Here is another portion of the story that we started yesterday, which was told by H. P. Leavens of his first time coming to Eau Claire (in 1857) via a steamboat, and what happened when he got there. This is from Lois Barland's book "Sawdust City" and is used with permission. A little incident while employed in this Barn Store occurred in which the late Seth Fish was the principal actor. Mr. Fish was working at this time on the new church being built by the Congregationalist people for Rev. Kidder. One Saturday evening he came into the store, which had only a rough board interior finish, and wanted to purchase a pair of trousers. I showed him what we had, and the only pair that suited in color and texture was both too long and many sizes too large about the waist, but he said he could remedy that all right, and if I would call on him next morning (Sunday) he would show me how to do it. I did call, and found he had taken out enough cloth from the seat and from the legs to make another small garment, and at this time he was resewing this new pair of trousers, so that in the afternoon he came out with this new garment fitting him as perfectly as though tailor-made, and he had goods enough left for patches as long as the trousers would last. Self reliance was not only a virtue, but a necessity in those primitive days, and Seth Fish at this time was a master workman in that particular. In the old days, that ridge of sand and gravel east of the city, extended almost to the bank of the Eau Claire river, leaving only room for a highway between its terminal and the river bank. Along the summit of this was a well trodden path frequented on pleasant Sunday afternoons by strollers, who took delight in looking down upon this young settlement and its attractive environments. To the west and south the Chippewa, after leaving the rival burg called Randall town, made a crooked pathway in its course toward the Mississippi, though through Eau Claire proper, it presented a beautiful picture with Half Moon Lake as a background setting. There was no dam or obstruction at this time across the Chippewa so that the waters of this beautiful stream had an unobstructed flow; save what had been wrought in the establishment of a ferry at the foot of Eau Claire Street. A natural bar in the Chippewa at the outlet of the Eau Claire furnished a splendid base for a mid-river crib, to which was fastened a long rope that was attached to a flat bottom scow, with a windlass at either end to change the angle of the boat so that the current would supply the motive power to operate this primitive or pendulum transfer. Neither steam or electric power had at this time been harnessed for this, or similar purposes; only such power as the great natural forces of water was available for our use in the west. There was a dam across the Eau Claire, and the power from which ran the saw mill operated by Chapman-Thorp & Co. The largest mill near by was the one at Chippewa City, the only rival town in the Chippewa Valley, except Randall town at the outlet of Half Moon Lake, There was not a bridge across either river; though below the dam on the Eau Claire, a comfortable fording place was found across this stream. The business street was Eau Claire Street; though some lines of traffic had swung around the corner of the Eau Claire House on Barstow Street for a single block. Diagonally across from the Peoples Clothing Store of this day was quite a pretentious hardware store. It was a two story frame building with battlement front and the Barn store referred to was located in the rear of this, though the brush had not been cleared away sufficiently to determine the outline of the street boundaries, so that a few feet in or outside the line made little difference. I have in my possession and use a razor purchased during the summer of '57 in this hardware store. It is known as a rattler; but bears no relationship to those rattlers at the foot of the bluffs on the way to Dick Wilson's potato patch. Referring to the location of the Williams House, I am not as reliable as to its actual location, as I am as to the temperature of the house in mid-winter. Though am quite sure it was on the bank of the Chippewa between the bridge and Eau Claire Street near the corner of Gibson. Coming down from St. Paul over the old West Wisconsin railroad one cold winter day; there had been a heavy fall of snow that delayed the train, so that when we reached the big woods we became stalled, and about eight o'clock in the evening our conductor ran his train back to Baldwin for supper, then resuming our journey we reached the station of Wilson sometime after midnight. This town was then but a lumber camp. The fires were burning brightly in the camp, for the cook was up and at this early morning duties. The sight of his blazing fire and the smell of his baked beans made us all hungry again so the conductor permitted us to visit the camp for a possible lunch. The cook responded promptly and gave us a plate of beans, every one of which struck the spot, also a few slices of bread and butter which soon satisfied our hunger; but the coffee! It was delicious, though black as your hat. Bob Parkinson in his palmy days never served a more appetizing lunch than this lumber camp repast proved to be. After leaving the big woods our train made much better time, and we reached Eau Claire shortly before daylight, and were taken to this old Williams House and put to bed. If Doctor Cook found in his explorations in search of the North Pole, any colder spot than the sleeping rooms of this hotel were that zero morning, his discovery of any sort of an arctic pole ought not to be questioned. Mr. Bostworth ran the Eau Calorie House in '57 and was always advertising the price of salt pork. He said he paid $50 for a barrel for his last purchase, and so far as I recall, the price never changed while he was the proprietor. He kept a good house though, and did a profitable business. He has long since passed away, together with so many of the 1857 settlers that I forbear extending this narrative further. The memories of those days however, are as fresh and green as though but a decade has passed since I first landed in your now beautiful city. I left Eau Claire in the fall after these stores were consolidated and have made Neenah my home ever since. Another little incident in which I participated: The Rev. Kidder, then a young minister, had located in Eau Claire, and in the year 1857 was erecting a church building near where I was boarding. Meantime he was holding services in Reed's Hall on Eau Claire Street, about midway of the block, on the north side of the street. The hall had very little furniture at that time; a plain little table for a desk, a couple dozen unpainted chairs in the center of the room, and the usual row of bench seats along the sides of the hall, was all the furniture it contained. One beautiful bright summer morning the little handful of worshipers had assembled for the Sabbath morning service. Rev. Kidder was radiant with hope and happiness, as he always was on a Sabbath morning, having read the morning lesson and but just concluded his morning prayer, when suddenly, as though a thunder tone had pierced the blue dome above him, the steamboat from below blew its whistled coming up the river. Quicker than I am able to relate it, one after another of his audience shot out of that hall door and down stairs they went, to see the boat come in, until the Rev. Kidder unfortunately did not have a single soul to preach to. His people were seemingly more interested then, in haring the news from below, than they were in hearing his message from above." +++++++++++ Only one more segment of the "Beginnings" left and then I may be taking a break for a little while. Today could prove to be the day that I am made a grandma for the first time! (I'll know more later today!) I'll keep you posted and I'll also try to get that last segment on tomorrow too! :~) Take care all! -- Nance mailto:nsampson@spacestar.net