Monroe Postal Route II

This post continues with the reminiscences of L. A. Peek, written around 1916 about his years as a mailman on route one out of Monroe, Oregon. The last post ended in Glenbrook, after which Peek turns and moves along the north side of the valley past a large prune orchard.  He notes passing several farms, many of which, like those mentioned in the prior post, changed hands during the eleven years Peek delivered mail.  He continues his account:

“Next is the old Cross Roads Market, now on the rural map as Church.  Here, perhaps, is found the greatest change of any on the whole route.  In November, 1905, when Inspector Clements laid out this rural route, the Church was the only building near these cross roads.  Now a fine school house stands just across the road, and just beyond is the thriving little town of Alpine consisting of two general merchandise stores, one hardware store, post office, pool hall, barber shop, blacksmith shop, two churches and the S. P. depot. 

 

Alpine School, 1915

Alpine Railroad Depot, Benton Co., Oregon

“I do not suppose that Alpine will ever become a large city, but with its beautiful surroundings ad splendid natural resources, there is no reason why it should  not become a nice little residence town.  The founders of Alpine are the Webster Brothers, whose energy and enterprise have had much to do with the forward movement in this section, and Alpine in a few more years will be the center of a large orcharding industry.” Indeed, Peek mentions passing a big apple orchard of the Oregon Apple Orchard Co. just before arriving in Alpine and the Apple Orchard Applehurst as he leaves the area.  From Alpine he climbs a hill to his own home. “Here we stop twenty minutes for dinner, and change horses.”

The afternoon portion of the route takes him to Bellfountain.

“Bellfountain is a thrifty little village, has one general merchandise store, and a hotel and blacksmith shop.  Here also is located the central office of the Bellfountain telephone exchange.  But the greatest institution and the pride of the people is its school.  They have a fine modern school house and a large gymnasium.  Prof. L. Mack is at the head of the school and its success is largely due to his energy and ability.” [Note:  H.L. Mack was the father of Dorothy Mack, whose account of life there was featured on this site last fall.]

“Turning west, it is about half a mile to a group of boxes on a wheel and covered by a shed.  My former substitute, Norman Miller, called it “Tin Town,” and that name still clings to it.  Here we leave the mail for the Bunker Hall neighborhood of about a dozen families.

“And I want to say right here that I hope the day is not far distant when these people may have better mail facilities than they now have.  Some of them have to come three miles or more for their mail.”

After heading west past the Bellfountain park and the large prune orchard of the Sims Fruit Co., “the country becomes more rugged and tall fir trees begin to appear—the outer fringe of the forest` that stretches away to the summit of Green Peak, which is seen directly ahead....we come to the site of the old Oliver mill.  Here, many years ago, lived an eccentric old man by the name of S. H. Oliver, who built and operated the mill and for whom the stream was named.  No trace of the mill remains, and the queer old man, after squandering quire a fortune, finally died in the poorhouse....This is the end of the route in this direction and is also the terminal of the Bellfountain branch of the S. P. R. R. and is called Dawson.”

Peek then notes the households at each of the stops along the rest of the route until crossing the bridge over the Muddy River at Bailey Junction and passing by the “far-famed Oaco orchard” to “swing off down the hill to Monroe.”

By Martha Fraundorf, Volunteer for Benton County Historical Society, Philomath, Oregon 

 

More Bellfountain Recollections

The post of November 21, 2019 contained some of Dorothy Mack's recollections of life in Bellfountain between 1905 and 1921. Here are some more of her observations.

In the community of Bellfountain there was no swimming hole, no ponds for ice skating or sidewalks for roller skating.  I can’t remember anybody having bicycles on those country roads.  When it snowed we had a big bonfire on the hill near Grandma’s place, and had great fun on our sleds—all the young people gathered and always my Father was there.  Once when I’d been sick with a sore throat and had missed the fun of coasting he took me out in a sleigh, with bells, and our horse Ginger.  I was bundled up in our plush buggy robe...

Sleigh from the BCHS collection which was used until 1919

I remember camping out with the family, granparetns [sic], and an aunt and uncle and cousin at Chautauqua when I was four or five. Fancy moving the family wood cook stove by wagon and team and tenting for two weeks—three couples and three small children!  But this was our culture and it was long anticipated and as long remembered.

Chautauqua was not only our culture but our entertainment in the early 1900’s....There were plays, lectures, and musical evenings by soloists or quartettes.  In the morning the children met for games and to learn their parts for a play to be given at the end of the season. Afternoon programs were usually geared to the women’s interests.

We had some culture at school, too.  My Father held what were called Music Memory contests.  There was a school phonograph and classical records were played for us each day, during music period.  We listened and learned to identify the music, its composer and the dates of his life.  I’m sure this was the only music many of those country children every heard, for it was before the days of radio.

 

Bellfountain School, 1910

Grandpa bought one of the first cars in the neighborhood – a big Overland with running boards and carbide lights and a bulbous horn.  He had a lot of advice about what kind of a car to buy and I put in my two cents’ worth—I wanted it to have a ‘pink lid.’ A year or so later when I was about five my parents bought a Tin Lizzie but to us there was nothing tinny about it.  We drove on Memorial Day to Stayton where my Mack grandparents lived—over a hundred miles round trip.  I remember Mother in her long ‘duster’ coat, hat and veil, with pillows tucked around her—no paved roads in those days, and not very good springs in our car seats, either.  We children sat in the back seat, excited when it sometimes rained and we had to put the side curtains on—they had pointed panes of ising glass which fascinated me. When Katherine was with us, on trips to Corvallis, we sang “There’s one hole in the bottom of the sea – this gem is repeated three times to complete one verse – for subsequent verses you add a hole – we used to get it up to a hundred, I’m told.  What really tried my Mother was that Katherine took a deep breath after each ‘bottom’!  We also made trips up the Columbia Gorge on the scenic route, only part of which is now open to motorists. 

By Martha Fraundorf, Volunteer for Benton County Historical Society, Philomath, Oregon