"Early History of Thurston County, Washington; Together with Biographies and
Reminiscences of those Identified with Pioneer Days." Compiled and Edited by
Mrs. George E. (Georgiana) Blankenship.  Published in Olympia, Washington, 1914.
p. 95.
 
MRS. JOHN G. PARKER

     Have you ever opened a long-forgotten desk and taken out a packet of
letters tied with faded blue ribbon, and caught the sweet, evanescent perfume of
rose leaves and violets which have been put away by hands which have long since
finished their earthly tasks? Such were the sensations of the compiler of these
reminiscences when journeying hack to the days of long ago with Mrs. John G.
Parker. Sweet and full of girlish romance were the memories evoked of conquests,
triumphs and innocent coquetry of this belle of Olympia of the early ' 50's,
although the dear old lady could also tell of hardships and privations that
would undoubtedly crush a girl of modern
days.
     In Mrs., Parker's words will her story be told, for they were more eloquent
and expressive than any at my command, but the reader will miss the inspiration
of watching the delicate color come and go in the faded but still lovely face,
of listening to the gentle voice thrill and tremble over the exciting or
sorrowful portions of the narrative, of being taken back to the actual scenes
and experiences of those days that are no more.
      "When I was a young girl of a little less than sixteen years of age,
living in Saline County, Missouri, my father, Gilmore Hays, decided to leave the
old homestead and take his family out to Oregon, as all this section of the
country was then called. Father had been out West before and knew that the land
was full ol richness and opportunities for amassing wealth such as would never
be found in the more settled country. There were six boys in our family and
father thought they would stand a better chance to get on in the world when the
time came for them to branch out for themselves in the new country. Father's
enthusiasm spread to a lot of our kinsfolks and they decided to join our train
and cross the plains with us.
     "I can't tell now just how many wagons there were in line when we pulled
out for our start for the long journey over the Oregon Trail. But, the ones whom
I am able to recall were the family of Dr. N. Ostrander, Uncle Frank Yantis with
his family, George Scott and. wife, Mr., and Mrs. Hillory Butler, my father's
brother Isaac Hays, Rev. Lapsley Yantis and many others.
      "The first stages of the trip were full of pleasure and delight,
especially to us younger members of the train. Although the greater part of the
wagons were drawn by yokes of oxen and perforce the travel was slow, we younger
ones had each our own pony and would ride far in advance of the train, pick out
a good camping place where there was wood, water and grass for the animals. Here
we would dismount and the young men proceed to collect piles of wood for the
camp fires in the evening while we girls would skylark around, pick flowers and
rest beneath the trees by the side of the beautiful streams which we frequently
were fortunate enough to find for our camping place. When the wagons would pull
in towards evening it was a hurry-up to get supper, turn out the stock and then
all hands gather around the enormous campfires where merry jest, songs and
cheerful companionship banished every thought of homesickness or foreboding. We
had several violins, a banjo and many fine voices in the party, so music was
enjoyed almost every evening.
     "I must tell you about my pony. She was the fastest animal in the train, a
perfect beauty and a great pet, and an animal of more than ordinary
intelligence. So speedy was she that the hunters always borrowed her when they
wanted to run down a buffalo to replenish our supply of fresh meat. One day I
was in a pet towards the other girls in the train, Sarah Yantis and her sister,
Mrs. Pullen, (these girls were  afterwards Mrs. G. C. Blankenship and Mrs. Dick
Wood).  So I told them to ride on and I would wait for the wagons, letting my
pony eat by the road side. As soon as they had disappeared along the trail I
dismounted and sat down in the grass. That pony would scarcely eat a mouthful so
intently did she watch, looking all around for possible danger. When the wagons
came on up and father saw me there alone he scolded me good and hard and said
the horse showed a good deal more sense than I did. But some way I was never in
the least afraid of the Indians and thought the tales I heard of
their cruelty and treachery were mostly imaginary. I was to learn better a few
years afterwards during the Indian war in Washington.
     "Well, all went merry as a marriage bell until we reached Fort Laramie.
Here was the parting of the ways. Uncle Lapsley Yantis was a Presbyterian
minister and as good a man as ever trod the earth, and he was strong for
whatever he considered to be the right, and to travel on the Sabbath day was not
right according to his views. Father was also a good man but he was more
practical and had different ideas from Uncle Lapsley. He reasoned that even if
the train did lay over and not travel on Sundays that the emigrants would
probably not observe the day any better than those who pushed on toward their
journey's end. The women would bake, wash, etc., and the young folks get into
various kinds of mischief, but most weighty argument of all, the cattle would
become so scattered in a whole day's and two nights' layoff that, in
his judgment, it was better to keep going. The leaders couldn't agree, so the
train was divided, some going on with father and the remainder staying with the
Sabbath keepers. Was it a judgment from God that as soon as the decision was
made and we began to tail in Sabbath observance dire calamity befell us? It
certainly looked so. Soon after the separation we overtook an emigrant wagon in
which was a sick boy. Mother offered her services to the parents of the lad and
did what she could do for them in the way of nursing and simple remedies to
relieve the lad's fever. Little did she suspect the nature of the disease she
came in contact with.  About ten days after encountering the sick boy she was
taken down with a raging fever which soon developed into a severe ease of black
measles. Soon nearly all the young people of the train were inflicted with the
dread disease. Of my six brothers one after another died till three graves were
made along the roadside. But before Brother Henry died mother, too, was taken.
Henry seemed to be getting over the measles and we hoped for a time he might be
spared us. One night, after convalescence had set in, we were sitting around the
campfire, no longer gleeful and singing, but oppressed with our dreadful sorrow.
Henry was well enough then to eat some ham which I had cooked for supper. After
eating he complained of a terrible thirst and kept drinking water. Soon cramps
set in and he was dead before morning. I thought father would go crazy at this
terrible last blow.
     "We reached Salmon Falls in Idaho before mother died, and although I did
not know of it till a year afterwards when I again met my cousin, Sarah Yantis,
in Olympia, I must tell of her resting place. We had to roll the body in a
blanket, there was, of course, no way to make even the rudest coffin, and after
the mortal remains of our dear mother had been covered the best, we could,
father took off a piece of the end board of the wagon and wrote her name, Naomi
Hayes, on it. Then, we had to go on and leave her there.
     "Well, when Uncle Lapsley's train came along several days after we were on
our way, they espied a newly made grave beside the road and on going to it read
mother's name. Mrs. Yantis, who was very delicate and suffering from
the hardships of the trip, had become very ill on the way. When she knew that
her old friend was buried there she lost all hope, and although the train made a
couple of stages further on their way, the poor lady was unable to stand the
shock and sank to rest. Her last words were 'Take me back to sleep beside
Naomi.'  Her broken hearted husband and children respected these last words and
retracing their way to where mother was laid, buried her there and beneath
mother's name wrote 'Ann Yantis.' And there they sleep side by side. Ah,  it was
a hard and bitter time.
      "After the death of my third brother father decided that the time had come
to do something, so he had one of the lighter wagons emptied of all but our
actual necessities for light camping and hitching the freshest of the mules to
the wagon, started my brothers, myself and some other women and children of the
train on as fast as the animals could travel. He hoped we could reach The Dalles
and so on to Portland before winter set in.
       "When we reached The Dalles we women and children were put on flat boats
and floated down to the Cascades. Here we were obliged to walk across the
portage to the landing and then take a little steamboat on down to Portland.
     "At this place I was met by an uncle, Andrew Cowan, who took me home with
him and I spent the winter very comfortably with my uncle and aunt.
     "Portland was then a mere village with a two plank sidewalk extending along
the few blocks which were built up, and mud, mud everywhere. It was certainly
the muddiest dirtiest place I had ever seen at that time.
     "When father finally reach The Dalles with the ox teams he bought a good
many of the emigrants' cattle and turned them out on the ranges in the vicinity.
But the hard luck with which he had been followed throughout the latter part
of the journey still pursued the poor man.
     "One of the coldest winters on record for that region set in and the cattle
were caught by the heavy snows. The beasts were weakened anyway with their
thousands of miles travel and in no condition to withstand the rigors of the
climate. There was no hay or feed to be bought for any price so almost the
entire drove perished. This almost bankrupted father and was a severe blow to
the high hopes of wealth and prosperity he had entertained when he started from
Missouri. Four of his family left back on the plains, his money spent for the
cattle and four helpless children on his hands. For I was little more than a
child in years and having always lived on a plantation with servants to do
everything about the house and mother to depend on, you may be sure I was very
incapable and inexperienced.
     "Came the Spring of 1852 and father was restless and wanting to go on to
the promised land, Puget Sound so chartering a flat boat to take us up the
Cowlitz river after
we left the steamboat at Monticello landing, we were again on our way.
     "The memory of that trip will be with me as long as memory lasts. The flat
boat, loaded with our very few household effects, was poled up the Cowlitz, but
there was no room on the boat for us women and the children, so there was
nothing to do but walk along the trail. This trail was through in many places,
brush so dense, that we crawled on our hands and knees to get along at all. In
other places we were in mud well up to our knees.
    "In addition to this I had to carry my little brother, Robert. The poor
little fellow was only three years old and had never become very strong from his
attack of the measles the summer before. I, too, was weak and sick and in
my mind thought I was not long for this world, and I must say, I didn't care
much, life seemed so full of trouble and hardship. When we reached the Cowlitz
landing we were met by mule teams which had been sent down from Olympia to
haul our freight. The wagons were so filled and the roads in such a condition
that I still had to walk across the country past where Chehalis now is and on to
Mound prairie. My companion on this dreary jaunt was Mrs. Hillory Butler, who
with her husband was also coming to the Sound with us. She was very kind and
good to the motherless girl and helped me carry my little brother. Turn and turn
about we plodded all those weary miles through knee-deep mud, hot, tired and
discouraged.
      "Coming out on Mound prairie we spied a cabin in a clearing. The eternal
feminine asserted itself even under those distressing conditions, so before
going to the house Mrs. Butler and myself stopped beside a stream of water
flowing by and wading up to our knees, washed the bottoms of our skirts off the
best we could, they being literally caked with mud, straightened our hair and
then proceeded to the house where we proposed to ask shelter for the night.
      "In the door of the cabin stood the fairest sight I have ever seen. It was
my own dear cousin and chum, Sarah Yantis. Imagine the greetings received.
Although over fifty years have passed Over my head since then and I have
changed from a pretty, young girl to a great-grandmother, I still re- call the
thrill of rapture with which I rushed into Sarah's arms and listened to her dear
voice once again. When the train was divided Uncle Frank Yantis with family had
remained behind and on reaching Portland had proceeded straight on to this
section of the country. He had taken up  a donation claim out on the prairie and
was comfortably settled.
       "We rested there visiting with Uncle Frank's family for a while and then
came on to Olympia.
       "Our first place of refuge on reaching this place was with a bachelor who
had a comfortable log cabin a couple of miles from Newmarket, now Tumwater. This
man's name was Benjamin Gordon, or Old Ben, as he was commonly called, and he
was very good to us all. Aunt and Uncle Andrew Cowan had come to this section of
the country with us and for quite a while we all lived in Mr. Gordon's cabin,
the Cowans, all the Hays children and father, when he was at home. There was a
garden around the place and we had all the milk and butter we wanted from Mr.
Gordon's cows.
    "I began to grow strong and well again and life opened up many fair
promises. The young men from around the country began to find their way to the
cabin and I had a great deal of attention and admiration. There were only four
young ladies within a radius of many miles, Sarah Yantis, Charlotte and Lucy
Barnes and myself. The young men used to come out to the cabin Sunday afternoons
in considerable numbers. Those who had riding horses would ride and those who
had not would walk and seem to think nothing of the miles traveled over the
trail to spend a few hours in my company. There was generally a generous supply
of buttermilk on hand and the boys made the excuse that it was for this cooling
drink they had come. They were a brave lot of lads, gallant and stalwart. I felt
an interest and friendship for everyone of them. Ah, me, where are they now?
All, all gone.
     "The young man who used to come most frequently to see me was young Benton
Moses, who afterwards married my dear friend, Sarah Yantis. One Sunday when Mr.
Moses arrived on his usual afternoon visit he was accompanied by another young
man whom he introduced as John Parker. I will never forget the appearance of
this youth that day. He had a beautiful riding horse, which he managed with
splendid skill, but it was his getup which made the lasting impression on me.
Mr. Parker had a trading store in Olympia and carried principally articles for
barter with the Indians. From this stock he had selected a pair of riding
leggings which came to the knees, on his feet were beaded moccasins and on his
head was a queer looking Scotch cap. He made a great impression on my young
fancy even at this first visit. Afterwards, when he became a regular visitant at
father's house, Mr. Moses used to tell with much glee how he inveigled Parker to
the cabin with tales of the nice fresh buttermilk to be had, but said never a
word about the young lady who would pour the buttermilk for him. Mr. Parker at
that time was extremely bashful and had never called on a young lady before.
     "By this time father had taken up his donation claim, which is, as near as
I can tell now, was situated where the road makes its first turn in going
towards the Hays school house after passing the Masonic cemetery. I kept house
for him and the children the best I could. Tom Prather, who was a distant
relative, lived with us part of the time, and it was he who taught me about all
I knew about cooking and general housework. He was always good and kind to all
of us and his unfailing friendship has been one of the brightest remembrances of
my life.
     "Olympia then was merely a collection of shacks, with only two or three
places of business of any kind. Mr. and Mrs. George Barnes were about the only
married couple here when I first arrived, although others soon came. Mr.
Parker's store was opposite the Pacific House, which place was afterwards kept
by Col. Cock, whose young wife became one of the warmest of friends to both
myself and Sarah Yantis. We girls used to go in to stay all night at their hotel
and Mrs. Cock was so good to us, throwing many a pleasant time our way.
      "About the only amusement we young folks had in those days was horseback
riding. There were no roads and, of course, no buggies or other means of
conveyance. The young men used to come out to our house riding one horse and
leading another for me. Later I learned that they generally borrowed Mr.
Parker's horse for me to ride on. But that was before we had met, after that
event it was always John who would come. He had sent to San Francisco for a side
saddle for me, probably the first article of that description in the Northwest.
One of those three-horned affairs such as girls used to ride. Sarah could ride a
man's saddle with perfect ease, sitting straight as an arrow and graceful as a
reed, but I wanted a side saddle. I never saw a woman ride astride in those days
and we would have thought it a very immodest thing to do. Times have changed in
many ways since I was a girl.
      "But I must tell about my wedding. I had lived on the homestead about two
years, keeping house for father and doing the best I could with what I had to do
with. Mr. Parker had kept coming to see me, and although we were not really
engaged, I thought, we would be married some time. But there was nothing
definite. Father began to grow restless again and wanted to go back east once
more. But what to do with me and the boys? He talked of it for several weeks,
and I could see he was moody and uneasy. My cousin, Sarah, had come from her
father's home, still on Mound Prairie, to spend a few days with me and we were
planning to take a horseback ride one day in company with Mr. Parker and Mr.
Moses, who were coming out from town a little later. Father had gone on out to
do some burning on the land he was clearing up in the far lot, so I was
surprised when he came back to the house and said 'Rushe, get me some hot water
for shaving and put me out a clean shirt.' 'Why, father,' I said, 'are you going
to town?' 'No,.' he replied, 'I am going to attend your wedding.' 'My wedding?'
I gasped. 'Yes, your wedding. You might as well be married one time as another,
Parker wants you and I want to go east.' I was almost dumb with astonishment and
chagrin. I asked Sarah what I had better do and she very strongly counseled me
not to listen to such a proposition. I was almost distracted. I didn't know what
to do. I knew I loved John and knew that he loved me, but I had no wardrobe and
was not ready to be married. I sat down by the fireplace brooding and thinking,
when Mr. Parker arrived. He saw at once something was the matter and asked me if
I was sick. I told him I was not and he would have to ask father about what was
the trouble. He went out in the yard and had a long talk with father and then
came in and asked me to sit on the steps of the doorway with him to talk matters
over. He said he wanted to marry me more than he ever had wanted anything on
earth, but he had hoped to get in a little better financial shape before asking
me to cast my lot with his. He told me he was a poor man and in debt, a former
partner in an express venture had absconded with $5,000, for which loss Mr.
Parker became personally responsible. 'But, Rushe,' he said, 'if you are willing
to undertake the life I can offer you now I will love and cherish you forever.'
And so I agreed. Mr. Parker then rode back to town and returned with Judge
Landers.
     "I got ready the best. I could and Sarah helped me. My best dress was a
black silk which I had made with a low cut neck and short sleeves. I thought I
looked quite nice in that dress and so did John. Tom Prather cooked our wedding
dinner and, besides Sarah as attendant at the wedding, was Uncle Frank Yantis.
We stayed at father's house the first night and the next day took our deferred
horseback ride to Mound Prairie and that was our wedding trip.
      "Afterwards we went to housekeeping in a little cottage and there in the
course of time our first child was born, our daughter Helen, now Mrs. Herbert
McMicken.
      "Father then went back east, but returned by the time of the Indian war in
1855. He organized the first volunteer troops in the Northwest for the defense
of the settlers, and was honored by being made commander of the united volunteer
troops before the war was over.
      "My cousin Sarah by this time was married to young A. Benton Moses and was
living in Olympia also. When the Indian war broke out Mr. Moses was one of the
first white men to lose his life by the Indians. He was killed out on
Connell Prairie while in company with a small body of men who were going to join
the volunteers. The others were obliged to flee for their own lives and leave
the poor lad there on the prairie. He was wounded but not killed outright. When
he fell from his horse he begged his companions to save themselves and sent a
loving message to his young girl bride. A few days later Tom Prather and a small
company of men went out and brought the body back to Olympia.
      "Never will I forget the tragedy of that funeral. Besides Mr. Moses there
were the bodies of Lieutenant McAllister and Col. Miles, who were also killed at
the same time. These bodies, placed in rude coffins, were placed in one of the
two wagons in the settlement. In the other wagon rode Sarah, Mrs. Cock and
myself, the men walking in a procession behind the wagons. Our wagon was without
springs of any kind and such as are used to haul dirt in. There were no seats
and only some boards laid across the bed. Several times these boards slipped off
and let the mourners down in the bottom of the wagon bed. The day was dark and
dreary and the road but little more than a rough trail. It was a terrible
experience. To do honor to the brave boys who had lost their lives in the
attempt to protect others, the citizens decided that a military funeral was
proper, so music must be included. This consisted of a drum and fife. As we
wended our way out to the graveyard over and over again did this drum and fife
sound out the strains of 'The Girl I Left Behind Me.' That was the only tune
they could play and they did the best they could, but I thought Sarah's heart
would surely break. The graveyard was the one out on the road leading to what is
now Little Rock, near Belmore. Here the three graves were made close to the
road, side by side. And here soon after was laid the remains of Chas. H. Mason,
the first Secretary of the Territory, a gallant young man of good family, who
died of fever when only 29 years of age. I think the Thurston County Historical
Society could do no better work than mark the last resting place of these heroes
of the Indian war.
     "But enough of these sad reminiscences. I will now tell about when the
first State ball was held in Washington. It, was in the nature of a
housewarming, when Governor and Mrs. Stevens moved into the Governor's mansion,
which the Executive officer had built soon after the arrival of his family from
the East. This very same house is still standing on the block now owned by Mr.
Hazard Stevens. on Eleventh street, between Main and Columbia. It was considered
quite a palatial residence when it was completed, and the invitations to attend
the housewarming were eagerly accepted by Olympia society. Almost every one was
present. Sarah and I with our beaux attended. The night was dark and the trail
rough, so lanterns were hung every few feet in the branches of the trees to
guide us to the mansion. There was a dance following the reception and then a
big supper. The dance was held in the parlor of the house and if room was scarce
the jollity and good fellowship made up for all shortcomings. I think I can say
that in the long and brilliant line of legislative balls and receptions that has
followed this initial one, there has never been more genuine happiness and
enjoyment than was the share of Governor and Mrs. Stevens' guests that night.
     "My husband at that time kept the Gold Bar store and when the question of
finding some place where the first meeting of the Territorial Legislature could
be held, my father suggested using the room above his store. This suggestion was
adopted and the place made in readiness for that historical event.
     After a few years Mr. Parker went to steamboating, building and operating,
I think, the first steamboat on Puget Sound, The Traveler, on the run between
Olympia and Victoria. Later he was owner and captain of the Messenger, going to
Seattle from this place. It took two whole days to make the trip down to Seattle
and return, providing the tides were right and they had no breakdowns. Then for
several years he was on the Alida, between the same ports. We went to San
Francisco and staid there for ten years, but finally returned to the Sound.
     "My dear husband died in Olympia on October 2, 1908, and is buried out in
the Masonic cemetery.
     "Besides Mrs. McMicken our children are: Gilmore Hays Maude, now Mrs.
Anderson of Tacoma, Herbert and  John G., Jr., both of Seattle.  Gilmore Hays
died quite recently."

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Submitted to the Washington Bios. Project in May 2007 by Diana Smith.
Submitter has no additional information about the person(s) or family mentioned
above.r