Old Times On the
Mississippi
By J. D. Barnes
Port Byron Globe
Feb. 14, 1935
Writer’s Experience as a
Riverman
As this was my first
trip from Stillwater, I will give a few glimpses of the river
as we float along and also mention certain points that were a
terror and a dread to the old floater. Our run from Prescott
to the head of Lake Pepin was a stormy one. The wind was
blowing at the rate of about 40 miles an hour, Sam Register,
our pilot, wanted to tie up, but he could not for the reason
old John Leach was coming in our wake and it was his
place to put out a line first, but he kept right on coming and
there was nothing for us to do but keep out of his
way much to the discomfiture of Register who disliked to run
in rough weather. However as Leach would not tie up and we
could not go on, we both went without any mishaps until near
Red Wing where there is a sharp bend in the river and in the
bend we encountered the City of St. Paul coming up while
another boat, the Davenport was coming down and the two boats
in passing crowded us so close to the bank that the bow of our
raft struck and swing out across the river blockading the
channel, and in the meantime the City of St. Paul had to run
into us and was hanging on the logs and worse than all
John Leach who was behind us, would soon take us in from
that quarter.
I tell you, things looked pretty desperate about that time.
Our pilot had already seized an ax and was running towards the
boat and calling the crew to follow, while at the same time
the captain of the boat had rushed mad to his berth in the
Texas and was returning with his rifle in his hands ready to
fire in case the boat was molested, and they were shouting and
cursing at each other all of which made it have the appearance
of war especially to an old soldier. Fortunately, no blood
was shed for our raft kept on swirling around which made room
for Leach to pass us in safety and in the meantime the
boat had swung clear of our raft and was backing out and
steaming up the river as if nothing had happened, and we moved
on down, wrong end to end, until we found a good piece of
river when we were again righted and soon made the head of the
lake where we remained until the arrival of the rest of the
tow.
The first hard pull, long pull and pull altogether the old
floaters had after leaving Reeds Landing was Beef slough, so
named because it required plenty of beef to make the
crossing. Then there was Betsey slough, which derived its
name from the following circumstance as the story goes and it
runs something like this: there was a fellow up north a good
many year ago and he wanted to go south. He was not able to
take even a deck passage on a steamboat so he built a raft and
placed all his worldly effects which consisted of himself and
wife who answered to the name of Betsey, on board. So down
the river the pair floated on their raft perfectly oblivious
of all surroundings save only the beauties of the mighty
Mississippi as she rolled along unobstructed to the Gulf of
Mexico. But presently and all of sudden the raft struck
something and the fellow rushed out just in time to see the
raft saddlebag on an island and break in two, and he was on
one piece and Betsey was on the other. He following the main
channel while Betsey followed the shore side which has been
known every since as Betsey slough.
Of all the hard pulls of the old floater at that time the one
most dreaded was Chimney Rock crossing. Its name was taken
from the huge boulders and rocks that are cropping out of the
banks on the Minnesota side of the river and they resemble
very much an ordinary chimney. On making the crossing the
natural flow of the current draws the raft down in the small
islands or town heads as they are called, which often is the
cause of a break up.
On this occasion while making the crossing our pilot became
very much excited, and he seized hold of the favorite weapon,
the ax, and began slashing the windless lines and cutting the
binders right and left, all of which was folly for, in spite
of his recklessness, the raft glided over all right with out
the loss of a log.
The next place that the old floater dreaded was raft channel,
especially if he got caught in there in low water but
fortunately for me on our first trip we had a good stage of
water.
The greatest drawback to the old floater at that time of the
year, which was in the early spring was wind. He would often
have to lay at the bank for days and sometimes weeks would
come and go and he could not move. Sam Register was always
famous for being blown near some town or some place where he
could have a little sport so that rafting with him was never
monotonous. So down we floated without anything worthy of
note occurring until we reached the first obstruction which
was the Clinton bridge. At that time the run had to be made
on the Illinois side of the river, and if the raft was too
wide it had to be split otherwise it was run thru whole.
Finally we arrived at Le Claire, known as the raftsman’s
haven, for they always got a little rest at Le Claire no
matter how hard the rest of the trip. After taking John
Suiter Sr., on board, we pulled out over the rapids, made
the Davenport bridge all right and delivered our raft at
Muscatine.
