"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. 219
 
WILLIAM O. THOMPSON

     One of the most remarkable examples of the sturdy Pioneer, is WO. Thompson,
who, at the ripe age of 90, still steps forth briskly, with eyes bright and
quick and with a keen intelligence relates his experiences in crossing the
Oregon Trail in 1850 and his adventures after reaching Thurston County with a
clearness and conciseness which was a delight    In "Black Lake" Thompson's own
words:
     "I was born in Blairsville, Pennsylvania, in 1824, being of Scotch descent
on my father's side. My mother belonged to the aristocratic family, the
Culbertsons. My people were possessed of considerable of this world's means and
sent me to a private school taught by a Catholic priest, who was refused orders
on account of dissipated habits. One day he became angry with me, and struck me,
first on one side of my head and then the other, with the result I have had
impaired hearing ever since. Later I was sent to the school taught by a Scotch
Presbyterian minister, who was in the habit of maintaining discipline by the use
of a cat-o-nine-tails.
      "Soon after this the first public, or state school was started, presided
over by a college-bred teacher, and my education progressed satisfactorily.
     "When I was ten years old, I won a prize for my penmanship, much to my
delight. Having reached the age of fourteen and my family having met financial
reverses, I decided to run away from home and find employment on a farm.  Later
I worked my way to Cincinnati, where I found work in a sash and blind factory.
Here I boarded with a Mr. T B. Mason, a musician, who urged me to allow him to
train my voice so I could sing with the church choir. I had always loved music,
although my sister always made fun of my voice and would not allow me to join in
the music at home.  Mr. Mason tested my voice and found it a baritone, so I was
not allowed to sing in the choir.
     "At this time I also greatly enjoyed dancing.
    "When about 24 years of age I found myself a chronic invalid, with weak
lungs, dyspepsia and rheumatism.  A doctor told me to try roughing it as the
only possible means of restoring my health. I secured work at once as a deck
hand on a Mississippi River boat and found my health began to improve.
     "The nest few years were full of wandering, even thought of enlisting to go
to the Mexican war, but a visit to a camp of volunteers so disgusted me that I
abandoned the intention.
      "In 1850 I heard of a Mr. E. S. Bonsell, who was about to start West over
the Oregon Trail, and wanted a driver for one of his trains, which position I
secured.
      ''Our train consisted of nine wagons and we started across the prairies
from Fort Leavenworth, on the Caw River, early in the Spring. We struggled
through deep woods, waded brooks, ferried our wagons over rivers, whenever we
were fortunate enough to find boats, making the cattle swim.
     "We had just crossed the little Blue River and were travelling over the
bluffs down into the Platte valley, when suddenly our train ran into a band of
about 150 Indians, painted faces, scanty clothing, and carrying Mexican spears.
I made frantic signs for them to separate and let our train pass through, which
they did, but soon surrounded our little band. I at once planned for a council
to be held under a big tree, close at hand, they to send their chief, and we,
our leader.  While arranging this I had the drivers form the wagons in a square,
with the tongues outside. Into the square thus formed, we put the women and
children.
     "In the excitement, one of the wagons was left out of this square and the
Indians began crowding around it. Elbowing my way through, I found that Miss
Nancy Morton, a beautiful young girl of our party, was the object of great
admiration  on the part of the chief and his braves. The chief made signs that
he wanted to buy Nancy for his wife, and that if we would not sell her he would
take her by force. I walked up to the girl, placed my hand on her shoulder and
made signs that she belonged to me. Telling her to follow me, we plunged into
our extemporized fort. I tell you. Nancy was a badly frightened girl.
     "At the council the chief told us they were friendly to the white but were
out after their enemies, the Pawnees. All they wanted from us was meat. Uncle
Johnnie had a beef killed which in a short time they had eaten raw. I assured
them that many Boston men were coming and a party had ridden upon a bluff to
look back over the road. Fortunately, there was a dust arising from another
train of emigrants, so they rode on, but not before another one of our cows had
been killed by one of the war party.
    "The plan of work which was invariably carried on by the emigrants each day
was: In the early morning the sentinel on duty roused the camp, and very soon
every tent and wagon is pouring forth its night tenants, and slowly kindling
smokes begin to rise and float away in the morning air. The men start out to
round up the cattle and soon the well-trained cattle move toward the camp. By
seven o'clock, breakfast must be eaten, the wagon loaded and the teams yoked,
all realizing that if they are not ready they will be obliged to fall behind
into the dusty rear for the day. One man goes ahead to select a nooning place,
where grass and water must be found, if possible. The teams are not unyoked at
noon but simply turned loose from the wagon, and then the noon meal is eaten. At
one o'clock the march is resumed till night, when again everyone is busy
building fires, preparing supper, pitching tents and making ready for the night.
The watches begin at eight o'clock and end at four o'clock.
    "I am asked if we had happy times around the camp fire at night. I answer
'no.'   We were too tired and worn after the day's weary march. What we wanted
was sleep.
    "One day we saw a man sitting alone besides the trail.  He gave the Masonic
sign of distress, and Mr. Bonsell at once invited him to join our party. His
name was O'Hare, but we never knew the reason of his being left besides the
roadside.
    "Another friend I made on this trip was Wm. Sherwood, disinherited son of a
rich Englishman, who had chosen a frontier life in preference to one of luxury
in England. He was very musical and taught me 'The Mistletoe Bough,' and 'Bonnie
Sweet Bessie.' At this time I had a little trouble with Mr. Bonsell and left his
employ, although later, when we were all in Olympia, Mrs. Bonsell treated me
like a son. I then secured a position of driver of one of Uncle Johnnie
Slocum's wagons, a position which suited me exactly, for I was assigned to drive
the wagon in which rode that charming girl, Miss Nancy Slocum, and her young
cousin. Ruby Slocum.
    "A gruesome sight, when we reached Fort Laramie, was an Indian grave yard.
At a distance they looked like scaffolds, while on the ground white buffalo
skulls were arranged in a circle, whether as a decoration or some mystic sign, I
never knew.
     "We were now in the country of the hostile Indian and we men had to keep
watch with great vigilance. We were fortunate in not losing a single member of
our party by death during the long journey, but we passed by many freshly-made
graves, the sight of which was very depressing to our tired little band.
     "Although the scenery became very beautiful, I felt as if I enjoyed a good
slice of corn bread and bacon more than all the beauties around us.
     "Uncle Johnnie Slocum proved to be a hard task master and one morning he
most unjustly attacked me with an ox yoke. I drew a knife to defend myself. Of
course, he discharged me on the spot, but sold me supplies enough to last me the
rest of the trip. I paid him well for them, however.
     "My supplies were piled out beside the road, and the train moved on,
leaving me sitting alone beside the Oregon trail, but another party came along
and picked me up the same day.
     "When near Fort Hall we had our first experience with Indians stampeding
our cattle. It was one of their favorite tricks to give the emigrants a big
scare. They came down the hillside with painted faces, feathers flying, and
uttering most terrible war whoops while pounding on their skin drums. Our cattle
ran away, scattering people and baggage in all directions. Fortunately no one
was hurt, but some of the wagons were broken, so we had to go back to the fort
to pick up scraps of iron to mend them with.
     "Mr. Landers, one of our party, now became very ill and we had to drive
very slowly. Our cattle were almost starving and when we reached Salmon Falls,
on Snake River, we were obliged to make the most dangerous crossing on the trip,
so we could reach the grassy meadows, which we could see in the distance.
     "Fort Boise was another historic spot. It was built in 1834, but the only
object of interest I can recall was the thousands of jack rabbits running about
in every direction.
     "As we descended the Blue Mountains, the view was surpassingly grand.
Before us lay the great valley of the Columbia, ninety miles away rose the lofty
ranges of the Cascade Mountains, with the towering peaks of Mt. Hood, Mt.
Rainier and Mt. Adams, which have become so familiar to me during my sixty years
of life in the Northwest.  At The Dalles I secured employment on a large
rowboat, which was carrying passengers to the Cascades. I made several trips up
and down the Columbia. River and then, having some money, decided to go on to
Portland. So I joined a party of young men who were to drive their fathers'
cattle to that settlement.  One of the youngsters was Brad Davis' brother. On
this trip I became so desperately ill that I was obliged to lie down by
the roadside and let the rest go on.
    "An Indian came riding by on a pony and I offered him every cent I possessed
if he would sell the pony, but not till I had added every article of clothing I
could spare from my person did he consent to the bargain. I rode the pony into
Vancouver, and there the horse was claimed by a man who said it had been stolen
from him. By the laws of Oregon I had to give the horse up and was to receive
one-half the cost of the animal. The man promised to pay, but, to this good day
is still owing me that money.
    "I determined not to go into Portland dressed in my shabby clothes, so I
remained in Vancouver, digging potatoes for $2 a day till I had earned forty big
Mexican dollars. I then bought a suit of clothes and went on to Portland.
    "The settlement of Portland in '52 was a big mud hole; no sidewalks, few
wagon roads, and often one would see a wagon mired to the hub in the sticky mud.
I spent two or three days working in the Abrams mill and one of the men employed
there was young William Billings, afterwards for many years Sheriff of Thurston
County. One day another man and myself were set, at work cutting down one of the
biggest trees I had ever seen. It was in the middle of one of the main streets.
I never worked harder in my life, but it took us the whole day to cut down that
tree. We were paid off and discharged that first night.
    "In company with Mr. O'Hare and Mr. Sherwood, I then started for Puget
Sound. We built a flat-bottomed boat and poled down the Columbia to the Cowlitz
River. We stopped at 'Hard Bread's' hotel. It was run by a man who fed his
customers hard tack three times a day.        
    "Reaching Cowlitz Landing, we abandoned our boat and tramped the remaining
fifty miles to the Sound.  The trail passed near where Chehalis now stands. We
were entertained by George Bush, who had squatted on a claim seven miles from
Olympia in 1845. He had an abundance of farm produce and was exceedingly
generous to all emigrants. We then walked to Tumwater, where an Indian agreed to
paddle us to Olympia, where we arrived the winter of 1852.
     "I had then completed a journey over the Oregon trail, which was about
2,000 miles, beginning at Gardiner. Kansas, and ending at Olympia, Washington. I
had passed through the country now called Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Idaho,
Oregon and Washington, and when I reached the shores of Puget Sound, I felt this
country to be the El Dorado of my dreams and I have been contented to live here
ever since.
     "I do not remember that there was a white woman in Olympia when I first
arrived, but there were two living in Newmarket --- Tumwater --- Mrs. Crosby and
Mrs. Simmons. It seemed a forlorn place and I never was so homesick in my life.
I went back to Mr. Bush, but he laughed at me and set me to work making some
sash and door frames for a new house he was about to build. I stayed with Mr.
Bush two or three months. We sometimes rode over to Black Lake to go in
swimming. Mr. Bush made me presents of several articles which could not be
bought at that time --- a whip, saw, etc.
     "I wanted to get a claim on Bush Prairie, but the good land was all taken.
There was plenty of land to be had for the taking around Olympia, but the timber
was so thick that I was afraid of it. It did not seem as if a man would live
long  enough to ever see a garden grow, so I heard of some good prairie land out
at Black Lake. I had been much pleased with that lake, it was so picturesque and
looked, to me, like the shape of a violin nestled down in the green; the slender
place in the middle, about sixty rods wide, seemed as beautiful to me as a
lady's picture.
     "I found a prairie one-half mile long and eighty to 100 rods wide, bordered
with oak trees and a little fringe of fir around the lake. A beautiful little
trout stream ran across one end of the prairie and into the lake. There were
smelt in the creek at the last of the rainy season. Salmon would come up the
creek to spawn and often, when I would go down to get a bucket of water, I would
knock a salmon on the head with my as, for my dinner. There were also mountain
trout in the stream and the lake was full of white suckers. The Indians would
come with a sieve and take a wagon-load of suckers away at a time.
     "I selected a site for my cabin and went to Dr. Tolmie's to get my hoe,
blankets and frying, pan.
      "One day I was returning from a trip to the Hudson Bay trading post, near
Steilacoom. The trail crossed the Nesqually, near McAllister Creek, and some
Indians were living there.  They refused to ferry me across, although I asked
them to do so in English, Chinook and sign languages, and offered them fifty
cents, while the usual price was but twenty-five cents, but they paid no
attention to me. A young Tyee Indian was lying on the ground. I shook him by the
hair of his head and commanded him to ferry me across the river, which he then
did. The Indians then went up to McAllister and wanted to know if I was a
military officer or big chief, that I had dared to whip their Tyee. They must
have been disgusted when McAllister told them that I was only a cultus Boston
man.
    "I cut out the trail between Bush Prairie and Black Lake and made a scow to
ferry people and cattle across the lake from the Olympia trail, for the
convenience of settlers who were going to Miami Prairie, Gate City and Grand
Mound."

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Submitted to the WA. Bios Project in July 2007 by Diana Smith.  This biography
was transcribed for the Washington Biographies Project. Unless otherwise stated,
no further information is available on the individual featured in the
biography.