Peter C. Peterson’s Memoirs
Written March 5, 1977
I was born in a
sod house on the Southeast corner of a quarter
section of land in Lyman Co., South Dakota on
November 7, 1895.
My dad homesteaded this land 1/4 mile west of
grandfather’s [Peder Kristian Pederson
(Peter Christian Peterson) b. 1846]
homestead.
One thing I
shall never forget is that dad said several times
that he would not like to see us ever vote for a
democrat. We have
never done that and never will.
It was during
Cleveland 's time in the 1890's that dad had a
difficult time to make a living. Axe handles are
not easy to make but
he made for fifteen cents each. He also told us
about finding a few white beans spilled in or near
a box car, scattered here and
there. He picked them up one by one trying to get
enough to bring home.
He was a very
good carpenter but there were no jobs available.
Hs did finally get a job in a blacksmith shop as a
wagon maker in Oacoma , South Dakota which was a
small town on the Missouri River . We moved there
a short time later. Sometime later he got
a Job with an old man who was a carpenter and had
contracts building schoolhouses, etc. on the
prairie where needed. The old
man suddenly died which left my dad to finish the
uncompleted contracts. He started out as a
building contractor using most of
the tools the old man had.
There was a
prairie dog town a mile or so north and west of
our homestead to where we had moved when I was
about six years old
or more. There were hundreds of prairie dogs in
that town. I don't know how many acres covered.
On one building
job he had, there was a flock of sheep tended by a
herder near by. The man came to where dad was
working and
said there are so many rattlesnakes at a spot near
by that he did not care to stay there. Dad wished
to see that so. He sharpened
up a hoe and went to this spot, but after cutting
off several snake heads he decided to get out of
there for there were snakes coming from all
directions.
There was a
herd of cattle that passed our place that was
several mile long. There were hundreds kept in
line, six or seven abreast,
by cowboys.
In the summer
of 1899 my folks took me to my grandfather’s
homestead where I stayed for several months. I was
well satisfied
there. My young uncle Fred
[Peterson b. 1888] often took me
with him on is horse for a ride.
My grandmother
was a popular midwife. I went with grandfather and
her to my home in town on December 22, 1899. I can
recall sitting in the kitchen with grandfather. I
suddenly heard a strange noise in another room
which I remember him to say was a
little rooster who had just arrived. It was the
day my brother Bill [William Ralph
Peterson b. 1899] was born and was
yakking quite loud.
The end of the
railroad was then at Chamberlain, South Dakota
. A few years later they started extending
it across the prairie to Rapid City , South Dakota
. It wad built with scrappers drawn by large
Missouri mules. Small towns were then established
about
8 or 10 miles apart along the new railroad.
My father [Charles
M. Peterson b. 1869 Denmark ] was a
contractor and with a crew of men built banks,
hotels, and schools
and eating places in all those new towns. Hobos
were plentiful. Later on he took a
carpenter’s civil service exam. Thereafter he
built several Indian agency buildings within
Indian reservations for the United States
Government. He had a bicycle and came home on
weekends on it. He told of one incident where a
sma11 herd of range cattle near by having never
seen such a vehicle on
the prairie before, gave chase. There was no
protection in sight so he had no choice but to
turn toward them. He was in luck for they turned
tail and stampeded the other way.
All small
ravines went to a much larger one in which were
large bare spots caused by water during rains or
spring thaws. On these places we often found arrow
heads and also lead bullets. Evidently a battle
had taken placed there years ago.
For a short
time we were in a house near the Missouri River at
the edge of town, and I think it
was the worst place I have ever
seen or been in. There was a log lean-to attached
to the house which had large cracks between the
logs and was about half full
of broom corn. There were dozens of rattlesnakes
on top of these stocks and also in between. It was
a terrible place and we did not
stay there long.
From there we
moved back to the homestead in about 1902. We did
not have much to do and spent a good share of our
time hunt-
ing Indian turnips. Some were about the size of
golf balls and very good to eat, but other times
we had to gather buffalo chips
which did make a very good fire in a stove and was
the only fuel available at times.
When I was
about six years old, I found an 18 kt. gold ring
in the mud. It was an old time wedding ring. At
any rate, it fit my
mother’s [Christina (Stina) M. Albertson]
finger. She wore it every day, even to
her grave.
Our old cur dog
followed us everywhere, and one day he got bit in
the face by a rattlesnake. His head swelled up
pretty bad, but
he got over it in a few days.
I think the
worst pests to barefoot boys on the prairie were
the cactus. There were lots of them and they had
very sharp spines
about one inch long with barbs. They went into a
foot very easily but, believe me; they were hard
to pull out on account of the
barbs. The other pest was rattlesnake. It was
necessary to keep your eyes peeled at all times.
In spite of the
hardships encountered in the early days on the
unsettled prairies and in
my early teens in Wisconsin, I consider
those days the most enjoyable of my entire life
for they were absolutely free of any
government regulations or interference. In
fact,
I was over 30 years old before I ever heard or saw
a government man except old H.P. Fuley.
Our father was
the most even tempered person I have seen or
known. I never saw him angry nor did I ever hear
him say an angry word to our mother. He would
correct us kids when he thought we were doing
wrong, but never a licking. All the credit should
not
go to our dad for trying to create a living in
that wild unsettled land for our mother was a very
efficient person. We had a few sheep from which
she obtained wool and after cleaning and washings
it in a tub it was set out to dry. After drying,
it was ready to be card-
ed and made into small rolls. She did most of
that, but other times it was our job to card it
while she sat on her spinning wheel making yarn
for knitting socks, etc. for the brood, besides
preparing food for us all every day. She was also
a good dressmaker. We were all from 12 to 14 years
old before we had on any store pants or shirt. She
made everything of that nature, even her own
clothes. Some times she sewed a little for the
neighbors. When we first moved to Wisconsin , she
did not like it too well. She was
used to the open spaces and described this wooded
country like sitting in a large box, couldn't see
any place but up.
If a person
would stop to think of or compare the hardships
and courage of the pioneers on the prairies as
described in this memoir with the people of today,
you may begin to wonder if they belong to the same
race that now carry food stamps paid by the
govern-
ment and also
many forms of welfare, relief, and
pensions.
Blizzards on
the prairie was something else and almost
impossible to face. The high winds moved the snow
through the air so fast that it turned it into
particles almost as hard as ice and drifting
behind any obstacle such as a haystack was hard
enough for cattle
to walk on it and over the fence to the hay. I can
recall that one man's barn blew away and his
cattle turning tail to the wind drifted into a
ravine and were completely buried alive in a
standing position. The heat from their bodies and
breath caused a hole up through the snow where
each animal stood under the snow and that was how
this herd was found in the next day or so.
I have never
seen a so‑called pot hole on the prairie.
Depressions were always ravines, big and small.
Cattle always drifted with
the wind in those fierce blizzards and into
ravines which would be a slight shelter. It
would not be long until the ravine would be
drifted full covering up the cattle completely.
They of course, died in these ravines by the
hundreds and were worthless except for their
hides.
I have heard my
father and others tell of residents going to these
ravines in the early spring with teams and
sleighs. They were pulling the hides off from the
dead cattle by hooking on to the head and another
to the hide in opposite directions ripping most
of it off.
My dad also
spoke of one instance where the blizzard lasted
two or more days. A man had some stock in his barn
and he could
barely see his hand in front of him and was afraid
to attempt going to the barn to feed them.
He broke up a wooden box and made
a bundle of sticks to stick into the snow at short
intervals. He ran out of sticks and did not find
his barn, therefore, retraced the sticks back to
his house.
My uncles'
built a round corral about 100 ft. in diameter. A
good strong solid post was put in the center
called a snubbing post.
When a wild horse was selected from the herd in
the corral, it was lassoed and the lasso wrapped
around the snubbing post. The animal did choke
itself into submission at which time one of its
hind legs would be drawn up to its breast, called
a scotch hobble
which made the animal helpless. A saddle and
bridle was put on it. A1l the other horses were
turned out. It was then freed of the ropes and
Uncle Ed [Edward Peterson b. 1884 Indiana
] rode it bucking round and round the
corral until it was tired out.
After it found that the rider could not be
dislodged it quit and never bucked thereafter.
There were lots
of coyotes, jack rabbits and prairie chickens
which were the extent of wild life except prairie
dogs, gophers and meadow larks, bob‑o‑links and
rattlesnakes.
The folks took
us all to Chamberlain in about 1908 where we had
our picture taken. It was the only picture taken
in South Dakota
of the whole family.
Everyone had an
earth dam built across a ravine which furnished
water for the stock and a hole dug, also covered
up, collecting seepage for drinking water. It was
really clear. Perhaps the frogs in it helped to
make it so. The back water of the dam was our
swimming hole. I am sure that we spent as much
time there as we did on land.
One day our
mother said the chicken house was full of mites
and that we should clean it up. We were not too
fond of that job, but
we went at it. A run for the dam was in order to
wash off the mites. We were covered with them.
Whenever dad
was through with a job he, of course, brought back
the extra nails and spikes of all sizes. We had a
front porch built not too high off the around and
was an ideal place to drive in spikes.
One day we
discovered that our old dog had a litter of pups
back under this porch. We wanted to see them, but
the spikes we had driven through the floor were
sticking down there, and we were forced to give it
up.
We found several ant hills on the
prairie; some of them were full of small beads
of all colors. We thought that the ants made
those beads, but I now am pretty sure that there
was likely a dead Indian buried there who had
beads on his footwear and other
places.
The U.S.
Government built a good four wire fence around the
Indian Reservation and leased the enclosure to the
ranchers, but
this venture was not entirely
successful because prairie fires burned up the
fence posts and cattle would again be at large. I
never heard of any crew policing the fence.
There was some
sort of itch, scab or ticks among the cattle
roaming the range at large before the heard law.
The government hired our dad to build a large
holding corral and a large dipping tank. Cattle
were driven to there by cowboys and were forced
into the
tank containing some sort of dips material,
perhaps sulfur.
The prairies
were no longer a cattle or horse country. There
were too many immigrants, wire fences, etc. where
there used to be
cattle by the hundreds, they were now small herds
fenced in due to the herd law.
In 1910 the
neighborhood dissolved, a good share of them went
to Canada , but we and Uncle Jim [James
Peterson] and family went to Wisconsin
[ Hayward area]. We moved to Wisconsin in the
spring of 1910 to a farm dad had bought in 1909.
In the late
fall of 1910, our house burned, losing everything
including our clothes. There was considerable pine
timber on our place. We cut some of it and the
neighbors assisted in building a two‑story log
house. It was built in a very short time. This was
the house were Nina [Nina Dunlap – daughter of
Karen (Carrie) Peterson b. 1894 and George
Dunlap], my niece, was born in 1914.
We then took
the job of cutting a neighbor's fire killed pine
together with our own and sold it to the large saw
mill at Hayward . It
was a full winter’s job.
The following
three years we cut and hauled stove wood to
town. I was fifteen years old and hauled the
wood with our team of horses. I made trips two per
day. Believe me, it was a cold job. I had
frozen toes every winter.
In the late
teens, I started guiding fishermen in summer and
continued doing so most of the twenties.
For two years
between 1920 and 1923, I did go with who I thought
was a very nice girl friend. We did intend to get
married, but I
did not think that I had quite enough money at
that time, but in part of 1922‑23, I did
accumulate about eight hundred dollars,
but I was too late. In the early fall of
1923, she went to Iowa to visit her aunt, and
there met and married a guy in Des Moines .
The First
National Bank of Hayward was always considered
dependable, but it went broke in March, 1924 and
that was goodbye
to money deposit.
It did then
seem to me that nothing was dependable even my
changeable or fickle girl friend. At any rate,
that was the end of girl friends for me. I
had no desire to seek another during the following
fifteen years.
In 1930, I took an exam for game
wardens. I was successful in passing the exam,
being third among 20 applicants and was assigned
as warden for Washburn County under Civil
Service.
In the mid
1930's, I was given the job as supervisor of
beaver controls under Civil Service for the entire
northwest quarter of the State of Wisconsin
. Beaver were becoming a pest in that they
were building dams on streams everywhere flooding
railroad tracks, highways and farmers' pastures,
etc.
I took a six
mile trip by canoe down the Moose River to check
on illegal trapping in June, 1933. On that trip, I
counted 135 deer
along the banks of the river.
In 1938 Betty White
of Dallas , Texas , and I decided to get
married. We had known each other since 1925. She
was the manager
of Snap‑On Wrench Company for that district.
In June, 1939,
I took Betty with me down that same river. There
were only 35 deer along the banks and I feel
certain that if that same trip would be made
today, less than 10 deer will be seen.
In the time of
warden duties, I was gone from home most every
day, and Betty did not care for that too much.
Therefore, in 1940,
I resigned from the Conservation Department and
together, we bought a corner lot in Hayward and
thereon built a gas service station. My nephew, Chester
Dunlap [son of Karen (Carrie) Peterson b.
1894 and George Dunlap] operated it for
several years on a commission basis.
After that, I
also acquired 1 3/4 miles of lake shore on Lake
Chippewa for almost little of nothing. On that
project, I took on Roy Risberg as a partner,
having known him since 1916. He was a very good
salesman, and I think he could sell a snow ball in
January. In fact, he was responsible for selling
our lake shore for fifty dollars per foot. It is
now all sold.
My brother Bill
also got married in 1938 to Betty's sister. We
could not have found a better
pair of partners than those two sisters. They were
not one bit lazy and would tackle most any kind of
job. If nothing else was in sight for them to do,
they would knit socks and mitts from wool yarn. I
still have four pair of heavy
wool socks. Bill and I have not bought a pair of
wool socks since 1938.
In most every
case of married couples, women do not get anywhere
near the credit due them until they have passed
away. Bill’s
wife passed away in 1972 and Betty passed away in
1973.
I am now 81
years old and consider myself very fortunate to
still have a very good memory. .
All memoirs
mentioned are from recollections and incidents
told to me by my parents. To mention all incidents
that may have happened within an 81 year lifetime
would fill quite a book.
Together with
our parents, there were seven in our family, three
brother and two sisters. My brother Bill and
myself are the only ones left of the family.
Therefore, memoirs of our activities
during our lifetime may be of interest to every
niece and nephew of the original family.
Peter C.
Peterson
Note on
bottom of page: “Nephew of grandpa
Albertson” [grandpa is Nels P. Albertson]