I seemed to be the only one still on the ground, the only one hurtin all over, though I was sure some of these people had done things last night to make parts of them hurt too. Why was it I was always the one to get caught out? Everybody else could sin and still have smooth hair and an innocent smile in the morning. But me, I had my skirt up round my knees and hair like I’d been dragged through a hedge, my breath stank and only God had any idea where my bonnet was.
I pulled my skirt down and twisted my hair into a bun and held it with a twig cause Id lost my hairpins. Then I stood though my head hurt even more and brushed my skirt off. It had some blood on it and dirt and other things I couldnt do much about. I didnt look at anyone though I could feel them givin me the side eye again. I jest started walkin through the camp, tryin to find a way to the wagon. There were so many people though and it was so big and my head hurt so that I didnt know where I was.
I thought I was goin to cry. Then I saw Hattie Day busyin herself foldin a quilt. And I went up and took the other end to help her and I said, Hattie, I know you dont like me but please can you jest show me the way to where all the wagons are. She looked at me with a drop of pity in her eyes and pointed. Normally I hate pity from anyone, but this time I thought maybe a drop would do me no harm. So I thanked her and handed her the ends of the quilt and headed in the direction shed showed me.
I got out to the road at last and walked along the long line of wagons but I couldnt find ours. I was tryin not to panic but my teeth were chatterin and my hands were shakin even though it wasnt cold.
My family was gone. I could feel it. I was all alone. That made me stop in the middle of the road and jest stand there. A wagon was comin towards me and a man was shoutin at me to get out of the way, but I couldnt move. Tears was runnin down me on the inside and the outside.
Ma.
I turned round and there was Robert. Of all of my family I was glad it was him that found me, cause I loved him best even when he made me feel the worst. Robert was the Goodenough with the most future in him, the one the swamp wouldnt get.
He held out his hand and said, I come to fetch you.
I was still cryin and I let him take my hand and lead me away like I was a child.
America
1840–1856
Smithson Fery
Kingsvill
Canada
Janery 1, 1840
Godenufs
Blak Swamp
Portig River
Neer Pearysburg
Ohio
Deer Brothers and Sisters this is yor brother Robert. I hav lernt my letters. The captin of the bote I am working on Lake Eery taut me. Now the lake is froz I am at Kingsvill in Canada. I hope yoo ar all well and the fever did not take any one this yeer. Yoo can rite to me I wate for a letter.
Yor brother Robert
Winston Hotel
Detroit
Mishigin
Januery 1, 1841
Goodenuffs
Blak Swamp
Portedge River
Near Pearysburg
Ohio
Deer Brothers and Sisters,
It is 1 yeer since I wrote. The boot bote boat I werked on broke broak in a storm and I am not on the lake any mor. Detroit is all rite. I am washing bottles in a Hotel.
How are everywon. How are the appl trees. Martha if you still no yor letters you can rite me at the Winston Hotel, Detroit.
Yor brother,
Robert
Terre Haute
Indiana
January 1, 1842
Goodenoughs
Blak Swamp
Portage River
Near Perrysburg
Ohio
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Greetings and happy new yeer. I have lerned my letters better from Mr. Jonah Parks who I travel with now in a wagon selling medisin. I work for him as Detroit had two many people. We are mostly on the rode road going town to town. I like it, it sutes me better than a sity city.
Maybe you have writ to me at the hotel like I sed last yeer but I had no letter. They were not good people ther so maybe I did not get it becus of them.
Do you no I saw John Chapman once. I asked him for news of the family and the farm, but he sed he did not go to the Black Swamp any more, he is mostly in Indiana. That was a shame for I wood like news of the family.
Do you remember John Chapman gave us a ride in his dubble canoe once? I still remember how they rode road so smooth through the water.
Mr. Parks is a good man and if you rite to almost any town in Indiana he will get the letter. Xcept Lafyett and Bloomingtown were where he wood be arrested, so do not write there.
Yor brother,
Robert
Gilbert Hotel
Racine
Wisconsin Territory
January 1, 1844
Goodenoughs
Black Swamp
Portage River
Near Perrysburg
Ohio
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
I am sorry I did not write last yeer as I did the other new years, but the law caut up with me and Mr. Parks and I was in jayl jale. When I got out I went farther west and am in Wisconsin where I work in a hotel stables looking after horses. It is good becus the horses keep me warm at night as the winters are vary very cold in Wisconsin, colder even than the Black Swamp. I have not ben here yet in the summer but they say there are not so many skeeters.
How is the farm. Some times I recall the Golden Pippens. I miss the taste. There is a Golden Pippen tree I grafted off one of the Injun trails northwest of the farm. I wood like to no if it is alive and did it ever grow fruit. Maybe you can find it.
You can write me here at the hotel. I would like a letter.
Your brother,
Robert
Fort Leavenworth
Near the Missouri River
Missouri Territory
January 1, 1847
Goodenoughs
Black Swamp
Portage River
Near Perrysburg
Ohio
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
It has been 3 yeers since I last wrote. I have gone west since then and am now working at the army stables. The summers are hot here and the winters very cold. I do not want to be a soljer so I do not think I will be here heer two long.
It has been over 8 yeers since I left the swamp and you are all grown. Maybe Caleb you found a wife already. Maybe even Nathan or even Sal two. Maybe I am uncle Robert. I have been a lot of places but I still think about the farm in the Black Swamp. I would like to hear heer the news if you write here soon they are good at delivring letters to the fort.
Your brother,
Robert
Rancho Salazar
Texas
January 1, 1849
Goodenoughs
Black Swamp
Portage River
Near Perrysburg
Ohio
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
I am writing on New Yeers Years Day from Texas, where I have been working on a ranch now for almost two years. I did not meen to come here but fell in with a rough bunch and it was hard to get away. We came down the Santa Fay Trail then got work on a ranch run by an old Mexican who never left even when Texas was its own country.
It is steady work but hard and I do not like cattle much. They attract two many flys. Also the land is a desert, very vary hot and no trees. We are far away from anyone so I can’t give an address where to rite which is a shame for I wood like a letter.
I am all rite right but when I make enuff enough money I am going to Californie. A man here has been there and told me about trees called redwoods that are 300 feet tall and it takes 20 men arms streched out to circle it. I did not beleeve him but I want to see for myself. I miss trees. Also there is gold in Californie and that is a temptashun. I here heer you can make 200 dolars a day gold mining where here heer I make 5 dollars a month.
I will rite again from Californie when I have
an address to rite to there. Do not forget me. I have not forgotten my family in the Black Swamp.
Your brother,
Robert
Miller General Store
Nevada City
California
January 1, 1850
Goodenoughs
Black Swamp
Portage River
Near Perrysburg
Ohio
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
I hope you are keeping well. How is the farm. Some of you must have children there now. I try to imagine that sometimes.
Well I did make it to California like I said I wood. It was a long trip like so many have maid made. I picked up the overland trail in western Kansas and followed it thru the Rocky Mountens to Salt Lake City and then the Sierra Nevada mountens. There were thousands of people heading along that overland roote and many died on the way, there were graves all along it. But I am used to an outdoor life so it wasn’t too bad for me. I got to see the mountens and they were something. Also the buffalo, which I ate once and didn’t take to. I scrached my name on Independense Rock which is a big block of granitt neer the South Pass. That is what everyone does who passes by. If one of you goes overland to California you can look for me on that rock.
I am on the western side of the Sierra Nevadas, where there is gold in the rivers that flow down from the mountens. I am working in one of the mining camps. There is snow on the ground but I still pan for gold every day, sometimes alone, sometimes we work together using a sluise sluce or a rocker. I have found a little bit, mostly flakes. Just down the river from me a man yesterday found a chunk of gold worth $1000. That is what we are all looking for.
I get down to Nevada City pretty reglar for supplies if you want to write. I would surely like to heer here hear from home.
Your brother,
Robert
Miller General Store
Nevada City
California
January 1, 1851
Goodenoughs
Black Swamp
Portage River
Near Perrysburg
Ohio
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Happy New Year to you all. I am still here in California, mining for gold, same as last year, tho I have moved up and down the river some. I have found plenty but not made much money becus it is so expensive to live here. The minute I am paid for my gold I pay it back for supplies. Flower Flour and bullits and oats and stabling all costs more than anywhere I have ever lived. I do not think I will be mining for much longer as the gold fever does not suit me. Sum men are taken over by it and even when they have found gold they are never satisfyed.
If you are going to write, send it quick as I will not be here too much longer.
Your brother,
Robert
Greenshaw Hotel
Sacramento
California
January 1, 1853
Goodenoughs
Black Swamp
Portage River
Near Perrysburg
Ohio
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
It is two years since I last rote. I left the mining becus it brakes breaks a mans spirit to chase gold. Now I am working on farms and ranches, usually neer Sacramento but I go other places too.
I saw the giant redwood trees they talk about. They are really something, very tall and strait and dark among all the smaller trees. I saw the ocean too. It is a little like Lake Erie but the waves are bigger and the water tastes salty.
The Greenshaw Hotel will hold any letters for me if you want to rite.
Your brother,
Robert
Mrs. Bienenstock’s Guest House
Montgomery & California Streets
San Francisco
California
January 1, 1854
Goodenoughs
Black Swamp
Portage River
Near Perrysburg
Ohio
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Happy New Year and I hope that everyone is helthy welthy and wise.
I have had a good year becus I met a man called William Lobb. He collects plants and trees and seeds and sends them to England where they like California pines and some plants as well. I did not no there was work like that as a plant agent. That is what I am now I am helping Mr. Lob Lobb.
We saw giant trees up in a place called Calaveras Grove. They are like redwoods with there red bark, but even wider. I wish you could see them you wood be amazed at how big they are. The base of the trunk wood fill the kitchen of the house in the Black Swamp. I think they must be the oldest trees on the Earth. They made me feel small, but it was the best feeling I ever had, better than church or a good meal even.
I move around a lot collecting seeds, but I always come bak to San Francisco, and Mrs. Bienenstock is good at getting letters to me wherever I am. I guess by now you have long forgotten me, but I have not forgotten you.
Your brother,
Robert
Mrs. Bienenstock’s Guest House
Montgomery & California Streets
San Francisco
California
January 1, 1856
Goodenoughs
Black Swamp
Portage River
Near Perrysburg
Ohio
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Every New Years day I think about what to rite write to my family back in the Black Swamp. Sometimes I do not write because it is too hard and takes so long. It has been over 17 years since I left the Swamp and I never had a letter back. I do not know if any one is still alive and so this is my last letter.
I am still collecting seeds and plants for Mr. Lobb. He has taut me a lot and I am very greatful to him. I will be alright here. I have a job working with trees and that is better than I ever expected to do.
I hope that you are all right wherever you are.
Your brother for the last time,
Robert
California
1853–1856
ROBERT GOODENOUGH WAS WORKING in a field north of Sacramento when he first heard about giant trees that were even bigger than redwoods.
He and a handful of other men were raking up hay ahead of a summer storm that growled way in the distance but never seemed to get closer. It was just one of dozens of jobs Robert had taken since quitting gold mining two years before. He didn’t mind the sun on his back, the sweat stinging his eyes, the endless repetition. He had coped with such things many times before. Life was often simply the repetition of the same movements in a different order, depending on the day and the place.
What he could not stand was the constant chatter of the man raking to his right: hours of dull stories about the gold he had found and drunk away, or the high prices to be paid for anything in California, or the trials he’d had on the overland trail to get here from Kentucky. These were all familiar tales to Californians, only enlivened by an unusual style of telling or a twist in the tail. The raker had neither of these, but doggedly pursued his stories with more persistence than he did his raking.
Robert gripped his own rake harder and harder to keep himself from punching the man to shut him up. Then the raker commented, “I’m goin’ to git myself back to Kentucky one of these days real soon. I had enough of California. Seen all there is to see. Seen the biggest gold nugget in the world, weighed twenty-three pounds. Seen the ocean and didn’t think much of it. Seen the red trees nice and tall, but I miss hickory and dogwood and tulip trees back home. I don’t need to see more. I’m done here.”
“Bet you ain’t seen the big trees over at Calaveras County,” said the man working on the other side of the raker. “Now those are some trees. Take your average redwood and triple it across, that’s how big they are.”
Robert paused in his raking. “Is that by the Calaveras River?”
“Naw—up the Stanislaus River a ways,” the man replied.
“Up the Stanislaus? You mean down it, don’t you?”
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“I mean what I said.”
“East up it? Not west?”
“Yup, east.”
“How far up the river?”
“Don’t know. Up into the hills.”
“But there aren’t redwoods up in the mountains. You only find them on the coast.”
The man shrugged.
Robert fixed him with his bright brown stare that he knew rattled people. “You actually seen them?”
Now the man frowned, annoyed to have his authority questioned. “Heard about ’em from somebody when I was in Sacramento.”
“The only trees I need to see are the dogwoods next to my daddy’s farm,” the raker interjected. “Them’s the prettiest trees you ever saw in the spring. I got me a pain jest thinkin’ ’bout ’em.”
Robert took up his rake again and pulled the hay into a pile that would eventually grow into a haystack. He asked no more questions, for he had no interest in pursuing rumors about giant trees that had not actually been verified by eyes on trunks. The other man could easily be repeating descriptions of redwoods Robert had seen along the coast. Anyone would remark on their height and call them giant. Robert had seen trees he estimated were at least 350 feet high. And a trunk three times the width of the average redwood: what did average mean? Robert had seen tall redwoods and also small ten-year-old trees that were like pines but with red bark.
Yet the man’s words stayed with him. Vague about the size, he was at least clear that the location was up in the hills of the Sierra Nevadas rather than down on the coast. Robert had not seen redwoods further than fifty miles from the ocean, and puzzled over the idea that there could be any so far inland.
When the harvest was done and it came time to move on, he did not go north or west to look for work, but headed south and east, crossing the Mokelumne and Calaveras rivers, and reaching the Stanislaus River without even acknowledging to himself that this was his destination. He began to follow it up into the hills towards its source, and soon the rumor was substantiated. “There are giant trees all right,” a man who worked for the Union Water Company told him. “Found by a hunter supplies meat to the company. Was chasing a grizzly up there and came upon a grove of the biggest trees anyone’d ever seen. He’s dined out on that story for the past year. Thought everybody had heard it by now. Where you been?”