We have been reading stories from the past about what Eau Claire was like in the 1850s. These have all been excellent stories and today's is no exception from that rule. This comes from the book "Sawdust City" by Lois Barland and is used by permission. Former Citizen Recalls Days of Steamboat H. P. Leavens of Neenah tells of first working for W. F. Wilson (Dec. 1914) "I landed in Eau Claire in the early spring of 1857, reaching there by the first boat, on its return, that came down the Chippewa that season. Our party had waited at Reed's Landing four long days for its arrival, and I, a lad of twenty years had been sent up to the summit of the bluffs twice and three times every day to look for the smoke of the little boat, while we were anxiously awaiting its coming. There was no telegraph or telephone service in the great Northwest at this time, so that 'Watchful Waiting' was a prime factor, even a public necessity long before the name of Woodrow Wilson had ever been dreamed of, or any Mexican policy had been officially inaugurated. Near evening of the fourth day we spied in the distance what proved to be the little craft, puffing away among the sand bars and icy shores of the river, until just at the going down of the sun, she whistled her approach for a landing. Time was not, in those days, of as much consequence as opportunity, so we had to wait until the next morning before setting out for Eau Claire. It took us an entire day to make the journey, reaching Randall Town for our first landing. We were very earnestly importuned to disembark there, being assured by Mr. Randall himself, that this was the only town, and that to proceed further would be unwise, and perhaps disastrous, but we proceeded nevertheless, and landed at the Marston dock, which was at that time simply a snubbing post and a boat shanty. My first employment was driving a team of horses for Mr. Wilson, (or as he was better known as Dick Wilson). One of the first jobs he put me at was to plough a patch for potatoes, upon the very spot where later on was located your Fair grounds. We encountered a nest of rattle snakes at the foot of the bluff on our way out; which loosened the hair of my head and frightened me so that I was ready there and then to put for town and throw up my job for I had never seen the likes before. But we proceeded and Mr. wilson drove the team and marked out the virgin prairie that he wished me to turn over. Then he returned to town and left me alone to complete the task. Oh, the dismal stillness of the lonesome silence of that afternoon! I shall never forget it. Only the hoot of the owls, or the rustling of the jack rabbits among the underbrush and with all the recollection of that den of rattlers that I must pass alone when I went back to dinner; they somehow took possession of my nerves, so that little rivulets began to find their way down my cheeks in such quantity that the moisture became so obstructive that I had to suspend that plowing job, and unhitching the team and mounting one of the horses, returned to town for a very early diner. I never went back to that potato patch again for nearly forty years. After a short vacation I secured a job in what was called the "Barn Store" then standing partially in the street but a short distance from the site of the Galloway Hotel. A gentleman whose name I cannot now recall, had opened three stores in this then undeveloped portion of the state; one at Chippewa City, a dozen or so miles above the falls; one at Bridge Creek, near where now is located the village of Augusta; and one in the Barn Store in Eau Claire; saying as he did this, that he felt sure there was to be a town up here somewhere that would grow and develop into an important commercial city, and by fall he could better judge which of those three locations it would most likely be. So the latter part of August he decided that Eau Claire was to be the spot. When he reached this conclusion, the managers of Chippewa City and Bridge Creek stores were directed to pack up their stocks and get ready to move to Eau Claire. Mr. Wilson was not the owner of either stock. He supplied the teams however, that were engaged to move those stocks, and I was sent with one of them up to Chippewa City. There were no roads in those days after crossing the Eau Claire river. We could go where we chose and so picking our way to a point on the Chippewa below the falls, we forded the river and proceeded up the West bank to the promised city. It wa about night fall when we with two heavy loaded wagons got back to the ford. We made the crossing all right, but in getting from the bottom land up on the prairie we were compelled to double our teams so that it was quite dark when this was accomplished. The light of the bonfires were visible up and down the Chippewa, where the Indians were fishing in the rapids. This was an interesting incident for me for I had never before seen a live Indian or been near enough to smell one, much more to be found after dark in sight of one of their camp fires. Mr. Wilson suggested, in as much as our teams had not been fed since noon, and we had not yet had our supper, that he would take the teams and go in search of feed for them, if I would remain with the two loads of goods and protect them. It did not take me long to pass upon that suggestion. The sight of those bonfires down on the banks of the Chippewa and the occasional whoop of an Indian who had speared a big pickeral were sounds and sights that I did not relish amid the darkness and solitude of that eventide, so I very promptly, and probably quite emphatically declined his seeming solicitude for the poor horses, remarking that 'where though dwellest I will dwell, and where thou lodgest I will lodge' or words to that effect. While discussing the situation we heard the sound of a cow bell in the distance. Surmising that possibly it might direct us to some habitation, Mr. Wilson set out on foot to trace it down. In a short time he returned with a bundle of wild hay he had found where this settler had been putting up some of his winter use. He gave this to the horses, and we both went back and brought enough to bait both teams, and make for ourselves a comfortable bed under our wagons. I did not sleep well that night. Somehow I did not seem to care for sleep, and just as soon as there was the first ray of morning light, I wakened Mr. Wilson and we hitched up and drove into Eau Claire for breakfast. Fording the river near the site of the Wholesale Grocer Co's plant. Mr. Wilson never tired of nagging me about my bravery, but I believed then, and have always since thought, that if I had let him depart with those teams, that he would have put straight for home and left me to my fate with a hundred or more possible unfriendly Indians within hailing distance of me. ++++++++++++ There's more to this story and we will be reading it the next time. -- Nance mailto:nsampson@spacestar.net

Today's excerpt from the book "Sawdust City" is the rest of the story that we read last week on "Frontier Life in Eau Claire." This article was printed in the Chicago Record Herald on 14 October 1923 and was a review of the book "Selim Hobart Peabody" written by his daughter, Katherine P. Girling. This and all excerpts from Lois Barland's books are used by permission of the Barland family. The settlers had no sense of security. Their village lay in a No-man's land between two tribes of Indians, the Chippewas and the Sioux. While both were warlike, it was the "Chips" who were most disposed to be friendly, but "prehistoric patience cometh quickly to an end", and there was never any telling what might make an Indian angry. Each tribe shunned the neutral ground, where a straggler from either might meet death. Then there would be war dances and pow-wows; war paint was donned and trouble threatened. In case of war, the village street would probably be the battle ground. Three times during that first winter some one ran down to the Peabody cottage to warn the household to join the others in a building they had fortified and stocked to use as a fort. Many and many an afternoon Mrs. Peabody's sitting room window was darkened by a swart face looking curiously in. Sometimes, when she was alone in the house suddenly she knew that someone was breathing near, and turning, she would find an Indian standing close behind her. She learned to control her fear and to give him quickly whatever he asked for except whiskey. That she never had. If you hadn't it, you couldn't give it, and it was safer so. Those were the days of deep drinking, and, when he first came to Eau Claire, Peabody saw that to drink at all meant to drink with everyone or give serious offense; and so from the first he resisted all invitations even though he had almost to fight for liberty to do as he pleased. His good nature, however, gained the day. Before the winter was over, he had several occasions of helping his acquaintances through attacks of delirium tremens and, after that, his own wisdom was not doubted. I suppose that all early western towns were, to some extent, saloon towns. The barroom was often the only club, the only center of amusement, and ever the only village hall. In Eau Claire, the barroom was on occasion used for church services. But the Eau Claire people were on the whole fine people. Elizabeth Peabody had come West with the Eastern idea that the people she would meet would have lacked social privilege and that, as a result, they would be somewhat uncouth. What she found was a community of Eastern men and women, people from New York and New England, even from her own beloved Vermont. They were as newly arrived as she; and when one evening the Peabodys asked everybody to come to their home and to bring their copies of Shakespeare every one came an d many had a copy of the plays to bring. One person, however, had been omitted because it was known that he could not read. When he met Mr. Peabody in the postoffice the next day there would have been a boxing match if neighbors had not interfered. "Next time you have a party you ask me." There were other entertainments of a general nature; spelling bees, singing societies, and a lecture course. The acting of charades was very popular. Mr. Peabody sent for a copy of the Darley outline illustrations of Rip van Winkle and a series of tableau were given. Thus there was laughter and good will at Eau Claire through that dreary first winter. Almost every evening there were little social gatherings about some fireside. Stories were told which, though they roused breathless interest, were not altogether reassuring; Indian tales and stories of bears, snakes, and wolves, records of illness and death and babies buried in candle boxes in snowdrifts, and of little children who strayed into the forest and were never seen again. But the spring finally came, and with its coming Elizabeth Peabody knew heart searching homesickness. She had gone through the winter bravely; but with the mild spring days the call of the homeland came to her. In thinking of the weight of hardship that she endured, ti is to be remembered that she was city bred; in her father's home in Burlington there had been comforts of well-to-do city life. Her days before he marriage had been school days either as pupil or "preceptress". With security and comfort there had been social, intellectual and religious privileges. She accepted frontier life in the spirit of adventure; it interested even when it amazed her. No one of her friends had known experiences so unprecedented. To be sure, her grandfather, Edward Farrington, used to tell her stories, when she was a child, about frontier days in Vermont when he had lived in a log house on the slope of a mountain, and how one day a bear had shambled into the house; but the stories had a far-away and long-ago sound. Today, novels and magazines and the cinematograph reveal frontier life to us; but, except for Cooper's stories which showed a different phase of wild living, that of a masculine camp, nothing had prophesied to her the realities she was to face, the first of which was real danger. Twice her husband had been close to death; once when a man in the frenzies of delirium tremens had attacked him from behind, as he sat, bending over his desk in the land office. As a weapon the man held in his hand, a long, heavy brass ruler, but, by sitting perfectly still, and diverting attention to something else, Peabody had escaped. Another time of danger had come to him in an Indian canoe on t he river. He was above the dam and got into the rapids and was carried over the falls, a sheer descent of sixteen feet. To have come out of that adventure alive, the lumber jacks said, proved the luck of a greenhorn. Mrs. Peabody did not like the Indian. Their pow-wows were to her like scenes in Dante's Inferno. Beaver dams and bear dens were well enough in their way, if you cared for them, but vermin infested, filthy tepees roused in her not romantic or scientific interest. She was not an athletic girl; she was resolute and resourceful, not from choice but from a sense of duty. And so it was that, when the nagging wind and slapping rains of February had quieted down and the prairies were splashed with color as if a giant were using them for a painter's palatte, homesickness overwhelmed her. It seemed unbearable that the friendly little blooms she was used to did not appear! There were no dandelions! I wonder whether Wisconsin people will forgive her for asking her mother in Vermont to send her seed so that, when spring came again, the Indian trails were gilded. Always before, in the crises of her life, Elizabeth had done what every "well relatived" girl in those days did; she had gone home to her mother. Both of her children had been born in Burlington. Now she knew that, when the autumn came, she must face her ordeal again; this time there would be no finding again familiar city streets, no swinging outward of her father's front gate, no welcome of her own people. Now only was there, hidden in heart, the dread of the issues of life and death to be faced in a frontier town, but the consternation which came at the thought of taking a new baby through a winter like the last. Is anything so hard as we fear it will be? By the next winter the house was plastered and many of the trials had disappeared. The child, born in October, was a fine, vigorous boy of twelve pounds, whom no Wisconsin winter could have daunted. What Eau Claire meant to Selim Peabody as a civic experiment he never underestimated. There was no part of his life that he talked of more happily; it was his one taste of melodrama. When he went to Wisconsin, there were fewer than ten persons to the square mile; and one might travel for days without encountering a white man. The business of the state, for the time being, was the sale of land. Anticipated land values were subjects of speculation all over the country, and Eau Claire rode on the crest of the wave. Land-office business was so good a business as to create a new expression for success. Limitless acres, apparently, lay waiting to be surveyed and mapped and sold at triple their purchase price. There were frauds in land management and corruption in local and national politics. Although the leaven of honesty was working, nothing could check the crashing financial disaster that, sweeping the country in the fall of 1857 reached the little frontier settlement. Eau Claire banks failed. Money and credit disappeared, and the town was left like a mill without water. In the spring of 1857 settlers had flocked in but the next year the tide set the other way and even in 1861 there were no more than one thousand inhabitants. The railroad, which was to have come in 1858 delayed its arrival until 1870... +++++++++++++++++ And that's how Lois ended that portion of the story. Next we'll be reading about the days of the steamboat and it looks to be another interesting story. Hope you'll be staying with us for this one too. -- Nance mailto:nsampson@spacestar.net

Posted on: EauClaire Co. Wi Query Forum Reply Here: http://cgi.rootsweb.com/~genbbs/genbbs.cgi/USA/Wi/EauClaire/602 Surname: Koppelberger, Anderson ------------------------- I am looking for information on Marie Koppelberger daughter of Henry Koppelberger and Mary McDonell . Marie may have been born in Ontario, Canada or WI. Marie's married name was Anderson and in 1949 she was living in Eau Claire, WI and had attended her sisters funeral in La Crosse Her sister was Clara Koppelberger/Ackerman/Eagan.

Here is more from the book "Sawdust City" by Lois Barland. What we are reading today is only a part of the story. We'll be reading the rest of it next week. This information is used only with permission from the Barland family. Frontier Life in Eau Claire Chicago "Record Herald" October 14, 1923 -- Review of book, "Selim Hobart Peabody" by his daughter, Katherine P. Girling. Mary Elizabeth Pangborn Peabody was a descendant of Jonathan Carver. Mary and Selim Peabody left Philadelphia in 1857 and went to Eau Claire. It took five days on the train from Philadelphia to Chicago. Eau Claire, as Elizabeth Peabody found it on that cold still October twilight in 1857, did not seem to be a town at all, but just a promise. There was, really, but one street along which some thirty flimsy unpainted board houses rubbed shoulders. There were no sidewalks, even the space for them had not been planned. Pigs, geese, chickens and cows roamed about. Someone's aged father had arrived that day and little children were running to see for the first time a white-haired person. The house that Mr. Peabody had been building was not finished, because he had been unable to get such materials as glass, lathe, lime and hardware. It would be several weeks before it could be occupied. Meanwhile he took his family to one of the so-called hotels where the best room to be had was directly over the bar room. Through the cracks and knot holes in the rude floor, tobacco fumes and barroom talk ascended. The building lot was on the outskirts of the village. The house was raised above ground on wooden posts and the space beneath boarded up. There a precious barrel of lime was stored. Upon it depended winter warmth for without it there could be no plastered walls. When it came time to make the plaster, the lime had disappeared. It was not hard to know who had taken it; but it would be difficult to make him bring it back, because his walls were already wearing the plaster. When Peabody mentioned the matter to one of the Village Board, he was treated to a socialogical lecture in frontier ethics. There was no chance to get more. Snow lay six feet on the level and twenty feet in drifts. The thermometer showed 18, 20, even 40 degrees below zero and Eau Claire was isolated. River traffic entirely suspended. Sometimes in mild weather a mail carrier came on horseback across the drifts. All the long winter the Peabodies lived in their unplastered house, warmed only by wood fire. When the children were dressed in the morning, they were bundled up in leggings and mittens and coats like little Eskimos. Out of doors, ears, nose, brows and cheeks froze before one was aware of the danger. One piece of great good fortune befell Mrs. Peabody. An unattached girl, named Lizzy, elected to live with her as helper and member of the family; and her presence in the home in the hard days of the first winter made a bridge between what can and cannot be born. She was a strong, wholesome girl, used to the frontier life and hardship; she knew what to expect and how to prepare for it. And she was not easily frightened. The children loved her and her strength and devotion knew not limits. Life could not have been much harder that first winter in Eau Claire and have permitted survival. The common necessities of life, warmth, cleanliness, and safety were at times beyond attainment. There was plenty of green wood to burn, but it had to be cut, dragged home, sawed and split. As for cleanliness, there were no wells or cisterns. River water and melted snow furnished water for bathing and washing. Libby used to place the kitchen table near the stove, make a little wigwam of clothes lines and blankets, and bathe the children on a table there. Wet clothes dried slowly, and the inconvenience of having lines of washing perpetually stretched across the kitchen was unavoidable. There was no real lack of food; although, before spring came, there was much sharing and going on rations. In the late fall, Mr. Peabody got a carcass of a deer which hung frozen in the wood shed; and from it chunks were cut off as they were needed. The autumn migrations of birds brought flocks of prairie chickens. Bevies of them settled on the ground so that, hitting right and left with a stick, one could kill all that could be used. The settlers learned from the Indians to jerk meat; but canning and bottling were not possible, both from lack of utensils and of knowledge of the processes. From the Indians, too, they got wild rice, cranberries and maple sugar. After the Vermonters saw the squaws make the sugar, straining the syrup through their filthy blankets, maple sugar ceased to be palatable. The town had laid in supplies of flour, coffee, potatoes, codfish, beans and cornmeal; but the array of canned goods which today covers the walls of a grocery store, did not then exist. Fish was abundant. In the winter the men set lines through the ice in the river. During the summer, wild berries were obtainable. Strawberries and raspberries grew in mats and masses; but more beautiful still, were the blueberry swamps, where the ground was covered with a whitish green, wirey moss, often more than a foot deep. Here the bushes grew like green domes which, in berry season, were blue-black with fruit. Snakes? Oh, yes! Black snakes, blue racers, and rattlers. Mr. Peabody though them objects of natural beauty. He had a theory that fear of them was purely a psychological attitude induced by suggestion, but his wife was never able to cultivate a fondness for them. Then there were mosquitoes, atmospheres of mosquitoes! Nothing but thick leather or very heavy woolen would protect the ankles and wrists. If one sat down on a log, the mosquitoes would gather so quickly on one's back as to hide the color of the coat. There were several varieties. The largest were called gallimnippers. It was they who, the boatmen declared, carried brickbats under their wings to sharpen their bills upon. The settlers had no mosquito netting. In the evening one had to build a smudge fire of chips and damp grass and to carry a pan of burning smudge through the sleeping rooms. That gave a choice, at least, between the mosquitoes and the smarting eyes and choking breathing. Mr. Peabody's skin was especially sensitive, and his surveying trips became tests of endurance until his wife made, and persuaded him to wear, a veil of black netting, gathered around the crown of the hat and tied under his chin. He had a gauntlet to run when he first appeared in this balloon, but it was not long before the flounces of Mrs. Peabody's black net dress were divided among the first comers. Mr. Peabody made no pretense of finding natural beauty in mosquitoes. In writing of his camping experiences, (his surveying trips were camping trips) he said; "On a still night a camp is very picturesque. The low log hut or tent by the river; the tall somber pines, towering above dense masses of maple, the rugged outline of oaks, the straggling fires, thrusting out tongues of fitful flame, and reeking with thick smoke, which spreads over the ground or lazily rolls over the roof; the long, level lines of blue haze which the smoke finally draws against the foliage of the trees; the solemn stillness resting over all, broken only by the hoot of the owl, the wail of stream while the bright-eyed climbing stars replace the waning twilight, compose a scene too lovely to be spoiled even by millions of myriads of swarming, howling, raving, hungry mosquitoes." ++++++++++++ What a great story so far, huh? I can hardly wait till next week to read the rest of it. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend! -- Nance mailto:nsampson@spacestar.net

Posted on: EauClaire Co. Wi Query Forum Reply Here: http://genconnect.rootsweb.com/~genbbs/genbbs.cgi/USA/Wi/EauClaire/601 Surname: ------------------------- I'm looking for ancestors of Emilie Lepage Lamarche(Auguste) from the Eau Claire Wisconsin area. Had a daughter named Margerite Lepage, understand married name could be Quinn Looking for family information. Thanking you in advance

Happy Valentine's Day to you all! Today's article is, once again, about the early days in Eau Claire and the recollections of one man who took the time to write them down. This is from the book "Sawdust City" by Lois Barland and is used by permission. Recollections of John Woodworth 1904 Just 47 years ago this month (the 7th of April 1857), I first saw Eau Claire. I had reached there after a stage ride of 200 miles from Portage City, to which point the LaCrosse railroad had reached, and I was on the road only six days and seven nights before reaching my destination. I had gone to Eau Claire to take charge of a store for Peter Wyckoff, and he had ordered a new store building on the corner of Barstow and -- I have forgotten the name of the other street -- but it was one block south of the Eau Claire House. (Note, Peter Wyckoff had built at the southwest corner of Barstow and Gibson streets.) Wyckoff had gone to New York City for his spring stock. For the first twenty four hours I had a touch of home sickness, but gradually it wore away and before I was aware I was ranking with the old residents. I soon learned that Captain Charles Whipple of this place was on his way with a steamer built at Pittsburgh for the Chippewa River trade and called the "Eau Claire." Imagine if you can, our feelings when one day on arrival of the weekly mail, we received word of the loss of the Eau Claire by sinking in the Ohio or Mississippi, caused by a collision. Some days afterward Captain Whipple reached Eau Claire in person and gave an account of the disaster. Being a plucky man he returned to Pittsburgh and succeeded in bringing out another steamer named after one of his daughters -- "Stella Whipple." The spring of 1857 was long remembered by all old settlers, from the fact that at one time there was not a pound of pork for sale in the whole town and a famine seemed emminent. But one day some men got together, procured a keel boat and started for Reed's Landing, and returned some days after with a load of supplies. In the meantime an old land hunter, known by the old Eau Claire residents, Ephraim Brown, coming into town from a long trip in the woods, a few miles out from Eau Claire, killed a bear and brought its carcass in town and sold the meat quickly at 25 ¢ a pound. Those were the days of pork and molasses, dried apples, sauce and puddings. Still those pioneer days were not without their pleasures, if some of the old comforts and conveniences of easter life were lacking. In 1857 Peter Wyckoff was appointed Postmaster and I was his deputy. The office was located in the back end of our store. There was no office in West Eau Claire then and I was required to know everybody on the west side, and their mail would be assorted out and some one from the west side would come over and take their mail and leave it at the office of French and Moore in Eau Claire City, at which place the west siders would get their mail. We used to have a weekly mail; then the service was increased to semi-weekly and when we were granted a tri-weekly, there was great rejoicing; and when at length a daily was put on, it was to us as great an event as the laying of the Atlantic cable was to the United States. I trust I may be pardoned in speaking of myself in connection with the duties of the office, but I must do it in order to give correct idea of how business was conducted. In the winter of 1858 and 1859 the mail came in from Sparta at 12:30 a.m. and from the west or St. Paul at 3:30 a.m. I used to make my bed on the counter and lie down on blankets with my clothes on, so as to be ready at once to receive the mail, and I became so accustomed to it that I would awaken at the first sound of the stage driver's voice. It might be a surprise to some of my young friends to know that I did not take off my clothes from one week to another except to change on Sunday, during the entire winter months. There was one morning that winter, 1857, that I have never forgotten. The St. Paul stage had come and gone, and as the stove in our store had not drawn good for some time, I thought I would take down the pipe and drum and clean it. It was then about 3:30 a.m. The night was clear, the stars shining brightly and I could hear the driver speak to his horses after he had got away from the bluffs on the prairie. After getting my stove in shape and building a fire, I thought the air was pretty sharp, and the idea occurred to me to look at the thermometer, as there was one diagonally across the street from our store, on the outside of Wilson, Gray and Bellinger's land office. I crossed over and struck a match, but I saw what I supposed was a broken thermometer, as there was no mercury in the tube. I then ran up Eau Claire street to Chapman and Thorp's who had a spirit thermometer, and on lighting another match I was almost horror stricken, as I saw the instrument indicating 45 degrees below zero. It seemed as though I never could get back to the store. At once very vein in my body apparently became an icicle; but, summoning all my powers of will, I retraced my steps as rapidly as possible and soon reached the store, and sat down to the already warm stove, and pondered on my adventure and the narrow escape I had from becoming an icicle. To me, however, it was a lesson, and it showed me the effect of imagination. I did my work of leaning the drum and pipe of the stove without an overcoat and only a thin pair of gloves on without experiencing any inconvenience, but just as soon as I knew the state of the thermometer, I was frightened almost out of my wits. +++++++++++ The next story is a bit longer and we will be taking it in segments. But it is the same type of story, telling of the frontier life in Eau Claire. -- Nance mailto:nsampson@spacestar.net

Posted on: EauClaire Co. Wi Query Forum Reply Here: http://cgi.rootsweb.com/~genbbs/genbbs.cgi/USA/Wi/EauClaire/598 Surname: Kesler, Kessler, Lantz ------------------------- I would appreciate any help you can give me to locate a birth record or any other information regarding my grandfather, Sam Kes(s)ler or Sam Lantz. He was born around 1880-85 in Eau Claire County, Wisconsin. His actual birth date was never known to the family. He married Alma Elfreda Christopherson in 1907 in Star Prarie, Wisconsin.

We are continuing the story of "Life in the Wisconsin Woods" that we started yesterday. This comes from the book, "Sawdust City" by Lois Barland and is used with permission of the Barland family: It was late in January of that winter of (18) '54 - '55 when John West told me he would have to send old Buck and Berry out of the woods for their feed was getting short and they had more than they needed. And so equipped with an old sled, a blanket and an axe I was started for the log cabin on the storm swept prairie three miles out from Eau Claire. My first day took em to the camp of my old friend Jim Reed. Jim Reed was surprised that I should have been sent on such a trip. The weather was fiercely cold. The snow was two feet deep without a sign of travel and the only bridge for the steams, the treacherous ice. Jim Reed was wrathy but he went to work to outfit me for what he knew full well was to be a desperate struggle. Brave little man that he was, he went down on his knees and cutting up a fine wool blanket, he wrapped my feet in the most skillful possible manner inside my Indian moccasins, and with the utmost care, he wrapped up a large bunch of matches and placed them securely right up near my throat. And then while the stars were still shining in the frozen sky, I bade my dear friend goodbye. The crossing of Bridge Creek was accomplished with much effort, the large creek open in midstream but frozen heavily at both sides. From there it was two miles to the Bears Grass where the trail crossed a deep stream. Finding it frozen over, I stepped out on the ice tapping with my axe. When right in the middle of the stream, I went down up to my neck in the icy water. That bath sharpened my wits, for well I knew that it was a life and death struggle. The first thing I had to do, standing in the water, was to cut a way through the ice so my oxen could cross the stream. With this accomplished, my clothes were frozen like so many boards, for this was one of those terrible days that sometimes come in the end of January, when a night of sparkling frost is succeeded by a black, dark day of desperate cold. My brave old Buck and Berry seemed to rise to the occasion for dashing the icicles from their coats they struck out through the deep untrodden snow as if they knew they were going home. I, with my clothes so stiff with ice that they cramped my limbs, determined that I would just trudge by the side of my noble oxen in the deep snow and live or die with them. It seemed an interminable struggle, over the wind swept plain ere we reached Fall Creek late in the afternoon. Our trail crossed the creek in a deep gorge near the river -- it seemed so grateful, the shelter of the hills and the trees. At once I applied myself to the task of starting a fire, dreading that I should find my matches spoiled by the water, but thanks to the friend who had wrapped them so carefully, I found them all right. I soon had a blazing fire, but also the cold was intense. I could do nothing toward drying my clothes. While I would be steaming on one side, I would be freezing on the other side, and so, as the night as drawing round, with the consent of my faithful friends, old Buck and Berry, who had licked at their last few ears of frozen corn, we took the trail again for home. Fifteen miles and more, for after we should cross the Otter Creek there would be three miles across the windswept prairie. We climbed the hill out of the sheltering gorge, but the darkness was so intense I could only fall into the rear and let the oxen nose out the trail. We traveled a long time without much headway for our strength was almost gone. I tried in vain to find a tree or a stump to start a fire, it was so dark. At last I found a tree prostrate under the snow. Again a fight for life. With utmost care, a few pine knots were dug out from under the snow, and then, with freezing hands, began the struggle to start a fire. The only dry thing I could find on which to strike a match failed till at last I had come to my very last match. If that match should fail me what should I do? I knew I was freezing. I had just one resource left. My father and my mother had taught me that God was a very present help in time of need. I promised Him then that if He would help me, I would strive to serve Him all the days of my life. With confidence I struck my match, the pine knots blazed and I was saved. Now it may well be asked of this writer, why have you not been faithful to your promise? Ah, there it is! Our poor weak human nature admits of no boasting. But this we can truly say that, "Tho we have Him oft forgot, His loving kindness changeth not." I will only add that, with a great fire, I somewhat dried my clothes when the wolves began to howl, and i got scared and again, I started for home. It was just at the break of day when, again half frozen, I stumbled out of the snow drifts in at the old log cabin door, and there, with my frozen feet in a tub of ice water, to look around upon the dear ones and feel that I was safe home at last." +++++++++++++ We have more stories such as this one yet to read. The next one that we will be reading was written by John Woodworth. See you then! -- Nance mailto:nsampson@spacestar.net

Hi Nance, This information is perfect and helps allot. Thanks soooo much. Ann LOawler -- Hi Ann, I'm glad to hear that you were able to use the Leipnitz information. I've looked through all of my resources and found a few more things that may be of help to you. First of all, in the 1884 Eau Claire City Directory were these listings, along with the URLs of the pages they are found on: LEIBNITZ, Herman, carpenter, res s s Niagara 2 w of Seventh ave. ftp://ftp.rootsweb.com/pub/usgenweb/wi/eauclaire/directories/1884j-l.txt HEIMSTAD, Herman, cigarmaker Wm Luebkemann, res s s Niagara 2 w of Seventh ave. ftp://ftp.rootsweb.com/pub/usgenweb/wi/eauclaire/directories/1884g-i.txt And in the book "The Rivers Flow On" by Lois Barland on page 437, is this short bio on Karl H. Leipnitz, which sounds very much like the one for Herman. Here it is: Karl H. LEIPNITZ was born in Germany and married Emilie Heimstead in 1883, coming to Eau Claire that year. He was a cabinet maker for Phoenix Furniture Company. They had sons, Paul, Arthur, William and Walter. Paul married Mae Avery in 1911 and lived in Elk Mound, Walter married Alta Walker and had a son, Clare; Arthur married Mable Bloomquist and was a machinist. That's all I could find on both of the surnames that you mentioned. There was no other instance of these names in the "History of Eau Claire County, Wisconsin, 1914", as per the index, but I'm hoping this other information will be of help to you. -- Nance

>From the book, "Sawdust City" by Lois Barland is this excerpt .... Life in the Wisconsin Woods This is a true story told by John C. Barland when an old man. "It was in October, 1854, that John West and Sanders Cochrane, two young bachelors, known in the frontier venacular as Scotch and West, employed my little brother Tommie, a boy of 10 and myself, a boy of 13 to take our three yoke of oxen with two wagons, to take two loads of potatoes to the site of their prospective logging camp in the pine woods of the Wolf River. This river was a branch of the north fork of the Eau Claire River. The whole country was an absolute wilderness, not a stream was bridged nor a road was made, only a trail was blazed with just the bare possibility of squeezing thru between the trees. It was rather a daring thing for two little fellows to undertake, for the only knowledge we had of the country had been the tracing of our horses that had strayed far into the woods. The writing has often wondered at the confidence that seemed to be reposed in two such little boys, but Sanders Cochran, the young Scotchman, was an adventurous fellow and he and I had tramped and scouted together and he doubtless rated me higher than I deserved. Well, we cracked our whips, and away we went, I with old Buck and Berry and Rum and Brandy on the big wagon and little Tommie with Broad and Bright, on the lighter wagon. When we came to the fording of the Eau Claire thirty miles up stream there was a problem, for the opposite bank seemed a precipitous wall of sand. the problem was quickly solved however, for putting all three yokes onto one wagon and mounting the backs of the oxen, we crossed the deep water and, approaching the shore, we leaped to the ground and under stimulus of brandishing whips and stentorial yells, the brave oxen landed their cargo at last on level ground. It took seven days and nights to make that trip; not a sight nor sound of any human being, just the awful solemnity of the wilderness. The last night as we camped at Fall Creek in the deep gorge down by the river, the howling of the wolves made us think of home and we snuggled up closer together. It was shortly after the toting of which I have spoken to the camp on Wolf River that Scotch and West engaged me to go to a second camp which they were starting at Hamilton's Falls, on the north fork of the Eau Claire River. My job was to scale the logs and to put the bark mark onto each log, a pretty responsible task for a little boy of only 13. Our method of logging that winter, 1854, was to draw the whole tree to the rollway at the river bank where the tree was cross-cut and scaled and marked and rolled into the great rollway that rested on the ice below. For hauling the great tree from the stump to the rollway there was used just a single bob. This was of great size and strength. With three yokes of oxen on the bob, the leaders, one or two yoke, would draw the heavy butt onto the bunk, and when securely fastened, the three yoke would swing for the landing. For such a job as that a man of skill and power was needed and such was the young Scotch Canadian lumberjack, Bill Campbell. His three yoke of oxen, well fed, well groomed and well handled, spoke for him. A clean young fellow it was not much wonder that the little boy swamped in t he midst of the roaring camp should cling to him as to a brother. Bill had a fine rifle which he used to loan to me to go a hunting on the Sundays. Poor Bill, he had never learned to forgive an enemy, and years later, with the same gun, he enacted a tragedy, that saddened his own and other lives. The winter of 1854 was a notable one at this camp of Scotch and West. "Amooses' Band" of Indians 600 strong who roamed the woods of the Eau Claire, were that winter in mortal terror of the Sioux who only a short time before had invaded the Chippewa's land and killed and scalped. So Amooses' band decided to build and fortify a camp in close proximity to ours. This consisted of a stockade 8 feet high made of white pines, one foot in diameter, and split in two halves and loopholed. Young Scotch was well up in Indian lore, and he and I spent many an evening in the Indian camp. This was a relief to us for neither he nor I could endure the vileness and the obscenity of the logging camp. This is perhaps too sweeping an allegation for we had in our camp some Bohemian-German workers that were as fine as silk. Many was the day in that winter when my duties gave me leisure that I would pull the saw with young Andrew Kopp or Bill Brick, two of the finest young Bohemians. They lived to make their mark, and their grandchildren may be found here and there. In that early day the great Scandinavian race now so much in evidence with us, had hardly set a foot in Wisconsin. It was years later when our noble pioneer, Joseph Thorp and his wife made a pilgrimage over to Norway and preaching the gospel of Wisconsin, started that tide of emmigration, the marvel of the age, and to which we owe so much. For with their simple faith and their frugal ways, they have proved a redeeming feature in all our social life. With just a word more, and the writer has done with the narrative of a lumberjack of 13. +++++++++ And we'll read the rest of the story tomorrow! See you all then! -- Nance mailto:nsampson@spacestar.net

Posted on: EauClaire Co. Wi Query Forum Reply Here: http://cgi.rootsweb.com/~genbbs/genbbs.cgi/USA/Wi/EauClaire/597 Surname: Brennan ------------------------- Lokking for info on Brennan family from Kinkora, PEI, Canada who emig. to Wisconsin, possibly Eau Claire where they had relatives named Walsh/Welsh/Kennedy. Later lived Whitefish Bay??? in area now part of Milwaukee.

Posted on: EauClaire Co. Wi Query Forum Reply Here: http://cgi.rootsweb.com/~genbbs/genbbs.cgi/USA/Wi/EauClaire/596 Surname: Kennedy ------------------------- Looking for info on Patrick Kennedy married Ellen Walsh in Kinkora, PEI, Canada and emig. Eau Claire c.1870's. Ellen's brother James Patrick had emig. c.1857 and married Henrietta Beckwith Slaughter. They raised a large family but changed the surname to Welsh. Their nephew John James Walsh also emig. to Eau Claire where he operated a butcher shop on Water St.

Posted on: EauClaire Co. Wi Query Forum Reply Here: http://cgi.rootsweb.com/~genbbs/genbbs.cgi/USA/Wi/EauClaire/595 Surname: Walsh ------------------------- Looking for John James Walsh born Kinkora, PEI, Canada emig. to Eau Claire where he operated a butcher shop on Water St. His sister Mary Alphenus also emig. Eau Claire and married her 1st cousin Wilfred Welsh, son of James Patrick Welsh and Henrietta Beckwith Slaughter. James Patrick had emig. c.1857 from Kinkora, PEI. James Patrick's sister Ellen married Patrick Kennedy and they also emig. to Eau Claire c.1870.

Tommy Lawler wrote: > Hi Nance, > The History of Eau Claire County, 1914 is the book I was thinking but > did not know the exact wording. Think it was one of your postings from > the History of Eau Claire County, 1914, I spotted information that Minna > Heimstaedt was wife to Hermann Leipnitz. We had been looking for this > information so thanks for this! Was wondering if you could look and see > if there were anymore listings for the two surnames - > Heimstaedt/Heimstadt/Heimstead or Leipnitz. Supposedly my great > Grandfather - Hermann Heimstaedt had at least 3 sisters, one was Minna. > Am trying to track the rest of the group. Thanks allot Nance. Ann > Lawler Hi Ann, I'm glad to hear that you were able to use the Leipnitz information. I've looked through all of my resources and found a few more things that may be of help to you. First of all, in the 1884 Eau Claire City Directory were these listings, along with the URLs of the pages they are found on: LEIBNITZ, Herman, carpenter, res s s Niagara 2 w of Seventh ave. ftp://ftp.rootsweb.com/pub/usgenweb/wi/eauclaire/directories/1884j-l.txt HEIMSTAD, Herman, cigarmaker Wm Luebkemann, res s s Niagara 2 w of Seventh ave. ftp://ftp.rootsweb.com/pub/usgenweb/wi/eauclaire/directories/1884g-i.txt And in the book "The Rivers Flow On" by Lois Barland on page 437, is this short bio on Karl H. Leipnitz, which sounds very much like the one for Herman. Here it is: Karl H. LEIPNITZ was born in Germany and married Emilie Heimstead in 1883, coming to Eau Claire that year. He was a cabinet maker for Phoenix Furniture Company. They had sons, Paul, Arthur, William and Walter. Paul married Mae Avery in 1911 and lived in Elk Mound, Walter married Alta Walker and had a son, Clare; Arthur married Mable Bloomquist and was a machinist. That's all I could find on both of the surnames that you mentioned. There was no other instance of these names in the "History of Eau Claire County, Wisconsin, 1914", as per the index, but I'm hoping this other information will be of help to you. -- Nance mailto:nsampson@spacestar.net

Hi Nance, The History of Eau Claire County, 1914 is the book I was thinking but did not know the exact wording. Think it was one of your postings from the History of Eau Claire County, 1914, I spotted information that Minna Heimstaedt was wife to Hermann Leipnitz. We had been looking for this information so thanks for this! Was wondering if you could look and see if there were anymore listings for the two surnames - Heimstaedt/Heimstadt/Heimstead or Leipnitz. Supposedly my great Grandfather - Hermann Heimstaedt had at least 3 sisters, one was Minna. Am trying to track the rest of the group. Thanks allot Nance. Ann Lawler

Posted on: EauClaire Co. Wi Query Forum Reply Here: http://genconnect.rootsweb.com/genbbs.cgi/USA/Wi/EauClaire/592 Surname: JANKE ------------------------- Are you related to Carl F. Janke--a front horse rider from Stettin Germany-or Bromberg-Bydgoszcz now Poland. His date of birth was 6-25-1969 and he married Wilhelmina Kirchhoff. His fathers name was Fredrick Janke. Please let me know if you have any info. Thanks

Posted on: EauClaire Co. Wi Query Forum Reply Here: http://genconnect.rootsweb.com/gc/USA/Wi/EauClaire/591 Surname: Cameron McCormick ------------------------- Dan, I am researching a Cameron family in Eau Claire headed by Dougald Cameron, b. 1830,in Scotland or Canada, d. Eau Claire? 1891, married to Catherine McCormick, b. 1833 in New York State, d. 1900 in Eau Claire. Children: John b. 1858; Edward, 1859; Hugh, 1868; Katie 1867; Thomas 1869. Could Dougald be related to Alexander? I find your Duncan and his wife joining the Pilgrim Church in 1888 in church records, but my people were Catholic. Have you come across any of mine, who may have come to E-C Wisconsin about 1863?

Posted on: EauClaire Co. Wi Query Forum Reply Here: http://cgi.rootsweb.com/~genbbs/genbbs.cgi/USA/Wi/EauClaire/590 Surname: nicholas mergener, matthew mathias mergener, barbara kohn, clara neher ------------------------- nicholas mergener married clara neher Eau Claire,1867 nicholas 48th reg,eau claire, nicholas born,wasserliesch,trier,prussia dec16,1842 wife clara born wirtenburg germany mar28,1845

Tommy Lawler wrote: > Hi, > Was just wondering if the early book - History of Eau Claire has ever > been in reprint and if so, are there any available copies for sale? > Thanks. Ann Lawler > -- > Researching: Heimstead, Heimstadt, Heimstaedt, Leipnitz, Cole. Hi Ann, I saw your question on the list yesterday and was hoping someone else could answer it. I'm not sure I can answer it myself. I'm not familiar with a book by that name. There is a "History of Eau Claire County Wisconsin, 1914" but it is out of print. I have a copy that I found for sale a year or so ago. If there is anything that I can lookup for you, please let me know. -- Nance mailto:nsampson@spacestar.net

Hi, Was just wondering if the early book - History of Eau Claire has ever been in reprint and if so, are there any available copies for sale? Thanks. Ann Lawler -- Researching: Heimstead, Heimstadt, Heimstaedt, Leipnitz, Cole.