Part 9 (1/2)
”My father was a born pioneer; although born in Connecticut he went to New York when the country was new, and then to Ohio, and later came to Iowa. In California he never mined gold, but teamed and speculated; he was there about two years, returning to Iowa in 1851, remaining in Iowa only a short time when he returned to California with his son, Andrew. My father died in Sacramento, California, February 15, 1854, when about to go to Iowa to bring his family to California, and he is buried in Sacramento.”
This interesting letter from a real Linn county pioneer more than seventy years of age gives only an idea of the hards.h.i.+ps of pioneer life, and what this woman has endured as a daughter and wife of the first settlers.
William Abbe's widow, Mary Wolcott, continued to reside in Marion with her family until August 27, 1861, when she died, universally respected by all who knew her.
Mr. Abbe was an old time democrat and as such was in the state senate session, having the honor to appoint Robert Ellis postmaster of the senate, as a reward of friends.h.i.+p and good will. Mr. Abbe also was a justice of the peace for some time, was appointed commissioner to locate state roads, had the contract for the erection of the first jail at Marion, and was otherwise a very useful citizen. He was also master of the first Masonic lodge at Marion, and one of the best known and best educated men in Linn county up to the time of his removal to California. For a number of years Mr. Abbe was the only person in the county having ready money, loaning the same to his friends for the purchase of their claims. He held government contracts for the delivery of meat and provisions to the Winnebago agency at Fort Atkinson and to the troops at Prairie du Chien, Wisconsin, and at other places, and thus was acquainted with many of the military officers in the Black Hawk war and with the Indian chiefs and braves of the Winnebago tribe, as well as the Sac and Fox Indians. It is said that William Abbe conversed freely with the Winnebago Indians, and frequently acted as an interpreter when matters of importance came up between members of the tribe and the white settlers; he was always a friend and protector of the Indians and frequently helped them in securing their just rights when they had been robbed by the white free-booters, hunters and trappers.
[Ill.u.s.tration: FORMER PASTORS UNITED BRETHREN CHURCH, LISBON]
William Abbe was a kind and generous man, and his home was always open to the people who came into Linn county at an early day to seek homes.
It is also said that Mrs. Abbe was an excellent cook and many of the old surveyors would ride several miles out of their way to get a meal at the Abbe homestead, for the latch string of the Abbe home was always out.
Mr. Abbe rode horseback a great deal and would be gone for weeks at a time, and while he was away the family lived quietly at home awaiting for days for his return when provisions were frequently scarce and when the snow drifts generally were large. During the first two seasons there were very few crops grown, and consequently the father was kept busy earning a livelihood, the family subsisting mostly on the chase.
He traded provisions with the Indians, at times bringing home large quant.i.ties of honey which was used as sugar in sweetening black coffee as well as in place of b.u.t.ter on the hard johnny cake.
His son, Augustus Abbe, born on Abbe's creek in 1841, later a member of the 9th Iowa Infantry, now a retired farmer residing at Toledo, Iowa, tells the following of his father's life and history:
”There was not a time in my life when I do not remember the Indian children. I played with them constantly. Those were my only playmates in the early days. I learned a little of the Winnebago language, and got along very well. My half sister, Susan, spoke it fluently, as well as my father. I remember when I was about five or six years old a number of Indians were gathered in our house and I climbed a post, sitting on the same to watch the redskins race their horses.
One of the chiefs, one that had the most gaudy clothing on, rode by very fast and picked me off the post and put me in front on his saddle, going at full gallop; he rode a long ways down through the prairie and my mother expressed much anxiety, but my father came out and stood there and watched for me to return. After awhile the Indian came back and put me safely down in front of the house, to my mother's joy--I, all the time laughing, thinking that I had had a good time.
The Indian said to my father, 'papoose no 'fraid.' That pony ride I shall remember as long as I live.
”I also remember my father going away for two or three weeks at a time, and my mother fixing up his lunch for the journey. He had a pair of saddle bags filled with papers and other articles. I still remember when he put on moccasins, overshoes, and a buffalo overcoat of some kind; he would bundle up securely, kiss us good-bye and start off across the prairie at full speed. Many a time I cried, as I wanted to go along, but on these long journeys I was refused this pleasure for my father would not neglect business even for the sake of pleasing his son whom he loved dearly.
”I also remember Robert Ellis, the Ashertons, Willitts, Clarks, and many others who came to our house and talked way into the night about trips they had taken over the wide prairies of Iowa. Our cabin was full of people most of the time; they would come in late in the night and in the morning, much to my surprise, I would find a number of people at breakfast, I not knowing when they came during the night. I never knew or heard of my mother making any charge for keeping anyone over night, whether they were strangers or acquaintances, whether they were poor or rich made no difference; whatever she had she would divide with a traveller or other stranger who came to her hospitable home.
”I do not know that my mother understood much of the Indian language, but she was kind to them and the squaws used to sit on our door steps more than once. She gave them food that she had prepared, sweetened with honey which they liked very much.
”I remember going to Marion with my father many times when it was a very small village with a jail which my father always pointed out as having built. He also taught me that I must do right or else I might have to stay in that jail or some other jail if I did not. These lessons were certainly deeply impressed on me for life. I remember, also, when we removed from Marion to Dubuque. I think that was in 1847, and we remained there for some time, but I think less than a year, when we removed back to Marion. My father held a government position there in the land office, I think.
”My two uncles, Charles and Eliezar Abbe, resided in Ohio, one later removing to Michigan. The latter visited my father frequently. He was related, also, on his wife's side, to Ed Clark, an early settler in Linn county. These men were much taken up with the country and we had hoped that they would come here to locate, but they did not.
”I also, with my father, visited Cedar Rapids many times, and I do not believe I was more than five or six years of age, hardly that, when I first saw Cedar Rapids, where I was much interested in the dam and the mills. The town then consisted of a few log houses along the east bank of the river. The remainder of the town was a ma.s.s of sand burrs, weeds, and timber, and along Cedar Lake and along the river large numbers of Indians were camped, especially up along the Cedar Lake and along what is now known as McCloud's Springs. In this locality several hundred Indians would camp in the winter and spring of the year, trapping, hunting, and trading skins with the whites for red clothing, guns, and ammunition. They would hang around the flour mills during the day time where there were always a lot of people gathered.
”My mother was a member of the Lutheran church, which church she now and then attended, but there were not many churches in that day. My father was not a church member.
”I remember my sister, Susan, teaching one of the first schools in Cedar Rapids, much to the satisfaction of the members of our family. In politics my father was a stanch democrat and an admirer of Andrew Jackson. He also became acquainted with most of the officers who remained in the west after the close of the Black Hawk war, on account of his government employment in which he was engaged. He was also personally acquainted with the persons who had charge of the Winnebago school, as well as those in charge of Fort Atkinson. Nearly all the people who rode horseback from Iowa City to Dubuque came by way of Mount Vernon, and would generally stop over night at our home. I remember my father and the strangers talking over politics until way into the night, and still remember many of these discussions as to the future of Iowa and as to the political aspirations of the various parties. My father took a lively interest in politics, as well as in the development of the west, and when it was settled up he had a longing for starting another pioneer settlement. He used to say when the land was pretty much taken that it was too close, he had to get away, as he wanted more room. By training and environment he was a true pioneer and full of enthusiasm for the upbuilding of a pioneer country.
”When he was away in California we were much interested in his letters and we all wanted to go. When our father returned we asked him all sorts of questions about the gold camps of the west, and what he had experienced, and we spent whole evenings listening to his conversations. He did not take us at that time, but wanted to seek out an ideal location and get settled before he took us out there. But the day never came, and we never saw him again when he left on his second trip to California in 1852. All that we knew was that my mother received a letter from a Masonic order in Sacramento that the order had taken care of him in his sickness and had seen that he received a suitable burial. He was sick only a short time and none of his old friends was with him when he died. Robert Ellis came to Sacramento looking for his old neighbor and heard to his sorrow that his friend had died only a week before. He came into Sacramento from the camps on the American river.
”After my father's death my mother resided in Marion with her family where she died August 27, 1861, at the age of fifty-eight years. As I felt downhearted at the time I joined the army and went to the front. November 29, 1865, I was joined in marriage to Cynthia Walker, daughter of an old Linn county pioneer.
”My father was also sheriff of Linn county. However, of this there does not seem to be any record, as I have been informed. He may have been appointed sheriff to fill a vacancy, or he may have been a deputy, I am not certain about that, but I know he was acting, at least, in the capacity of sheriff and caused the arrest of a number of horse thieves and other alleged criminals. My father was over six feet tall, straight as an arrow, rather slender, but very active, and I never saw a horse that he could not mount and ride at any time without the least effort.
”We used cattle for plowing, but generally kept also several horses, but these were used to drive and ride and not to work very much.
”I believe that among the early settlers of the '30s and '40s my father had the good will of all law-abiding citizens. He was affable to strangers and true as steel to his friends, and was universally respected.”