Chapter XXIII

Reminiscences of Early Days-Thos. Hirst.

Sugar Loaf-The School Teacher-Going to Market-Fruits-Barn Raisings and Log Rollings-Celebrating the Fourth-Old Pioneers-The Big Flood-The Last Canoe Ride.

     The compiler is indebted to Thomas Hirst, one of Coos county's best and most popular citizens, for the following reminiscences of early days; which we are certain will interest a large number of readers:

     I arrived in Coos County, Oregon Territory, in January, 1859, by walking down the Umpqua beach to Coos bay, and thence by Indian canoe and mountain trail to the Coquille river, there to carve out a home in that beautiful garden of southwestern Oregon, a beautiful garden it was, for, as I stood on the top of Sugarloaf mountain, with the broad expanse of the valley lying before me covered with the bright green of the maple and the dark green of the myrtle, with the snow capped mountains in the distance, it formed as grand a picture as the eye could wish to see; but to turn this garden into a home the forest must be destroyed, and what an herculean task it would be. I have seen the oak and hickory forests of Ohio, the chestnut and sugar maple groves of Pennsylvania, gathered walnuts in the woods of Kentucky, traveled through the gum forests of New South Wales, but for density and number of trees to the acre the Coquille valley outclassed them all. In such a forest our stout hearted pioneers carved out a home after many years of toil, and that he has been repaid for his labor the fine farms and happy homes fully attest.
     When our pioneer women wished to visit their neighbors they would frequently paddle their own canoe up or down the river, and some of them become quite expert. I remember a time when one of our bright young school teachers went down the river to purchase supplies. The trip down the river was easy enough, but the return trip was more difficult, in fact our young man had to accept the assistance of one of our brave pioneer women to steer his canoe to port. Never mind, Binger, if you could not could not handle a canoe you have proved yourself competent to work well and faithfully for your adopted state. Many years your voice has been heard in the halls of congress. All honor to you as a Coos county pioneer.
     The early pioneer had much difficulty in marketing his products. Many a time I have left home at two o'clock in the morning and paddled twenty-four miles down the river and then four miles up Beaver slough, then carry my load three miles across the isthmus, put it into another canoe and go another fifteen miles to North Bend sawmill, arriving there about nine o'clock at night, there to exchange my various products for the articles needed at home, not forgetting the injunction to bring one paper each of needles and pins. Returning home, which always took two days, I had time to note the skill of the beaver in repairing the dams that I had torn open to pass through the day before. but, alas, the trapper came, and thy beautiful coat was sent east, to be worn and admired by people who knew thee not. Farewell, old friend; no more will my canoe glide over placid waters held in check by thy labors. No more will the hardy trapper exchange thy coat for flour or sugar or fill his jug with such water as thou never dreamed of. Thy home is desolate and Beaver slough is a thing of the past as a commercial highway.
     The pioneer had no cultivated or domestic fruit, but there was plenty of wild fruit in their season, consisting of salmon berries, raspberries, blackberries, huckleberries and crab apples. Sunday was the day for gathering the fruit. The canoe telephone (Edison was unknown to us) operated by our women, would send word to our neighbors to meet at a certain point or bend in the river. Then with lunch and pails our ever ready canoe would glide down the river to the place of meeting. Having filled our pails with fruit and enjoyed a pleasant chat over our lunch, we would return home for milking time.
     For pleasure and recreation we had our barn raisings and log rollings. When a new settler had located his claim and building site, cleared a small patch, he would select the most suitable trees for his log cabin or barn, and then on an appointed day the neighbors for miles around would go to his place and roll, notch and fit the logs in position, and before night would leave him with the framework of a good log cabin, having worked and feasted all day, returning to our homes contented and at peace with all the world.
     Nor did we forget to celebrate the glorious Fourth of July. How well do I remember when that great hearted true pioneer, Wm. T. Perry, placed his flatboat at our disposal for two weeks' trip to Whisky Run, where the Schroeder boys, Henry and Gus, were mining.  What a royal welcome they gave us, with music, feasting and dancing and exploring the beach, gathering agates and shells, nor did we forget to indulge in the various shell fish we found among the rocks. I will never forget that trip nor the various members who composed the party. Alas, how many of them have passed over to the great beyond. As memory carries me backward forty years how well I remember the generous brave hearted pioneers, the Hermanns, Schroeders, Perrys Dements, Yoakems, Lockharts, Kenyons, good old Ben Figg, Ned Fahy, the Low brothers, the Rodger brothers, monarchs of industry on Coos river; Hillborns, Hollands, Butlers, Capt. Harris, the Aiken brothers, Dr. Hodson, the Rook brothers, W.D.L.F. Smith, generous B.F. Ross, the Stauff brothers, good old John Kronenburg, the Noble brothers, H.H. Luce, Empire City's pioneer mill man, Al Simpson, the man whose active brain has kept his mills and ship yards in active operation in good or bad times for forty years; P. Flanagan, and S.S. Mann. Ah, these last two men are entitled to more than a passing notice. Pioneers of pioneers, their skill, judgment and enterprise made coal mining a success on Coos bay. Hospitable, generous and kind to their employes, their home was known far and wide as a place where the traveler would be royally entertained without money and without price. Both held positions of trust in Coos county. Their good deeds and works can never be forgotten by the old pioneer. C.H. Merchant for many years a hard worker, but by his business foresight and enterprise, his strict integrity and economy is now able to sit in the stern and steer while others paddle his canoe. Andrew Nasburg, successful farmer and merchant, was the first postmaster in Marshfield, and his salary was twelve dollars per year. He held the office many years, and when he resigned in favor of the writer, the commission on the business done amount to about seven hundred dollars per annum. Mr. Nasburg was taken from us in the prime of life, but left behind a name and record of which his family may justly feel proud.
     The pioneer women, how nobly they have done their part. How well in our absence have they defended our homes. With their trusty gun they have slain the fierce lynx that stole our poultry, with the faithful dog by their side and axe in hand they have chased the prowling bear that would have carried off our hogs, they have braved the flood waist deep to drive the cattle to the hills for safety, and in a thousand ways have proved their indomitable courage; all honor to our pioneer women. "
     During the flood of 1861-62 I left Eastport at 7 o'clock in the morning, with grub and blankets to last three days, expecting it would take me that time to reach my home. John Canyon and myself worked at the coal mines during the winter and improved our places in the summer. Our wives lived together during our absence, that being convenient as our farms joined. I started homeward crossing the isthmus as usual, but the water of the Coquille river was so high that I left the regular trail, doubling Green point and made straight for Cedar Point, cross the river I made a bee line to Fishtrap, then crossed the stream again and came out at the Malcom place-now Fred Schroeder's elegant home. I then entered the woods and proceeded to Perry's Prairie, arriving before sundown, having been but nine and one-half  hours on my journey. If the water had been ten feet lower I should have had to follow the sinuosity of the stream, and no doubt it would have taken me three days to have reached home. When I was at Cedar Point I saw a log cabin floating down the river. Then my heart sank within me, and, "where is my home, and how fares my neighbors," were the questions that involuntarily came to my mind. The flood was so general and the current rushed so rapidly that it seemed as though the whole upper river was submerged, and the sweetest music that ever greeted my ears was the voice of good old lady Perry, when, in answer to my inquiry when I arrived at her cabin, she said, "yes, Tom, here is Lou; we are all right."
     As before stated, my wife and Mrs. Canyon were living together for company. They had an intuition that there would be a great flood, and had rounded up our cattle in the timber, but could not make them cross a slough at the lower end of my clearing in order to drive them to higher ground, hence they were obliged to leave them to their fate. The next morning the water was still raising, and they started what cattle they had in the clearing and followed them an eight of a mile, wading waist deep in the water, and forcing the cattle to swim to higher ground. Having saved the stock they then began to think of their own safety. Their canoe was gone and they must reach Perry's, more than a mile away. They crossed a slough by climbing a myrtle, whose overhanging branches interlocked with the limbs of trees on the opposite side. After their perilous climb they landed on the proper side and waded to the bank of the stream opposite Perry's place just as that grand old man was giving orders for a baot to go to the rescue of Nancy and Lou.
     Pioneers of the fifttes(sic), our voyage is near its end, our canoe trip has not always been one of pleasure nor yet of sorrow. Sometimes we have met strong floods to check our progress, sand-bars and shoals to contend with, rapids to shoot, snags and whirlpools to lure us to destruction, and often cold, wet and weary, our limbs aching with toil, and making little headway. Then again, the tide would turn, favorable winds would waft us onward, giving us rest and renewed courage to face the dark canyons of adversity, or the green fields of prosperity.
     To the pioneers who have been called hence, we bid you a kind farewell; to the pioneers who are still with us, you whose sun has passed the zenith, may peace and contentment be with you, may your canoe float gently down stream to pleasant lakes, and when you make the last landing on the shore of time, may you find the trail blazed to guide you to the great wigwam, and welcomed by the Sah-la-Tyee, or great spirit of the Universe.

--Thomas Hirst

[The above narrative gives a vivid description of perils incident to pioneer settlers in 1861-62 that will enable the reader to form an idea of the devastation caused that spring, and many other families besides those mentioned by Mr. Hirts(sic) suffered similar experiences, some loosing stock, buildings, household furniture and everything they had accumulated, hence it proved a great drawback to the valley. Some left for other parts, and others relinquished their claims to fine farms in the rich bottom lands for cattle ranges in the hills, and it was not until half a dozen years had passed that permanent settlements were established upon the most valuable lands, and up to 1870 there were bottom lands yet vacant and subject to entry under the homestead laws of the United States, in the Coquille valley.-Editor]