goldfields

From the Chico Enterprise Weekly, here is what you could expect on July 4, 1877:

The patriotic citizens of Chico, always ready to do homage to the birthday of a great and glorious Republic, made this the one hundred and first anniversary no exception. The weather was most favorable, with the sweet south wind coming in refreshing zephers to temper the sultry Summer sun. The joyous occasion was ushered in at midnight by the ringing of a merry peal from the city bells. At sunrise a salute was fired from the old cannon which has hone good service in this city for sixteen years, on many similar occasions, and the bells again took up the chorus, waking the unconscious sleeper to the fact that the day’s rejoicing had opened, and that loyal hearts were even now astir to welcome in the day and throw “old glory” to the breeze.

The 4th of July celebration was an all-day affair. A large crowd, including many from surrounding communities, assembled at the Armory and the Engine house to watch the mustering of the militia and the firemen. At 9:30 a.m. the festivities began with a parade through the streets, ending at “the grove near the Sierra flume.” The program that followed consisted of music by the Chico Brass Band, an invocation by the Rev. J.W. Ellis, a song from the Chico Glee Club, and the reading of the Declaration of Independence.

This was followed by a poem written for the occasion and read by George F. Nourse. The poem, The People’s Pioneer Line, was quite a lengthy one and was printed in the newspaper. It likened the nation to a railway line:

‘Tis just one hundred years and one ago,
With thirteen cars we pulled from Station One,
And under orders steamed along quite slow,
Making by day and night our wondrous run.
From time to time we lengthened out our train,
By adding on new freshly peopled cars,
Til now our line does thirty-eight maintain,
And on our flag there’s just as many stars.

The poem was followed by an oration, given by J.F. Hutton, “full of eloquence and original thought”and also printed in full. According to the newspaper report:

There was a breathless silence prevailed during the delivery of the oration, and at its close the audience broke forth in rapturous applause.  The benediction was then given and a rush was made for the tables.

The tables were laden with barbecued meat, several oxen having been cut into quarters and roasted for 12 hours. 1800 pounds of beef were served, along with a dozen hams, plenty of bread, and a variety of pickles.

Next came the “Comicalities” or the “Parade of Horribles,” described by the reporter as the “most ludicrous, comical and laughable exhibition we have seen in many a day.” After a solemn morning assembly and a good meal, it was time for some entertainment.

The Parade of Antiques and Horribles was an old New England custom in which folks dressed up in grotesque costumes and rode old nags to make fun of local dignitaries and current events. The morning parade was a stirring procession of soldiers, bands, and notable citizens in carriages. The afternoon parade was a parody to lighten the day’s mood.

The Chico parade featured a “burlesque on the City Police force and the City Fathers,” and a depiction of “Brother Jonathan and his family going West in an old cart.” “About half a dozen lengths of stovepipes on wheels burlesqued the artillery representation in the forenoon’s procession.”

I haven’t seen any photos of Chico’s Parade of Horribles, and I don’t know how long the custom lasted. Here’s a photo from a New England parade in the same period.

Photo of a Parade of Horribles from Wethersfield, Connecticut.

The Chico Independence Day celebration went on into the evening with more music, fireworks, and a grand ball. Our ancestors knew how to celebrate the 4th in style!

Friday, 2nd. Continued to coast up the N. fork [of the Platte River]; the bottoms of the river were in many places completely covered with Glauber Salts, so much so that even handfuls could be taken up perfectly white.

Glauber’s salt is a hydrous sodium sulfate mineral, also known as sal mirabilis (wonderful or miraculous salt). It was formerly used as a laxative, much as Epsom salt (magnesium sulfate) was, until gentler methods came along. Now the mineral is mainly used in the manufacture of detergents, and in paper pulping. Bidwell saw it everywhere is the West.

Saturday, 3rd. Left the N. fork; a distance of 12 miles took us to a spring of cool, though unpleasantly tasted water. The day was intensely warm, and road mountainous; killed four buffalo and two deer.

Sunday, 4th. Pursued our way over hills and dales, scorched with heat; came to a small copse of red willows, from which issued excellent springs of water. Three buffalo killed, distance travelled 22 miles.

They were getting close to Independence Rock, and their guide Thomas Fitzpatrick could tell them so.

No one in the group, not Bidwell, nor Jimmy John, nor Father De Smet, make mention of any celebration of Independence Day on the 4th of July in their journals. Yet you’d think it could hardly have gone unremarked. But their focus was always on the day-to-day difficulties of the journey: the rough terrain, the need to find food and water, and the imperative to press on.

When I talk to 3rd and 4th grade classes about John Bidwell, I usually start with his westward journey. I show them a picture of a small ox-drawn wagon, the kind he would have taken, and ask them what they would pack for a 6-month journey, making sure that they understand that there will be no place to buy food along the way and that all food will have to be made “from scratch.” (Which can be difficult, but fun, for youngsters to imagine.)

They will come up with water, bread (“you’ll have to make your own bread, so take some flour”), and apples, among other things. If someone mentions meat, we talk about no refrigeration — how will you get meat? And then one child (usually a boy) will happily announce that you will need a gun.

Yes indeed, a gun was an essential tool. After the Bidwell-Bartleson Party left Fort Laramie they saw buffalo in abundance as they traveled along the Platte River. They were eating buffalo meat on a daily basis at this time.

But what else was on the menu? Besides the supplies they had in their wagons, what else could they find to eat along the trail?

Bidwell mentions:

many wild pears, likewise an abundance of peas, wild — though the bush was dissimilar to to ours, yet the the pods bore an exact similarity, taste, the same.

I have no idea what this pea-plant was.

James John, in his diary covering the same period, writes of “a kind of mountain turnip.”

They are about as large as hen’s eggs and are tender and good eating; also there is currants and mountain cherries.

(These were maybe chokecherries.)

In Wyoming they also found excellent grass for their animals, and grizzly bears. James John was referring to grizzlies when he wrote:

There are some gray bears there which are monsters. Large, but we have killed none of them yet.

If there are any Euell Gibbons types out there who are familiar with edible wild plants, and can identify these pioneer foods, please let us know.

We gradually receded from the river in order to pass through a gap in a range of high hills called Scott’s Bluffs. As we advanced towards these hills, the scenery of the surrounding country became beautifully grand and picturesque–they were worn in such a manner by the storms of unnumbered seasons that they really counterfeited the lofty spires, towering edifices, spacious domes, and in fine all the beautiful mansions of cities. We encamped among these envious objects having come about 20 miles.

After the flat monotony of the prairies, Scotts Bluff provided a welcome change of scenery for travelers on the Oregon Trail. Many travelers remarked on the fantastic forms taken by the steep-sided hills in this area of western Nebraska. More information about the history and geology of Scotts Bluff can be found at the website for Scotts Bluff National Monument and the Oregon-California Trails Association. 

Here is what Scotts Bluff looks like today. Much the same, except that the Bidwell-Bartleson Party had to negotiate deep ravines, like the ones in the foreground, rather than the smooth road you see on the left.

Scotts Bluff National Monument

Looks like John Bidwell left his wagon behind.

From John Bidwell’s Journal:

Thursday 17th. Continued to coast along up the river — encamped on its banks nearly opposite to a huge isolated bluff bearing some resemblance to an immense castle in  ruins. Its distance from us no one supposed more than 1 1/2 miles, and yet it was at least 7. This deception was owing to the pure atmosphere through which it was viewed, and the want of objects, by which only, accurate ideas of distance can be acquired without measure.

The “huge isolated bluff” was probably what other pioneers called Courthouse Rock and the smaller Jail Rock. In the otherwise flat terrain of western Nebraska these features can be seen for miles around.

Jail Rock and Courthouse Rock, Nebraska

Sunday, 13th. A mournful accident occurred in the camp this morning–a young man by the name of Shotwell while in the act of taking a gun out of the wagon, drew it with the muzzle towards him in such a manner that it went off and shot him near the heart. He lived about an hour and died in the full possession of his senses.

This was the only death during the entire dangerous trip. George Shotwell was “buried in the most decent manner our circumstances would admit of, after which a funeral sermon was preached by Mr. Williams.”

James John vividly describes the same incident:

I was out of camp seeking oxen from the river. I heard the report of a gun and heard a Scream. I went to the camp and saw a man bleeding on the ground. He was taking his gun out of the wagon with the muzzle towards him and it discharged and shot him thru the left side. He lived about an hour and died. We buried him the the sand about a mile from the Camp.

It was a lesson in gun safety: never grab a gun, loaded or unloaded, by the muzzle. Poor George Shotwell! A letter was sent to his family later by a returning traveler, and at Fort Laramie “the things of Mr. Shotwell were sold at auction.”

Thursday, 10th.  This morning the most of the oxen were again at large, owing to the neglect of the owners to the great danger of losing them by the Indians and by their mingling with buffalo, or  by straying so far that it would be impossible to track them on account of the innumerable tracks of the buffalo. Making therefore a rather late start, we continued to ascend the river on the N side. We traveled about 14 miles and encamped on the river. Buffalo were seen in countless thousands on the opposite side of the river; from the time we began our journey this morning till we ceased to travel at night, the whole south side of the stream was completely clouded by these huge animals, grazing in the valley and on the hills, ruminating upon the margin of the river, or crowding down its banks for water.

Through the remissness of the sentinels, the guard last night was nearly vacant; and as this was considered dangerous ground on account of the warlike Pawnees, Chiennes etc., a court martial was called to force those to their duty on guard, who were so negligent and remiss.

This is an interesting example of how the emigrants organized and disciplined themselves. At the outset of their expedition, being Americans, they elected a president and a recording secretary, and also a captain. So it was both a democratic association  and a semi-military organization.

When a problem arose, they consulted together in a trial, or court martial, of the offenders. Bidwell doesn’t indicate any punishment given. I imagine the men who were found guilty were given extra guard duties for a time.

Friday 11th. The oxen had wandered about 1/2 mile from the camp this morning, when a man was sent to bring them in; he soon came running back in great haste, crying “the Indians are driving the oxen off!!” In less than half an hour the oxen were at camp and not an Indian seen–all this is easily accounted for when we consider how timidity and fear will make every bush, or stone, or stump an Indian, and 40 Indians, thousands. Vast herds of buffalo continued to be seen on the opposite side of the river. Distance today about 20 miles.