STAGE DRIVER 'YARNS'

FOSHIER, BROCK

Posted By: Nancee Seifert (email)
Date: 7/23/2005 at 19:35:10

The Chariton Leader, Chariton, Iowa
Thursday, April 8, 1909

The pioneer stage drivers of Iowa can tell some mighty big yarns of the
early days before the advent of railroads ruined the business and drove the
stage from the field. Sometime since the Leader printed some experiences of
"Uncle" Ben Brock, of this city, told of how he lassoed a lot of Sioux
Indians, while seated on his box, and lifted them over a cliff by the
roadside and dropped them into the stream below, and thus saved the scalps
of the passengers.

The writer was over to Pleasantville last Saturday, and there met an old
friend, J.E. Foshier, who used to drive over the old Valley trail with Brock
and is capable of reciting many thrilling narratives before and after the
savages were removed from the Red Rock agency and at the time when white
bandits were terrors to travel. He said that "Uncle" Ben was the most
daring driver who ever drew rein over harnessed steed and when he saw him
start out on a long trip his hair stood on end until "Uncle" Ben safely
returned with several other encounters recorded in his book of life.

Mr. Foshier says that on one occasion Brock started out for a trip up the
river and thence across the state to Council Bluffs. He was equipped with a
double decked, six wheel coach and was mounted high in the air at the front
end of the top story. The muzzles of several big guns were seen protruding
out of port holes, with a trigger connection worked by a treadle at the
driver's feet. His team consisted of fourteen Morgan horses, a span of high
kicking donkeys, a shavetailed stallion, one antelope and a couple of zebras
When "Uncle" Ben cracked his whip it sounded like a charge of artillery.
The stage was heavily loaded with mail bags and passengers and for twenty
miles up the river the hoofs could be heard beating the prairie sod,
interspersed with the merry rattle of the wheels and the crack of "Uncle"
Ben's big whip. Then the stage turned its course and struck westward into
the interior, the driver keeping the lead zebras facing the sun. Several
hours they sped forward until they reached the east fork of the Nodaway
River, up near the headwaters. This was dangerous territory. Several times
had previous coaches been way-laid here and the passengers despitefully used
and robbed. "Uncle" Ben tightened up his reins, struck a gad-fly off the
nigh zebra's ear, by the light of the moon, with his whip, and yelling
vengence. It took quick thought and quick action. In a twinkle the driver
arose in the box, faced the approaching savages in single file, took aim,
lance style with his whip stock and the long lash went whizzing by like a
streak of greased lightning and quicker than it takes to tell it, "Uncle"
Ben had those nine Indians and the white bandit fastened together after the
fashion of snake eggs. The balance was easy. He tied the cracker end of
the lash to the hind axle and led them into Council Bluffs at sunrise, where
he turned them over to the authorities, refusing any bounty on their scalps,
which he was clearly entitled to. Being penetrated clear through the body
almost killed the white man but the only effect it had on the Indians was
that it made them leak their victuals, the the government had to double
their annuity to keep them from starving to death.

This is a strange story but Mr. Foshier is considered a truthful man and
sends his best regards to Mr. Brock.
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Copied by Nancee(McMurtrey)Seifert
June 29, 2005
iggy29@rnetinc.net