they, they went to Southern California to the Pacific Ocean at La Jolla and San Diego, remaining about six years, all the while their "feet itching" to get to Oregon, as Father would say. When reaching Oregon, near Salem, they remained, spending their final days living near several of their married children and being happy with the grandchildren near.
This true story is written "commemorating the Pioneering Spirit Personified", which truly seemed to be the life of my father and mother; many times with disappointment but never despair; disillusionment always bringing fresh hope, courage and vision to them.
It has been said that retrospection is to reminiscence what recollection is to remembrance. However, this is a true story, elucidated by the faculty of memory and recollection when reminiscing through retrospection, being a clear, distinct but brief memoir of some of the outstanding experiences between 1862 and 1944 of my parents.
(Pen Name) LaDonna Lord
This article has never been published (at the time of its writing).
Address: Mabel Lord Imus
1107 Prospect Street
La Jolla, California
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