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