In the year 1880—I forget which month—I has just finished a contract with the Dayton, Sheridan and Grand Ronde Railway, a small narrow-gauge railway in Oregon, being built by a Mr. Gaston. He had failed; and the Pacific Rolling Mills of San Francisco held a mortgage on the rolling stock; and the courts had appointed Mr. Geo. Revitte as Receiver, and a Mr. Brooks as General-Manager.
The mortgage was settled in the spring of 1880; and, with four others, I was held as witness; but as soon as we were released, we were ordered by Mr. D.O. Mills, of the Pacific Rolling Mills, and Mr. S. G. Read, of Portland, (which gentlemen, I was informed, were providing the capital for the building of the C.P.R. by Andrew Onderdonk) to go to British Columbia.
The Receiver for the bankrupt railway, Mr. Geo. Revitte, Mr. Brooks, two others and myself, made up the party. Starting from Portland, Oregon, for Yale in British Columbia, we took with us four beautiful teams of work-horses, to be used on the Onderdonk contract. We went by boat to Kalama, and thence by railroad to Tacoma; but when we arrived there, we found the Victoria boat had just left, and it would be two days before another going to Seattle and way-ports would leave.
Here an amusing incident occurred. Tacoma was a very small place then; and the night we arrived there was a dance on; and with a man named Tyler I went to the hall, and we asked permission to look on. It was not long before we were invited to join in; and during the evening, since we had some time in Tacoma, we proposed that we should hire a buggy, hitch up one of our fine teams, and drive over to Stellacoom, where a friend of one of the ladies with us was going in the morning. Among so many cross trails, it was easy for s stranger to get lost; but with this friend to guide us, we got there all right, after a few hours' driving. We had some lunch; and after looking over the place, which was not very large, we started back to Tacoma. We travelled on and on, and as we had no guide, I think we must have been going in circles; for night came on, and then daylight, but no Tacoma.
About 7 a.m. we heard a steamboat whistle, which was the Victoria boat leaving the wharf; and we headed as straight as possible for the sound, and at last reached the town, leaving the girls at their homes on the way. In town we found the citizens all up in arms. hunting for the strangers who had run off with two of their girls, and had kept them out all night. It was getting serious, for they had a rope ready to lynch us; and we found it difficult to explain, until the father of one of the girls, who knew the way people were talking, told how it all happened. When the citizens understood, what a change came over them! We were immediately taken to another hotel, and made the guests of the city till the next boat sailed.
The horses had been billed through to Yale, and all except the two we kept, had gone on with Brooks and Revitte; still we were very uneasy, since we were short of funds and had only our tickets and waybills; but luckily nothing happened.
At Seattle we found a small town with saw-dust streets, and a dinky railroad, hauling coal from somewhere to the waterfront. We called also at several small towns up the Sound, on the way to Victoria; and there transferred to the Princess Louise, bound for New Westminster, where a river steamer, the William Irving, on her first trip up the river, took us on to Yale.
Since Tyler and I had not money enough to pay our passage to Yale, I went to Capt. Johnny Irving and told him our circumstances, offering as security a bale of horse blankets; but he said we would have to find the money. Just as he turned us down I happened to look towards the town, and saw the rest of the horses with both Mr. Revitte and Brooks coming with them; so I met them and put my two horses in with the others.
Now at that time there were other steamers plying on the river, and in close competition for the trade; so that when Mr. Revitte, manager for Onderdonk, and Brooks his purchasing-agent, took me up and introduced me to Capt. Irving, who was soliciting their business, and I again asked if I could go with him to Yale, my second reception was a little different; he tool all four of us to the bar on the boat and we pledged friendship.
We had a nice trip up the Fraser, calling at Langley and Chilliwack, as well as other places. The boat was crowded with men and freight for the construction of the railway, and there also on board a party of Hudson Bay officials on their way to Harrison Hot Springs.
Supper was the first meal we had on the boat; and much to the indignation of the other passengers it was served to the Hudson Bay men first; and later the dining-room was thrown open to the rest of us.
Before we arrived at Harrison, a banquet was given to the Hudson Bay party; and Mr. Brooks and some officials of a mining company put their heads together to have some fun.
They watched the stewards preparing for the feast; and when their backs were turned, calling in the guests, they walked in to the saloon making me go with them, and poured out a glass of wine for each os us. Brooks stood at the head of the table, and placed me at the foot, and when the party was entering, all raised their glasses. Mr. Brooks said "Mr. homes, I looks towards you," and I answered "Mr. Books, I likewise bows." The steward then put us out.
Looking round for more mischief, they caught sight of an old Scotsman named Fraser, lying fast asleep with his bagpipes beside him; so, remarking that all banquets ought to have music, brooks stole the pipes, and went to the saloon door and made a terrible noise. The Captain ordered some of the crew to have it stopped; but the passengers, who were enjoying the fun, opened their stateroom doors and let him run through to the other side of the boat, where he would commence again. Eventually he got tired and quietness reigned for the rest of the night.
Late on we arrived at a little village called Fort Hope, which was the first Hudson Bay post beyond Langley. It is a pretty place among wonderful mountains; and was the outlet from the Interior to which cattle were driven from the Similkameen. to supply the Coast market, and were shipped by boat to New Westminster. There were quite a few placer miners working on the river, both below and above; and our mining party left us here, as they had a dredge working nearby.
When we left Hope, we were on our last lap for Yale; and the river got wilder. In one place there were rocks right in the middle of the stream, and if a boat struck them it would be goodbye, for no one could swim in that river, the water was too swift.
At last we arrived at Yale, and what a change it was; on the way up, all we had seen were a few miners long the river, and a few people at each landing, but now the beach was crowded with people and two other steamboats besides our own. Even the Captains were quarrelling about the berthing rights on the beach; and quite an argument developed between our Captain and another, whose name I later found was Moore. It did not come to blows, but pretty near it.
We could see the town above us looking like a beehive. Great freight wagons moving backwards and forwards, and people everywhere; all up here for the construction of the C.P.R.
Going up to the town, I found all hotels were full, there were no rooms or beds to be got; but at last I met a married man who told me if I got bedding I could sleep on the floor of his front room, getting my meals at the hotel. This I did as long as I stayed in town.
As soon as I got settled I went to Mr. Revitte to find out what I was supposed to do; and he took me along and introduced me to Mr. Onderdonk; and I was placed in charge of a lumber and iron yard, looking after the loading up of supply trains and wagons to the different camps which were being started along the line. As I was under a five year contract with them I was quite pleased with the job.
Later on, I strolled out to see what the town of Yale was like. It was a place of two streets running east and west, parallel with the river; and a few cross-streets. The western part of town was residential; some very pretty houses with good grounds, with nice flowers and orchards, for the soil around there is very fruitful. Governor Joe Trutch had a nice house; and Mr. Onderdonk had built a fine residence which, when the railway contract was finished, he gave to the Episcopal Church for a school. Nearby was a graveyard, a beautiful spot with many graves of pioneers who had made history for British Columbia. All looked so peaceful there, the place just adorned by nature and nothing beyond but just mountains, until you came to Emory Bar, the next settlement down the river.
In going the other way, the town proper started at the railway offices (later the station), then, following the front street, the Hudson Bay Store. The Manager of this store was a Mr. Harvey -- a fine gentleman. His rum, brandy and blankets were unsurpassed. He was well patronized; for railroad men in general take to that kind of goods. You would surely agree, if you took a walk up the main street on payday.
The next house was the York Hotel, kept by a jolly old Yorkshireman and his wife—they were a fine couple.
The came a saddler's shop run by two gentlemen, Messrs. Douglass and Dayton. You could get anything in the horse equipment line; and repair work, which was in great demand at that time for harness, pack-saddles, etc.
I must go back as far as the Hudson Bay store; for I left out Uriah Nelson, General Merchant,—a real down-east Yankee and the best hearted man I ever came across, as well as a most original character. The story is told that when he had borrowed a lot of money from the Bank, he became delinquent, and the bank manager accused him of doing a loose business, but he answered, "It's not me that has done the loose business—it's you." In settling up his affairs, the Bank complained of an item of $3,000 dollars and wanted to know what had become of it; and he answered, "Oh, I gave my wife that for a little pin-money."
The building after the saddler's was used as a commissary by Mr. Onderdonk; but a short time afterwards it was burnt down, and a large warehouse was built at Yale creek to take its place.
We then come to a side street, Albert Street, leading to the town above, and to the boat landing below; where on the beach was built a freight warehouse for Messrs. Kimball and Gladwin, Forwarding Agents, whose place of business was across the street from the commissary.
Next was the Bailey Hotel, then Peter Claire's Bakery and Confectionery store. Then a few small houses, then Guy Tuttle's Hotel, and after that, three saloons. One was owned by the McLennan Bros., known as the Scots Greys. (They later moved to Vancouver). One was called the Branch Saloon, and just across the street from this saloon were two old cannon; but what they were used for I don't know.
Next came a store run by Dave and Ike Oppenheimer,—Dave, of course, later became first (?) mayor of Vancouver.
Here was another cross-street; and on the other side was the B.X. (Barnard's Express), the office of the Cariboo Stage line. Next, Van Valkenburg's Butcher Shop, some more small houses, and then the store of Quong Young, who was a large shipper to Cariboo.
That's all for the front street, except two Italians, Quagliotti and Romano, storekeepers and Forwarding Agents for the Cariboo.
Now,—starting on the back street—on the river side was the Hudson Bay residence, a fine old house; then Uriah Nelson's house, and next, the Ravesbeck Hotel. Across the street was Geo. Revitte's residence, Dr. Hannington's, and Mr. [?]'s, who later took Mr. Revitte's place as Superintendent of construction for Mr. Onderdonk.
next came the ancient Anglican Church; and back of that the railway hospital was built, where Mrs. Ward was matron. She was a lovely lady with a fine family.
On the other side of the side-street were a few private dwellings of some of the old timers; and on the corner of the side-street, across from the Church on to the back street again, was the B.C. Telegraph Station, where Mr. A. Lindsay was in charge.
The railroad grade followed the back street; and the upper side was all dwelling-houses, except at the very far end, where there were some workshops for repairing wagons, a blacksmith shop, and a Chinese Joss house.
On the other side of the street from the telegraph office, down the back street, first came the Bailey residence (the son is well known in the firm of Harvey and Bailey of Ashcroft). Next, the houses of Peter Claire and Guy Tuttle, then the Court House and Jail, and the residence of David Oppenheimer.
There were also quite a few smaller houses scattered up the slope of Yale Creek; and above the town, across the Cariboo Road an Indian Reserve ran along the river. On the wagon road at the Reserve was a toll-gate, a short way above which the road takes a big bend round a large bluff. Here No. 1 Tunnel was started, and the first blow of the Onderdonk contract was struck.
There are a few stories about the men who were engaged on the start of the work. A blacksmith who was there said he could put a detonator on his anvil and that it would not be powerful enough to lift the hammer out of his hands. But when he tried it, he didn't know what became of that hammer.
And a few days afterward, when I was myself up there, I found a man with some kind of oven, thawing out giant powder. After talking to him for awhile, I noticed the melting glycerine running down the front of the oven, and called his attention to it. He said there was no danger—there were only three sticks in there. I told him I was going to get out, and he said he would walk with me as far as the toll-gate. But we were not half way there before the powder blew up; and if we had stayed two minutes longer we would have gone with it.
Now we will return to the starting of the railroad construction. Men were coming in from everywhere by the hundreds—all kinds of good men—as well as rough-necks from San Francisco—Barbary Coast hoodlums.
The streets were crowded—saloons doing a roaring business, and fights a daily occurrence; steamboats arriving daily loaded with freight, and no place to put it, for although all available teams had been hired—there were not half enough of them to haul it all away.
The different camps had to be supplied as soon as constructed; so the company had to buy more horses and wagons, and to build larger stables and warehouses, residences for officials, and a hospital.
Hay and grain kept coming in my steamboat loads; also supplies and tools, powder and lumber.
Men of all kinds had to be sorted out; stewards, cooks, flunkeys; drillers, carpenters, teamsters, stablemen and blacksmiths;—in fact men of all trades, besides the office staff, timekeepers, and checkers.
In these days everything was done by hand; bridges had to be built, and tunnels driven by hand-drilling' grades had to be cut through solid rock, as well as open cuts, all by hand.
It was hammers and drills, picks and shovels, blasting night and day, and work for everybody who wanted it. The wages were not so high as at present, but at that time they were considered fair.
Pay day made a lively town of Yale.
Before long, enough men could not be got; so shiploads of Chinamen were brought over by Chinese labour contractors. As the boats arrived in Yale, the men would be started up the Cariboo road,—each with so much rice, and his own belongings, hung on the end of a stick,—going on foot to their location. At the beginning, some had to go as far as Lytton.
There would be a steady string of them going up the road all day long; not one of them could understand a word of English; and if any of them got sick or played out on the way, they would give him a bowl of rice, take the rest of his pack, and leave him to die or starve. We picked up some who would have died if they had not been helped.
In one case, Mrs. George Keefer, wife of the Divisional Engineer, heard of a sick Chinaman left on the road and deserted by his comrades; and had him brought to her house at Keefer's Station. She fed and nursed him until he was well enough to go to his camp; but when the Chinamen there saw him coming, they thought it was his ghost, and all ran out of the camp; and it was quite a while before they would believe it was him in the flesh.
Now to return to my job in Yale, looking after the freight at the iron and lumber yard, attending to the loading, checking the freight, and keeping the time; altogether I stayed there about a year.
There had been some disagreement at headquarters; and Mr. Revitte, who was greatly disliked, both in the town and office, had either resigned or been discharged—I don't know which; and with him went Mr. Brooks and the other two men that were in our party when we were sent to British Columbia.
I knew nothing about it, until one day the steamer was leaving for New Westminster, and I was standing on the back street above the river, with Mr. Onderdonk beside me. Suddenly the two guns in front of the Branch saloon were let off; but I did not know why, until Mr. Onderdonk said "I would not have had that happen for anything," and I knew then that the people were firing Revitte out of town.
As soon as I understood, I told Mr. Onderdonk that as I was the only one left of the party sent from Portland, I would resign; but he told me to stay on, and if anything was said, he would look after me, as I was under a five year contract with him.
By this time, the railroad grade was getting well advanced to Emory Bar, and steel would soon be laid. At San Francisco, Onderdonk had been using a small engine on a break-water contract, which he had finished just before coming to Yale. This engine had been brought to Emory Bar, and placed on the track there. It is now known as the 'Curly,' and stands as a monument in Hastings park in Vancouver. Whenever I go there, I always visit it; and it brings back memories of the many miles I had travelled behind it in those glorious days when there was work for everybody; and railways were built by men, and not by machines.
As the work advanced, we again found that the teams available were insufficient, and more horses had to be bought; and also some light teams for the quick dispatch of goods. A mule pack-train was bought as well; they had never had harness on them—so I quit the job I was at, and took a try at breaking them,—and it was some job—I never met such an ornery bunch. We were breaking them for four-mule teams. Sometimes they would go all right till I got out of town, away from all assistance, when they would balk, and the devil himself could not start them until they were ready. Other times they would all four walk on their hind legs for quite a distance; and I often had to wait an hour before another team would come along, to hitch on and give them a start.
It was quite an item, getting hay and grain for the teams, as the ranches on the lower Fraser could not fill the demand, and feed come in shiploads from California.
Some more trouble was experienced when the work reached Spuzzum, where the wagon road crossed the river. The country was so rough that a trail could not be built; and the conclusion was arrived at, that the best way was to establish two ferries; and these were built—one for Chapman's Bar, and the other at Camp 13, which was the largest camp—there were four tunnels there, and heavy rock-cuts.
When the ferries were built, I volunteered to run the one at Camp 13. It was a wild piece of water, but I soon got the knack of taking advantage of the currents; and while I was there, over a year, I never lost a man or a pound of freight; although everything needed to carry on the works, had to be ferried across—tons of material, as well as the men. We ran some very narrow escapes, from blasting and the river; but I had a good crew—there were six of them—and every man knew his place and his work; for to miss the stroke of an oar might mean disaster.
Tons of powder were hauled by wagon to the crossing; and the boxes were sent down a chute to the boat; a bale of hay was placed at the bottom, for the boxes to butt against—an especially risky business in hot weather. Everything had to be handled that way, for there was no road on the west side above Spuzzum bridge.
One Sunday Bishop Sillitoe drove up the road, and signalled for the ferry; he was going to hold a service in the camp. it was high water at the time, and the boat's crew had to tow the boat by walking along the shore, and I stayed in it to steer. The men let the boat take a sheer, and the current was so strong that it dragged the rope out of their hands, and of course I was adrift doing down the Blue Canyon. This is the most wild part of the Fraser—there is no place to land till you get through it.
All I had was the steering oar; and the last thing I saw was the Bishop and his wife,—they were running along the wagon road, with Mrs. Sillitoe in the lead. I could see an occasional man high up on the grade, shaking his hands goodbye, for no one thought a boat could go through the canyon. I used the oar all I could, to keep the boat straight, but sometimes she was on end in a whirlpool.
Near the end of the canyon, I noticed a large flat stretch of rock, about water level, and the boat was almost going to touch it; so I seized the end of the rope, and as soon as we came near enough, I jumped onto the rock; there was a tree close to, so I ran the rope around it, and snubbed up the boat and tied it.
Then I began to look for a way to get up the face of the bluff; and when I reached the top, I found I was just across the road from the Romborough road-house. Romborough had a garden, just where I came over the top, and happened to be out there gathering watercress; and when he looked up and saw me, he started to run to his house; but I hulloa'd out to him, and when he saw who it was, he stopped. I was all wet and muddy; but he took me into his house, and made me take off my clothes, and get into bed while he dried them. he also gave me a hot brandy, and cooked me a fine meal.
In order to get back, I had to walk about four miles to the bridge, to cross over, and then up the river several miles to the camp and home. it was after dark when I got there, and I found the camp mourning me for dead; and when I opened the door, my wife was in hysterics, and some people, who were sure I was drowned, were trying to pacify her.
(Document in typescript form in City of Vancouver Archives [PHO P. 127 N. 188]; also in the collection of the Yale Historical Association. )