The Morrills and Reminiscences - C. H. Morrill

The year the grasshoppers destroyed Nebraska crops I was in the mercantile business. We had "trusted out" more to our customers than the entire firm was worth and not a dollar could be collected. After getting notes for all accounts due the concern, I went to Omaha to meet representatives of the different firms to which we were indebted for goods purchased. I told them frankly that we were broke. I had a statement of all land and other property owned by members of our firm, and I offered to turn everything over to them if they would release us from further obligations. After considering the matter they informed me that they could not accept the offer. They were satisfied that the statement, I presented was true and concluded that they would prefer to have us continue the business. They promised to stand by us and wait until we could pay if we would sell goods for cash only. The following year we had a short crop, but it was sufficient to enable our customers to pay cash for their goods as well as something on the old score. In after years nearly all of our customers paid in full.

Prior to the year 1880, drought and grasshoppers brought about conditions that made it almost impossible at times for a man with a family to remain on his land. In 1875 I decided that I must leave my homestead and go east with my family, or leave my family on the farm and seek employment where I could earn money to support them and pay some of my debts.

This question was many times the subject for family debate.
As I saw it, to go east and abandon my homestead meant that in all probability I would be a tenant for the remainder of my life. To go west and leave my wife and four small children on the farm in a sparsely settled country with 6,000 Pawnee Indians less than twenty-five miles away was not a pleasant proposition to consider, especially for my wife who was to remain on the farm. However, it was finally decided that it was best that I go.
Gold had been recently discovered in the Black Hills and there was a rush of gold hunters to the new city of Deadwood. That was the nearest, and as I saw it, the most promising place to go. The only way to reach the Hills was by stage from different points along the Union Pacific Railroad. The principal point for equipping was Sidney, Nebraska. Upon my arrival in Sidney I found the town surrounded with freighting outfits, many just arriving from the Hills, others just starting north on their journey. At that time there was one company of United States soldiers located at the military post near the town. Saloons and dance halls were numerous, all doing a flourishing business. During the night I heard shooting, and many voices mingling with the reports of guns. I dressed hurriedly and went down to see what all the excitement was about. The landlord of the hotel informed me that I would be more likely to retain my health and return to my family if I remained inside.

     In the morning I was up early and went out upon the street. I found a dead man lying directly in front of the hotel. Several men passed while I was standing there, but no one seemed interested in the victim. One party of passers-by stopped a moment and I inquired the cause of the trouble. I was told that "there was no trouble at all" that "the boys was havin' a little fun shootin' up the town, and, as usual, somebody got hurt." At the breakfast table the killing was discussed as an everyday affair. When I had finished my breakfast, I found that the corpse had been removed. I am here reminded of an item which I afterward saw printed in a Deadwood newspaper concerning a local incident; it reads as follows:
     "Last week two freighters from Sidney, Al Smith and Cy Jones, had a few words in a Deadwood saloon over a game of cards. Jones called Smith a liar. Jones leaves a wife and four small children. Eastern papers please copy."
     There was one stage line running from Sidney to the Hills. It was owned and operated by Jim Stephenson and a Mr. Marsh, both of Omaha. The stages themselves were of the Concord coach type, the same as those used by "Buffalo Bill" in his Wild West show. The stages left Sidney every afternoon at one o'clock, and were run day and night until they arrived at their destination. We were told to "get our tickets early." When the time arrived for the departure of the coach which I was to take, there was one passenger more than could possibly be crowded in. Who was to be left behind soon became a burning question. Several

of the men declared that if they did not go, the stage coach should not go. Presently Stephenson appeared and informed the party that the men should draw cuts to see who would be left until the following day. Several swore that they were going to go, and that they would never draw cuts. For a time it looked like war, as nearly every man in the crowd had two large revolvers hanging from his belt, and gave evidence of being ready to use them if occasion demanded. But presently one man volunteered to wait for the next stage, and we were soon off.
The stage was drawn by six horses of the broncho type. 1 remember that at some of the relay stations the drivers were obliged to throw some of the horses in order to place the harness on them. When we got straightened out and on the road with fresh horses, we were generally. "going some" for a few miles. The stations, called "roadhouses," were about thirty miles apart. At each roadhouse fresh horses were supplied. Everything went on merrily and about five in the afternoon we reached Clarke's bridge on the North Platte River, where the town of Bridgeport now stands.
H. T. Clarke of Omaha was the builder and owner of this bridge. He had also a store near the bridge, both of which were under the management of Mr. White, who now lives in Bridgeport, I believe. This was the only bridge across the North Platte River west of North Platte. On the opposite side of the road from the store there was a saloon, which I was informed, however, was not the property of Mr. Clarke and was


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