About this ebook
Thissell's narrative offers a vivid portrayal of the hardships, dangers, and triumphs experienced by the thousands of pioneers who dared to venture westward in search of fortune and a new life. From the moment they set out, Thissell and his fellow travelers faced relentless challenges: unpredictable weather, scarce resources, disease, and the constant threat of attack. His detailed observations and candid reflections provide an authentic glimpse into the daily struggles and indomitable spirit of these early pioneers.
Through Thissell's eyes, readers are transported to the untamed landscapes of the mid-19th century, experiencing the raw beauty and harsh realities of the journey. His descriptions of the diverse terrains, from the expansive plains to the rugged mountains, capture the essence of the American frontier. Alongside the physical challenges, Thissell also delves into the camaraderie, conflicts, and resilience of the people he traveled with, painting a comprehensive picture of life on the trail.
Crossing the Plains in '49 is more than just a travelogue; it is a testament to the perseverance and determination that defined the American spirit during a time of great exploration and expansion. Thissell's engaging storytelling and keen insights make this book an essential read for history enthusiasts, scholars, and anyone fascinated by the Gold Rush era and the epic journeys that shaped the nation's history.
This memoir stands as a significant historical document, preserving the voices and experiences of those who embarked on one of the most perilous migrations in American history. Thissell's account is a valuable contribution to our understanding of the pioneer experience, offering readers a powerful reminder of the courage and endurance required to cross the plains in '49.
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Crossing the Plains in '49 - G W Thissell
© Porirua Publishing 2024, all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted by any means, electrical, mechanical or otherwise without the written permission of the copyright holder.
Publisher’s Note
Although in most cases we have retained the Author’s original spelling and grammar to authentically reproduce the work of the Author and the original intent of such material, some additional notes and clarifications have been added for the modern reader’s benefit.
We have also made every effort to include all maps and illustrations of the original edition the limitations of formatting do not allow of including larger maps, we will upload as many of these maps as possible.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TABLE OF CONTENTS 1
DEDICATION 6
INTRODUCTION. 7
CROSSING THE PLAINS IN ‘49 9
A CHAPTER FROM MY DIARY. 11
THE LAST HEN. 13
HOW FELIX KILLED HIS DEER. 16
THE LOST TRAIL. 18
THE ONLY COFFIN. 19
THE MAN THAT ATE THE HORSE. 20
THE CAT THAT CROSSED THE PLAINS IN 1850. 22
THE DUEL. 24
THE BUFFALO CHASE. 25
AN INDIAN HUNT. 26
THE SNOW-STORM. 27
THE HERO OF 1850. 27
THE DEAD DOG. 28
THE INHUMAN WRETCHES. 28
UP THE PLATTE. 29
DOG TOWN. 30
LOOP FORK OF THE PLATTE RIVER. 31
HOW JIM STOAKS KILLED HIS BUFFALO. 32
A SABBATH ON THE PLAINS. 32
LOST IN THE SAND-HILLS. 33
ONLY ONE STORM. 34
A SAD DAY. 35
FAREWELL TO THE PLAINS. 35
FORT LARAMIE. 35
INDEPENDENCE ROCK. 37
SUMMIT OF THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 39
ECHO CANYON. 40
THE MAN THAT SOLD HIS WIFE. 41
BROWN AND THE BUFFALO. 42
THE MAMMOTH TRAIN. 43
A SUPPER ON THE PLAINS. 45
GREEN RIVER. 47
THE ROBBERS. 47
A FIGHT WITH THE INDIANS. 50
RATTLESNAKE CANYON. 51
THE STOLEN BOY. 52
SALT LAKE CITY. 54
ROBBERS GLEN. 56
THE WEDDING. 57
THE GOOD INDIANS. 58
THE MAN THAT ATE THE BACON RIND. 61
DOWN THE HUMBOLDT. 63
GRAVELLY FORD. 63
THE HOPPER TRAIN. 63
THE LONG SWIM. 65
THE FIRST GOLD DUST. 66
THE HERO OF 1857. 67
THE BIG INDIAN. 69
SINK OF THE HUMBOLDT. 71
THE LONE GRAVE. 72
THE DESERT. 73
HOW HOBSON RODE THE BUFFALO. 75
CARSON RIVER, OR RAGTOWN. 78
THE PIONEER TRAIN OF ‘49. 79
SUMMIT OF THE SIERRAS. 82
A PATHETIC STORY. 83
THE LONE WAGON. 85
THE BOYS WHO HAD THE GOLD FEVER. 86
HOW JOHN REED KILLED HIS BEAR. 89
THE BURNT WAGON. 90
THE CAMPFIRE. 91
ONLY THREE MEALS. 94
img2.pngCrossing the Plains in ‘49
By
G. W. THISSELL
DEDICATION
I dedicate this little work to my beloved wife who shared my hardships and trials in a pioneer’s life.
INTRODUCTION.
It is no light undertaking to prepare a story adequately describing the trip across the plains with an ox team, from the Missouri River to the gold fields of California, in ‘49-’50.
No pen can describe the trials, the hardships, and privations. One must make the trip to realize the difficulties and dangers encountered. If there are errors, they are such as necessarily occur in writing a story that covers so vast an extent of territory, after so long a period of time.
This story includes the experiences of many pioneers beside that of the writer, who himself crossed the plains twice with an ox team. It is filled with thrilling adventures and hairbreadth escapes from death, as well as many amusing incidents.
Trusting that it will be read with interest, and that the reader will not be disappointed, it is submitted without further comment.
THE AUTHOR.
Contributors.—The author gratefully acknowledges contributions in this book from many old pioneers.
img3.pngCROSSING THE PLAINS IN ‘49
In 1848, when the news of the discovery of gold in California, at Sutter’s Mill, by Marshall, reached the Atlantic Coast, many men became wild with excitement.
The wonderful discovery of the placer mines in California unbalanced many minds. The banker, the merchant, the farmer, and the mechanic were seized with the gold fever. The prayers, the tears, the pleading of loved ones, fell on deaf ears.
In 1849 one wild and mad rush was made for the new Eldorado. In the Eastern states many embarked on sailing vessels, bound for California around the Horn, and thousands turned their faces toward the setting sun. What a mass of humanity, wild with excitement, rushing into hardships, dangers, and death! for many never reached the gold fields.
March 16, 1849, in company with Jerry Sheppard, Henry Seamon, William and Ambrose Palmer, I went on board the steamer Zanesville, at McConnelsville, Ohio, bound for California. The steamer’s destination was St. Louis, Missouri. The handshaking, the parting words, Write often,
God bless you,
and we were off for California. The steamer was crowded with men wild with excitement. The gold fever ran high.
In 1849 the cholera swept over the country, on all the water courses. Every steamer was impregnated with the germs of the disease. We had scarcely steamed a hundred miles when we landed at Louisville, Kentucky, and put off four of our dead, one an old patriarch, James Putman, bound for California. He came from Zanesville, and was the first man who died.
No pen can describe the scenes on board the steamer for the next twenty-four hours. The dead and dying were in every berth. When within twenty miles of St. Louis, in the night we landed and put off nine more dead. All were buried in one large grave. Not even a stake was driven into the ground to mark their last resting-place. At St. Louis what a scene! The wharf was lined with men with the gold fever. After two days’ delay, we boarded the steamer Winfield Scott, bound for St. Joseph on the Missouri River. The banks were overflowed, and the water had spread over the river bottom for miles. On the high knolls the horses, cattle, sheep, and hogs were huddled together, starving to death.
When we arrived at St. Joseph, a cold March rain was falling in torrents. Our outfit, consisting of one four-horse wagon and provisions for one year, was piled on the wharf in the rain.
In the rush to leave the steamer, one old Dutchman was crowded off the gang-plank into the river. After much splashing and loud yelling, the old man was saved from a watery grave. The gold fever had left him, however. Wet to the skin and chilled to the bone, the old man exclaimed, Mine Gott! I vish I vas at home.
At St. Joseph every available camping-ground was occupied. Men were rushing to and fro, all eager to buy mules, horses, and oxen for the journey. There the emigrants crossed the Missouri River and took the trail for California.
img4.pngThe weather was cold; the throng increased; the excitement ran high. Men became impatient, bought feed and extra teams to haul it, crossed the river, and left for the gold fields.
During the weeks of delay, the cholera and winter fever made their appearance, and many sickened and died. Others, weary of the trials and hardships already endured, sold their outfits and returned home.
The day our train crossed the Missouri River, I was sick, and was left behind at St. Joseph. Too proud to return home, I made my way to the interior of Iowa, where I spent nine months working at my trade, that of a carriage maker.
During this time a few of the forty-niners
returned with immense fortunes. The gold fever broke out anew, and the road was soon lined with emigrants bound for Council Bluffs, which had then become the starting-point for overland California emigrants.
This was the border line of civilization. Here the emigrants crossed the Missouri River. I, too, had the gold fever, and at once set about preparing for the journey. Bob Gardener, Sam and Ike Harris, and myself formed a party and cast our lots together.
Our outfit consisted of four yoke of oxen, one yoke of cows, one saddle horse, and one wooden-axle wagon, with hickory withes for bows, over which was drawn common muslin, to protect us and our provisions from the weather. The wagon bed was made with a false floor fifteen inches from the bottom of the bed. The space was partitioned off into sections, or rooms, to suit the different articles of food we were to take,—beans, coffee, sugar, tea, pickles, and rice,—provisions enough to last one year. On the false floor were piled our bedding and clothing, while on the wagon bows hung our guns, powder, horn, and shot pouches; for this was before the breech-loading guns were made.
At the hind end of the wagon was a large box, the lid of which hung by hinges. Into this box were piled our cooking utensils and dishes, which consisted of tin plates, tin cups, knives, and forks, enough tinware, pots, kettles, and stew-pans to start a small store—just about three times as many as we needed.
At the end of the coupling-pole hung a large churn, in which we put the milk every morning. The constant shaking of the churn did the churning, and at noon or night we took out a nice lump of butter and a good supply of buttermilk.
With rifle in hand, we bade our loved ones adieu, and began the long and tedious journey of two thousand miles, through the wilderness of unexplored land, inhabited only by wild beasts and savages of the forest.
A CHAPTER FROM MY DIARY.
March 6, 1850.—Left home this morning, Bellefontaine, Iowa. Ground frozen. Drove fifteen miles, and camped on Little Pedee. Slept in a barn and got very cold.
March 7.—Snowed three inches today. Traveled twelve miles. Bought twenty dozen eggs at five cents a dozen. Passed a small store kept by a half-breed. Bought a deck of cards for ten cents, and five gallons of old rye whisky at twenty-five cents a gallon. Gold fever running high. Pulse 140. Drank my first whisky today.
March 8.—Rained and hailed today. In crossing a slough, our wagon mired down. Had to unload and carry our provisions to solid ground. Bob Gardener got too drunk to do any work. Made ten miles today. Camped with an old pioneer, Square Frishey, who came from Ohio to Iowa. Found him a jolly old fellow. He had three fine-looking girls. The old man invited us to spend the evening with him. He got down his violin, and we all had a dance. One
