WPA Interviews

INTERVIEW WITH MR. A.T. MORRIS ("Bud") Morris OF SWEET HOME, OREGON.

My name is A. T. Morris, but almost everyone calls me "Bud" Morris. I was born at Sweet Home, Oregon, in 1865.

My parents were A. P. Morris and Polly Morris who came to the Sweet Home country in the fall of 1852. They took up a claim two miles west of Sweet Home, down towards what is known as the Splawn School district. My father's family consisted of thirteen children, so you see there were plenty to provide for, but deer were plenty then and they could get meat merely by going out and killing it. In those days all the country was one open range where cattle could run at large. There was not so much brush in the country then as now, because the Indians came through in little bands and set fire to the range, thus keeping it burned down. The open country, free from brush and under growth made hunting and cattle herding a much easier task than it is now.

The country was wild then, however, full of bears and cougars which would come up about the settlements and kill young pigs, calves and sheep. I remember well that my father once killed a cougar with his old flintlock rifle that had been hanging about our place. Father always hunted then with an old flintlock. Even then that was considered an old-fashioned and crude weapon, but my father's gun was a very good one and he could get as much game with it as is now done with a modern high-powered rifle. He seldom missed a shot.

After my father had killed that first cougar, another one came about and began to trouble us. One night it came and killed a shoat in the pen about three hundred yards from our cabin. We heard the squealing of the shoat when the cougar caught it. I can hear that sound yet. You know how a pig can squeal when something gets hold of it! Listen to it! After a while it will quit squealing and then we will know that the pig is dead."

By degrees the pig quit squealing. "Now," father said, "In the morning you boys go out and call the neighbors together and have them bring their dogs. We will get that fellow."

In the morning we went out with about twelve neighbors with their dogs and guns. Soon the hounds "Jumped" the cougar. It ran about one hundred yards and then treed in a big white fir on a hillside. One of the neighbors had a little gun; he shot but only hit the cougar in the foot. The cougar was up on the tree-about forty or fifty feet high from the uphill side, but on the downhill side it was sixty feet or more. The cougar jumped on the downhill side, certainly a great leap for an animal as large and heavy as a cougar. The dogs went after him, but he was lost among the fallen trees and logs. We hunted about in the tangle for him, and suddenly the cougar raised up from his hiding place right beside one of my brothers. My brother called and the dogs came with a great rush and noise and soon had it treed again. The neighbors then said, "Now here comes Mr. Morris (my father), he can shoot this cougar with his old flintlock gun." My father shot. I was a considerable distance away but I knew at once that it was my father's gun. I could always tell it by the sound. Then I heard the sound of the cougar falling. The sound of a flintlock gun was always different from any other. If you were nearby, it was possible to hear the hammer fall upon the flint and then there would be a perceptible instant before the gun discharged.

When the Indians came about in the early days they were always anxious to receive food. They almost always seemed hungry. My parents always gave them food, and they appreciated it greatly. My mother used to tell an amusing anecdote about one old Indian who came to her house. This old Indian came along "Heap hungry," and asked for something to eat. Mother gave him food and then asked him, which he would like, coffee or milk. He answered, "I take coffee and milk." Mother brought him out both, and he would eat a bit and then take a sip of coffee, eat a little bit more and then take a sip of milk, and so on. It was very amusing.

The first settlers in the Sweet Home Valley besides my father's family, was the Ames family, of whom Lowell Ames was the head. The creek which now runs down through the town is called Ames Creek after Lowell Ames. Most of these early families, including the Lowells and the Morrises belonged to the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter Day Saints. People usually call them Mormons, but I wish to explain that the Latter Day Saints here were never of the same belief as the Salt Lake Mormons. Our people never accepted the teachings of Brigham Young about polygamy, and many other evil practices, which crept into the Salt Lake Church. Brigham Young was an unprincipled usurper and had no legitimate right at the head of the church.

The Ames family, who were really the founders of the community here at Sweet Home, were very good people, although they were rather peculiar in some ways. No one ever knew any of the Ames family to "tell a story". They were honest as it is possible to be, but most of them were quiet and bashful and had little to say.

Lowell Ames, son of Lowell Ames Sr., was especially bashful. Of course I knew him well, but I was much surprised at one time to find out what he could really do. I was at the Ames House one day and John Ames had a long row of pictures of famous people stuck up on the walls. There was Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, Abraham Lincoln, Andrew Jackson, General Sherman, General Grant and many others among them "Marion the Swamp Fox." I was looking them over and trying to see how many of them I could name. When I came to Marion the Swamp Fox I looked at Lowell Ames to see if I had named him right. He laughed and said, "Yes, that's Marion the Swamp Fox all right. Do you know, I used to be able to repeat his whole history."

Who do you mean," I asked. "Do you mean that there was a history written about him and you could repeat it all?"

He said, "Yes I used to repeat every word, and I think that I can yet."

How big a book was it?" I asked.

He pointed to a "Life of Garfield" that was on the shelf, a book of about five hundred pages. "About as big as that book," he said.

Then he sat there quiet for a time with his lips moving as though he were repeating something. Pretty soon he laughed and began to recite the life of Marion the Swamp Fox. He just sat there and repeated page after page, maybe as much as four or five sermons. Then he stopped and said, "Yes, I believe I can repeat it all."

I went out in the field and talked with his brother. "Is it true", I said, 'that John can repeat a whole history of four or five hundred pages without making a mistake?"

Well, he used to," his brother said. "I suppose he can yet."

I went back to the house and when Lowell Ames saw me, he laughed, "Haw, Haw, Haw!" he said, "I've been sitting here trying it, and I can repeat it all without a mistake."

The Latter Day Saints established a church at Sweet Home as soon as they had settled here. There was never any real church building but they held meetings about in the town at various private houses, and at schoolhouses. J.C. Clapp was the first Latter Day Saint preacher of which I know anything. He was our favorite minister. He was noted throughout all the Oregon country. He was very attractive and shrewd and a nice man. There was also a most attractive little Irishman named Jas. Gillam. As a speaker he was surprisingly ahead of his looks. C. Smith and Horam? Holt were also Latter Day Saint preachers. There are a few Latter Day Saints still living at Sweet Home and we have preaching services now and then when a speaker passes through but there is no organized church here now.

One of the buildings which was used for a Latter Day church was a barn on what is now Jerry Keeney's place on the hill. It is situated west of Ames Creek where the old Sweet Home/Brownsville road branches off from the west end of Long Street. At the time it was used for a church. It was owned by a Mr. Putnam.

Among the other preachers, outside of those of the Latter Day Saint faith, Elder Joab Powell from Providence Church in the Forks of the Santiam, was one of my favorites. He was an attractive old fellow and made a great impression. When he preached the tears would run down his face and it greatly affected the people.

Elder Joab Powell was a good singer and during his services he would sing a great deal. One of his favorite songs began, "The Judgement Day Is Rolling On." Another of them was "Over The River."

Joab Powell's son married my cousin. (No name obtained L.H.) For a time I was a portrait artist and I enlarged a portrait of Joab Powell and one of Abe Powell.

Of course in the earlier days of which I have been speaking there was no Sweet Home. Finally a little store was built. The first business house was a saloon kept by a Mr. Moss. It stood just across the Sweet Home Bridge. (This bridge crosses Ames Creek near the west end of Long Street. L. Haskin). There was a great deal of heavy drinking took place there, which sometimes ended in trouble. The name of that first saloon was the Buck Head because there was a fine pair of deer antlers placed over the door.

At one time after there had been some heavy drinking at the Buck Head, a quarrel between neighbors ended in two killings. On that day there was a shooting match being held nearby. During the match a quarrel arose over some small matter. The trouble was between a man by the name of Emmerson and two brothers named Shirtz. During the course of the quarrel Hi. Shirtz pursued Emmerson, beating him over the head with a stick. Emmerson had a knife in his hand and he suddenly turned and stabbed Hi, Shirtz, killing him instantly. Joe Shirtz, a brother of the stabbed man then struck Emmerson on the temple with a sharp, three-cornered rock and killed him also. Hi. Shirtz was carried to the saloon steps at Buck Head and died there.

The Moss family was a good family. Whiskey was the cause of all the trouble. Mr. Moss, owner of the Buck Head was a good, conscientious man, so later he quit the saloon business.

Several other men were killed during those early, rough days, but in the main the people were friendly and good.

The beginning of the town was about the old Buck Head saloon, and the place was at first known simply as "Buck Head". An attempt was also made to start a town at the upper end of the present village, and that beginning was called Sweet Home. The greatest growth, however, took place about Buck Head. Finally the upper Village died and the Post Office was moved to Buck Head, though retaining the name of Sweet Home. Thus it came about that the original Sweet Home died. Buck Head, though growing and prospering lost its original identity and became known (after the post office) as Sweet Home.

My first school teacher was a man by the name of Bob Miller. Later I went to school in the Splawn District, down towards Holly, and my first teacher there was Chas. Jackson. Other teachers under whom I studied in the early days were: two brothers by the name of Thompson, a Mr. Brookshire, a Miss Tate, and Robert Moses.

Of all the family of thirteen whom my Father and Mother raised, only two of us now remain. They are myself, A.T. ("Bud") Morris and B.A. Morris.

I believe that the people who lived here in those early days were really more happy than the present generation. People were more sociable in those days, and when they went visiting they hitched up their teams and went to spend a whole day, often a night also. In those days a neighbor's word was considered good for any amount he might promise, so much different than now. We had fewer things but were more contented. Money was spent for homes and for permanent improvements and was not all spent for autos and gas.

January 13, 2001

Copyright © 2000 Patricia Dunn. All rights reserved. This transcription may not be reproduced in any media without the express written permission by the author. Permission has been given by the Transcriber to publish on the LGS web site.