| Pioneer
memories of Corvallis, Oregon Kalapuyan Indian Death and Funeral Ceremony
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| "That fir covered ridge
about a mile to the
south is a long spur of the Coast Mountain foot hills. It is called HOUCK
Mountain from an early settler. The old Indian trail used to come around
the shoulder of that hill, down past the house and out through the gap to
a hill near Alpine where there was an Indian cemetery. They brought their
dead from some distance to be buried there. The settlers could tell a
funeral party long before it came in sight by the loud wailing of the
hired mourners. The dead were buried in the ground and not placed in trees
as some of the Coast tribes were said to do.
My aunt told of one small babe whose mother had died. It cried so constantly that it was wrapped in the blanket and buried with the mother. "The Indians in Benton and Polk counties were Klickitats whose original home had been north of the Columbia River. They had forced their way south, displacing the Calapooias who were in Lane County at the time of the immigration of the white men. The Klickitats had horses but the Calapooias were unmounted. The Klickitats were better disposed toward the white men. At the time of the settlement of southern Benton County the tribes were not at war and the Calapooias brought their dead to an old burial place just to the southeast of the hamlet of Alpine. So far as I know the burial of living infants was not an established custom with these Indians. Of course since the Indians had no way of feeding a very small infant, destroying it quickly instead of allowing it to starve slowly might be considered an act of mercy. " |
| Edward BELKNAP; Pioneer |
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"The Indians were taken away to the reservation while I was still a small girl. I remember one Indian Woman who was brought by a man she didn't like, one KLICKITAT GEORGE. She sought the influence of the medicine man to get free from her husband and it is said the medicine man furnished her the rope with which she hung herself. She was buried on our farm and a Fir tree which sprang up by her grave grew to a considerable size and is there to this day. |
| Hulda TAYLOR HAMMERSLEY |
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"My husband's name was George BAYNE, but he commonly signed his name G. A. BAYNE to prevent confusion with his father whose name was also George. Grandfather BAYNE came from Scotland to Wisconsin with his parents when he was twelve years old. He was married in Wisconsin and came to the mines of California in 1862, by way of the Isthmus of Panama. There he remained for some time about Grass Valley in Nevada County, and was at least moderately successful. About 1872 he came to Oregon and settled in Benton County between Wren and Harris. He later bought the MILLER place and part of the George WREN place. He farmed these places until about 1905 and then bought a farm and moved to Linn County a few miles east of Corvallis. He had but two children who lived to maturity, my husband and an older brother, John. Two children died in infancy in California and a boy is buried at Wren. " |
| Mrs. George (OWEN) BAYNE;Pioneer |
| "Father's donation land claim was on
Baldy Hill west of Corvallis and included the present site of grazing land
and was never farmed. About 1855 father bought out the rights of a man
named MULSICK and took a homestead just south of Marys River adjoining
the present town of Philomath. He added to this from time to time until he
had a sizable farm. The place was at the foot and on the north slope of
what is now known as Bennett's Hill. "
"In 1858 my father married my mother, Margaret HENDRICKSON, in Clarke County, Washington. I was born in 1859 while mother was visiting her folks, but I have lived practically all my life in Benton County. " "I attended school in the Primary Department Of Philomath College. Irene SMITH, Miss LAURENCE, Miss EDWARDS, and Mr. MERRYMAN were among my teachers. When I became of age I spent a time as manager of Grandmother HENDRICKSON'S place in Clarke County. Then I came back to Philomath and went to school again. I had not finished the common school subjects, but Prof. KEEZEL made a place for me in the school. " "In 1899 I married Retta Eleanor LeMASTER. We had two children but both died in infancy. I never had any time for social affairs or play, but have spent my life holding on to a saw, an axe, grubbing hoe or plow. Father never got a living from his preaching but had to depend on the farm." |
| "Mother and father were both widowed. "They married each other in 1866. I was the only one of my parents' children to outlive them. My name is Sarah Ann, and I was born in 1868." |
| Sarah BEVENS;Pioneer |
Contemporary:
The First Leg
July 12, 1998. I set out at 1:30 p.m. from Corvallis, Oregon leaving Jill in tears on the sidewalk outside that dumpy old apartment that I've called home for nearly a year now. It is a heartbreaking moment for us both. Jill is the picture of tragedy, her face a crush of sad tears, love and something else. Pride? She claims she is proud of me. But what a price, this newfound strength of mine. It is too terrible to dwell on. I drive away and try not to think. There is no denial, no anger, only sadness.
It is on the highway east, that ugly corridor between Corvallis and Interstate 5, that I experienced my first moment of total elation, howling farewell to that place of sickness where more by guilt than anything I have remained far longer than I should have. Guilt, but also love.
The last preparations to leave were a nightmarish slogging obstacle course, the worst combination of guilt and horror and stuffed excitement. Though Jill wants only for my happiness, I found it almost impossible to leave her and Oregon for the sake of my own mental health. Every excited look ahead at the road felt traitorous, so I said nothing, or as little as possible. It was like waiting for an execution, and when at last I left it was as if I had killed her, right there on the street. One can only wonder what sort of messages we are given as children to instill such guilt into the mere act of graceful surrender when circumstances make a relationship impossible.
I drove 475 miles that first day. A good-sized haul for a 22-year old vehicle carrying one and a half times its factory weight, and that after an entire winter sitting idle. I pulled off the highway in the mountains just east of Couer d'Alene, Idaho, and spent my first night staring up at a clear starlit night through the 15 square foot bubble skylight of the trunk sculpture. According to my road notes, I had received my first real warm reception at an Umatilla, WA, Arco station were in the space of a few minutes I sold half a dozen postcards. I had driven the northern route from the Columbia River Gorge to Spokane and then into Idaho. Already people were pulling over and waiting for me to drive by so they could snap a picture. I was excited to learn that I was getting nearly 10 mpg, a full 2 or 3 mpg more than I'd anticipated. Though I left for the road with just barely enough cash to get to Minneapolis and no money to get back or for any frills, I rolled the dice and bought a deep cell RV battery for $60 to assure that I would be able to run my computer. Already I was moving confidently out into the world again, taking risks in the name of art that I hadn't had the courage to take in a long time.
I remember the sun setting over Washington farm country, eating corn from a can, alternately singing to and beating the Panasonic lemon, the pricey boom box I'd bought in 1995 and now had to thrash on occasion to get it to play out of both speakers. I wrote in my notebook, "Be thankful for what you got," a bit of wisdom I believe came from a song I was listening to at the time.
Miner's Hat Reality. Wallace, Idaho, the location set for last year's summer sizzle film "Dante's Peak." Tears in my eyes at the sight of a white garage covered in huge, decorative butterflies. Jill would love that. Tired of my music selection, I begin listening to a set of self-esteem tapes my dad gave me. The speaker quotes Eleanor Roosevelt as saying, "Nobody can make you feel inferior without your consent." Hmm. How bout that. I make a note to myself to do two things for Duke: get a log book going that people can sign, like a visitor's log, and also write a mission statement for Duke, so that for now on I have a quick, clear answer to the why question. Mr. Self-Esteem says, "If life gives you a lemon.." How very Duke.
| Pioneer Memories |
| "My mother lost her mother when she
was just a little girl. Mother was twelve when the family crossed the
plains and she did all the cooking on the trip. "
"My parents were married in California and my three oldest brothers were born there. There are ten living children: Charles, Royal, John, Arthur, Oren, Austin, Jesse, Addie (WILEY), Laura (FOX), and myself. In 1867 my parents came to Benton County and settled about four miles north of Summit. There father built a large one-room log cabin with a lean-to kitchen. In this house we lived until the family had increased to seven children. " |
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Dick
BALLARD; Pioneer
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| "Mother died when I was ten and when I was thirteen the home was broken up. Father went to Alaska in the 'nineties and discovered a coal mine on the Yukon River. He thought it was too far away from any possible market to be worth claiming. A little later, when the gold rush came, he went back to Alaska with his son-in-law, Dan PIKE, to locate the coal mine, but another was there first. Father died in Alaska." |
| Clara BAXTER CHAPMAN; Corvallis Pioneer |