Gage County, Nebraska - Chapter 15: Narrative of Mrs. Julia Beatrice (kinney) Metcaef, 1918

[The following narrative, by Mrs. Julia Beatrice (Kinney) Metcalf, for whom the city of Beatrice was named, was prepared at the request of the author of this book. As far as known, it is the only contemporary narrative of the voyage of the "Hannibal" and the founding of Beatrice which could be procured now from any living person. Mrs. Metcalf when a girl became a resident, with her parents, of Nebraska City, in May, 1857. Later she became the wife of Julian Metcalf, a pioneer banker of Nebraska City. 'Until 1893 her home was in Nebraska City, when Mr. and Mrs. Metcalf removed to the Pacific coast. She is spending her declining years in the city of Portland, Oregon.]

This brief sketch of the founding of Beatrice and the events that led to it must unavoidably be somewhat biographical. To recall the incidents and experiences of sixty years ago is not an easy task, as some scenes stand out very vividly, while others have faded and grown dim.

My native state is Ohio, and Mount Vernon my native town, where I first saw the light October 29, 1839. When I was four years old my father, J. F. Kinney, dazzled by the star of empire which had led him from the Atlantic and was destined to lead him to the faroff Pacific, gathered his little family together and moved to Iowa. Here, in the small town of West Point, we lived until I was in my fourteenth year. I was always kept in school, there being an excellent one in the place, and I do not remember ever missing a day either by illness or by the spring desire to play hooky when the flowers came and the birds sang. Not but that .1 had that desire, but we were taught obedience in those days.

At this time my father received the appointment of chief justice of Utah territory, which he accepted, and a change of base became necessary. After a family councilit was decided that my school-life must be continued. My sister, two years my junior, now Mrs. J. A. Ware of Nebraska City, was to go on the wonderful journey across the plains with my parents and the three boys, still younger. But I was taken by my father to Georgetown, D. C, a suburb of Washington, and placed in Miss English's seminary, where I found myself in a typical southern atmosphere, my companions being daughters of old southern families. I was the only western girl there, and at first was looked at askance as coming from a daredevil region of wild Indians, tomahawks, and stampeding buffaloes. This school during the Civil war was converted into a hospital, and Miss Alcott wrote her "Hospital Sketches" from her experiences as a nurse in this and other Washington hospitals. Georgetown Heights was the fashionable place of residence for government foreign officials in 1854. Here General Badiscoe, the Russian ambassador, lived, having married a former student of Miss English's school, a beautiful young girl called when in Russia "the American rose."

My school life in Georgetown was both instructive and interesting; I was in Washington during part of two presidential administrations, Pierce and Buchanan, and recall Mrs. Pierce's sad face, in her deep mourning for the loss of her son ; and also Miss Lane, President Buchanan's handsome niece, who presided at the White House during his administration. On the President's reception days we of the senior class were permitted to attend the state functions at rare intervals, chaperoned by a teacher.

In 1856 I was graduated, being honored as valedictorian and receiving the highest prize in music. My father, having returned from Utah, came on immediately for me, and once more we were in our old home, - but how changed everything looked to me, the town so

What a memorable journey that was ! Three hundred human beings of all nationalities crowded the boat to its capacity. The morning was a typical April one, the sky bright with the mists from the two rivers floating away and the trees and grasses sparkling from the past much smaller than I remembered it. Even our pleasant country home had dwindled, - the ceilings were lower, the rooms smaller ; we judge all things by comparison.

The star of empire still drawing my father westward, the farm was sold, and in 1857 we all embarked at Fort Madison on the Mississippi for Nebraska the "land of broad rivers." The trip down the river was uneventful. On reaching St. Louis, the "Hannibal," long to be remembered, a large freight and passenger boat, awaited us. I suppose it was named for the great Carthaginian general who amid superhuman difficulties crossed the Alps in a.

night's shower. All were in high spirits, as we started from the wharf, saluted by boats as we passed; one having once heard the "Han-= nibal's" tremendous blast as she answered the signals can never forget it, - hoarse, deep as the lowest trombone tone, it thundered with, impressive self-importance. Thus with waving [ hands and handkerchiefs we passed up the river on our journey to the unknown.

When night came the "Hannibal" rested from her labors, not daring to brave in the darkness her vicious enemies, the great snags and sandbars that surrounded her, thick as the "Thousand Islands" but without their beauty.

Remember, there were no brilliant searchlights in those faraway days. The first and last impressions of the "Big Muddy" were snags, ugly, cruel-looking things, grotesque in shape, and countless sandbars, while ever floating swiftly by were ashen gray logs, hurrying to the end, wherever that might be. It gave one a dizzy, sickening feeling to watch them. But turn your eyes from this treacherous, mighty river to the banks on either side, where were vine-covered trees, the tender spring verdure, the early flowers, the waving grasses ; - all of which delighted us ; at night the whippoorwills sang, and at dawn we heard innumerable birds hidden in the tree-tops.

Sometimes when the boat landed we went exploring along the shore, gathering the early wild flowers but always keeping our ears open for the tremendous blast which hurried us back to our floating home. Once on landing at a small town, two boys, eight and ten years old, went ashore to buy. some shoes which they sadly needed. After the purchase a most exciting dog-fight took place; the boat whistled, but the boys, oblivious to all but the absorbing event at hand, heard it not, and the boat went on its way. Soon however the mother, missing her children, raised a cry of despair, and the mighty "Hannibal," after a mile or so, reversed her course and picked up the penitent boys, who explained that they "wanted to stay and see the end of the fight."

The chief amusements among us were chess, checkers, and dancing the old-fashioned quadrilles, for round dances were not considered proper in those days, and cards were forbidden ; in fact, I believe that not one of us young people knew one card from another. So the days dragged on. It was always interesting to watch the great spars as they worked to free us from the sandbars, to hear the signals ring and the shouting of the men as as orders were given; there was great rejoicing when we were on our way once more, until the creaking and quivering of the boat told us we were again aground.

It was when our steamer was on one of these sandbars, the worst we had yet encountered, that the organization was formed for the purpose of locating a town in Nebraska ; a written constitution and by-laws were signed by some thirty-five men, and an exploring committee was appointed. Little did they realize then that they were making history and that a beautiful city was to spring magically on the virgin soil of the then unknown land.

These gentlemen were men of sterling worth, possessing all the energy, mental attainments and courage necessary for a frontier life, as time has proved. Their names are all emblazoned in the annals of the State History of Nebraska, so it is not necessary for me to name them here. I distinctly remember the Towle family as adding so much to our social life on the steamer, and afterward being most active in all good works and hospitality in Beatrice.

After three long weeks we reached Nebraska City, where we landed with joy; we drove at once to the "City Hotel," a small, frame, two-story building which afterward fell down and was replaced by a substantial brick hotel. The next thing to do was to find a house to live in, not an easy matter, as houses were few and far between. We found a small frame house with one room and a shed at the back, which served for kitchen and dining room. This rented for twenty-five dollars a month. Here we took up our new life. We partitioned the one room with a curtain, and this recess was my sanctum. I enjoyed playing stage efl?ects going in and out of that curtain, and on the whole found it more interesting that a well appointed bedroom.

On July 4, 1857, the interesting ceremony of christening the new city which the company organized on the boat and had located on the Blue river, was to be celebrated, and our family, with many others, started well equipped for the land of promise. We had all the comforts and conveniences necessary for camp life, and were in joyful mood and high anticipation as we left Nebraska City behind us. The weather was perfect, for where will you find more sunshine or purer air than in our noble state? The vast, gently rolling prairies seemed like petrified waves of a gentle sea. The waving grasses, often as high

As we journeyed we halted to gather the wild flowers, so beautiful and abundant. Here we found the blue and yellow violets, the fragrant wild roses ranging in color from the deepest tone of pink to the white, their color kissed from them by the sun. We decorated our horses and wagons with the Indian paintbrush, flaming like fire in the grass, and the golden rod, now our national flower. Sunflowers were everywhere, giving a vivid touch of color to the landscape; we went through avenues of them. Yellow and purple seemed to predominate.

Who of us can forget the first sunset on that vast uninhabited plain? As the sun sank the air was filled with a radiant glow, the hills were touched with red and violet and purple tints. A silence fell upon our little party as we gazed ; the sweet song of a thrush thrilled us as though it were an evening hymn of praise. How small and material seemed our petty lives in so much grandeur ! But alas, we were awakened from this poet's dream by the rattling of dishes, the steam of the coffee, the buzz of talk and the care of the horses, and ,as the sunset faded we ate our supper, for mortals must eat, so "it readeth in the law." Soon our camp in that vast wilderness, with no human beings but ourselves to desecrate nature's primitive domain, rested in sweet and refreshing sleep.

We were early awakened by the birds. They seemed to fill the air with melody; meadowlarks led the chorus, but over and above them all, poised high in mid-air, a bird hovered, pouring forth the most delicious trills, cadences and sparkling scales. The song floated down to us like liquid music. I think it must have been the Missouri skylark, Neocorys Spraguei, described by Audubon and by Elliott Coues.^ "No other bird music heard in our land compares with the wonderful strains of this songster; there is something not of earth in the melody, coming from above, yet from no visible source. The notes are some- thing indescribable, but once heard they can never beforgotten ; their volume and penetration are truly wonderful; they are neither loud nor strong, yet the whole air seems thrilled with the tender strains, and the delightful melody continues long unbroken. It is only uttered when the birds are soaring." They make their nests in the prairie grasses, but are very difficult to find. We could do nothing while this heavenly song lasted, and when it ended we turned reluctantly to our morning tasks. We had an early start, hoping to reach our destination that evening. The wild flowers seemed more and more abundant. The purple vetch, columbine, phlox, coloring great fields with blue. There was blue-eyed grass, and, as if to enhance the delicious blueness, we heard the quiet little song of the blue-bird. Overhead flew great flocks of blackbirds, all varieties, the redshouldered ones, the yellow-headed, and the bronze variety. Then further on we found great patches of the Prairie Snow, Euphorbia, making the ground white with a very faint tinge of pale green. We did not reach the Blue river as soon as we had hoped, so we had another glowing sunset, another song of feirds, and through the night we heard the whippoorwill.

The morning brought us to our goal. The view was entrancing, the valley with its glistening river, the wooded banks, the sloping hills. No narrow outlook met our gaze, but far as the eye could reach was the limitless range of beauty, calm, peaceful with the smile of God resting upon it. All involuntarily exclaimed "Could a more beautiful spot for a city be found anywhere?"

On the 4th of July we assembled for the formal presentation of the nation's flag given by the ladies of the company. I had the honor of making the presentation. I well remember going down by the river, sitting among the willows and invoking the muse, which resulted in some four short verses of salutation to the town to be. Of course if I had dreamed that the occasion was to be historic I would have preserved them, unworthy as they were, but after the ceremony was over they were thrown on the bright, flowing river, which, unhke the traditional "Sweet Afton," bore the song of praise away from its inspirer. Mr. Pike, a cuhured young lawyer, replied, somewhat embarrassed I thought ; probably the combination of the Stars and Stripes and a young lady overcame him. Beatrice was christened, and my name forever honored. A shaking of hands and congratulations followed, and plans of future work were talked over by the company. All these particulars have been told so well in historical sketches of Nebraska that I will not attempt them. Our return was uneventful, but with the little pioneer party we had formed lifelong friendships which I recall to this distant day with pleasure.

Of course the habits and customs of many of the early settlers in Gage county, breaking the sod and building their cabins, impressed me as somewhat peculiar; as all nationalities were represented, this was to be expected. I remember driving with my father far out on the prairie and stopping at a cabin for dinner. Boiled potatoes in their jackets and fried pork (a good deal cheaper then than now), with saleratus biscuit very yellow with the superfluous amount of soda, made our bill-offare. When the good woman of the house asked me if I would take "long shortening or short shortening" in my coffee I deliberated as to what this might mean, but thought the safest way was to say "short" as that would mean less of whatever it might be, and some very coarse looking brown sugar was put into my cup. My father not liking the looks of this, said in his polite, old-school manner, "I will take long shortening. Madam, if you please" ; whereupon a couple of tablespoons of very black looking molasses were poured into his coffee. The look of consternation on his face and of mirth on mine fortunately were unobserved by the hostess. Useless to say the coffee was left untasted. Here too I first heard the expression "powerful weak," speaking of a man suffering with ague, then very prevalent in some parts of the country. The phrase struck me as being comically contradictory, but physiologically it means I suppose that the weakness holds the man powerfully ; at least it might be so explained. These same people in course of years developed a fine farm by their thrift and industry, and educated their children, who are now doubtless driving their autos and enjoying all the luxuries of modern life.

In 1861 I did what young ladies have done since the world began, - I married. My husband Julian Metcalf was a banker and greatly interested in our growing state.

My first visit to Beatrice was in 1864, I think: it was with my father, who, with a light top-buggy and a pair of mettlesome horses, invited me to accompany him. It was a perfect October day and I was more than delighted to go and see my beautiful namesake again. We made the drive in one day ; the fast livery team seemed as fresh when we reached Beatrice as when we started. I found great changes in these few years, the town developing substantially and rapidly. We spent only a day there, as my father's business required no longer time, and we started early so as to reach Nebraska City before dark. This proved a memorable drive. When we had driven several miles we saw a vast sea of fire sweeping toward us with a terrific roar. We were on a hill which gave us a full view. The grass, dry as tinder, eight and even ten feet high, made rich fuel for the flames. It was a race for life. My father turned the horses and urged them to their utmost speed. The flying, blackened cinders of the burnt grass flew by us and over us, we could hear the rushing of the fire-storm and even feel its heat as it gained upon us. The horses seemed to understand the danger and, maddened, by the crackling and roar of the flames, they raced as they had never raced before. In places, burning wisps of grass carried by the fierce wind started fires on either side of us, but fortunately not near the road. With great relief we reached Beatrice in safety, for it was out of the immediate path of the fire; only the little school house was endangered, and as the fire swept over it we watched with fear and trembling for its fate. For a moment it was enveloped by the flames, with the roar and speed of a railroad train, and as they passed we saw the little frame school house unharmed; the very fury and swiftness of the fire saved it. We resumed our journey, and for twenty miles we traveled through a black, smoking country. In places we saw deer that had been chased by the fire lying by the roadside too exhausted to move as we drove by.

As night fell, one of the traces became unfastened and hitting the horse frightened him, and they both started on a wild run. They left the road and, dashing over hillocks and rough places, nearly upset the light buggy. My father was thrown out. This left the reins under the horses' feet and they plunged madly on through the darkness. My only thought was to cling to the buggy. In a short time, long to me, they broke away from it and I was left sitting in it, unharmed. At once I started in search of my father, whom I found unconscious ; he had struck on his head and it was bleeding. Rubbing him and calling him, I succeeded at last in rousing him, and, urging him to walk, we started toward a distant light, which proved to be a farm house. There we were able to find a wagon and driver to take us to Nebraska City, only three miles distant.

Thus ended my first and last visit to Beatrice. But I have always kept in touch with its progress and development, and have pictures of its handsome homes and fine business buildings. If I ever go eastward again I shall certainly visit the beautiful city by the Blue, of which I am naturally proud, as I appreciate the honor conferred on me by its name.

In 1893 we moved to the Pacific coast, where my three children, two daughters and a son, were living, also my parents. We made San Diego our home, and at times Los- Angeles and Portland, Oregon. At the latter place my beloved husband passed away in his eighty-third year. Blessed with perfect health and strength, surrounded with loving children, I am indeed most thankful to the Giver of every good and perfect gift who guides us all in love and wisdom.