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FIRST SCHOOLTEACHER OF YAKIMA COUNTY, WASHINGTON - Mrs. M. Damman was noted at her death as a pioneer woman after whom one of the prosperous districts of Kittitas county (Washington) was named. Agnes was interviewed by a reporter for The Evening Record (Ellensburg, Wash.), Sept. 5, 1931 (p. 6). Here is her story in her own words:
"It is no flight of fancy when I say the present generation of young teachers and young people in general have no conception of conditions that confronted us 47 years ago. You...
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FIRST SCHOOLTEACHER OF YAKIMA COUNTY, WASHINGTON - Mrs. M. Damman was noted at her death as a pioneer woman after whom one of the prosperous districts of Kittitas county (Washington) was named. Agnes was interviewed by a reporter for The Evening Record (Ellensburg, Wash.), Sept. 5, 1931 (p. 6). Here is her story in her own words:
"It is no flight of fancy when I say the present generation of young teachers and young people in general have no conception of conditions that confronted us 47 years ago. You have heard about them and they made a good story and you thought you comprehended; but I doubt it. You have seen some of the pioneer conditions depicted in parades through the streets of your city at county fair time that I and others of my generation have experienced.
It would tax your courage to step out of your sedan or other comfortable car and mount one of those pioneer stage coaches and sit bolt upright with no back support for an all-day trip to Yakima over the hills and pioneer highways. Courage wasn't considered in the early days; when a thing had to be done, it just had to be done, regardless.
And it need not shock you if some of us who spent our younger lives helping to blaze the way for present valley conditions, should feel the least mite as though life had cheated us.
It seems a long stride from 1884 to 1931, but that is the length of my sojourn in the west - a little late on arrival to be classed as a pioneer, but nevertheless, an old settler. My paternal home was in Wisconsin, near Menominee, the seat of the Stout institute of learning.
It seemed something of a lark to accept the invitation of some neighbor friends to join with them on a trip to Washington Territory . . . . the far away Washington which today is only a "step" across and under proper conditions audible conversation can be held between. Surely it was marvelous! And almost as amazing to us easterners was the completion of the Northern Pacific railroad to the Pacific Coast, which occurred during my high school days. Really the fact meant nothing to me only as a matter of progress, never dreaming it might sometime mean transportation. But here I was, July 28, 1884, aboard the train which would transport me over than same railroad to The Dalles, Oregon, where I must leave the train and be ferried across the Columbia to that wonderful Washington Territory that had been dreamed of and idealized by my father when I was yet a very young girl. To him it was an El Dorado. Later he joined me here and now lies at rest in the Odd Fellows' cemetery.
For economy's sake, we purchased emigrant tickets. We were given first-class fare to Brainerd, Minn., and early in the evening were requested to wait there for our emigrant car. One could never forget such a sleepy time. We waited until midnight and found our car was attached to a freight train, which did not annoy us at all, for were we not out for an adventure? The car was not elegant. It had slat seats, which, like any sleeper, were converted into berths at night. Each passenger furnished his own bedding, and also carried a basket of provisions. In one corner of the car was a rusty stove on which coffee or tea could be prepared. This was a form of pioneering.
The coach was well filled with passengers and in a day or so we were all on neighborly terms. And, indeed one young couple who formed an acquaintance in that coach seemed to become more than an acquaintance for when she left us at Wallula Junction, he left with her.
As tenderfeet, we had one great surprise. Our coach had been left at a wayside for some other freight to pick us up later, so a company of us thought to pass the time we would just walk over to a round knoll which was only a few steps away. We walked and walked and still seemed to be no nearer so lest we might get left, we scurried back to the track. There we were told that the knoll was four miles away. And here is another tenderfoot incident: At The Dalles we engaged rooms for the night in the hotel. How good it would seem to crawl into a real bed. But I hadn't been in bed long before it semed good to crawl out - even better to do so, for you see I wasn't used to bed, we didn't have them where I came from.
At The Dalles, we engaged a Mr. Wallace with his horse team and lumber wagon with two spring seats to "freight" us and our trunks, bedding and other luggage to our destination near Ellensburg. We camped out on the way. At the end of the first day of rolling up through dust and hot breezes, we camped below Goldendale, and spread our bedding on the bare ground on a sagebrush flat. There was a pile of cordwood nearby on which we cached our vegetables. Coyotes invaded our camp during the night. Evidently they were attracted by the food. However, after my previous night's vigil, I was dead to the world until morning.
We were so thirsty for a drink of good cold water; but when we reached Goldendale, we found the best water there was not satisfying. We were not used to the alkali in it. We were grateful to find, farther on, a fine spring by a roadside. Nearby it a 'noble redman' lay, seemingly fast asleep. He was the first Indian we had seen in the west. Naturally every little incident or change interested us, for the far west was so different from what we called the east! The eastern scenery was pretty, but the western scenery was awe-inspiring.
The second night out we camped close by the Satis stage depot. There were trees and greenness all around and a convenient place to hang my hammock which was my bed that night. The sun was rising when I awakened. As I lay debating with myself, I was interested to see a couple in a top buggy, the man without a hat, come dashing up to the station, pause a little and hurry on. When we reached Yakima City (now Union Gap) the next evening, we learned the sequel. It was a grass widower eloping with a young woman. In the chase he had lost his hat, but had outdistanced his pursurers.
It was afternoon when we started across the Yakima Indian reservation, and again distance deceived us. We guessed it might be four miles to the trees at the Gap, but were told that it was eighteen. That night we camped on the Wenas by a farm home and spread our blankets in the barn on the hay - a very comfortable bed. The next day, August 7, we came down Rocky canyon into the valley. And that was that! We had finished our journey and now for the adjustment!
There were many settlers here - some in log cabins, some in board structures and others in more pretentious homes - but the untilled land, and there was much of it, was ugly sagebrush and no greenness between. No grassy roadside on which to walk and too much visible space. It gave me a shrinky sensation - maybe akin to Thomas Campbell's 'last man.'
The lower Yakima bridge was a toll bridge, called the Durr bridge, after the owner. When driving to town, people in this corner would frequently forge the river a mile-below in order to avoid the toll. Sometimes, they would go around by the upper bridge, which was free.
I recall my first walk on the streets of Ellensburg. A 'Kittitas zephyr' was holding forth and I was very much concerned over my skirts blowing up fearing someone would see my ankles. Ellensburg was only a hamlet then.
One bright, cool morning in early October, I climbed over the wheel of one of those pioneer stage coaches and settled myself as comfortably as possible on the high seat by the driver, that being considered the least fatiguing place to ride. I was bound for Yakima City to take my work as a teacher in a three-roomed school house (now enlarged to five rooms). There are some occurrences in one's life that burn themselves into the consciousness so indelibly that they are always like recent events. This was one. Could one be more tired than I was when I left that coach at evening. I climbed the stairs in the Bartlett hotel and liternally draped myself across the bed. I heard the dinner bell, but I had no desire to respond. Later a young woman brought me up some refreshments. I remember there was a codfish ball. After this lunch I did a foolish thing; I lay down again still dressed. Sometime in the night I awakened, chilled through and the candles burned clear out., A cold followed my indiscretion.
Stage horses were changed twice between Ellensburg and Yakima City - once on the Upmtanum, near Lou Sharp's present holdings, and donce in the Wenas valley. The regular lunching place was with Mrs. Crury, in the upper Wenas, who was noted for her cuisine ability.
My arrival in Yakima city was just a few weeks prior to the advent of the Northern Pacific railroad.
Previous to the midyear holidays, I was employed in the primary school; afterward in the intermediate. There I had 68 pupils enrolled and very few absentees. Some way we managed, and I hope and believe most, if not all, developed into good, average citizens, despite their handicaps. Perhaps a third were railroad contractors' children, and as might be expected, there was more or less discord between them and the city children but nothing serious. Somehow I have always felt a considerable degree of satisfaction that it was my privilege to watch the arriving of the first railroad engine into the Yakima valley, although it was indistinctly through a heavy snowfall. This was sometime in December and from my school room window. Naturally Yakima City was quite elated over the prospect of a depot there and no doubt built many air castles. However, the citizens and the railroad company did not agree on terms so North Yakima (now just Yakima) was ideally laid out four miles above before any buildings were constructed. As a I remember, the company would award each property owner a lot and free removal of his buildings. There were many protestations and negative assertions, but finally the majority decided business was business. So it came about one noon that a young lady from the upper room and I ate lunch in the Bartholet hotel in its last day in Yakima city as it stood in the middle of the street.
After my school closed in March for lack of funds, I was married and we came to Kittitas and settled on a homestead - my present home. An old gentleman in the Wenas told my husband he had as much right to marry a woman and starve her to death as any man had, but some way I weathered it through even though we did go pretty short sometimes. However, not quite so short, perhaps, as a family on the east side in a much earlier day, who served carrots, I am told, in various ways at the same meal. Nevertheless, one of the boys of that family rose to prominence in the state.
In passing, I will say I cast my first political vote in the old Packwood school house, not a little red school house, but a rough, painted unattractive pioneer's structure in which at least some of our successful farmers must have acquired all the schooling they ever had.
Perhaps I feel a little pardonable pride in the fact that my infant son and I were passengers in the first out-going passenger coach bound for a visit to my old home. The coach came up from North Yakima the morning of April 15, 1896, and started back at 9 p.m. Thus ended the pioneering of an early settler." (F.A.D.)
Local newspaper items in the Evening Record mention Mrs. Damman's two-week-long visit to the Sound (July 15, 1912, p. 3) and a short business trip to Yakima (March 28, 1913, p. 5).
Mrs. Agnes Damman died at the home of her son in Seattle. She is buried in Ellensburg.
Great niece Betty Grimm Jordin recalled fording a creek to get to Aunt Agnes' home. |
