A photo of this house is in the Marion Dean Ross Collection at U of O - it is said to be a photo of a the C. A. Cathy house in Talent, Oregon
If anyone remembers this place please email
to let me know where this was.
Klamathon by George Wright
KLAMATHON
December 28, 1953
Klamathon was a busy little town before the fire in 1902 destroyed the most of it, including the sawmill.
The logs for the mill came from around the Pokegama area. They were hauled to the rim of the canyon south of Shovel Creek and were released into a chute made from hand hewn logs that extended from the rim of the canyon to the Klamath River. The logs were floated down the Klamath to the town of Klamathon, where they were sawed into lumber.
What little remained of Klamathon after the fire soon dwindled away, although the post office remained for a few more years in the store of I.H. Small, who was also the postmaster.
Jap Crenshaw operated a blacksmith shop on the north side of the river, and he continued to remain in the business for many years after the fire. The old wooden wagon bridge across the river was almost in front of the wagon shop. The bridge was used until the mid-twenties, when the County built a new bridge upstream from the old one.
The dam across the river at Klamathon that held the logs for the mill had a fish ladder, and I can remember before the town burned how the salmon would hang along the river below the dam by the thousands. People for many miles would to there to get the salmon to salt or dry for the winter's food supply.
I can remember the log drivers along the river. In later years some of the old drivers told me a lot about the log drives and some of the things that happened in old Klamathon Town. The log drivers whom I recall include Rod N. Frain, W.L. Frain, Fred Frain, Frank Woods, James White and Henry Hoover.
There used to be a cemetery on the hillside a half mile or so up the river from the town. There is not any sign of it now except a post and a tree. Some of the graves were moved, but some still remain. The cemetery seems to have outlived its usefulness after the town and mill burned, and probably at this time is all but forgotten except for a few old timers.
Little Bogus Creek and Giddings Hill by George Wright
LITTLE BOGUS CREEK
December 24, 1953
The little creek or gulch that empties into the Klamath River about two miles up the river from old Klamathon Town and on the eastside of the river, is called Little Bogus Creek.
About two miles up the river from Little Bogus Creek, and also on the eastside, is Bogus Creek. It is much larger than Little Bogus Creek, and has water in it the year around. Little Bogus Creek has water only through the winter and spring months.
Many years ago when I was roaming the range I would see many steelhead fish in the little stream after the warm rains during the winters. They would go up the little stream to spawn.
GIDDINGS HILL
In going down the Klamath River to Hornbrook the road crosses Cedar Gulch and then goes over a little hill and down to the river again. The hill is called Giddings Hill, and is not as noticeable over the new road as it used to be. On the old road in earlier years the hill was a good pull for the horses when the wagons were used, and the early automobiles often had trouble with the hill when the road was muddy from the rains. The new road follows along where the old cut-off trail used to be, and is not as steep as the old road was.
Giddings Hill was named after Abner and Henry Giddings. They were father and son who lived near the hill and both were early day stage drivers. They drove stages between Yreka, California, and Jacksonville, Oregon, before the railroad was built through Siskiyou Mountain.
Place Names by George Wright
THE GOAT RANCH
December 19, 1953
A long time ago, probably around fifty years of so, people settled on Hutton Creek a little south of the Oregon-California boundary. There are the remains of two sets of buildings several hundred yards apart so I would guess the two homesteads were taken out or perhaps they acquired the land by some other means.
Around 25 years ago people lived on one of the places and had a little herd of goats. For many years it was called the Goat Ranch, and probably still goes by that name.
I like those little places, and either one of them would be a nice place to call home for anyone who doesn't care too much for this so-called civilization.
PILOT ROCK
December 20, 1953
Pilot Rock was first called Pilot Knob, and was the feeding ground for mountain sheep and the grizzly bear. It is a big, bluffy rock, and the area on its eastside is one of the roughest places in southern Jackson County, Oregon.
Pilot Rock can be seen for many miles, and for this reason it was one of the landmarks used by the early explorers. It was named long before northern California and southern Oregon were settled, and served as a guide-post before roads and trails were built through the country.
The Pilot Rock country must have been heaven for the wild things of the forest before the white man came with his firearms and his sheep and cattle. The timber and brush on the steep and rocky hillsides around Pilot Rock made it one of the last places the wildlife used to escape from the man and his rifle.
The notorious grizzly bear, Reelfoot, seemed to have been guided by his instinct and hatred for man to choose that rugged area as his headquarters and place for hibernation. He had for many years evaded the carefully laid plans of men to kill him for the twenty-seven hundred dollars reward offered by the cattlemen.
Many hunters had endured great hardships to hunt him down, but the hunters and dogs were no match for the wily old grizzly, who had lost three of his toes in a trap, and was carrying rifle bullets under his hide.
It was southeast of Pilot Rock, near Wildcat Gulch, where Reelfoot's career ended when he was killed, April 10, 1890, by William A. Wright and Purl Bean, after a fierce battle.
Place Names by George Wright
IVIN MILLER'S HOMESTEAD
December 19, 1953
Sometime around forty years ago a man we knew as Dad Miller located a homestead at the head of the east fork of Hutton Creek. I remember him well, and used to see him come into Hornbrook with loads of wood in his little wagon. I always admired his little black team of mares.
In later years the homestead was taken over by his son, Ivin Miller, and the homestead was known as the Ivin Miller place. The son passed away about five years ago and the place has been vacant since then as far as I know. I have heard that the homestead has been sold to the Crabtree brothers and that they plan to use it as a hunting camp.
The homestead would be a nice place in the winters to use for fur trapping, since that area was good coyote and bobcat country. I suppose they are scarce there now, just as they are elsewhere.
SWIFT'S HOMESTEAD
December 19, 1953
I don't know how long Hiram Swift, also known as AHigh Swift, lived on his little ranch west of little Pilot Rock near Hutton Creek. He was there when I was a boy and lived there until he passed away over twenty years ago.
Swift was in the horse business, and also cut and hauled wood to Hornbrook.
I believe that Swift homesteaded the place, and as far as I know it is still called the Swift place, although I think it was sold, and has only been used for cattle pasture at the present time. I do not know of anyone else ever having lived there.
HORN'S PEAK
December 22, 1953
Horn's Peak is about one mile north and east from Hornbrook and a couple of miles north from what used to be the Horn Ranch. It was named for David M. Horn, Sr., a pioneer ranch owner and stockman.
I used to ride in the vicinity of the ranch each year to round up horses. There was good winter and spring feed there for horses, and it was all open range in those days, but I suppose it is fenced now.
DEAD HORSE GULCH
December 22, 1953
Dead Horse Gulch heads just east of Horn Peak and empties into the Klamath River just below the present bridge across the river near the old town of Klamathon.
Many years ago when I was punching cattle and wrangling horses, the name of Dead Horse Gulch was often mentioned by the riders of the range. The country around that area was all open range, but I believe that now it is all under fence.
THE SEIKEL RANCH
December 22, 1953
The Ed J. Seikel Ranch was located on one of the forks of Dead Horse Gulch, about a mile or more from the Klamath River.
From twenty-five to forty years ago I did a lot of riding for horses on the range around the Seikel Ranch. The ranch was then, and as far back as I can remember, owned by and operated by, Mr. and Mrs. Edward J. Seikel. He was in the horse business.
Although it was a small ranch, I always liked the place and its location. I don't know at this time who owns the place, or if anyone lives there.
WILLOW CREEK
December 23, 1953
Willow Creek empties into the Klamath River less than a mile upstream from the old town of Klamathon. The creek is quite long and is well known. It heads up in the mountains east from the north end of Shasta Valley.
About a mile upstream from its mouth there is a place that was called Laird's Station during the stagecoach days. In later years it was known as the Thrall Ranch. The old Klamath Lake railroad joined the Southern Pacific at this place.
On up the creek is the old town of Ager, the Kegg Ranch and a few other ranches, including the Joseph Ranch. The Morton Brothers Ranch is not far from the creek, and above their ranch is the Mulloy Ranch, and what used to be the Nolan Ranch.
I helped harvest the grain crop on the Nolan Ranch in 1914.
There used to be many steelhead fish that would run up Willow Creek, and I suppose they still use Willow Creek for their runs.
I don't know how the creek was named, but willows grow in many places along the stream.
Hilt,California by George Wright
HILT
December 19, 1953
I don't know much about the little town of Hilt. It could be called a sawmill town because the lumbering and logging business seems to be the most active there, although there are some stock ranches in the area.
From what I have been told a man by the name of John Hilt first had a little sawmill and ranch near the present town of Hilt. The name Hilt was applied to the present sawmill and community when they were established, although they were built in a different place than the original mill and ranch.
About ten years ago I had a nice visit with Wilmer Hilt, the son of John Hilt who built the original mill, and he told me he went to school with my father at Hurley in the early days.
It was around 1929 when I last visited at Hilt, so I don't know much about the doings there at this time.
Place Names by George Wright
THE CROVELLE RANCH
December 15, 1953
The Crovelle Ranch is located along the lower part of Hutton Creek at the foot of Bailey Hill. The Southern Pacific Railroad goes through the ranch.
Manuel Crovelle, Senior, obtained the place as a homestead in the early days, and engaged in cattle raising. Despite the fact that Crovelle has been gone for many years the ranch has been going by his name until very recently.
The people I remember owning or operating the ranch are Manuel Alves, Manuel F. Crovelle, Jr., and Louis Freitas.
Lawrence Lemos bought the ranch about two years ago and is the present owner.
HUTTON CREEK
December 17, 1953
Hutton Creek empties into Cottonwood Creek north or Hornbrook, and it heads in the south slopes of the Pilot Rock area.
The Hutton Creek area used to be, and I guess it still is, a good winter range for cattle and horses. A few years ago there were lots of horses roaming these hills around Hutton Creek and many of them spent the winters there for the snowfall usually was light, and there was quite a lot of grass on the rocky ridges.
The headwaters of Hutton Creek are on the Oregon side of the state line.
Some forty or fifty years ago some people started to make a couple of little ranches in the main fork of Hutton Creek near the state line, but they were vacant a few years ago when I was there, although some of the buildings were still standing.
Some thirty years ago someone lived there for a while and had a herd of goats, and since then its been called the Goat Ranch.
There used to be a wagon road up the creek to the little ranches, but when I was there last in the mid-nineteen forties the road had not been used for a long time, and was not passable.
It's sort of a nice place, with a couple of nice, cold springs. Probably some people, long ago, homesteaded the place.
On the east branch of Hutton Creek a man we used to call Dad Miller located a homestead some forty-five years ago.
SHELTON ROCK
December 18, 1953
There is a peak, or pointed hill, between Hutton Creek and Highway 99 north of what used to be called the Crovelle Ranch. The peak is known as Shelton Rock. Why it was named Shelton Rock I do not know.
It used to be a heaven for horses in the winter time when there were a lot of them on the range a few years ago. Cattle also stayed around there in the winter since the snow fall is usually light, and there is bunch grass around the rocky hillsides, which both the cattle and horses like.
THE TERRILL RANCH
December 18, 1953
The Terrill Ranch is on up Hutton Creek from the Crovelle Ranch. Years ago Oscar Terrill and his family lived there. I don't know what the little ranch is called these days.
Terrill was in the early days a great deer hunter and I can remember him telling about his hunting experiences when I was a little sprout.
He had a 30-30 Marlin rifle, one of the first high-powered rifles around, and he used to say all he needed was three jumps of a deer and he was sure to have meat. All in all he was a crack rifle shot, and would take part in the turkey shoots, where he nearly always won some turkeys.
Place Names by George Wright
COTTONWOOD CREEK
December 13, 1953
Cottonwood Creek spreads out in the Siskiyou Mountains and empties into the Klamath River a short distance south of Hornbrook. It drains a lot of country in the high mountains where the snow fall is heavy, and therefore has a lot of water in the winter and spring. It almost dried up in the summer when the snow has gone.
I was never around very much in the upper part of Cottonwood Creek, so I didn't know very much about the history of that area.
The early settlers told me that when the white man came there were a lot of Indians camped along Cottonwood Creek. They probably camped there because there was plenty of fish in the creek during the winter and spring.
It would be reasonable to believe that the stream got its name from the cottonwood trees growing along its banks.
THE MASSON RANCH
December 14, 1953
David Marshall Horn, Sr., was the first man as far as I know to settle at the mouth of Cottonwood Creek. He built up a stock ranch, and was among the first white settlers in the area.
About 1876 or later, Horn bought the Camp Creek Ranch now known as the DeSoza Ranch, from Charles F. Hammond, to be used mostly as a cattle-roundup place.
Horn operated his ranch at the mouth of Cottonwood Creek for many years, and it was probably the largest ranch for many miles.
One of his sons with the same name inherited the ranch from his father, and continued to build up and produce cattle for a long time. Young Horn adventured into new ideas for the improvement and enlargement of his cattle ranch. One of his ventures was the extension of the ditch from what is now known as the Paine Ranch to his ranch. This was done about 1908, and was a large job for those days. A few years later the ditch was abandoned.
To expand the cattle herd one hundred or more Texas long-horned steers were brought in around 1909 and put on the range.
In 1919 or about that time Horn started to buy the pasture at Buck Lake in Oregon. He gave up this venture after a couple of years. I remember very well the first herd of cattle he drove to Buck Lake because I helped drive them. There were five hundred and forty-five head in the drive.
For many years the ranch was known as the Horn Ranch, and sometimes it still goes by the old name when the old timers speak of it.
The next owner or operator to follow Horn was a Mr. Thornberry, who came from around the San Francisco Bay area. He had a foreman to operate the ranch, by the name of Dan Beers. After about 3 years John Cooley, Sr., obtained the ranch for a while, and then his son, Arthur J. Cooley, operated the ranch. Following him another son, John Cooley, Jr., operated the ranch. Not many years ago Elic Masson bought the ranch and was there a few years. It is still called the Masson Ranch, although Dick Richman bought it during the late nineteen forties. In about 1951 Pichman sold the ranch to Paul Visher, the present owner.
Robison House on Wagner Creek in Oregon
This was the John And Susan Robison House as it looked in the 1880s. It was built about 1864 and is still standing today on Wagner Creek Road near Talent, Oregon. The house has been remodeled several times and is hard to identify now. In this photo are Hannah and Sam Robison standing behind the fence and Susan Robison sitting on the front porch. One of the trees to the right was a swamp hickory tree which is still growing beside the house today.
This is a view of the same house looking towards the Northeast. Roxy Ann Peak can be seen in the distance. The water tower and barn are no longer standing. At the time of this photo, the homestead appears to be used as a dairy.
Eddie Robison, author of the Talent News is standing in front of the old Robison place. Eddie inherited the house from his father and grandfather. The face of the house had been changed by the time this photo was taken and is changed even more now but the interior still has elements of the old place. The Robison family arrived in Jackson County in 1853 and lived in a log cabin until this home was built to accomodate the family. The Robison Donation Land Claim was bordered by the Beesons and the Stearns families.
Spiritualist Gathering in Ashland, Oregon
Hornbrook, California by George Wright
HORNBROOK
December 12, 1953 by George Wright
I believe it was about the time the California and Oregon Railroad came through, about 1887, when a little village or town started to grow on the banks of Cottonwood Creek, along the new railroad. The town was called Cottonwood, a namesake of Cottonwood Creek. A few years later the people of the new town wanted a Post Office and at that time the name was changed to Hornbrook. A new name was necessary because there was another town in California with the name of Cottonwood. The new name was given after David M. Horn, who had a stock ranch at the mouth of Cottonwood Creek not far from the town.
Years later the California and Oregon Railroad became the Southern Pacific. The railroad had a depot, a round-house and a switch-yard, and in the 1900's and later, Hornbrook was a busy little railroad town.
At the south end of town was Dr. Plimmell's office. A blacksmith shop was also at the south end of town and did business there for many years. Near the doctor's office Mr. and Mrs. Griesner had a drugstore. North of the drugstore was a saloon and back of the saloon was a two-story building where dances and other social events were held. North of the saloon came the open place with walnut trees, a band stand and a hitching rack, which was, as a rule, well occupied with horses and buggies. North of the open place was a large two-story brick building which contained a saloon, a hotel, and a large merchandise store.
The brick building and store was owned by Thomas Jones, and later became the T. Jones Company. On the north side of the store was the road that crossed Cottonwood Creek on a bridge and entered the town from the west. On the corner of the next block to the north was a meat shop and barber shop. This building also had an upper floor which was used for Lodge meetings. Next was a restaurant, a saloon and a rooming house, and then Waldon Brothers Dry Goods Store. Farther north was the D.C. Earhart Hardware Store, which also contained the Post Office and Telephone Exchange. On the north end of the town in later years there was a wholesale liquor house, which later became a restaurant operated by Dad Clark. East of the railroad tracks was Bert Newton's Livery Stable, which burned in later years. To the west across Cottonwood Creek was J.C. Jacquette's Livery Stable, which I believe, also burned. The Hornbrook Garage was later built at the same place.
The T. Jones Company Store, both inside and outside, looks about the same as it did when I was a little sprout. The scales are the same ones and in the same place. I remember when we boys went to Hornbrook with our father, and he would weigh us on the scales. The heating stove is a different one, but it is in the same place. When I was young and gay I often rode horseback to Hornbrook, and in the winter time the heat from the big stove felt very good. I often spent a lot of time standing around the stove. There were usually some old timers sitting around the stove, and I liked very much to hear them tell of their adventures in the old days. The Civil War veterans would tell of their soldiering experiences. Stockmen and old buckaroos would tell of their bronc-busting days, and there were gold miners there too, telling about the lands of gold and plenty in the wilderness.
A few of the old timers who I remember around Hornbrook and Henley include Sal Shattuck, a cattle and horse man near Henley, and one of the first white men to settle there. Fred Fredenburg lived at Henley, and also Anthony Niles lived there, and was the Justice of the Peace for many years. John O'Neil had a cattle ranch there also. George Day operated the Hotel in the Thomas Jones building, and served as Constable. Thomas Jones was the founder of the T. Jones Company. There was an old timer who lived in the mountains and hauled wood to town with a wagon and team of oxen. Once in a while I would see Oscar Terrill in town from his little ranch on Hutton Creek. Henry Moore had a little ranch near Hornbrook.
The men who I remember that served as Constable from about 1905 include George Day, Joe Clawson, Tillman King, George Hoxie, and Everett Elmore, who is Constable at the present time.
The doctors who practiced medicine in Hornbrook include Dr. Plimell, Dr. E.N. Richardson, and Dr. Ward.
The blacksmith shop was located at the south end of town and was a busy place. The blacksmiths who operated the shop at different times included Giberson and Dyer, Joe Giberson, Grant McHenry and Archie Elmore. I believe that Archie Elmore was the last to operate the shop.
Some of the cattlemen in the Hornbrook area in the early days were Ruf Grieve, Manuel Crobelle, Senior, who had a ranch on Hutton Creek, and David M. Horn, at the mouth of Cottonwood Creek, who also served as Supervisor of Siskiyou County.
Dad Miller had a homestead on the east fork of Hutton Creek and hauled wood to Hornbrook in a little wagon and a small team of black mares.
A few of the ranch hands I remember were Fred White, Hugh Dozier, who worked for John O'Neil for several years, Firm Anderson, who worked for D. Marshall Horn for many years, and Jack Scholtz, who worked around in different places.
George Howard had a dry goods store for a while. He was a candidate for the Sheriff of Siskiyou County, but lost. He ran a stage route from Hornbrook to Happy Camp.
Tom Coppin was in business in Hornbrook for many years with a saloon and dry goods store.
Nick Buckner was around Hornbrook and Henley for many years, and owned property in Henley, where he lived.
Charles Tod Jacobs was a bartender in the saloon in the T. Jones building, and other bartenders in the saloon were Don Drake and Tom Ashball.
There was gold in the mountains west of Hornbrook, and many people made prospecting and mining their business.
Some of the early settlers told me that an Indian Village was located where Hornbrook now is. It is no wonder that the Indians lived there, because there were plenty of deer nearby, and Cottonwood Creek was alive with fish.
Along Cottonwood Creek south of Hornbrook there used to be a hobo camp, where the weary travelers from the freight trains would cook their mulligan stews.
Thirty or more years ago most of the north part of the business places burned, and have never been replaced. The concrete walls of the building where the butcher shop, barber shop and Lodge Hall were are standing, and weeds grow between the walls.
The Indian and his bow and arrow was pushed away from the banks of Cottonwood Creek to make room for the white man with his rush and noise and foolish ways. The pioneers, the clickety-clack of the horses' hooves, the chuckle of wagon wheels and the jingle of tug chains have given way to the automobile with its bright paint and shining chrome, and its speed and hum.
Henley, California by George Wright
HENLEY
December 12, 1953 by George Wright
The town of Henley, what is left of it, is one of the little old towns of frontier days. How it got the name I don't know for sure but I believe the name was given after a man by the same name who was a California senator in the early days.
When the California and Oregon Railroad came through in about 1887 it bypassed Henley and followed along Cottonwood Creek. Henley began to die out as Hornbrook built up along the railroad. After a few years there wasn't much of anything at Henley but a little settlement of homes and small ranches. When the highway came in about 1915 it was built near Hornbrook. In about 1941 the highway was rebuilt and the route changed to pass through Henley. This started the pioneer town to show a little life again.
I don't remember too much about Henley when it was a town, although there was some of it left when I was a boy. At that time Hornbrook was well established and was a lively little town. I do remember, however, some of the early settlers that lived at or near Henley. They include Jehu Jacobs, Anthony Niles, Joe Clawson, John O'Neil, Sal Shattuck, Fred Fredenburg, and Sam Clawson.
More Place Names by George Wright
THE ANDERSON GRADE
February 11, 1953 by George Wright
The Anderson Grade was an early wagon road between Yreka and the Klamath River. It follows along on the west side of Black Mountain, and it's a pretty crooked road. It comes to the Klamath River at the Lucuc Ranch, where in that area there was a ferry across the river.
The Anderson Grade was once owned by a man named Firm Anderson, Sr., and the ferry also, hence the name Anderson Grade and Anderson Ferry. The road used in the early days before the railroad was built, by stage coaches and freight wagons and every other kind of travel. The old road is still used some, but the ferry however, has been gone for years.
I rode over the Anderson Grade several times on horseback before the highway came along, and remember very well the four and six horse teams, with bells on their names.
WILDCAT GULCH
February 11, 1953 by George Wright
Wildcat Gulch heads in toward the east branch of Hutton Creek. A ridge separates the two watersheds. Hutton Creek empties into Cottonwood Creek. Wildcat Gulch empties into Slide Creek near Spaulding's Camp.
It was a Spaulding's Camp that William A. Wright used his 50-70 Sharps carbine as a set gun for the grizzly bear, Reelfoot. The foxy old grizzly fired the carbine but the bullet missed him. Farther up in Wildcat Gulch, William A. Wright and Purl Bean later killed the huge Reelfoot in the spring of 1890.
ROBBERS ROCK
February 12, 1953 by George Wright
In following the old stage road from Hilt, California, northward one would find that it winds around among some trees as it approaches the top of the mountain. At the last turn before the road starts to level off at the top of the mountain, there is upon the hillside a couple of hundred feet or so, a big, lone rock, about the size of a one-room cabin. As the road goes around the turn the rock comes in sight at once.
This is a perfect place for a hold-up. I guess that's why three bandits picked that rock to hide behind, I believe sometime in the 1860's, and robbed the stage of a shipment of gold nuggets valued at seventy-five thousand dollars. Officers later killed two of the bandits north of Pilot Rock and captured the third one. The one captured was sent to prison, where he died several years later. From what I have gathered from the early settlers the holdup started the rock to be called Robber's Rock, and in later years the rock was used to stage other holdups in the same way. It seems that even in the old days crime didn't pay all the time.
ROBBER'S ROCK
December 21, 1953
Back in the spring of 1915 William A. Wright and I started out for the summit of the Siskiyou Mountains with a team and wagon loaded with a camp outfit. After leaving Hornbrook we traveled on the wagon road, known as the old stage road, through Hilt and on up the mountain. The old road would around, and was steep in places. As we approached the top at the last sharp turn, Wright, an old miner, pointed out a large rock not far from the road. The rock was nearly round, and was located in some scattered oaks and brush.
Wright told me it was called Robber's Rock, because soon after the stages began to run over the mountains, three armed bandits held up a stage and made off with a shipment of gold.
Place Names in Northern California by George Wright
HORSESHOE BEND
January 24, 1953 by George Wright
In early days before the wagon road was made along the Klamath River between Hornbrook and Fall Creek, the old road went out across the hills by Little Good Water to Hornbrook. Near the east fork of Brush Creek there was a steep hill, so the road made a short of half circle, or horseshoe shaped turn to get up the hill, hence the name, Horseshoe Bend, for that area.
I remember going over that road for the first time around fifty years ago with my father, with the team of horses and the big wagon, on our way to Hornbrook after our supplies. Traces of the old road can hardly be seen now. In earlier years Horseshoe Bend was mentioned quite often by stockmen, but seldom heard anymore. Some of the old names seem to have gone with the old times, and this one has almost faded away also.
THE LOWOOD SCHOOLHOUSE
January 24, 1953 by George Wright
There is not anything left of the Lowood Schoolhouse anymore at the mouth of Camp Creek, where the neighboring youngsters gathered to be taught this and that.
The first schoolhouse was a small one, made of rough boards. There were holes and cracks in the old building, but in those days people didn't seem to care about that. The teacher stuffed them full of waste paper when the cold weather came along.
One day, around 1907, the old schoolhouse burned. That made some of the youngsters happy, because we thought we wouldn't have to go to school anymore for quite a while. But we were soon made unhappy, for they soon stretched a large tent, made some desks from rough lumber, and we had to go to school again. They hired a new teacher to finish the term, Miss Louise Freitag, her first teaching experience, and in a tent! She was a lovely teacher, too. Probably not many teachers began their teaching career in a tent.
When the next school term began the following spring, they had a new schoolhouse, much larger than the old one, but still I didn't like to go to school. David C. Earhart of Hornbrook built the new schoolhouse.
Times and conditions changed during the years that followed, and the time came when the schoolhouse was no longer needed; and it was sold and moved away in about 1943. Thus ended the building where I was taught to write these words.
The old school yard fence that Jim Gardner built to keep us youngsters in is gone too. The old well is all caved in, but some of the trees where the youngsters tied their horses are still there, and they look about the same as they did forty-five years ago. The old hitch-rack went long ago.
Forest House by George F. Wright
THE FOREST HOUSE
January 19, 1953 by George F. Wright
The Forest House is a ranch home, and in early days a station and stopping place, it is located about five miles southward from Yreka, California, on the road leading over to Scott Valley.
Why the name, the Forest House, I do not know. In any event, it's an old one, having been built in the mid-1850's. In the early days it was a stopping place for all kinds of travel. I have stayed overnight there several times on cattle and horse drives going to Scott Valley. Fred Burton and family owned the ranch then, and someone was telling me a year or so ago, that they still own it. Burton was a member of the Siskiyou County Board of Supervisors a few years ago.
Place Names Oregon and N. California by George Wright
IMMIGRANT ROAD OVER THE GREENSPRINGS
July 3, 1952 by George F. Wright
After the Immigrant Road crossed Jenny Creek going westward toward Ashland, Oregon it went by the place now known as the Zinn Ranch, and on by the Twenty-Mile Spring, and crossed Keene Creek about where the present highway is now located, and on over the summit.
Sailor Bailey told me that his father, George H. Bailey, at the age of sixteen, came over this old road with an immigrant train from Missouri in 1850. And the place now known as the Zinn Ranch was at that time named Round Valley when the immigrant train stayed there for a few days to rest and re-arrange their ox teams after some of their oxen were stolen by the Indians while they were coming through the Klamath Basin.
THE CHIPMUNK TUNNEL
November 17, 1952 by George F. Wright
My memory of the exact location of the Chipmunk Tunnel is rather vague, for I was quite young around 1902, when a man by the name of Swift from, I believe, San Francisco, California, was prospecting for gold along Camp Creek.
Swift dug a tunnel in a hillside near the left fork of Camp Creek.
I was at the tunnel around forty years ago with my father looking for cattle, but I have forgotten the exact spot.
C. F. Moore told me several years ago that it was on a hillside in the brush near the right hand gulch branching off the left fork of Camp Creek, or at least that is the way I remember the way Moore told me.
I remember the old timers telling me, and hearing people talk about, Swift finding gold colors there in his tunnel and along the left fork of Camp Creek.
Probably there is not anyone around any more who remembers where it is, and very few at this time ever heard of it.
How it got the name, Chipmunk Tunnel, I don't remember.
RUFLEY'S HOLLOW
November 18, 1952 by George F. Wright
Rufley's Hollow is a little gulch about one-half mile or more long, that branches off the right hand fork of Camp Creek, to the west of Rufley's Camp.
A man by the name of Rufley camped and made pickets there in the early 1890's. The campsite is called Rufley's Camp and the little gulch is called Rufley's Hollow. During the early 1920's the cattlemen built a log corral at the campsite and traces of it can still be seen.
COLD SPRING
December 6, 1952 by George F. Wright
Between 1866 and 1875, William A. Wright had a camp at Cold Spring. He had a fireplace and a lean-to when he was riding and looking after cattle for Charles F. Hammond on the Camp Creek Ranch now known as the DeSoza Ranch.
Forty years ago or more, pieces of the tumbled down lean-to was still there. The pile of rocks which was once his fireplace can still be seen a few feet from Cold Spring, where my homestead is now located.
Wright also at one time camped some little distance northwest of Cold Spring among some little pine trees. This was an open camp with his bed in between some trees a few feet from his campfire. One morning when he got out of bed to start a fire and prepare breakfast, he found grizzly bear tracks in the ashes of the fire he had the evening before about thirty feet from his bed.
GRIEVE'S TRAIL
December 7, 1952 by George F. Wright
There is an old trail which is getting pretty dim, between the mouth of Jenny Creek and the old Grieve upper ranch. This has been called Grieve's Trail since the Grieve Brothers located their homestead along Jenny Creek in early days, and built them into cattle ranches.
What was known as the Grieve lower ranch was located at the mouth of Jenny Creek, and a much larger ranch was located northward up Jenny Creek about seven miles and was known as the Grieve Upper Ranch.
The Grieve brothers while riding horseback from one ranch to the other had a trail which they kept the brush trimmed out and the rocks out. This was known as Grieve's Trail.
From their lower ranch the trail followed along Jenny Creek for about a mile and turned up over a steep hill and over into the head of Dutch Creek, and on northward and by Cold Spring and straight over the ridge to Apple Jack and their upper ranch.
They also had a trail that branched off the main trail and followed up Jenny Creek Canyon for some distance and out over the rim at the Bear Cave and to the main trail at Cold Spring.
In riding these trails, they were riding where their cattle ranged. This gave them a chance to see their cattle more than if they rode on the east side of Jenny Creek.
In those early days hundreds of cattle drank water from Cold Spring, and the surrounding area was a favorite place for cattle to graze.
Many things have changed since the Grieve brothers were in the cattle business along Jenny Creek. In recent years the old Grieve's Trail has slowly faded away until now only part of it can be seen.
The Truth about Reelfoot by George Wright
The Truth About Reelfoot
By George F. Wright
In the past few years I have been urged by many people to write the facts concerning the noted grizzly bear, Reelfoot, and after much thought and consideration I have decided it would be proper and fitting to do so, for I have spent sixty-two years in the Siskiyou Mountains where Reelfoot once roamed. In earlier years the story was told to me many times by one of the bear's slayers, my uncle, Wm. A. Wright, also by my father, Thos. J. Wright, who hunted unsuccessfully for the bear, as did other early settlers.
Although my experience as a writer is little, and my school days were few, I will try to give to my readers this print sketch of the plain, unpolished statement of facts concerning this grizzly monarch, and the events relative to his career of violence among the herds of cattle in the Siskiyou Mountains and vicinity, for more than twenty years. The many unsuccessful attempts to capture him, and his death at last by the rifles of Wm. A. Wright and Purl Bean. As there has been so much told and printed about this bear, which in most cases is incomplete, or of dubious validity, many stories of speculation, misstatement and wild guesses told and printed about this cattle-killing grizzly.
He was tough and he lived to be old, his teeth were short and worn from many years of hard usage, and he was one of the largest grizzlies killed anywhere. Many incidents were related of the wanton killing of cattle in the vicinity of Pilot Rock and Jenny Creek; cattlemen were awed by the giant size and his cunning. The stories and killing of other grizzlies have about all been forgotten, but the tale of Reelfoot is still told.
The end of Reelfoot was a dawn of a new era for the cattlemen, an era free from the torment of cattle losses. He was hated, feared and hunted, but always respected; after sixty-nine years his stuffed hide is still hunted.
I have often heard said that all things must some day come to an end. How true this was of the grizzly race after the coming of the white man, with his onslaught of expanding programs for fortune and fame, his onward push of the cattle industry into the remote areas, spelled the end of at least one of the last remaining grizzlies.
Many years have passed since grizzly bears roamed the forest of southern Oregon and northern California, particularly in the Siskiyou Mountains, but the memory of AReelfoot still lingers. Tales of his great size, immense strength, his ability to outwit the human schemes to kill him, coupled with his uncanny instincts, are told wherever old timers meet.
During the late 1880's it was believed that Reelfoot was the last remaining grizzly in and around the Siskiyou Mountains, however, in the spring of 1890, a large grizzly was killed in the vicinity of Secret Mountain, by Rod M. Frain, W.L. Frain and Frank Ream. This bear had killed a number of cattle in the mountains surrounding Butte Valley, a $500 reward was offered for his scalp. To my knowledge, the last known grizzly to roam the Siskiyou Mountains was killed in 1902 by Gordon Jacobs of Hornbrook, California, along the California-Oregon border west of Hilt. However, grizzly tracks were reported later.
When the rich and fertile lands of Siskiyou and Jackson Counties were first settled and herds of cattle began to graze the surrounding hillsides, grizzly bears were quite numerous. As most of these were only average grizzlies, little attention was paid to those killed. Cattlemen were expanding their land and increasing their herds, grizzlies were also increasing their forays. Cattlemen hunted and killed, poisoned and trapped bears, while hunters and trappers killed them for food, until the grizzly bear population was reduced considerably. But still the number of cattle killed was at an alarming figure, and it became evident as time went on that two large grizzlies were doing most of the killing.
At that time the Grieve brothers were in the cattle business along Jenny Creek, and they also lost cattle, one of the brothers, Robert Bruce Grieve, an experienced hunter and trapper, set a trap in the vicinity of Skookum Gulch, and in time caught a huge female grizzly, said to be the largest yet killed in the Siskiyou Mountains. But still the cattle losses went on, and it was evident that one overgrown bear was doing the killing. For some time the cattlemen tried to trap and poison him, and many hunted for him; except for the huge tracks there was no way to distinguish his killings from other grizzlies, he was of gigantic size, and the way he killed full-grown cattle was beyond the imagination of man.
Robert Bruce Grieve tried his luck at setting a trap for the bear in the Skookum Gulch area, and after repeated efforts, succeeded in getting him in a trap, but he escaped, leaving three of his toenails in the trap. This made his left front footprint appear like it was turned in a little, hence the name Reelfoot.
It was found that he roamed a great expanse of territory, his real foot tracks telling of his visits in many places. He would disappear from the Pilot Rock and Jenny Creek area for as long as six months at a time. Old timers claimed that he went as far as Silver Lake, Oregon. He seemed to kill, eat and move on, although his main travels were along the California-Oregon border between the Klamath River on the east and Pilot Rock on the west. His enormous strength and weight enabled him to kill a full-grown beef with as little effort as an ordinary bear would kill a calf. He would rush upon a beef, usually from a point of vantage on an elevation above his prey, and bear it to the ground, would close his powerful jaws over the animal's back just behind the shoulders, and crush the bones of shoulder and back. Cows and steers killed in this manner had about the carcasses tracks of AReelfoot.
In the spring of 1882, J.D. Williams, of Ashland, Oregon, was herding his flock of sheep in the vicinity of Bald Mountain. He witnessed one of Reelfoot's battles. His sheep were grazing on a hillside, below him in a glade a bunch of cattle under the leadership of a big bull belonging to David M. Horn, were quietly feeding. The instant the bear appeared Williams took to the tree and viewed the struggle from that vantage point at a distance of some fifty yards. The unsuspecting cattle did not see the bear until he rushed in and killed a calf standing beside its mother. The cow attempted to defend her calf but a stroke from the big paws left the cow dead. The bull charged down upon the bear, Reelfoot was knocked off his feet by the impact. He arose with a growl and charged the bull several times until he succeeded in seizing the bull and bringing him to his death. The bear made a meal of the calf, then wallowed in a mud-hole and left. Williams identified the bear by the tracks after the fight was over.
William A. Wright tried repeatedly to trap him but always failed. He then tried out a plan of setting his 50-70 Sharps carbine to kill him. The intelligence and cunning of the bear was soon evident. Wright arranged his loaded carbine, tied to a tree along Slide Creek, in such a way that he thought it impossible for the bear to get at the bait without standing where he would receive the bullet from the carbine. The bear approached the bait from the lower side of the tree, reached around the tree, and started to pull the bait away when the carbine was discharged, but the bullet missed! Again and again Wright tried every plan known to effect his capture, but always failed, so for a time gave it up.
So for several years the herds of cattle were being depleted by this grizzly's vicious acts. The cattlemen banded together and offered a sizeable reward for his capture. Among those having the largest herds and suffering the heaviest losses, were Major Barron of Ashland, Oregon, and David M. Horn, of Hornbrook, California. These cattlemen, along with others, combined and offered a reward of $2,700.00 to any person or persons who could prove the killing of AReelfoot. This stimulated the hunters of this region to extraordinary efforts, and many a hard day's tramp and many lonely nights by campfires resulted only in confirming the hunters in the belief that Reelfoot could not be caught.
Hunters and cattlemen, singly and in groups, hunted for him again and again, but all to no avail. His tracks were often seen, and he was known to be in the vicinity, but he kept out of the sight of the hunters.
Reelfoot possessed a remarkable cunning in eluding all his pursuers, avoiding the dangers of the many traps set for him. He would seldom return to a kill after he had eaten a meal. It took a beef for every meal. By keeping well concealed in the daytime and traveling at a rate almost impossible for man or horse to keep up with him, the bear for many years baffled the efforts of the best hunters to kill or trap him.
George Cook, a noted hunter and guide, put in quite a lot of time seeking Reelfoot, and had the good fortune to get a shot at the noted bear; a 38-55 rifle bullet lodged in his shoulder, where it was found flattened against the shoulder blade after the bear was killed, years later.
During the spring following the hard winter of 1889 and 1890 hundreds of cattle had just been loosed on the rangeland to graze the southward slopes of hillsides between Hornbrook and Pilot Rock. Reelfoot frequently roamed the Pilot Rock area during the early spring, and it was believed he denned up in that area.
On April 4, 1890, Wm. A. Wright, saddled his horse on his home ranch at Camp Creek and rode to Hornbrook. On his return he met Pedro Smith, who lived on his homestead at the head of Dry Creek, on his way to Klamathon. He reported to Wright the killing of a cow by Reelfoot along Dry Creek, belonging to David M. Horn. The incident was also reported around Klamathon town. Wright continued on his way, stopping at the ranch of the Bean family on Pine Creek. He invited Purl Bean to go with him the following day to hunt for the cattle-killing bear. Bean, an experienced hunter himself, was delighted to try his luck. The next morning on arriving at the Bean ranch Wright found three other hunters eager to accompany them on the hunt. On that day, April 5, 1890, the five hunters started after the famous bear, fully determined to capture him if possible. They desired to separate, three going in a different direction than the other two. The country was exceedingly rough, with its high peaks and deep, rocky canyons, mostly covered with thick brush and deep snow on the north hillsides, consequently one that was very difficult for man or beast to travel over.
The two men, Wm. A. Wright and Purl Bean, who were together, found fresh tracks of the bear, and thought it best to report the finding to the rest of the party. After a brief rest the five men returned to the spot of fresh tracks, following them for several miles, soon sighting the bear in the distance. One of the party, being the owner of some dogs brought along for the purpose, unleashed them on the bear's trail, against the expressed wishes of the remainder of the party. Consequently both bear and dogs kept out of sight of the hunters, so the chase ended unsuccessfully again. Weary and disheartened after hunting for four days, the men were ready to return to their homes. Owing to the results of this hunt, Wm. A. Wright and Purl Bean decided to try again later on and by themselves, in fact they decided on the very next day.
Both these men were good hunters and mountaineers and knew the area they were to cover. Wright was 41 years of age, seasoned with many years of experience on the frontier and having three previous narrow escapes from grizzlies. His physical ruggedness and determined courage fitted him well for the hardships and dangers often met with on the western frontier. Bean was only a youth of 17 years, but much older in experience, having grown up in the mountains. He was a good hunter and a crack shot, endowed with great courage.
So at the dawn of a new day, April 10, 1890, Wright and Bean, with two dogs, started on a bear hunt that resulted in the death of the much-feared grizzly, Reelfoot, and was to grace the pages of history and the talk of the country far and near for years to come.
After traveling several miles they came suddenly upon the object of their hunt, about three miles south of Pilot Rock, near Wildcat Gulch, in Siskiyou County, California, and near the Oregon border.
The bear when first sighted had just gotten up from his bed, made on a flattened wood-rat's nest. It was believed that he had gotten the scent of the hunters, and his cunning instinct started him to move along his way. The hunters were standing on a hillside, about one hundred feet from the little gulch, looking up at the bear on the opposite hillside, some three hundred feet from the gulch. They both at once fired from the rear at a distance of about one hundred and twenty-five yards as the bear left his bed, both bullets took affect. As soon as shot he showed fight and made for the hunters, tearing up with his teeth large shrubs and brush in his anger, and fighting the two dogs as he came. Blended with the rifle fire was the barking of the two dogs and the roaring growls of an enraged, huge, grizzly bear. The hunters stood their ground, to kill or be killed, taking good aim and firing as fast as possible and with good effect. By this time the bear had fought his way down to the bottom of the gulch, where the dogs Abayed him for a few minutes, giving the hunters time to reload their repeating rifles.
Although the bear showed some signs of weakening the dogs were tired also. The men agreed that Wright would shoot for his head, and Bean for the heart. With their rifles fully loaded again they started firing, still the weakened bear fought his way up the hillside of the gulch, trying to get at his assailants. When within forty feet of the men the great bear unexpectedly toppled over dead. Thus ended the career of this much feared and noted grizzly. The hunters probably breathed a sigh of relief and no doubt felt a gratitude toward the two dogs for their much-needed help in bringing their hunt to a successful conclusion.
It was never known how many cattle this old and vicious grizzly killed during the twenty-odd years he was known to be a killer, but the figures were estimated to be in the hundreds.
With horses and a sled the two successful hunters hauled the bear down from the mountain to the Bean ranch home, and began to prepare the hide for mounting. It was mounted by an amateur taxidermist, in time the hide began to spoil, so it was necessary to dismount it and it was taken to another taxidermist, but due to the spoiled condition it was impossible to make a good job of mounting. This is the reason the mounted animal does not have the exact appearance of a grizzly bear. Missing is the hump so characteristic of the grizzly. However, the mounted bear was placed on a wagon drawn by a team of mules, and displayed for ten cents per person in the towns and villages throughout western Oregon and northern California.
Wright, a family man with a ranch and cattle, was anxious to sell the mounted bear and return to his home, this was accomplished in, I believe, 1892, for the sum of $500.00. The bear was then displayed in many cities and towns throughout the United States, and finally seems to have disappeared. In the late 1930's an effort was made to locate the mounted bear by Gordon Jacobs and others, to have it returned and placed in the Siskiyou County Museum in Yreka, California. Several clues were run down and checked, but to no avail. Service men returning from World War II from overseas reported that they believed the bear was in a museum in London, England. So the hunt began again, all museums in England, France and Germany were contacted without success. At this writing, the whereabouts of the memorable old bear Reelfoot are a mystery.
In 1912 I acquired the number six Newhouse trap used by Wright to catch the bear. In 1922 I acquired the number six Newhouse trap from which Reelfoot escaped, leaving three of his toenails. This trap was stolen from my ranch in 1950. In 1924 I became the owner of the 50-70 Sharps carbine used by Wright as a Aset gun, but this was destroyed by a fire in the same year. The three toenails were for many years on display at the home ranch of the Grieve brothers, one of them was stolen. The remaining toenails, which are 42 inches long, are owned by George A. Grieve and on display at the Siskiyou County Museum in Yreka, California. I understand at this writing that Mrs. Mackey, sister of Purl Bean, still has the bullets taken from Reelfoot after he was killed. It is not known what became of Bean's 44-40 Winchester Model 1873 rifle, used in slaying the bear. The 56-46 Spencer rifle that Wright used, was, before coming into the possession of the Wright family, owned by G.A. Nordheim, an early California gunsmith of Yreka, California. He had made a target rifle of the Spencer, by fitting a heavy barrel and set trigger bringing the weight to thirteen pounds. I have handled the rifle many times at our old home ranch on Camp Creek. I have in my possession some pictures of the mounted AReelfoot.
In conclusion, I hope this article has given some of the real facts and will clear up many of the misleading statements that have been made and printed about Reelfoot.
George Wright article by Marjorie O'Harra
Article from
THE OREGONIAN
November 16, 1966
By Marjorie O'Harra
A MOUNTAIN MAN LIKES BEING LONER, LEARNS TO TYPE
AS MEANS OF WRITING LOCAL HISTORY
ASHLAND (Special) -- My Uncle John was a mountain man, George Wright said as he leaned back in the crook of the age-silvered log and looked out across the mountain meadow. He lived up here because he liked to be alone. My folks moved down on the Klamath River when I was seven to send us kids to school, but every chance I'd get I'd run up here to live with Uncle John. I have lived here most of the time since I was 14.
Wright, who is 69, lives at Cold Springs Flat on the Green Springs mountain area some 30 miles east of Ashland, on land his father settled on in 1881. And, as his Uncle John, he lives here--four rough miles off the Copco Road--because he likes to be alone.
VOTES CAST
Although he chooses to view the world from a bit of a distance, Wright is intensely interested in what is going on. He keeps current with the news of the day by listening to his battery radio and he is an inveterate reader.
He has never missed voting in an election although he has to walk or ride horseback eight or nine miles over rugged mountain country to his precinct polls at Lincoln.
As a young man, Wright was a cowpuncher--a buckaroo. He would work out as a range rider but always return to his homestead on Cold Springs Flat, along Skookum Gulch. And then I got to be an old timer, he said, and people kept telling me I ought to write--put some of the stuff I know down on paper. About 1952 history started to take a boom and I began to write for a pastime. I wrote about horses and wildlife and nature and name places, about the things I knew. I'm working on a book now.
TYPING LEARNED
Wright, who admits to very little formal education, was given a typewriter a few years ago and started to use it. It wasn't hard, he said. I just read the directions.
Local historians regard him a good source of information and he has prepared several hundred articles and given them to the Jacksonville Museum.
Wright keeps a few chickens, a black and white cat and two black horses. He rides a horse to the home of his nearest neighbors, three miles away, several times a month to pick up his mail and the few groceries they bring him from town. Unless the horses are sleeping, he admits with a grin. Then I walk and pack in my groceries. I like to walk, I have walked all over these hills. I guess I probably walk five or six miles every day for exercise. Wright said his horse, 29-year-old Delano (named after Franklin D.), often stands with his head, neck and front shoulders inside the house, to keep him company while he brews up a stew on the big old iron cookstove in the kitchen.
Wright has a lot of history to record and he does much of it at night by the light of a kerosene lamp. He also does a lot of his walking at night, when the world is still.
From my ranch home on Skookum Gulch I often look out over some of the once free and open range, where long ago riders were not hampered by fences, he said. My range riding days are over but my old saddle and six-gun remind me of the early days and of the old comrades who have seen the last round-up and have moved away and scattered like the ashes of my old campfires.
One of Wright's favorite stories is about his Uncle William, the tough pioneer rancher and frontiersman who, together with Purl Bean, is credited with the killing of Old Reelfoot, a great bear that roamed Northern California and Southern Oregon for some 20 years. He has put his gun, a Spencer 56-46 rifle used in the Civil War, in a private collection.
Another favorite story of his is about the three cattle rustlers hanged to some trees Aa couple of hundred yards or so north of the upper licks, where ranchers would drive their cattle and cut them out for different owners.
They were left hanging to the trees, he said. My uncle William told me that when he started to ride the range in 1866 the bones of the three rustlers were still there, with pieces of their clothes and ropes they were hanged with. Those three had a corral along a creek farther north, which in later years caused the creek to be called Corral Creek, a name well known to this day but probably few know how it got its name. This is what I've got to get down on paper.
Wright does not expect company in the winter except for one friend, Mark Lawrence, Medford Bureau of Land Management man, who hikes in bringing reading material and Christmas presents, but in the summer, visitors are not uncommon, especially rockhounds. Artifact hunters also come to Cold Springs Flat known as an Indian campground white men came. Whether visitors come or not doesn't matter much to George Wright, however, because he is capable of living off the land, and, like his Uncle John, he lives alone as a mountain man because he likes it.
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