Gilbert, Frank T.  "Historic Sketches of Walla Walla, Whitman, Columbia and
Garfield Counties, Washington Territory; and Umatilla County, Oregon."
Portland, OR: Print & Lithographing House of A. G. Walling, 1882. p. a9.
 
JAMES M. CORNWELL

     is a native of Orleans, Orange county, Indiana, where lie was born August
7, 1834. His parents lived on a farm and the youthful advantages, educational
and otherwise, were those common to the farmer's sons in our country. Mr. Payton
Cornwell, a Kentuckian by birth, the father of James M., removed from Indiana
with his family in about 1839, to Edgar county, Illinois. The mother of James M.
died, in Illinois, when he was but nine years old, and the home circle was
broken up. The children, eight boys, found homes among strangers, and from that
time forward, the recollections of the two now living are of a transient
dwelling place, separate from each other, and of an early necessity to look to
their own resources for that which other children, more fortunate, instinctively
seek through the affection of a mother. In 1852, the subject of this sketch,
then seventeen years of age, and an elder brother, named Francis M., nineteen
years old, worked their passage across the plains to Oregon.
     We will give a partial detail of the trip of those two lads across the
continent, for the purpose of showing the hardships and extremities of suffering
which some, yes many of the men, who, following the star of empire westward,
were forced to endure in reaching the Pacific Coast in those early years. They
started on foot from their Iowa˜(we were about to write "home," but they had
none) with five dollars between them, for crossing the plains to either
California or Oregon. They cared little to which of those regions they wandered,
for it was the country where the sun set that they were seeking. Upon their
arrival at a town on the Mississippi river, James obtained a situation as
teamster for an emigrant, who proposed to furnish him food for his work until
they reached St. Joseph, Missouri. In addition, the brother was permitted to put
his little bundle of clothing in the wagon; and what was left of the five
dollars went for crackers for that brother to eat along the road. At St. Joseph
both brothers obtained positions as teamsters with a train that was bound for
Oregon. They were to receive their food on the route as pay for their work, but,
they were to continue service one month after reaching the Coast, to pay for the
privilege of driving team the six months that it took to reach that place. There
was a great deal of sickness that season among the emigrants,and the new graves
along the overland road became thicker as the Cascade range was approached.
Young James was taken with the mountain fever after crossing the Platte river,
and a month passed during which he narrowly escaped adding one to the numerous
unknown graves scattered along the route. The party with whom these lads were
employed, were professional men, coming with their families, and they arrived
late in the season at Fort Boise short of provisions. Short, because they had
delayed along the way, and had disposed of provisions that had been provided in
the start. The owners of the trains became frightened, fearing starvation on the
way, and proposed to the teamsters to leave them, go on ahead, and look out for
themselves, eight of them consenting to this, the two lads being of the number.
They left Fort Boise on foot with three days rations, to reach civilization on
the Coast, and the nearest certain point to obtain food, was the Dalles,
over 500 miles away. Chance opportunities for procuring something to eat was
their only reliance for getting through, and unless obtained on the way, death
from starvation was a certainty. It was a forlorn hope, moving, that October in
1852, with short intervals for rest, night and day while along the old emigrant
road,struggling in the face of famine, in a wilderness, weary, footsore, heart
sick and desolate; their only hope of rescue lay in the accumulated store of
vitality in their systems, nourished by the least possible amount of food that
would prevent its utter exhaustion. Days passed, nights came and went, while
their store of food was used up, and, as they came down the west slope of the
Blue mountains, nearly famished, to Meacham's creek, they came upon an emigrant
camped near the water. He was another that misfortune and sorrow had claimed as
their own. Along the road between hint and the States his family were scattered,
one here, another there, buried by the wayside. His poor worn out cattle could
go no further, and his rations were exhausted. This famine-wrecked emigrant,
aided by the forlorn hope, killed one of those "lean-kine" that had traveled
over the plains, and they feasted upon the dried up sinews of that poor ox, as
the gods might have feasted upon ambrosia. Again the journey was resumed, and
the eight moved on. One-half of the distance lay still beyond them, while the
chance for passing over it grew less and less. Why follow them step by step? Can
not one imagine what it
must have been for those two boys, who struggled on through the days with hunger
gnawing at their vitals, with weariness laying hold of their bodies with a
strength that made every fiber ache with pain? At length, in the night, Alkali
flat was reached, east of the John Day river, and they all started to cross it.
Finally one lay down exhausted, and the balance moved on and left him, then
another and another yielding, dropped out of the ranks of the forlorn hope,
until but the two young Cornwells, of them all, were left. These two, hand in
hand, aiding each other, staggered and struggled on until Jasper spring was
reached. After quenching their thirst, the two lay down to sleep on the ground,
without a blanket to protect them from the night chill of October. In the
morning they pushed forward to the river, where an Indian was met, who had a
fish that would weigh about one pound. For this, James gave the native his
shirt, and thought himself fortunate to have one with which to buy a farther
lease of life. They remained during the balance of the day at the John Day ford,
after crossing it; but night found them struggling, half dead, along the road
that led over hills swept by a cold fierce wind that chilled them to the heart.
Like that ternble night on the alkali plains, they held each other by the hands,
and struggled on till the flickering lamp of hope went out. The feeling came
over them at last, that life was scarce worth purchasing with such a struggle.
The elder advised that both lie down and yield the contest, and had they done
so, a few short hours would have been enough to enable those penetrating winds
to end it. There seemed no use in further resistance, for possibly, yes
probably, there was no one to help them within fifty miles; still they pushed
forward, staggering before the blast and reeling along, first to one side of the
road, and then the other, like persons drunk. Suddenly James, in casting a
hopeless longing look ahead, thought he caught the glimmer of a light, but his
brother could see nothing, and they concluded that it was a delusion of the
bewildered brain. Still it was a transient stimulus that caused them to hold out
a little longer. They finally gave up; there seemed no use in attempting to go
further, and they stopped there in the road. The wind wailed around them, the
darkness shut them out from the world, despair enveloped them like great wave,
and the two lads believed they had found the grave where their hopes in the
world ended, when suddenly that light flashed again, clear and distinct, and
then disappeared. Both saw it this time; it was certainly no delusion, and hope
was again revived, for human beings were near at hand. They managed to reach the
locality of the light, and found an emigrant, with the surviving members of his
family, encamped in a nook sheltered somewhat from the wind. They were stopping
for the night in a little tent, and had been for a number of days living on
gruel made from cornmeal, of which they had so little that none could be spared
the two starving boys. The mother of the little family gave them a bed quilt to
sleep in, and they lay down on some boxes in the wagon, and passed the remaining
hours before day, gnawed by the pangs of hunger, and chilled to the marrow with
cold. During the latter part of the night, James became partially delirious from
the long continued sufferings, but the warmth of the coming morning, with its
bright sun, brought back the wandering mind to realities. Through that day they
pushed on, then came another cheerless night, but with the morning an Indian
came to camp with a rotten fish that he had found on the bank of the Columbia,
and James gave him a knife for it, when the two lads made a breakfast of this
last resort from starvation. At the crossing of the De Chutes river, the boys
gave an old pistol for being ferried across, and to their great joy and
surprise, were overtaken at this place by the six comrades supposed to be lying
dead on the alkali flat, where they had given out. Among the whole party there
was not sufficient means to pay for ferrying the new comers ; and the boatman
finding such to be the case, demanded a shirt, and, as none were willing to go
naked for the sake of paying his demand, he threatened to turn the Indians loose
and have them all massacred, but the threat failed to increase the number of
Shylock's shirts. The Dalles were at length reached, where the party, again
numbering eight, set out in search for something to eat. They found that want of
money was likely to leave them still starving, when it was decided that James
Cornwell should go to the commissioners, stationed there by the people of Oregon
for the purpose of relieving destitute emigrants, and beg provisions for all of
them. He went to the cabin where the coveted food was stored, and learned that a
scant supply only was on hand. He was told that because of this, it was
impossible for them to deal out rations except to orphans and widows who had
lost their parents or husbands on the way overland. This was a discouraging
state of things, but hunger made young Cornwell desperate, and, looking the man
in the face, he said, "If there is an orphan between the two oceans it's me; and
the commissioner taking a long look at his gaunt, youthful, emaciated, shadowy
appearance, replied, "I guess that's so." This lucky hit procured him two pounds
of flour, that, being made into bread by a kind emigrant woman, was divided
among the eight.
     The limits of this book will not admit the farther detail of the sufferings
of these parties during the remainder of their journey to the valley of the
Willamette. Suffice it to say, they all reached it alive, after narrowly
escaping death from over-eating their first meal where food could be obtained
without limit. The foregoing are some of the incidents that wove themselves into
the advent of two boy pioneers to this Coast. Among the great mass that
constitute the advance guard of civilization west of the Rockies, there are
hundreds--yes, thousands--of similar experiences, varying only in the kind of
danger or misfortune that hovered along their trail. With one, it was sickness,
and another, poverty, while a third met starvation or the Indian onslaught; and
a record of them in full would make in volume another Alexandrian Library. Does
not a pioneer deserve all the benefits that fortune has dealt out to him; and,
in many cases, much that the fickle goddess has withheld?
     During the winter after arriving in the country, the Cornwells turned
hunters, and the following summer James M. worked a farm on shares, finding
himself in the fall as destitute of coin as when he first arrived in Oregon.
That fall he took up a ranch in the timber about 9 miles south west of Portland,
in Washington Co., where he lived until 1861. The brother Francis W., found his
health broken from the hardships they endured, and, after wandering around for a
while, settled near his brother, and died in February, 1858, of consumption. In
1855, March 16, James M. married Miss Mary Tucker, who died without children,
April 25, 1857. He was again married October 20, 1859, this time to Miss Mary A.
Stott, his present wife.  In the spring of 1861, he sold the Oregon farm, and
spent the summer in the Oro Fino mines and Walla Walla valley. Having taken up a
ranch near Dry creek, six miles north of Walla Walla, he went to Oregon and
returned with teams in company with his father-in-law, to occupy the new
location. That winter, the one long to be remembered by those who experienced
it, proved a financial shipwreck to him. His teams were all starved to death,
and spring found Mr. Cornwell with nothing but nerve and health to begin life
with again.
     In the spring of 1862, he brought his family, and they worked a farm on
shares that year. The original location not being satisfactory, it was sold and
purchase was made by him of a portion of the T. P. Denny ranch on Dry creek.
This, in time, was sold, and Mr. Cornwell purchased in 1868, the Kimball
property of 120 acres, where he now lives, nine miles north east of Walla Walla
City, on upper Dry creek, adjoining W. S. Gilliam's place. Since that time the
120 acre farm has grown by acquisition to 1,200 acres of tillable land, all
inclosed, to which add 160 acres of timber, making a total acreage of 1,360. Of
this amount, about 1,000 acres are under cultivation, and none of it under
mortgage. A view of the building, improvements and home of Mr. Comwell can be
seen by reference to a view of the same which accompanies this work. As to the
soil, it is similar to the many which constitute the more favored foot-hill
farms of the country. In politics Mr. C. is a Republican, and at present is the
Joint Representative in the Territorial Legislature from Walla Walla and Whitman
counties. He is not ultra in politics, but is disposed to independence of
discipline, preferring men to party. He takes a lively interest in the
elections, joining issue with ring movements in what he deems the interest of
the mass.
     Mr. and Mrs. Cornwell have seven children whose names and births are as
follows : Laura F., October 21, 1860; Oliver T., March 22, 1863; Charles E.,
November 23, 1864; Nancy E., March 30, 1867; Arthur G., April 11, 1869; Minnie
A., November 26, 1871, Raleigh, October 17, 1877.
     In conclusion, we would say that his biography will have been read to
little purpose by the one who fails to discover in it the evidence of a strong
character, will and ability, that seldom fail in winning races in the end. Such
men become leaders without seeking that position, and shape the well being of
communities, often without being aware of such fact.

* * * *

Submitted to the WA. Bios Project in February 2007 by Diana Smith.

Notice: These biographies were transcribed for the Washington Biographies
Project. Unless otherwise stated, no further information is available on the
individual featured in the biographies.