OREGON FOLKLORE - WORK PROGRESS ADMINISTRATION:Surnames: Ford, Miller, Poindexter, Dean, Sagadoll, Luce, Hill, St. Claire,Mills 
Title: Canyon City

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Title: Canyon City Folkways

Name and address of informant:
Mrs. Ford, 14th and Yamhill Street, Portland, Oregon, Brown Apartments. 
Date and time of interview: March 8, 9, 1939. Between 9 and 12, and 9 and 1. 
Place of interview 14th and Yamhill Street, Brown Apartments, Portland,
Oregon. 
Description of room, house, surroundings, etc.:
Moderate priced, comfortable three-room apartment. Well furnished and
pleasingly arranged. 

1. Ancestry: English
2. Place and date of birth: Canyon City, Oreogn, approximately 1868.
3. Family: None.
4. Places lived in, with dates: Canyon City, Oregon; Ohio, (no town, or date);
Portland, Oregon.
5. Education, with dates: None, although she speaks excellent English, and has
a fairly large vocabulary. Has none of the marks of an uneducated person. 
6. Occupations and accomplishments with dates: None. Housewife
7. Special skills and interests: None. Singing
8. Community and religious activities: None. A member of the Episcopalian
church.
9. Description of informant: Mrs. Ford is a small, white-haired, blue-eyed
lady. She has a great deal of grace in her walk. A pleasant laugh and voice.
She is best characterized by the phrase "a gracious lady." 
10. Other points gained in interview: She had a proposal from a Chinese, but
refused to divulge particulars. She learned to speak Chinese, a little, in
return for teaching English to Chinese.

Text: I was the second child born in Canyon City. Jennie Nunes Powers was the
first. She certainly was no credit to the village. 

My father left Kentucky in 1849 and went to California. He heard of the big
gold strike in Canyon City, and left California to settle in Canyon. You know,
then you could almost pick up gold nuggets by the handful; at least it was
much easier than it is now. 

Father made a great deal of money out of the mines and started a grocery store
in partnership with Poindexter. The store was known as the Poindexter Clark
Mercantile Store. My father started in this business with a great deal of
money and no experience. Mr. Poindexter started in with no money and a great
deal of experience. The partnership ended with Poindexter having the money and
my father the experience.

Father worked for the Wells Fargo company, and had the stage line from The
Dalles to Canyon City. Every Saturday morning the Chinese would line up
outside of my father's business with their bags of gold dust to be weighed and
shipped to San Francisco. I can still hear the clock-clock-clock of the
Chinese as they talked to my father. They seemed to like him quite well.
Often, father would have me come over to the office and sew the canvas he had
into bags to hold the gold dust.

The Chinese were an honest, industrious race of people. Most everyone in
Canyon had at least one working for him. Too, the poor fellows were often the
source of much amusement, and the butt of many a practical joke in this rough
and ready mining camp.

The mining they did was quite different than the white man's. Usually, the
Chinese washed the gravel which the white man had thrown out as waste. They
made a good deal of money by using the tailings left by the whites.

Joaquin Miller, the poet, is so often mentioned today, and people look at me
with a new interest when they find out I knew him. It seems strange to me. He
was just another man and not a very nice one.

I was named after his wife, Minnie Myrtle. The clearest memory I have of her
were bursts of jealousy, and her long, dark, beautiful tresses. One time I was
visiting with her. She was sitting in front of a mirror combing her hair.
Joaquin came in and made some remark about her hair. Although it was a
compliment as I remember it, she snapped back, "I thought you preferred a
squaw's hair." Joaquin was noted for his weakness for squaws. The weakness is
understandable. Many of the pioneers had Indians for their wives. No other
women being around, they would naturally take a squaw. 

Cooking in pioneer days was a real problem. There was hardly anything to cook.
Father was a good provider and we always had the things we could buy, but
there were not any choices. One example, was bread. We had to make our own
yeast, first, before we could start to make the bread. Always on Saturday, we
would make enough bread to last through the following week. 

Coffee was quite expensive. We paid 50 cents for a very small package.
Parching the coffee was my trial and tribulation. Oh! How I hated to do it.
Often I would burn the green coffee beans. When this occurred I would bury
them in back of the house, then run to the store and buy another package. I
knew father would scold me if he found out I had burned the green coffee
beans. Fortunately, he never itemized his grocery account. So, I was not
caught. 

Green vegetables were a luxury almost never had. How many times I used to look
at the green grass and wish I could eat it. Onions, little seed onions, were
about the only green vegetables we ever had. Oh! How glad I was when they came
in.

Fruit we seldom if ever had. Occasionally dried prunes and apples were served
on our table. One man had an apple orchard but his prices were almost
prohibitive. We considered them a great luxury.

The spring would bring with it literally millions of wild flowers. There was
one flower that had a small bulb on it, something like an onion. I can't
remember the name of it, I would often eat these. It's a wonder I wasn't
poisoned. (Ed. Probably [camas?]).

The stores used to keep huge barrels of pickled mackerel and salmon bellies.
The fish was a real Sunday treat in the winter time. Fresh meat was plentiful.
We killed the chickens, pigs, stock (cattle) and had plenty of wild game. Too,
e could  usually catch fish in the small stream that went through the center
of our town. 

Soda crackers were a luxury. I used to steal these when my father had his
store. A cracker to we children was much like a piece of candy to children
now. These crackers were always kept in a large barrel back in the store. I
suppose they were kept in back because there was so little call for them.
People could not afford such luxuries in those times. 

Coal oil was another expensive commodity. A very small can cost fifty cents.
You see, all of our foodstuff was freighted in from The Dalles. These trips
would always take at least a month. How tragically often the coal oil would
spill into the sugar and flour on those trips.

Life was so hard. It demanded the most from everyone for mere existence.
However, it was the only life many of us knew so we accepted the hardships
fairly willingly. 

It seems strange to me how much the weather has changed. Canyon had long,
cold, hard winters when I lived there. Now, quite often the winters are open.
Too, it seldom gets as cold there now as it did in early days. Why, I remember
that even our bread would freeze as hard as a rock in the worst part of the
winter. (Ed. This change in the weather has been noted by many).

I was fourteen when my mother became very ill and passed away. The tragedy of
her death has been with me all these years. Mother desperately wanted an
orange. Oranges were a real luxury then. In order to get mother the oranges
father had to dispatch a man to Baker City to buy her some. Mother died,
asking for orange juice. The rider got back too late with the oranges. Baker
City was over 100 miles across two mountain ranges from home. 

I remember a lady, Mrs. Dean, gave to we children what she called a missionary
hen. All the eggs this chicken laid we children were to sell and give the
money to the Methodist Church for foreign mission work. We made quite a little
money for the church from the sale of these chicken eggs.

This Mrs. Dean kept house for us for two years. Dear, she was a trial! She was
as deaf as a nail, which used to irritate us. Along with being deaf, she was
quite religious.

One evening she had all of we children down on our knees saying our evening
prayers. Dick, my brother started to snicker. She scolded him sharply for
laughing at God and told him to stand up. To punish him severely she told him
he couldn't pray again until he quit snickering. Well, you know Dick, I don't
think he has quit snickering, or prayed, to this day. 

Mrs. Dean was a widow, and casting around for a man her eyes lit on a man by
the name of Sagadoll. We used to call him sugar-doll. Sagadoll, was a bachelor
of many years standing, and quite wealthy. Mrs. Dean, undaunted by her 65
years -- and some 15 years the older of Sagadoll -- started to work on him.

The Fourth of July picnic, a big event in those days, was to be the turning
point of the courtship. She felt that under the stress of patriotism and
liquor she could exact a matrimonial promise from Sagadoll. 

Her hair was quite thin so she sent out (to some larger city) for a wig, and
some material for a new dress. My, how we did work on that dress! In those
days bustles were all the rage. Mrs. Dean felt that bustles were too heavy for
the spine, and if God had wanted her to look that way he would have made her a
hump. I pointed out that paper could be used for the bustle and that wouldn't
hurt her spine. Mrs. Dean agreed with me, so she had a paper bustle, instead
of the usual wire one. 

The day of the picnic dawned with nature more than playing her part in the
courtship. The morning was spent in putting the wig on, and pinning a new
bonnet in place. The dress, with its paper bustle was made and pronounced a
perfect fit. On the way to the picnic the wind lifted the wig and bonnet off
of Mrs. Dean's head. The humiliation must have been great, but she was a
determined and courageous woman. Undaunted, she re-adjusted the wig and bonnet
and exacted a matrimonial promise from Sagadoll. They lived quite happily
until she died, oddly enough, from tuberculosis at the age of 75.

The Fourth of July celebrations were the great events in our lives. A typical
celebration would be a picnic at noon, with barbecued sheep, hogs, and young
steers. The tables would be piled high with the good food prepared by
excellent cooks. After the picnic everyone would gather around a platform that 
was set up in the middle of the grounds. The band would play patriotic pieces,
and popular music of the day. A preacher would usually open the services with
a long, dry, exhortation to God to preserve and protect the union.

Judge Dustin, a noted character, of the day gave the Fourth of July speech.
Always he read the Declaration of Independence. Then, he would deliver an
excellent address. Mrs. Sagadoll, of whom I have spoken of, usually recited a
patriotic piece of some kind. 

I have often heard told an amusing incident that occurred several years before
my time. The Hon. J. C. Luce, arose to read the Declaration of Independence,
his voice boomed out in clear, rich tones nearly half of the Constitution of
the United States, before, H. W. Lair Hill pulled the tail of John's coat and
informed him of his mistake.

The evening of the Fourth was always spent in dancing. We would dance the
Virginia Reel, Polkas, Schottish, Fireman's Dance, Mazurka, and the
Varsouvienne. At first these dances were danced to the hop craze. We would hop
polka, and schottish. Later the glide craze came in and we would waltz to the
Minuet and other glide dances. 

Other forms of amusement in the summer time were, swimming, hiking, and
racing. Of course, the men had the saloons in the winter and summer. The
winter time would bring coasting and skating; toupe shows would come through;
home talent plays would be produced; candy pulls, church bazaars and parties
would be held. 

The shows that would occasionally come through were always an exciting event.
I was a most ardent attender of such erformances. My secret ambition was for 
the stage. My mother put a stop to such an ambition when she told me an
actress couldn't be a decent lady. However, I must have been fairly good for a 
child, because one troupe wanted me to go with them and play little Eva, in
Uncle Tom's Cabin

I can remember of sitting on the front row and calling out in loud protest at
the villain. "The Last Loaf", a play where a man took a poor widow's last loaf
of bread, nearly caused me to be kicked out of the hall. When the actor took
the lady's last loaf, my protestations were loud and long.

A popular play often produced by troupes and home talent was called, "The Good
For Nothin'". Often the charade, "Cinderella," was performed Old Black Joe, a
song, was sung by someone off stage and another person would act the part of
Old Black Joe. To me, Old Black Joe was a thrilling performance. Negro
Minstrals came through once or twice, causing plenty of interest among the
settlers.

The home talent plays were always fun for everyone. I usually got to play the
lead, and a Mr. Mills, a professional tenor, that who looked like a dying calf
when he sung, played opposite me. Our costumes were made from cambric
material. The scenery was put together by local carpenters, and the furniture
was borrowed from homes near the hall. 

The festivals we had were enjoyable. I remember a strawberry festival that
featured a huge floating island pudding. At this bazaar (festival) I sold
candy, and wild flowers. My mother baked a huge sponge cake. I know she used
20 eggs and brown sugar in making the cake. She used brown sugar because we
didn't have any other kind. During the first part of our life there white
granulated sugar was unheard of. This cake was decorated with tissue paper
flowers, and cut in extremely small pieces, so every one could have some. 
 
The biggest thrill in my life was during the fall round-up of cattle. The
buckaroos would drive the wild, ferocious, cattle right through the center of
the town. They tried to keep the cattle in order but quite often the beasts 
would get out of control and stampede, causing much damage to property.

One time I was walking down town with a bright red dress on. When I was in
about the center of the town I noticed the cattle come over the brow of the
hill leading into town. I can still remember how I stood there literally
frozen to the ground as the cattle charged down the hill. Fortunately I was
standing in front of a saloon, and one of the men came out and quickly jerked
me inside, slamming the door of the saloon just in time. The door slammed and
a long horned steer butted into it. I can still see that long horn sticking
through the broken panes of the window in the door. 

I was caught another time with my small brother, Burt. This time we laid as
still and close against the building as we could. The buckaroos saw us and
headed the cattle away from where we were. My, but that was a frightening
experience. 

Perhaps the second biggest thrill in my life was the Indian attack we went
through. Those miserable Indians were on the warpath all around us, but for
some reason all of us felt fairly safe. Which later events proved to be a
fool's paradise. 

On a peaceful Sunday the horrible news came that the Indians were coming to
attack. Everyone was ordered to the caves above the town. My mother and I were
preparing dinner. She told me to gather all the clothes and valuable things in
the house and put them in a stone cellar we had. 

Later mother and I joined the townspeople up in the caves. I believe we were
there for about three days. We had very little to eat and nothing to prepare
food with. We children slept in the caves. I can remember how terrified I was
at the large rocks hanging over my head. Mother slept out under the stars. The
attack was stopped several miles before the Indians got to Canyon, and we were
allowed to go back home. No one in Canyon was injured by the attackers.

The religious life in our mining camp was nearly as active as the
hell-raiser's life. We had three churches, Methodist, Episcopal, and Catholic.
Each church had its minister and life peculiar unto its needs. The Catholic
priest, with two sisters, had a private school for a short time. The Episcopal
church was built by popular subscription. It stands today, one of the most
picturesque and beautiful churches in Oregon. The windows in that church are
real stained glass. Strangely enough, though right in the center of town, it
has survived all the fires of the town. There have been either four or five
serious fires. 

Perhaps the most noted hell-raiser in the history of Canyon City was [Marie
St. Claire.?]. The wildest, toughest, and most beautiful light woman the
houses there ever had. Marie was kind and generous to everyone. If crossed,
though, she could draw and plug her man with the best of them. I remember that
she would go horseback riding in men's clothes; something no lady, scarcely a
light one, would do. When she dressed in her gorgeous velvet dresses she could
dazzle anyone. Marie lived extravagantly. Her home had every luxury known to
the world at that time. Her silver service was particularly beautiful. Wild,
beautiful, dangerous Marie St. Claire had the secret admiration of everyone,
despite her profession.

Comment: 

Mrs. Ford was more than willing to talk. Although she hated the town she was
born and raised in, she seemed to enjoy the fact that she knew so much of its
history.

The town in which she was born and raised is noted for its picturesqueness. It
is truly one of the great historical towns in Oregon. From this small village
many noted men have come. Joaquin Miller, is perhaps the best known.

The town itself has suffered every disaster a town could, but after each
disaster arose to flourish again.