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History

"Short History of the Little Nestucca River Valley and Its Early Pioneers" written about South Tillamook County, Oregon

The page below was written by Mrs. Hardy Rock (Alexandria LEY Rock) and published in 1949.  NVMS students have retyped her history so that many may read it.  Although some punctuation errors have been corrected the text remains as written by Mrs. Rock.

Note that Alexandria LEY Rock's "Short History of the Little Nestucca River Valley and Its Early Pioneers" has been republished in book form as of January 2007 and is now being offered for sale by the Tillamook County Historical Society!

p. 2 Author

(This page was typed by Dean Bones on June 18, 2001.)

In the spring of 1887, the Oretown School District engaged Miss Alexandria Ley, (who became Mrs. Hardy Rock and the author of this History), to teach a six month school during the summer months. Previously, the school terms had been three months during the summer, because it was not possible for children to get to and from school over the poor roads and trails during rainy or stormy weather.

I left Portland on a narrow-gauge train for Sheridan, the end of the line. Arrangement had been made previously for the mail carrier between Sheridan and old Grand Ronde to meet me on the train. We reached Sheridan just before dark; I waited on the coach until Charley Sutton, the mail carrier, came in after all other passengers had left. When I saw him coming, my heart turned over with fear. I was only nineteen years of age and inexperienced in traveling. He was dressed in rough soiled clothes suitable for his work and his bearded face greatly frightened me. Charley, as we all called him, took me to his "hack" and got my trunk. The "hack" was to me an express wagon. He drove to his home where I met his wife who was Sarah Bozley Sutton, daughter of pioneer Lou Bozley of Oretown. It was dark when we started for Grand Ronde, then situated on the hill where General Sheridan had his residence while guarding the Indians; this hill site overlooks the present site of Valley Junction, and of the rolling open country of the Reservation.

The steep hillside road was corduroyed and rough and the horses could scarcely keep moving. He got off to walk, whipping the horses and cursing all the way. I was afraid and sorely tempted to jump from the wagon seat to hide in the brush for I didn't have the least idea where he was taking me until I saw the lights of the house and felt a great surge of relief.

This was the Phil Sheridan house, and here I spent the night. Next morning I was informed I could not take my trunk any farther because the roads were impassible for a wagon, and I must go the rest of the way horseback with a different mail carrier. He was Henry Page, a pioneer settler of Slab Creek, the father of eight girls. He had a rough appearance, his language was not at all choice, but he was really very kind hearted. No doubt, he realized what an unhappy ride I was having. When I left Portland I was filled with exhilaration; here I was a lonely, discouraged, frightened girl urging my horse to follow his, unaware of where I was going nor when I'd get there.

The sympathetic proprietress of Phil Sheridan House gave me two flour sacks into which I stuffed what clothes I could' these were saddled behind me. The roads were rough, steep, and extremely muddy with dangerous fords in Little Nestucca River.

Previous to this date, a large ocean vessel had been wrecked on the beach near Oretown. Over the road I was traveling, Mr. Page had taken the Captain of this vessel enroute to Portland. While crossing one ford, the Captain had fallen from his horse into the swirling, rushing river where he would have drowned but for the heroic efforts of Page. While we plodded along, Page kindly entertained me with his version of the near tragedy. The sight of the huge boulder filled, rushing, roaring ford filled me with grave misgivings. I couldn't go back alone so had to follow Page's orders. We changed horses that I might be on the higher one which must follow his across. As soon as my horse stepped down over the bank he gave a tremendous shake almost unseating me. Then it stood still facing upstream while I watched Page tread his way over and through the boulders with no

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