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Skagit River Journal

of History & Folklore
Free Resources Stories & Photos
(Seattle & Northern 1890)
Covers from British Columbia to Puget sound. Counties covered:
Skagit, Whatcom, Island, San Juan. An evolving history dedicated
to the principle of committing random acts of historical kindness
Noel V. Bourasaw, editor • 810 Central Ave., Sedro-Woolley, Washington, 98284
Home of the Tarheel Stomp • Mortimer Cook slept here & named the town Bug
(Click to send email)

Capt. Lewis Alexander Boyd
of Skagit County, Washington

Part 2: Moving back and forth from Birdsview to Nookachamps creek
Joining up again with the Savage Family
(Stump Ranch)
You can see photos of Capt. L.A. Boyd and his family at http://www.stumpranchonline.com/, a website published by Boyd descendant Dan Royal.
      Our mother rejoiced when Pa pointed out the landing at Savages, and said, "Thank heavens, at last our journey is over, and now I can really rest after all these long weeks of weary travel, for I'm just fagged out." I really don't think the children were nearly as tired as my mother was, for all of this was exciting and interesting to them, while Ma had all those little ones to look after and care for.       The Savages were all on the bank of the river to meet them, for they could see our family coming for some distance. It had been several years since the two sisters had met and they had always been very fond of each other, so along with their greetings and the children getting acquainted and everyone talking at once it sounded almost like an Indian Pow Wow.
      Aunt Ettie wasn't quite sure just when the fold would arrive, so she hadn't prepared for them. However, she had a lot of potatoes baked so everyone ate them with salt until supper time. I still like them that way. For supper, she had boiled potatoes with the skins on, baked salmon, corn dodger (corn bread baked on the coals of the fireplace) and tea. It was a good hearty meal, which they all enjoyed after their long trip. Aunt Ettie was a good hand at making stews, and the children of our family looked forward to going to her house in hopes that she would make them some, as she usually did. They called it "Ettie Stew."
      Of course, Pa started a house right away by rolling up the logs from the trees that he had fallen and trimmed. There were plenty of timber trees. Smaller, slender ones were chosen for the rafters and the huge wind falls of cedar were split beautifully for shakes to roof it with. The floor was from lumber that had been cut at the mill and a fireplace was built in one end of the house, which afforded cheerful enjoyment, while the glow of firelight flickered on eager children's faces on Christmas morning. It was here that another child was born on April 1, 1884, called Norman.
      Behind the house, a little creek merrily wended its way over rocks and through the forest to the river. The children spent most of their time here in summer, wading and playing along its cool banks. The water was carried from this creek for all household needs, and you may be sure that many pails of it were carried for such a large family to use. Not only that, but along its banks, nice slim Hazel bushes grew and they came in real handy to Mother when she needed a limber switch to tan the breeches of one of her brood. The children said, "Switches and Britches often met." This creek was named "Boyd Creek" after our folks, and still bears that name on a sign where it crosses the road.
      At this time, George Savage was operating a little lumber mill which was located on lower Mill Creek before it emptied into the river. This little mill was run by water power; the water from the creek fell over a huge paddle wheel, turning the saws in the mill with great power. It did very well, for a mill of its size. After the family settled, Father went to work at the mill and he was glad to be working again. There were times when there were layoffs at the mill, and times such as when the water was too high or too low, which made rafting the lumber down the river impossible. In low water the raft would hang up on bars and shallow riffles; in high water it was even more dangerous. When the river went on a rampage, it was a roaring torrent carrying trees, logs, chicken coops and barns with it. Father did some carpentry and taught school when the mill was down, usually during the winter months. Although the teachers' pay at that time was almost nothing, it did put a few staples on the table.
      Bird Minker helped build the school house, which was on the south side of the Skagit River. The school classes were made up of six children from our family, three from the Minker family, four of the Presentines, and five of the Savages. The Indians hadn't taken to educating their children yet.
      Let me state here that Birdsview was named for Bird Minkler. Minkler Lake was also named for him. Minkler had settled up there long before our family arrived, taking up land. He also had a wife and several children. However, Birdsview wasn't always the name of this place. At one time, the settlement on the south side of the river was called "Bessmer." Aunt Ettie had the post office over there for a few years when it bore that name, and she always thought of that side of the river as Bessmer. This name originated from the Bessmer Steel Indiana, from the East who came out here to attempt to promote a new steel industry. It was claimed that all the mountains on that side of the river were solid iron ore. The mountain is called Iron Mountain. It turned out that the mountain really is very rich in iron ore, but it is of an inferior quality, and unmarketable. So it was never developed. Later, when all hopes of an industry fell through, the Bessmer Post office was taken across the river and renamed "Birdsview." While I'm speaking of Iron Mountain, here's a little incident that may be spoken of as humor, not to say it seems a pity.
      Uncle George Savage, being a county surveyor, had made maps and surveyed lines all over the nearby mountain and hills. He finally discovered a lodge of iron ore up there that he took to be valuable. He got Pa interested in this new find. He decided to blast for samples of ore and pack it down the steep mountain side over a trail that led over fallen logs, through the many salmon berries, blackberries, and salal brush, that grew so thick on the timbered mountainsides. Then on their way, while crossing a creek, over a fallen log, the bark on the log slipped and gave way, and Pa went astraddle of it with that heavy sack of ore on his back which nearly split him in half, and lamed him badly. After toting that load down to the river, it was put into a canoe and was paddled to Mt. Vernon, to be shipped to the smelter to be tested. At this time the promoter had a boxcar on a siding at Mt. Vernon, waiting to be filled with ore from various prospectors. When all were in, it would be shipped, but there was a time called "deadline," of which they knew nothing. All their struggle came to no avail.
      The "Blue Jay," as they had named this mine, finally went back to nature, but since the ore proved to be such poor quality anyhow, all mines were abandoned. The old trail led up to this old mine and was used by hunters and animals for years, but is now long overgrown. The older Boyd and Savage boys often went up there, and when they got to the old Blue Jay mine, they would hold their nose and say, "I smell old dead Blue Jay." It was a joke to them, but it shows what effort and hard work those old pioneers lived through to try out what they thought might make a real profit in which they could support their large families. Yet so many times it ended in failure and heartbreak.

Life in Birdsview is a challenge
      Yet, with all the failures, there were many pleasures along with the many toils and hardships for many pioneers of that day. Gatherings were often held, and people attended from far and near, carrying vittles and youngens, and other necessary items for the little ones. Some paddled in canoes, some with teams of oxen and others walked for miles.
      Across from the little school house was a pleasant picnic ground where the settlers often gathered on Sundays or holidays or any other special days. There they all were as one big happy family. Bon fires were built and the children danced and sang and whooped around the cheerful blaze, roasting potatoes and ears of corn in the ashes. The corn was buried in the ashes with the husks on, and when done, the husks were peeled off revealing the clean golden kernels. The husks gave it a delicious flavor. The potatoes were buried with their jackets on. It was here that many true tales of experiences were told and many decisions of interest were made.
      On the bank of the river grew a huge maple tree with wide spreading branches. Some extended out over the river. Some of the older Boyds or Savage boys had climbed out on one of those extending limbs, and tied a large rope there, and by taking the hanging end of it, would stand on the bank and swing far out over the river and back, giving the older ones a chilly sensation to see such daring sport over the mighty swift river.
      Often there were dances held in the mill cook house. Both my father and Uncle George played the violin well, and were good fiddlers. Uncle George could sing off the calls right along with the tune of the iffles, never missing a note. Very few can accomplish this, but he had a long foot with which to keep perfect time, and a long arm to wield the bow. He really made good old-time fiddling music.
      The people bought flour and sugar (brown) in 50# barrels every six months when logs were rafted down river. Birthday presents for all children was a small sack of stick candy. Father made a little rocking chair for Grace Boyd for Christmas one time, and she took it to bed to protect it from others. The women made their own soap by boiling a mixture of lard and water and later adding lye. Mary Olive (Maud) and Etta made their own hominy by soaking corn in lye water and rubbing the corn on a washboard. The sediment at the bottom of tub was set in the sun to dry, and it became pioneer corn starch. The Boyd family had a candle mold and used home-made candles at night. Brooms were made of cedar boughs tied together. The kids went barefoot except in winter, when they tied sacks around their feet and legs and dried them near the school stove.

The Indians
      There were many different tribes of Indians along the river at that time, and it was then a common sight to see them traveling both ways in their canoes. When one of their tribe died and went to the "happy hunting grounds," there would be canoe after canoe loaded, going to their burial ground, chanting and wailing and beating on tin cans and skin or wood Indian drums, or anything else to make a big noise to scare away the bad spirits and so their loved ones could get to their happy hunting ground without interference from the evil spirits. Who knows, maybe they were right.
      Great canoe brigades of Indians would also go down river at hop-picking time. Their canoes would be loaded to full capacity with bucks, squaws, children and little papooses, along with blankets and other necessary camping equipment. This went on for several days and the same when they returned from hop-picking.
      Above Birdsview there was a big bend in the river that was known as "Cape Horn." I have been told that this name came from an old settler whose first name was Cape and his last name Horn. He had taken up land there. I can never verify the truth of this, but it could be so. There was a big Indian camping ground across on the south side of the river and also a burial ground in the trees which remained there for several years or until the country settled up and the government had them removed to somewhere else as the white people didn't appreciate dead Indians in the trees around them. And the smell in the summer time was nothing to appreciate.
      It was here after the hop-picking season that things get lively at this Indian camp. They all gathered here, where all of them were "Nika-crush-tillicum," and every "crush-tillicum" had fire water, which they bought from the white men. They all had money that they earned in the hop fields too, so there was much drinking, gambling, dancing and fighting, which often ended in one of them getting stabbed and carted off to the happy hunting ground. It didn't seem to bother any of them, for they still chanted and wailed "hya-wa-wa-whooped" for days. The Indians had many big get-togethers or pow-wows. These always were exciting for us to watch.
      The children in our family played with the Indian children often, and learned to speak their tongue quite well. The girls would often go picnicking or picking wild blackberries with the young squaws, for they seemed to know where the berries were the ripest and most plentiful. The boys enjoyed foot races, canoe races, and other outdoor sports that the Indian boys taught them and they all got along very well together. They also picked the cleaner of the Indian children to play with as some Indian families were filthy. Some of the Indians could be smelled quite a distance away on warm days. All in all the Indians and whites got along very well in those days in the Valley.
      A man by the name of McEwin, who was editor of the "Puget Sound Mail," a paper that was published at LaConner, took a trip to Paris one summer. After arriving, he realized that he couldn't speak a word of French, and no one that he knew of could speak English, resulting in no conversation with anyone. He nearly starved for the lack of knowing the name of food to order and didn't like what he got, as he couldn't read the menus, and didn't know what the different dishes were if he could have read them. One day he was standing on a street corner, feeling sorry for himself and heartily wishing he was back home at LaConner again with a good feed of smoked salmon and roasted potatoes under his belt, when someone clapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Kia how ya nika cush tillicum," which meant, "hello, my good friend." McEwen quickly turned with a start to hear the Chinook words so familiar to him, and to his surprise he faced an old friend from LaConnor, who was in about the same predicament that he was in. He was so happy to see him that he kissed the man's hand, which of course was the tradition of France, anyway.
      In telling about it at home, he said, "Hyas-Chosh-Wa-Wa" and as long as he lived, he took off his hat every time he heard "Chinook Jargon." He never forgot his trip to France and the friend that he had chanced to meet, thousands of miles from home, proving once more that this is a small world.
      Ed. note: We are very curious about the name McEwin or McEwen, spelled both ways. We have been unable to find a record of an editor by either name at the Mail. But from 1885-87, Henry McBride was publisher. It seems hard to imagine that the writer would not have remembered McBride's name, however, because he was earlier editor of the short-lived Birdsview Bee and was later governor or Washington after a career as an attorney in Mount Vernon.

Homesteading on the Nookchamps
      It was in the year of 1885 that my father thought that he could do better somewhere else, so he traded his mineral claim (which was richer in timber than good minerals), for a good sized piece of land down on the Nookchamps River on Blarney Lake (now called Barney Lake). This lake was full of water in winter, but completely dry in summer, so that was the reason for its name Blarney. This was a good piece of land, located three miles from Clear Lake, and eight miles from Mt. Vernon. There was no house on the place until Pa built one, so the family lived in a deserted house on an adjoining homestead. This was known as the old Elkins Place. Father built a good log house on this land and the family moved in with much enthusiasm. He then built sheds, barns, and other necessary out-buildings, and fences.
      Mother planted cherry trees, carefully tending them until they were well started. They are still living and bearing fruit. It was here that Tom was born in the year of 1887, making eleven children. Father had raised and broken a couple of steers to the yoke, and did all his plowing and hauling with this team of oxen. The children named them Dick and Dave. He also constructed a wooden cart, which also had wooden wheels. This was a sturdy affair, but clumsy.
      One day he hooked up the oxen to the cart and drove to Mt. Vernon. By getting an early start, he could get there by noon, then get home before dark. After arriving, the team was standing in front of Clothier's store, and he had already loaded the cart and was preparing to leave for home when he remembered some forgotten errand and stepped back inside. He had no more than entered, when something frightened the team of oxen, and they stampeded for home, leaving Pa standing in the store entrance, cursing and shaking his fist at them as they vanished down the muddy road through the thick timber, their tails sticking straight out behind and the cart bouncing from one side of the road to the other. It was mid-afternoon by this time, so Pa started out walking the eight miles; it had started to rain quite hard, and he kept getting wetter. By the time he reached home that night, he was sopping wet to the skin and his boots were muddy to the top. He was mad and tired and no one dared speak to him.
      That summer, Aunt Ettie and George Savage came to our place for a visit, bringing their family. The two families always enjoyed visiting together whenever they could, which was seldom. One day, Ma and Aunt Ettie decided that they would put out the families' wash, so instead of carrying all that wash water from the river to the house, they built a fire by the river, and heated their water there. After scrubbing on the washboard with lye soap, they thought it a good idea to put the clothes in the canoe, and take them out in the river to rinse them, where the water was clear and deep. So out they paddled, and both were busily engaged with squeezing and rinsing, when the temperamental canoe quickly flipped over, throwing both women into the river, and both paddles and the clothes went floating down the river. Neither one could swim, so, hanging onto the canoe, they did their best. In the meantime, some of the children were playing on the bank of the river and saw the plight of their mothers. Hearing their calls for help, the children ran to the house, excitedly telling their fathers to come at once. The men, who were in a deep political conversation, ignored them and remained in their chairs peacefully smoking their pipes. The children gave up and went back to play.
      In the meantime, Aunt Ettie, who was a humorous soul, and could get a big kick out of any kind of situation, looked over across the canoe at Ma, and started to laugh. Ma said, "For land's sake, Ettie, what are you laughing at, anyway?" for she was nearly exhausted.
      But Aunt Ettie, paddling along with one hand, nearly lost her paddle in her mirth. "Oh Doll, you look so funny, just like a drowned rat with your hair all wet over your face and your eyes bugged out."
      This made Ma madder than ever, so she said, "Well, I don't see anything funny about it, and if we don't get drowned it will be a wonder." At last, they drifted down to a bar in the river, and waded ashore, wondering why the men didn't come to help. Ma was still peeved as they came to the house, and when they found the men comfortably sitting and talking, she really lost her patience. The men said that the children didn't tell them, and the children said they wouldn't listen. Aunt Ettie told about that experience to the last of her days and heartily laughed each time.
      Clothier and English were partners in several different projects at that time. English was one of the first loggers around Mt. Vernon, and logged all over Skagit County for many years. At this time, he was logging across Blarney Lake, so Pa got employment there for a while. To get the logs out of the woods and hauled to the landing, English had rigged up a rack of sorts, by cutting good straight poles and securely fastening them to the ties, which made an imitation railroad track. He had flatcars which had wheels with deep flanges on both sides to straddle these wooden rails and keep the wheels on the pole tracks. The flatcars went down on their own gravity, with brakes to halve the speed, and a man who rode the load to apply them when necessary and to stop the load at the landing, where the logs were dumped. It took seven yoke of oxen (two to the yoke) to pull the flatcars back to the railways again.
Click here for Page 3 — Hard times followed by election as Skagit County Clerk
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