Linn County, Missouri - Chapter 3, 1912

The Settlers' Markets - Story of a Famous State Higlnvay - Route of the Gold Seekers - Troublous Times in High Water - Thrilling Rescue at a Mill Dam - Freighting to Hannibal - The Brawny Stage Driver - Low Prices for Country Produce - "Wild Cat" Currency - Curious Legal Tender - Origin of the "Bit" - Lax Methods of Banking - A Cattleman's Bible - Deer Hams, 25 Cents Each - The Pioneer's Wife.

In the 40s the principal markets were Brunswick, Kej^tesville, Boonville and Glasgow Landing. There were regular trails, well known to the settlers, leading to all these towns. In the course of a few years, however, regular state roads were established across the state from Hannibal to St. Joseph, and upstate from the Missouri river towns to points north. Eight here Col. George W. Martin's description of one of these old state highways will be of interest :

"One of the oldest landmarks in this part of Missouri is the old Bloomington road, also known as the old state road. This road began in the eastern part of north Missouri, running west through Bloomington, at that time the county seat of Macon county, from which it received its name, entering Linn county about two miles north of Bucklin, continuing west and passing north of Brookfield, near Linn Center school house.

"It didn't run on section lines as the roads now run, but ran as the crow flies. Passing through Linneus and a mile west of that place it forked, the right branch going through Trenton. The highway was the main thoroughfare through north Missouri long before and after the Hannibal and St. Joe railroad was built and has a history not well known to the younger generation or to those who have immigrated hither since the country has been fenced up and the roads put on the section lines.

' ' Over this old-time highway the early gold seekers traveled in ox wagons with their little earthly belongings, going to California and Oregon. They were called forty-niners, as that was the year of the great western immigration. Later, about 1858-59, the Pike 's Peak gold hunters traveled this same route.

"The road was vastly more important than Davy Crockett's turnpike road, which former Senator Warner frequently mentioned by way of illustration in his speeches. He said: 'It began like other turnpike roads should and ran along until it merged into a wagon road and from a wagon road it dwindled into a bridle path, then into a squirrel track and up a tree.'

"But the Bloomington road was to the north Missourians what the Appian way was to the old Romans, and since the Appian way can still be traced after 2,000 years have intervened, the old Bloomington road is still visible here and there where it once passed through a farm or neighborhood. As many as 25 covered wagons have been counted in one day from a given point, all bound for California. It crossed the Missouri river at St. Joseph, where it divided into the old Santa Fe trail and other branches known as the California and Oregon trail.

"In the spring of 1858 the emigrants experienced many difficulties on account of the high water. Locust Creek was out of its banks more or less all summer. The bridges were gone and the movers had to be taken across the streams on rafts and in skiffs. This was at the old water mill due west of Linneus, belonging to J. P. Withrow at that time. One day, while there was a family crossing the creek, which was bank full, the raft broke loose from the rope which it was being pulled over by, floated down the swift stream with a boy on the raft and was nearing the mill dam, over which it soon would have dashed the young man into the churning waters below. The man who was ferrying them over the swollen stream saw the young man's perilous condition, jumped into a skiff that was tied to the bank, cut the rope and rowed with all his might after the floating raft. When he got as close to the dam as he dared to go he told the boy to jump, which he did and landed safely in the skiff, but none too soon, as the raft went over the mill dam as he left it.

"The man who rescued the youth from the watery grave was Enoch Kemper, familiarly known as 'Dick' Kemper, a well known pioneer citizen of that neighborhood.

"The farmers used to drive their cattle and hogs over this road to Hannibal, which was a gateway to eastern markets. From Hannibal they were loaded on steamboats and shipped to Cincinnati, as that was the great pork market of that day. Chicago hadn't gained its great importance as a meat market then.

"There was but little road work done in those days, yet the road was always in good condition to travel until you came to a creek. Bridges were few and there was more or less hazard in crossing.

"Dry goods, togetlaer with a rather liberal supply of 'wet goods,' groceries, and all other kinds of merchandise, were transported from Hannibal to Bloomington, Linneus and other points further west and northwest with ox teams, the freighters camping by the wayside wherever night overtook them and where wood and water were in evidence. "James A. Moore, of Brookfield, president of the Moore bank and one of the largest land holders in Linn county, then quite a young man, was for a time engaged in the freighting business and says it took about three and one half days to drive with unloaded wagons from Linneus to Hannibal and about eight or nine days for the return journey.

"A regular stage service, the western terminus of which was St. Joseph, was conducted over this old road. It is one of the traditions told by old-time citizens of Linneus that many of the stage drivers were rather of the wild and woolly variety and that Robert Combs, father of the late Joseph Combs, who was a giant in strength, frequently found it necessary in the interests of peace and good order to give an occasional stage driver a downright good basting, which was usually considered by the punished individual in the light of proper and necessary discipline - a part of the business of a stage driver - and never treasured up in the way of anger or of a vindictive spirit against Uncle Bob, as they and others called him.

"With the completion of the Hannibal and St. Joseph road the day of the big freight wagons and the patient ox teams and of the stage coach on the old Bloomington road passed away. Instead of the long blast of the horn from the stage box, awakening the people with its silvery notes, a slick young fellow now passes through the cars and yells somethinglike 'Katzenjammerville !' By both methods the traveler understood he was getting somewhere."

The price of products of all kinds was very low. Farmers were only offered from 3 to 5 cents a dozen for eggs. Live stock was also very cheap. The farmers had plenty to eat, but very little ready money. In fact from the date of the organization of the county until far along* in the 40s ready cash was very scarce. The country generally had suffered severely during the era of wild-eat banks. The generation of today scarcely understands the embarrassment caused in all channels of business by the early day method of banking.

The term "wild-cat" was used because the original issues of doubtful currency had a picture of a wild-eat on them. Today the name is frequently heard, but it is applied to mining schemes and other ventures where there is a question as to the genuineness of the enterprise. The early day paper money was also spoken of as "blue pup" and "red dog." Whenever a cashier received a deposit of mixed issues of money he had to consult his bank reporter to learn the standing of the institutions which issued them, or whether such institutions were yet in existence. Some of the money passed the test and was accepted; a great deal was discarded as worthless.

In the early part of the 19th century Missourians traded with each other by using cattle, hides, pelts, twists of tobacco and Ints of lead as legal tender. There was an urgent demand for small change, and it became so necessary that they took the Spanish Eeal and cut it in half for a half dollar, into a quarter for a quarter of a dollar, and into eighths for a "bit." Many will recall the expressions "two bits," ' ' four bits, ' ' six bits, ' ' etc. This is the origin of the term ' ' bit. ' ' Sometimes even a bit was divided and it was then called a "fip."

Along in the later 50s gold dust was handed into the banks of the western states as deposits, and the banks' cashiers became so skillful in handling the gold that they could tell at a glance, not only how much the gold presented to them would assay, but they could judge with almost absolute certainty the mining district from whence it came. They would put the dust in long pans and hold their hands over it while they would blow out the dirt and dross.

Some of the early day banks were chartered and some were not. Capital was required, but no evidence was demanded concerning it. A certain bank went to the wall and the inventory disclosed that it was possessed of one stove, two books, a counter, three chairs, an almanac and $63 in actual cash! Stockholders were personally liable, but there was nothing compelling the bank to state exactly who the stockholders were. There were no resources and no examinations. An annual report was expected, but there was no penalty for a failure to make such a report.

"A man in Michigan sold a lot of cattle and received for them $1,000 in such money as the country did Inisiness with in the early part of the 19th century. The cattleman had at home two books, which he depended upon to settle all his problems for this world and the one to come. One of these books was his bank reporter and the other was the Bible, ^lien he got back home with his money he reached for the reporter and found to his chagrin that $200 of the money that he had received for his cattle was on banks that had gone out of existence. There was nothing in the world behind it and it was not worth the paper it was printed on. While considering this emergency he turned to his Bible and the first thing that met his eye was this : ' Thou shalt owe no man. ' So he took that wild-cat $200 and settled a bill he had owed to a party who had not been reading up on the bank reporter. ' '

Here are some prices that ruled in the Locust Creek country during the financial depression that followed 1837: Cows, $7 to $10; horses, $25 to $40; hogs, $1.25 to $1.50; a nice veal calf would sell for 75 cents; honey from the bee tree was worth 25 cents a gallon in exchange for store goods. Deer hams were quoted at 25 cents each. Farm hands were paid all the way from 5 to 50 cents a day, but that included board and lodging. The prices for splitting rails was 25 cents a hundred.

In spite of the low prices for labor and products of the farm the early settler did not become discouraged. He looked to the future, and clearly saw the era of prosperity which came later. He lived well, whether he had any money or not. He worked hard and was rewarded with a magnificent appetite and sjolendid health. The finest eating in the world was his, and it didn't cost him a cent. The partner of the pioneer, his noble, industrious wife, deserves to share equally with him the honors that acrue from the building up of this country. It was her patient, uncomplaining toil that produced most of the garments worn by the members of the family, that kept the house in order and made things comfortable and pleasant for everybody. She learned the use of the simple herbs and remedies that could be obtained in the forest, and knew how to apply them to the ailing ones. Her hands were never idle and she brought up her children under a rigid discipline of industry. The Missouri pioneer has made a great name for himself in history, but upon the pedestal that shall be erected for him justice demands that ample room should be left for his patient and loyal wife.