By Barry McCombs with a little help from his great grandfather
Few of us alive today appreciate the difficulties faced by the early pioneers of this country in transportation. Roads were only passable in the middle of the summer and the dead of winter, 8 months out of the year at most. The heavy forests shaded the roads most of the day. My great grandfather Frank Schmid, wrote that when his family moved to Chewelah in 1880 they never saw clear sunshine from North Monroe street hill in Spokane till they hit Main street in Chewelah on account of the heavy timber.
In 1883, 35,000 men were employed by the Canadian Pacific company constructing a transcontinental railroad. The foodstuffs; meat, grain, fruit, vegetables and hay that were abundant in the Colville Valley were badly needed by the men and animals working on the railroad. A natural channel for transporting these goods was found in the Columbia River, which was navigable from the Little Dalles, a few miles south of Northport, on up into Canada. The only thing lacking was a boat. Some Spokane businessmen, including Mayor John Glover, decided to build a boat for the enterprise. A boiler and engine were obtained in Portland, Oregon and shipped by rail to Spokane.
The engine was taken apart and transported without difficulty to the Little Dalles where the hull of the boat was being constructed.
The boiler, however, was another matter. It had to go in one piece and it weighed many tons. To haul it overland on the roads then in existence seemed impossible. At that time there were no real work horses in this part of the country, only cayuses. A freighting outfit called Mitchell Brothers, had a large number of mules they used to ship supplies into Coeur d’Alene but they begged off the job saying that they had no wagon heavy enough for the boiler.
A Nevada bullwhacker named Bill finally guaranteed to do the job. This Bill had 40 of the finest bulls (actually steers but all oxen were called bulls at that time) to be found in this part of the territory. It was purported that he could pick a horsefly off an ox without him ever feeling it with his 20 foot bullwhip, or draw blood from the nose of an ox at will. Since there was no wagon heavy enough to haul the boiler he decided to build his own. The wagon he constructed was so big the hubs were the size of a large automobile wheel.
Bill pulled the big wagon with his 20 yoke of bulls down to the Northwest Pacific depot, which at the time was located on Lincoln street in Spokane. By the time the boiler was loaded on the wagon a crowd of several hundred people had come to watch. Bill gave the signal “Whoa Ha!” cracked the whip and 40 bulls strained at the yoke. At the last stretch of the lead chain, the wagon and boiler came along while the crowd cheered. The bulls paid little attention to the fanfare but moved slowly along until they came to the Washington Street bridge.
 |
| Division Street Bridge collapse 1915 |
Now the Washington Street bridge had a sign on it that read, “not more than 20 head of cattle nor more than 50 head of sheep can cross this bridge at one time.” The bridges were rather flimsy in Spokane back then. In fact, a bridge that crossed Division street collapsed under it’s own weight in 1915. The theaters soon came up with a song entitled, “Sunny Spokane Where the Bridges Come Tumbling Down.” To see that the ordinance was enforced Joel Warren, the city marshall was waiting at the bridge when Bill showed up with the boiler. In a polite manner, Marshall Warren pointed to the sign on the bridge and informed Bill that he could not move his 40 oxen across it. After staring at the sign for awhile, Bill first pleaded and coaxed and then jeered and cursed at Warren but to no avail. As long as Joel Warren was marshall the ordinance would stand. Mayor Glover was standing by but dared not challenge the city ordinance although his own financial interests were at stake.
In the midst of the controversy, it hadn’t occurred to anyone that although the boiler was heavier than all the bulls combined, the ordinance was specific only about cattle and sheep. It didn’t say anything about boilers. When Bill finally announced that he would drag the boiler across the bridge with his two wheel bulls, the crowd that had gathered around first laughed and then cheered. A red-faced Warren protested but there was nothing he could legally do to stop him from trying. Excited by the challenge, Bill offered to bet the marshall $250 dollars he could do it. The marshall declined but Mayor Glover stepped up and accepted the wager. The mayor was sure the two wheelers couldn’t do it but reasoned that he could always return the money to Bill after winning the bet.
To begin with, Bill unhooked all the bulls except Buck and Spot, the “wheelers” (the oxen hitched closest to the load). The others were driven in a single file across the bridge and left to chew their cud along the roadside in front of the old California Hotel. This was the best hotel in Spokane and headquarters for all the stages that went to the “Colville country.” It is said that Bill went back and talked to his wheel bulls as if they were human. In a mild tone, he mentioned that his contract and reputation were at stake. In glowing terms, he spoke about the oversupply of good hay and grain in that paradise called Colville Valley. He then promised them that every dollar won in the wager would go to buy them that cheap but good feed.
Bill gave the command and the two bulls started out.leisurely. When the strain of the load came against them they nearly crouched to the ground in the effort. A slight downgrade gave them some advantage and the boiler moved out slowly onto the bridge. Now Bill knew he had won the bet. He pulled the wagon far enough onto the bridge to hook a yoke up with his lead chain and then yoke after yoke was hooked up until the boiler was brought across the bridge. A long-faced Marshall Warren delivered Bill his winnings. Mayor Glover had his plans upset but accepted the loss, happy to see the boiler on its way. Buck and Spot had to have their shoes reset, as they had loosened them by digging them into the ground while spreading their toes. Oxen were shod with a double shoe on each foot. Since they wouldn’t hold their feet up for shoeing, like a horse, Bill had to bring out a tripod to lift them off the ground.
Bill’s caravan of oxen and wagon, several helpers and a camping outfit were soon underway zigzagging around the numerous basalt rocks close to the river all the while accompanied by a jolly cheering crowd. When the open prairie was reached there was easy traveling until they reached the timberline just west of the North Monroe Street hill. The only way the 20 yoke of oxen could use their extreme pulling power was on a straight line. Every tree that didn’t allow a straight pull had to be cut down.
They followed the old road which led just south of where Whitworth College is presently located, then crossed what is now Division Street on the flat below the hill. The road then turned northeast and crossed the Little Spokane river a couple of miles below Chattaroy. The bridge crossing the river was a rickety pole construction and although there was no load limit posted, Bill wouldn’t risk his bulls or the boiler on it. A bachelor by the name of James Parvine, commonly known as “Peavine Jimmy” kept a house at the crossing that offered the best accomodation between Spokane and Chewelah. The journey was interrupted for two weeks while Bill and his helpers rebuilt the bridge with the timber that was plentiful nearby. The river was full of fish and anytime not spent working on the bridge was devoted to hooking trout with Peavine Jimmy.
Bill and his bulls had overcome much difficulty to get this far but many more trials lay ahead. The steep grade up from the Little Spokane had to be pulled between large “hay shock” rock piles that couldn’t be moved and didn’t allow Bill to string out the 20 yoke of oxen. Up on the level the road was sandy but the timber more open till they reached Lost Springs a few miles east of Deer Park. From Deer Park the road through the rolling hills was menaced by an immensely heavy growth of lodgepole pine which if they started to lean from the wind would arch over the road with their tops touching the ground. The road was swampy and in many places had to be corduroyed with poles. Winter overtook them before they made it through the hills and the boiler was transferred to some skids to be pulled in the snow. Half of the bulls were moved out and hay had to be hauled in for the rest.
A new road had to be built past the old Loon Lake hill and several miles beyond to what was called “Big Meadow.” The boiler skidded along the snow fairly well until they arrive at Grouse Creek hill. The hill was two steep for Bill to risk the safety of his precious oxen pulling the boiler on skids with no way to brake. The only answer was to let the boiler down with a heavy rope and blocks. 25 years later scars were still visible on the trees from that procedure. The same operation had to be employed on Huckleberry Creek hill and Cottonwood hill.
By the time they reached the Colville Valley, the snow was too rotten for skidding. Bill brought back the rest of the oxen, transferred the boiler to the wagon and plowed up the soft roads to Chewelah. Now the roads were breaking up fast. Anyone who has walked on newly worked ground in Chewelah in the springtime can attest to the extreme stickiness of the mud. When they reached the west city limits the oxen’s feet were sinking easily into the mud but could hardly be withdrawn on account of the suction. At this discouraging moment an old Hudson’s Bay Scotchman came along, Bill asked him “how’s the road ahead.” “Well, the same as they are here.” he replied. “I have been in the Colville Valley nigh on 20 years and never saw roads I could call by that name at this time of year. Where are you going with that boiler?” “I am going to the Little Dalles if I can get there.” replied Bill. “You will never make it,” said the Scotchman as he left. Pondering the situation he was in, Bill looked the boiler over carefully and noticed a circle of rivets around it. He decided the boiler could and had to be taken apart.
The rivets were cut which left the boiler in two pieces. He then got another wagon, loaded one part of the boiler on it, divided up the bulls and proceeded on his way. We don’t know much about the rest of the journey, however, he did fulfill his contract by getting the boiler to the boat in time months after starting from Spokane. The boat was a success and used for a number of years although it never made the money its promoters had hoped for. This all happened a long time ago but the next time you travel highway 395 you might think about Bill, his oxen and the big boiler.
