Harvey Family Journal

 

I am the 5th of five children born to Frank and Eleanor Harvey. I was born November 17, 1934 in Burley, Washington. I was born at home, as were all my brothers and my sister. If nothing else, my life has been extremely interesting.

The constant seeking for attention has given color to what would otherwise have been a very dull existence. If my writing contains value, it seems destined to be recognized after I am dead. I have had many more chances to succeed and have been less able to hang on to those chances than anyone has a right to experience.

Now that everyone who could give me the family history is dead, I am looking for answers and I must deal with the limited information that I have and surmise the rest. One of the most valuable scraps of information I have is a letter written by my father, Frank Wesley Harvey shortly before his death in 1974. The letter was written to the editor of the Nebraska Historical NewsLetter but never mailed.

 

Seattle Washington, April 15, 1974

 

To Lynne Ireland, Nebraska Historical News Letter

Dear Nebraskan. My wife just received the March 1974 issue of Nebraska Historical Newsletter asking for anyone who knows anything about life on a pioneer Homestead. to contact you, so I will tell you what I know, some from family records, some from what I have heard family members tell and some from my own childhood days on an early homestead.

In the spring of 1870, my grandfather Robert Greenleaf Harvey, with his family, came with a wagon train from Wisconsin and took up a homestead near Meadow Grove, Madison County Nebraska and remained in that area many years.

In 1887, my father William Wesley Harvey, with his wife Martha and One daughter, took a homestead 40 miles west and a little south of Valentine, Cherry County Being about six miles south of a spot called Nenzel and not far from the Niobrara River and McCann Canyon which had a fine stand of pine trees. My fatherW.W. Harvey, hauled logs and built a house on the homestead in which I was born September 23, 1889.

A story they tell: My father and mother had gone to town, leaving me with my Grandfather, R.G. Harvey, who was visiting. Our floor was wide boards from a mill and a knot had dropped out. As my grandfather was resting in a chair and all was quiet, a rattlesnake poked his head up into the room. As my grandfather reached for something to strike with the snake pulled his head back down the knot hole. Grandfather went outside and found a pole about 8 feet long & sharp on one end. Coming in, he placed the sharpe end near the knot hole and settled himself in his chair. When all was quiet the snake stuck his head up again and grandfather with a quick jab killed the snake.

A story they tell about before I was old enough to remember was the Indian Scare. A horseback rider came through, his horse white with lather, crying "the Indians are coming". A refuge had been provided by the soldiers of Fort Robinson for the Homesteaders, as well as a stop for the patrols. It was called Fort Campbell. All the homesteaders rushed there, putting the women and children inside. The men stood guard with their guns all night long but no Indians came. When scouts were sent out they found no Indians, so everyone returned to their homesteads.

Later on when I was old enough to remember, a cyclone passed close to the house. We were all in the cellar, but the suction was so great, the cellar door had to be held down with a rope. One fall after the hay was stacked by the barn, the last load still on the wagon, a fire of unknown origin burned everything but the house. After proving up on the homestead we moved down on the river where Father was appointed Postmaster at McCann.

I well remember in the fall, the Indians came down for wild fruit which was in abundance along the river. They came from the Rosebud Reservation about 20 miles north in South Dakota. They were peaceful and bartered for vegetables, milk and butter. The soldiers from Fort Robinson often passed on their patrol of the main roads. In August of 1896 we made a trip back to Eastern Nebraska in a covered wagon.

Three years ago we made an auto trip back to the old places and ran onto an old log School house below McCann which I am sure is where my mother was school teacher. The roof had fallen in, but the log walls were still up. My oldest sister Mrs Walter Church Still lives in Creighton, Knox County. She will be 89 in August of this year.

By Frank W. Harvey

 

Chapter two

It has been 27 years since my father died and in that time I've realized how deeply I cared for him and how I longed for his love and for his approval. I never heard my father say he loved my mother or any other member of the family. Yet I have come to realize that he cared very much for all of us. He simply did not know how to show it.

The following letter was written by my father, F.W. Harvey on February 22, 1911, to my mother who was teaching school in a one-room school house while boarding with a member of the school board. The letter was written ten months before my father and mother were married, January 1, 1912.

Ponca, Nebraska February 22, 1911

Dear Eleanor,

May fair thoughts and happy hours attend on you (Shakespeare).

I am thinking of you because it gives me great pleasure, and causes my feeling to soar out and up above the clouds of discontent. And as my thoughts are constantly with you I will try to give you my imaginings of what you are doing through the week.

(A day with you in thought) - It is now about eight O'clock. You put on your wraps and with a feeling of regret leave the comfort of the baseburner. You walk briskly through the snappy air that makes your nose and fingers tingle.

Now you are climbing the hill and perhaps with a strong wind blowing against you. You heave a sigh of relief when you reach the schoolhouse and set to work making a fire. Before long the sound of voices is heard and the room is soon filled with talk and laughter as the children gather around the stove rubbing their hands and stamping their feet.

Soon the hand bell is ringing and after a scampering to seats and silence, aye or here is heard in response to the roll call. Now a tardy one comes in who may sit by the stove until warm.

The forenoon rolls away, with Willie or Johnie to stay in at recess on account of a poor reading lesson, or Lizzie for too much giggling.In a short time school is dismissed for lunch and a general good time is had. But now the hand bell calls them to their seats again and as time rolls on the
humming is suddenly broken by the exclamation "Johnie! Keep your feet still", or "Willie get your lesson", or "Lizzie stop whispering."

Before long Archie is chastized for throwing paper wads, and two or three Mischief makers stand on tip toe with their noses in a ring. Now the class is startled by, "bring me that note". Behind a look of disapproval there hovers a smile at reading the note, for it was intended for his best girl across the isle. He must stay after school for writing it, but has company as Jimmy must get his spelling and Lizzy stays for whispering. At last you are on your way down the hill, in prospect of a good supper And a comfortable evening by the fire to dream of the future and the things which will make you happy.

This may be far from correct but I love to dream about you just the same for You can't keep me from loving you, so please don't try. Hoping this finds you in the best and greatest of happiness, I remain with happy thoughts and a light heart.

Frank W.Harvey
February 1911

more to come
Bob