Tag: books

Another passage from Elizabeth Dixon Smith Geer’s journal caught my attention. Some of the women write about taking the opportunity to explore the strange landscapes they see along the trail. Elizabeth’s husband trekked up a mountain and noted the striations of the rocks and the fossils contained within them. He described them to his wife when he returned.

August 7 [1847]

made 15 miles encamped on Blacks fork a small river bordered with willows this large waste of country in my opinion has once been a see my husband found on top of a mountain sea shells petrified in the stone the creaces in the rocks show the different stages of the water.

Geer, Elizabeth Dixon Smith, 1808/9?-1855, Diary of Elizabeth Dixon Geer, August, 1847, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 1: 1840-1849. Holmes, Kenneth L., editor and compiler.  Lincoln, Nebraska: University of Nebraska Press, 1995, page 136.

What also struck me about this entry is that it shows that not just the poor and uneducated set out for the west. Clearly, Elizabeth and her husband possessed knowledge of natural history and an understanding that the world we know was once vastly different. (The basic rules of spelling and punctuation may be another matter, however!)

I’ve often wondered about the pioneer women who were forced or coerced to leave their homes, their loved ones, and all that is familiar behind them. I’m sure most of them resigned themselves to follow their husbands, but I’m not surprised that some women got thoroughly fed up.

[Sept] 15 [1847]

layed by this morning one company moved on except one family the woman got mad and would not budge nor let the children he had his cattle hitched on for 3 hours and coaxing her to go but she would not stur I told my husband the circumstance and him and Adam Polk and Mr Kimble went and took each one a young one and cramed them in the wagon and her husband drove off and left her siting she got up took the back track travled out of sight cut a cross overtook her husband meantime he sent his boy back to camp after a horse that he had left and when she came up her husband says did you meet John yes was the reply and I picked up a stone and nocked out his brains her husband went back to asertain the truth and while he was gone she set one of his waggons on fire which was loaded with store goods the cover burnt off and some valueable artickles he saw the flame and came runing and put it out and then mustered spunk enough to give her a good floging her name is Marcum she is cousin to Adam Polks wife

Geer, Elizabeth Dixon Smith, 1808/9?-1855, Diary of Elizabeth Dixon Geer, September, 1847, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 1: 1840-1849. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995, pp. 272.

A footnote in the introduction to Elizabeth’s journal clarifies that Mrs. Marcum did not actually kill the boy she hit with the rock. He shows up in a later Census, alive and well. Mrs. Marcum did end up following her husband west, where they were later divorced. Unsurprisingly.

I said before that the covered wagon women were made of stern stuff. Mrs. Sessions, a midwife and all around extraordinary human being, not only did the cooking and washing for her family, but she delivered babies along the route and drove her own team of oxen. She had good cause to be proud of herself. And then she delivered the first baby in the new Mormon settlement at what was to become Salt Lake City.

Saturday 25 [1847]

P G went back to help up the rear of his camp they have all got here safe some broken waggons but no broken bones I have drove my waggon all the way but part of the two last mts P G drove a litle I broke nothing nor turned over had good luck I have cleaned my waggon and my self and visited some old friends

Sunday [Sept.] 26 [1847]

go to meeting hear the epistle read from the twelve then went put Lorenzo Youngs wife Harriet to bed with a son the first male born in this valley it was said to me more than 5 months ago that my hands should be the first to handle the first born son in the place of rest for the saints even in the city of our God I have come more than one thousand miles to do it since it was spoken

Sessions, Patty Bartlett, 1795-1892, Diary of Patty Bartlett Sessions, September, 1847, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 1: 1840-1849. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995, pp. 272.

I’ve been reading a series of books containing letters and journals written by women traveling on wagon trains to the western US. It sounds a little dull, but I’m actually riveted. Some of the passages are incredibly sad, like the daily tallies of graves passed by the side of the road, or the ticking off of names of fellow travelers who died of cholera. Other passages are filled with awe at the landscapes slowly passing by. And then there are the stories of women’s lives on the trail—women who may or may not have wanted to embark on such an adventure and who may or may not have had any say in the matter. Certainly no woman would have willingly signed on to be whipped every day.

july 28 [Sunday] [1850]

we went on to little sandy distance of twelve miles and their stoped for the day and to grase our catle we had to drive them five miles to grase and whilst the men ware gone with the catle this large train come in one mile of us and camped their a rose a quarel with them and what quareling I never heard the like they were whiping a man for whiping his wife he had whiped her every day since he joined the company and now they thought it was time for them to whip him and they caught him and striped him and took the ox gad to him and whiped him tremenduous she screamed and hollerd for him till one might have hare him for three miles

Davis, Sarah Green, 1826-1906, Diary of Sarah Green Davis, July, 1850, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 2: 1850. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995, pp. 294.

And then there were the sheer numbers of people making the trek out west. Nothing I learned in history classes ever really made it as clear as this:

Friday, August 16 [1850]

We set forward again at ten o’clock and soon began to realize what might be before us. For many weeks we had been accustomed to see property abandoned and animals dead or dying. But those scenes were here doubled and trebled. Horses, mules, and oxen, suffering from heat, thirst, and starvation, staggered along until they fell and died on every rod of the way. Both sides of the road for miles were lined with dead animals and abandoned wagons. Around them were strewed yokes, chains, harness, guns, tools, bedding, clothing, cooking-utensils, and many other articles, in utter confusion. The owners had left everything, except what provisions they could carry on their backs, and hurried on to save themselves.

In many cases the animals were saved by unhitching them and driving them on to the river. After resting, they were taken back to the wagons, which in this way were brought out.

But no one stopped to gaze or to help. The living procession marched steadily onward, giving little heed to the destruction going on, in their own anxiety to reach a place of safety. In fact, the situation was so desperate that, in most cases, no one could help another. Each had all he could do to save himself and his animals.

Frink, Margaret Ann Alsip, 1818-1893, Diary of Margaret Ann Alsip Frink, August, 1850, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 2: 1850. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995, pp. 294.

Masses and masses of humans and livestock, all streaming westward in a ceaseless river. And the women! Made of very stern stuff, they were. Margaret Ann Aslip Frisk, for one, spent much of the six month long journey walking or riding horseback. Sidesaddle. In a corset.

Two things struck me when I read this entry.

First, submerging someone in water when they’re sick with cholera seems, in retrospect, like a spectacularly bad idea. It’s not going to do them any good, and it may well contaminate your only drinking water, as that’s one of the main ways the disease is spread. With treatments like that, it’s no wonder there was a cholera epidemic on the trail that year.

The other thing that stood out is the number of emigrants who passed by Fort Laramie. Eight thousand teams means an awful lot of westward travelers.

June 29 [1850]

We had the hardest thunder storm last night I have witnessed in some years. Started on this morning & soon came to a very bad road, low marshy land. A little before we stopt at noon there was a woman by the name of Beal died. She was buried on the banks of the Clearwater, a fine stream about 10 miles from where we came on the bottoms. They immersed 3 in this stream for the cholera. Travelled 14 miles & slept on a high spot on the marsh for the night. Met the Salt Lake mail, they said they met 8000 teams when they got to Fort Laramee. Since that they have not kept count. Wether very warm.

Parsons, Lucena Pfuffer, 1821-1905, Diary of Lucena Parsons, June, 1850, in Covered Wagon Women: Diaries & Letters from the Western Trails, vol. 2: 1850. Holmes, Kenneth L., ed. & comp. Lincoln, NE: University of Nebraska Press, 1995, pp. 294.