State Name Origins - Part IV

   By Tiffany Amber Stockton

In August, my post focused on the invention and minor evolution of the sewing machine, showcasing how it revolutionized the clothing industry. You can read last month's post if you missed it.

Today, it's time for the next 10 state name history stories. Aren't you excited? Has your state already been covered? If not, there are only 10 more after this group, so it's certain to be covered soon.

STATE NAMES and their ORIGINS

One thing I found interesting with this list is it's almost a 50/50 split of the state names starting with a letter of the alphabet from either the first half or second half of the 26 letters. Montana is the 26th state out of 50 and the last one with an "M." The remaining 24 states come from the latter half of the alphabet. It would have been fun to see 25 of the states start with letters in the first half of the alphabet and the other 25 from the second half, but we're close!

New Mexico is self-explanatory and based on the Spanish Nuevo Mexico. Although, did you know the Aztecs coined the word Mexihco for their ancient capital?

New York was named for the Duke of York and the future King James II.

North Carolina is named after a monarch, King Charles II, as Carolus is the proper Latin version of Charles.

North Dakota describes the northern land of the Dakota people, but it also means friendly or allies.

Ohio comes from a body of water, this time, the Ohio River. The Seneca Native Americans billed it as a good river.

Oklahoma comes from the Choctaw word meaning "red people."

Oregon has an origin where some scholars point to Algonquin as the source.

Pennsylvania was named after Admiral William Penn, under Charles II. It literally means Penn’s Woods.

Rhode Island has multiple name theories, including the idea that Dutch explorer Adrian Block applied the name Roodt Eylandt, meaning red island, to reflect the red cliffs of the region. Alternatively, it may come from the Greek island of Rhodes.

Tennessee comes from the Cherokee village name ta’nasi, but the meaning is unclear.

And that's all for today. If you're like me and LOVE puzzles, download this PDF for some puzzle challenge fun. You might be able to solve it on your own without reading the rest of the blogs in this set, or you can save it and add to it in future months. :)

NOW IT'S YOUR TURN:

* Which one of these states was the most fascinating to you?

* Do you live in any of the 10 featured states this month? If so, do you have any other unique tidbits about your state?

* What do you think might be the origin of any of the final 10 states?

** This note is for our email readers. Please do not reply via email with any comments. View the blog online and scroll down to the comments section.

Leave answers to these questions or any comments you might have on this post in the comment box below. For those of you who have stuck around this far, I'm sending a FREE autographed book to one person every month from the comments left on each of my blog posts. You never know when your comment will be a winner! Subscribe to comments so you'll know if you've won and need to get me your mailing information.

Come back on the 9th of October for my next foray into historical tidbits to share.

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BIO

Tiffany Amber Stockton has been crafting and embellishing stories since childhood, when she was accused of having a very active imagination and cited with talking entirely too much. Today, she has honed those skills to become an award-winning, best-selling author and speaker who is also a professional copywriter/copyeditor. She loves to share life-changing products and ideas with others to help improve their lives in a variety of ways.

She lives with her husband and fellow author, Stuart Vaughn Stockton, along with their two children and four cats in southeastern Kentucky. In the 20 years she's been a professional writer, she has sold twenty-six (26) books so far and is represented by Tamela Murray of the Steve Laube Agency. You can find her on Facebook and GoodReads.

Donna Schlachter -- Author Spotlight -- And Newest Release

 

Along the Oregon Trail

It’s 1879, and the Oregon Trail is still ferrying emigrants west to California, Oregon, and Washington. Hundreds of covered wagon trains with thousands of people every year, all searching for something better than they left behind.

Kate Benton has run just about as far as she can. After escaping the sordid life of a saloon prostitute the year before, she hid out in a wagon belonging to the younger brother of the Lame Johnny stagecoach robbing gang. All she wants is a fresh start.

 

Tom McBride, said younger brother, is running from his past, too. Forced to work for Lame Johnny to save his brother’s life, he’s on the run from the gang, the law – and God.

In the first book, Kate, their tale of adventure and love is filled with secrets, threats, and narrow escapes as they head for Oregon City. 

Oregon City, Oregon 1870s

 

Now, Kate and Tom have safely put their past behind them. Or have they? Kate realizes her dream of working for the Pinkerton Detective Agency, and her first assignment is to find a local missing woman. When she begins investigating, however, she is threatened and their house is set ablaze. But that won’t stop her.

Until her son is kidnapped.

Old revolver like the type Kate might have carried

 

Tom and Kate must work together to solve this case and find their child. In the process, they discover a God who loves them even more than they love each other and their little family.

The idea for this book came from a book I read about Kate Warne, the first Pink Lady detective.  As a young widow in the 1850s, Kate marched into the Pinkterton office and said she wanted a job. Alan Pinkerton thought she meant a clerical job, but no. Kate wanted to be a detective. And she turned out to be one of his best “men”, paving the way for many more female detectives in the coming years.

Kate Warne was a feisty woman with definite ideas of how she wanted her life to go, and so is Kate. While Kate Warne never remarried, I wanted my Kate to balance family and a professional career, a relatively new concept in the 1870s.

Watch for more books featuring Kate and Tom in the future, but for now, check out A Pink Lady Thanksgiving and my other books at https://www.amazon.com/s?k=donna+schlachter&ref=nb_sb_noss

 

 

Excerpt:

Sitting on the front porch of her rented house, Kate McBride propped aching feet on the footstool her darling husband crafted especially for her. At almost seven months into her pregnancy, she tired quickly, finding she needed to stop and rest more often throughout the day.

She sighed and rubbed at the small of her back. Her first baby. An exciting time, to be sure. But also one with its challenges. Thankfully, living in town meant she needn’t spend as much time tending a garden, pumping water, and hauling firewood compared to residing on a farm or ranch outside town.

Not that Tom would let her do those chores anyway.

No, siree. He hovered more than a mother hen over her chicks.

To watch him, a body would think she was the first woman in history to have a baby.

A baby.

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, rocking in the chair he’d also made. She had no right to complain. He was the perfect husband. Loving, caring, tender, patient. Taught her everything she knew about cooking. Which wasn’t much. A year into married life, she managed not to burn their food more than once a week. A marked improvement over her days on the trail.

She smiled and opened her eyes. Their old wagon rested in front of their house on a side street in Oregon City, Oregon. Across the way, one of the Daley children chased down a chicken, almost catching it before the old biddy escaped by fluttering over the fence.

She rubbed her swollen belly, massaging a tiny heel or fist until the baby eased back into a more comfortable position—at least for her. Their son or daughter was an active one, kicking and jumping now for months. She sang to him. She hoped it was a boy for Tom’s sake although he said he had no intention of stopping with one so its gender mattered little to him. Her mama would be tickled pink to welcome this little one.

As usual, when thinking of the woman, her eyes watered. Mama would love to see this little one. Maybe a girl they could name Elsie Something—what was Tom’s mother’s name? She’d have to ask him.

Her feet and back weren’t ready to get back to laundry—maybe she should reconsider Tom’s offer of taking the dirty clothes to the Chinese laundry down on the main street. She’d choose to indulge them for a few more minutes. She picked up the copy of The Saturday Evening Post and skimmed through the pages.

Near the back, her eyes roved the small typeset. Personal ads, missing persons. . . wait, what was that? A correspondence course. Become a private detective. Set your own hours. Be your own boss. Hmm. Interesting concept.

Her mind cast back to the year before when she’d teasingly—but perhaps more in seriousness than she first thought—told Tom of her idea of becoming a Pink Lady. Pinkerton’s Detective Agency, renowned for hiring women agents, needed her nose for solving mysteries and averting crime.

She read through to the end of the advertisement. Two dollars for the correspondence course. She could manage that from her pin money, saved from selling eggs and frugal spending habits. Work at her own speed. She could complete it before the baby’s birth. Then, once back on her feet, Pinkerton’s would be sure to hire her immediately.

She tore out the notice and entered the house for a pen, envelope, and the money. As she completed the information required, her stomach fluttered at the thought of learning something new. Of taking a role in improving their situation. Of solving mysteries. Averting crime.

Yes, indeed. She’d be the Kate Warne of the West.

Wouldn’t Tom be surprised when she told him?

 

 

About Donna:

Donna lives in Denver with husband Patrick. As a hybrid author, she writes historical suspense under her own name, and contemporary suspense under her alter ego of Leeann Betts, and they have been published more than 30 times in novellas, full-length novels, devotional books, and books on the writing craft. She is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers, Writers on the Rock, Sisters In Crime, Pikes Peak Writers, and Christian Authors Network; facilitates a critique group; and teaches writing classes online and in person. Donna also ghostwrites, edits, and judges in writing contests. She loves history and research, and travels extensively for both. Donna is represented by Terrie Wolf of AKA Literary Management.

 

 Where to find me online:

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Etsy online shop of original artwork, book folding art, and gift items : https://www.etsy.com/shop/Dare2DreamUS?ref=search_shop_redirect

 

Oregon's Edgefield Poor Farm

Multomah Poor Farm - 1912
Wikimedia Commons

By Nancy J. Farrier

I took a trip to Portland over the holidays and heard the about the story of the Edgefield Poor Farm. I wanted to share this fascinating story with you.

In the mid-1800’s territorial counties were given the responsibility of caring for the poor. In 1868, Portland, OR, opened their first poor farm facility in West Portland, Hillside Poor Farm. By the early 1900’s, Hillside, a 160-acre farm, was in deplorable condition. Multnomah County needed a new poor farm.

In 1911 the Multnomah County Poor Farm was built east of Portland on what would grow to be 345 acres. The first building house just over 211 residents, although in early days they were often referred to as inmates. More than a third of the first inmates were bedridden with chronic illness and unable to help with the work.

The inmates were required to work if they were able. The Poor Farm grew a

Edgefield Power Station
Ian Pellet-Wikimedia Commons

number of vegetables, and raised pigs and chickens. Those who were able to work ate three meat meals a day but those who could not work only had meat once a day. (They did get three meals, just not meat every time.) This was referred to as the “meat and mush” tables and you ate according to what you could do.

By 1914, the number of residents had grown to over 300. They now had dairy cows, in addition to the 100 hogs and 420 Plymouth Rock hens and 225 other chickens. The crops produced were vegetables, fruit, hay grain, eggs and potatoes. The 27 acres of potatoes were shared with the county jail. The residents did all the work caring for the crops and livestock. The Poor Farm also had a hospital and a juvenile home.

Power Station Brick Work
By Ian Poellet-Wikimedia Commons

The peak number of residents happened during the depression around 1935, when there were over 600 living there. There were 535 men and 63 women. The job boom that came in the 1940’s with the onset of World War II, depleted the number of residents. After the war, many of them left, but there were some who were so used to institutional life they couldn’t make it on the outside and chose to stay.

Cupola on Main Building
By Ian Poellet-Wikimedia Commons

By the 1960’s, many of the lands were leased and the herds were sold. The Poor Farm building was renamed Edgefield and became more of a nursing home. In the 1970’s the number of residents declined as private nursing homes or home health care became more popular. In 1982, the last resident left Edgefield and the place was locked up.

Like most abandoned places, Edgefield suffered from vandals and no upkeep. Water pipes burst. Graffiti covered the walls. Much of what had been left was looted and stolen. Edgefield had been a haven for many but now was in disrepair and needed to be demolished.

But, the historical society stepped in and didn’t want to see such an important part of Multnomah County’s history destroyed. For five years they fought to save Edgefield. They finally won but now faced a difficult decision of what to do with the old Poor Farm. They listed the property with a New York auction house and received no bids. No one wanted a rundown farm.

Edgefield 2008
Ian Poellet-Wikimedia Commons

Then, in the 1990’s, two brothers had a vision for the property. A vision that would maintain the historical aspect but also incorporate a fun place to visit. They began by opening a winery, but added a brewery, and a movie theater. There was doubt about their success, since Edgefield was so far outside Portland. They added in a small lodging part in the building and kept going from there. Today, you can go to Edgefield for dinner at one of the restaurants, or to a concert. You can walk in the gardens or visit one of the artisan shops on the property. Edgefield is a popular place to visit and see some wonderful historical buildings.

Here is a link to the McMenamin’s Edgefield property detailing all they offer. If you are ever in Portland, take the time to visit and see the historical buildings and grounds. Think about what it meant to those who were struggling to have a place to raise their food and to have shelter.

McMenamins, Photo by seamusiv

Wikimedia Commons

Have you ever visited Edgefield or heard of it? Do you have what was once a Poor Farm in your area? I would love to hear your thoughts.

Nancy J Farrier is an award-winning author who lives in Southern Arizona in the Sonoran Desert. She loves the Southwest with its interesting historical past. When Nancy isn’t writing, she loves to read, do needlecraft, play with her cats, and spend time with her family. You can read more about Nancy and her books on her website: nancyjfarrier.com.

Peeling a Cookie in a Wagon

Sometimes the best history is the micro-history. You know, the stories that you heard your grandpa or grandma tell.
This one happens to be about a neighboring town close to my house, Canby. It is now a growing  city booming with industry.
But up until 1838, it was nothing but wilderness. James Baker moved in and built the first house. And ten years later Philander Lee and his wife Ana along with a pile of children moved into the neighborhood. The Lee’s took up residency by claiming “squatters rights.”

More and more people gathered. Soon there was a store, a postmaster, a school clerk, a sheriff, a druggist, a blacksmith and some carpenters. The area flourished and drew the interest of the train companies.

The Lee’s proved up their claim and became candidates to own the land they inhabited via the Donation Land Claim Act. That claim gave them ownership of 647 acres. 647!

Philander and his family planted apples on 80 of those acres and soon they were one of the main supplies of apples to California for the miners working the gold rush. When the harvest was on, the Lee’s loaded their wagon and drove the apples along the winding roads to Oregon City, where they could be shipped down the Willamette River and on to California.

Lee and his sons were irritated by the fact that when they reached Oregon City they had to drive six to nine miles out of the way in order have enough room for to turn the wagon and the oxen around because the streets were so narrow and crowded.

So when the train company offered to buy 111 acres to plot this new city, Canby, Philander Lee said only if the streets were built wide enough to turn an oxen-pulled wagon. Herman Lee, Philander’s son, hitched a team right then and there and peeled a cookie right in the dirt.

The distance was measured and the streets widths were marked down as eighty feet wide. The plans for the town of Canby went forward. And Philander’s son Herman Lee became the first Mayor.

I wish you had time to tell me about a local piece of history that charms you. I look forward to reading your comments.

Thank you for stopping by. I started a podcast. If you are a podcast listener and you need a dose of joy-meets-common sense, and some author interviews come on over to Life Caraphrased.

Cara Grandle is a Historical Romance Novelist who prefers to write about the early settlers of the Pacific Northwest. Think trappers and loggers and scroungy-backed woodsmen. She is represented by the Steve Laube Agency. Cara leads the author4TheAuthor writers group on Facebook, home to 190 writers. Together they're pressing back on busy and making a space for their dreams.  Cara is currently out on submission. Follow her journey on her Facebook author page. Prayers much appreciated.

Freeze, Flood and a Crazy Stunt

On to more disasters...
     Why is that such a fun sentence to write? Must have something to do with it being history and not the present. The poor pioneers had so many obstacles thrown at them. It helps me to imagine being in the moment with them, surrounded by the challenge, the only option to go through. There is hope in that somehow…because they survived.

     Most of us have warm insulated houses with hot water heaters, stoves, washing machines, microwaves, dishwashers and phones. And what about cars? Our ability to cope and recover from some of the same incidents the pioneers faced is greatly increased. Probably because of what they learned and put into place.
 
     The weather can be a challenge from time to time. Some states freeze. Some states deal with tornadoes. Some states are desert dry. And others flood.
So here is the setting: Oregon City, Oregon during the winter of 1861-62. 
Oregon is know for rain, rain, and more rain, lots of water and big rivers.
Introducing the Willamette River. Oregon City was built up below the Willamette Falls, which is the largest waterfall in the Pacific Northwest by volume and the 17th widest waterfall in the world. It is 1,500 feet wide and 40 feet high. Found by the Lewis and Clark Expedition in 1806. Hometown to John McLoughlin who was a Hudson Bay Company official. Here is a picture or two of the river so you can see how wide it is. The Willamette is a happy place for many salmon and steelhead during its usual mild weather moments. 

     But not in 1861. The temperatures dropped.
 
     And the river froze. It froze solid.
 
     As far as I can tell it has only happened one other time since then, in 1929.
This river is huge ranging from widths of 330 to 660 feet across. And it froze completely through.
 
     So what did our resilient settlers do?
 
     They continued to trade of course.
 
     They drove their wagons full of trade goods right across the top of the water, by-passing the normal ferry, and saving themselves buckets of money.
Talk about an opportunity. All that was well and good until it warmed back up and all that ice melted…and it continued to rain.

     Water, water, and more water.
 
     Oregon City had so much rain fall that the water level on the lower side of the Willamette Falls came up and closed the distance between the top level and the bottom level. The overall level of water came up 75 feet. Normally a forty foot drop, each side of the river came close to even—flattened so much it tempted Captain S. R. Smith of the St. Claire to risk floating over it’s edge.

 
     Captain Smith had a hankering to switch from upper-river trade to lower-river trade. Since there were no locks built to transport the boat easily, he tried to reduce the cost and the time it would take to have his boat lugged over land by taking advantage of the flooding. He talked his engineer buddy, Alonzo Vickers, into joining him. (We all need a crazy and willing to help friend like that.)
     
     They made their preparations and over the falls they went. 

 
      And they almost made it. (Horse shoes and hand grenades right?)
They would’ve made it if the tiller rope, which connects the steering wheel to the rudder, hadn’t broke in the swift waters.
 
     The St. Claire careened over the falls and down the river fast. It couldn’t make the bend. It crashed up onto the bank and slid into a house next to the Catholic church.
     
      Wouldn’t that be a shock to the homeowners?
 
      Those same flood waters swept away George Abernathy’s house, mill, and store which were some of the first buildings built in the City and the first site the early Oregon Trail Survivor’s found.
 
      He sold his soggy property and moved to Portland, playing a key role in that city’s development.
 
     They eventually did get the boat back in the water. But the flood waters took out Linn, Canemah, Clackamas, and Multnomah cities as well as most bridges and Ferries. So much destruction. The entire City of Linn was wiped off the rocky shore. Only two homes and a warehouse was left.
 This is the town that was wiped away:

    But the settlers are nothing if not resilient. “We will rebuild.” And usually they build better.
 
     Within a few short years, in this exact spot, there was a woolen mill built. And by 1869 The Oregon City Woolen Mill was using the power of the falls to produce shipping a million pounds of wool a year to help support the Civil War.
Hope. Hope is always worth paying attention to. And sometimes the best thing you can do to see the hope is to look back and see what happens after the hard times and troubles hit. Can any of you look back and see goodness our of a season of hardship? Please tell. I’m in a season were I would love to borrow your hope.
Thank you for stopping by. Below is a little more about me. 

I started a podcast. If you are a podcast listener and you need a dose of joy-meets-common sense, come on over to Life Caraphrased.

Cara Grandle is a Historical Romance Novelist who prefers to write about the early settlers of the Pacific Northwest. Think trappers and loggers and scroungy-backed woodsmen. She is represented by the Steve Laube Agency. Cara leads the author4TheAuthor writers group on Facebook, home to 190 writers. Together they're pressing back on busy and making a space for their dreams. 

Cara is currently out on submission. Follow her journey on her Facebook author page. Prayers much appreciated.

Life in an Old West Boardinghouse

By Miralee Ferrill

     I’ve always been fascinated by stories depicting cowboys, pioneers and the rugged individuals who helped tame the West. The American frontier, or the Old West, as it came to be known, drew adventurers from all over the world.          They came hoping to find a new life, whether that meant staking out a homestead, mining for gold, finding a husband, or starting a business. Whether it was a family, single men or women, a miner, gambler, or cowboy, the same thing captivated each one—the chance at a fresh start. Beyond that, they all had one need in common—a place to live when they arrived.

I’d never really thought about that aspect before—until I started writing and digging into the research aspect of telling a story. Where did they all go when they arrived out West? Most people didn’t have the means to buy land and build a home, as the trip across the country often took most of their funds.

For some, like the cowboys, it was simple. They slept on a bedroll under the stars, their horse picketed close by. Others slept in a bunkhouse, often with thin bat-and-board siding barely covering the walls, allowing the wind to whistle through the cracks or the knot holes, but always with a cozy wood stove nearby.

My current historical romance series, Love Blossoms in Oregon, is centered around a boardinghouse and the interesting characters who reside there. In the 1880s there was more than one type of boardinghouse, and each catered to different kind of folks. The home operated by my heroine, Katherine, rented rooms to the more genteel type of client looking for more than a one or two night stay. A boardinghouse/combo hotel in Last Chance, CA (pictured here and featured in my book, Love Finds You in Last Chance, CA) only took men, and they all slept in a common room on the second floor, reached exclusively by a ladder.

        Saloons often offered accommodations as well, as they were sometimes attached to or housed within a hotel. Even the independent saloons provided rooms to travelers who wanted drinks, a meal and a bed. Many saloons provided a free lunch with the purchase of a drink, with the hope the traveler would decide to imbibe a bit longer and possibly spend the night. The Crystal Palace and The Oriental Saloon, both built in the last 1870s in Tombstone, AZ, (and featured in my novel, Love Finds You in Tombstone, AZ) provided more than drinks.

     Of course, no decent lady or family would consider such accommodations, as their reputation would most certainly be ruined. Only ladies of ill repute frequented saloons, so the more genteel women chose a hotel, or a boardinghouse for a longer stay.

The average boardinghouse was different than a single family home, often having a large number of bedrooms, a common washroom, a good-sized dining room and a cozy parlor made available to the boarders. Of course, a bathroom as we understand it didn’t exist in the 1800s, at least not in homes in the Old West. Most boardinghouses provided a wash bowl, towels, and a pitcher of fresh water per room, along with a chamber pot. In very rare cases you might find some type of rustic indoor plumbing, but typically a bath was drawn by heating and carrying buckets of water to a wooden or tin tub in a wash room. 

Breakfast was almost always included, and oftentimes supper, with some hostesses occasionally offering laundry service as well. Boarders could share a room, and often did, but the more wealthy patrons could choose to room alone. The least expensive rooms tended to be in the top floor, including smaller attic rooms, as heat rises and made sleeping uncomfortable. For the poor, cheap lodging houses provided basic accommodations for low prices. In San Francisco over a century ago, the majority of people frequenting a hotel were either working class or poor, and a passable room might cost 35 cents a night ($8 in today’s currency). Some rooms were more like dorms with multiple beds shoved close together and with very poor ventilation.

Old Boardinghouse in Texas

Life at a nicer boardinghouse could be almost like home, especially to a lonely widow or single woman struggling to make it on her own. In fact, many boardinghouses in the Old West were owned and operated by women, as it was a respectable way to make a living while keeping your children close by. Warm fires in the parlor and kitchen, reading books or newspapers in the parlor or playing games in the evening, along with story-telling and sharing the happenings of the day, were all common entertainment for the residents.

I’ve always had a fascination for the Old West, and the historical research for my novels has become one of my favorite parts of writing. Life was varied in the 1800’s, and often extremely challenging. The more glimpses I get of the strong men and women who made up the West, the more I’m compelled to share their stories.

If you’d like to contact me or see pictures of the settings for several of my historical novels, I’d love to have you stop by my website or my blog, or subscribe to my newsletter at www.miraleeferrell.com--click on the blog tab.

Miralee Ferrell and her husband, Allen, live on 11 acres in the Columbia River Gorge in Washington State. They have two grown children and a beautiful granddaughter. Miralee loves interacting with people, gardening, riding her horse with her daughter, and playing with her dogs. She speaks at various women’s functions and teaches at writers’ conferences. Miralee, an award-winning author of Western fiction, has been writing since 2005, and her first book was published in 2007. Since then, she’s had 23 books release, both in women’s contemporary fiction and historical fiction plus a five-book series of horse novels for middle-grade girls. You can sign up for Miralee's newsletter on her blog.

First published as Love Finds You in Last Chance, California--New title: Finding Love in Last Chance, California

It's 1877 and Alexia Travers is alone in the world. Her father has died unexpectedly, leaving her burdened with a heavily mortgaged horse ranch. Marrying one of the town’s all-too-willing bachelors would offer an easy solution, but Alex has no interest in marriage.
Instead, she dons men’s clothing and rides the range, determined to make the ranch a success on her own. Help arrives when Justin Phillips, an acquaintance of her father’s, comes to Last Chance with his young son. Justin'’s and Alex’'s combined effort to save the ranch quickly turns into a fierce competition between cowboy and tomboy.
But when disaster threatens Travers' Ranch, they must work together to save someone they both love. Can these two independent people learn to depend on God —and on each other?

Baker City, Oregon...Where History Comes to Life

By Miralee Ferrell

Baker City, Oregon, at its Inception

During the early 1800s, the time my Love Blossoms in Oregonseries is set, Baker City, Oregon, grew from 300 people (in the 1870s) to well over a thousand in the early 1880s. By 1890 it crested 2600, with miners and hangers-on pouring in and hoping to make their fortune, to its present-day population of nearly 10,000.  Situated on the Powder River, Baker City was established as a result of the Eastern Oregon gold rush, beginning in 1864, and as a distribution trade center by Colonel Ruckles.  The advent of the railroad in 1884 helped the expansion of the town greatly, with only 

The interior of the Geiser Grand Hotel

stagecoach transportation available five-days-a week up until that time.

Something that took my husband and me by surprise when we visited was an old Chinese cemetery. Before visiting the town, I didn’t realize it had contained a sizable Chinese population that was brought in to work the mines, and included a one-to-two block-long section of town built specifically for the workers and their families.

One of the things I loved about Baker City was the diversity. You’ll find the beautiful, ornate Geiser Grand Hotel containing stained glass ceilings and ornate wood work, and then a few miles from town the valley contains expansive, rugged cattle ranches and barbed wire fences. The historic district drew my interest the most as it includes a wealth of businesses and old homes open for tour, and the local museum boasts a video of the area depicting many of the founding fathers and their homes. 

The Geiser Grand Hotel was built in 1889 at the height of the gold rush. It’s a magnificent building and the most elegant hotel in the Northwest. It’s still in use today, after going through an extensive restoration in the 1990s by a new owner, (it fell into total disrepair 

Grand Geiser Hotel at the turn of the century

and was slated to be demolished) who saw the historic value and poured a huge amount of money into saving the building. Boasting a corner turret or cupola with a clock tower, crystal chandeliers, and three stories above the original dining area that seated 200 is the largest stained glass ceiling in the Northwest. One of the fascinating aspects of this hotel is that, at the time of its creation, it had a working elevator, (one of three west of the Mississippi River) and electric lights. It cost a whopping $65,000-70,000 to build, a huge price at the time. Guestrooms feature 10 foot windows, many of which look out toward the Blue Mountains.

I discovered an interesting aspect about the hotel, not noted online, but known to many of the locals. At one time in its heyday, women of ill repute were brought in to entertain the wealthy miners and businessmen. Most of the bedrooms were on the second and third floor, and an open, circular hallway was visible from the ground floor. The circular railing curves around with rooms opening off of the hall. When the ladies of the town discovered some of their husbands were visiting the Grand for not-so-respectable reasons, they would sit in the dining area. There, they could keep a hawk eye on the hallways and doors, as the dining area is open all the way up to the stained glass ceiling three floors above. Finally, in desperation as his business was ebbing, the owner built an external stairway at the back of the building and snuck his customers up that way, thus avoiding the watchful eyes of the women. 

Portion of the historic district in the early 1900s

Another gorgeous historic building is the Baker City Hall, built in 1903, it stands as one of the most beautiful historic buildings in the Baker Valley and boasts its original copper-clad roof. We also loved the old fire station and the newspaper office that’s still open today. The first public school was a two-story frame building, later replaced in 1889 by a three-story brick building, due to the fact that fire ravaged the town more than once, burning many of the businesses to the ground. The most disastrous fire burned every structure on the east side of the 1700 block of Main in 1887. Before the year was out, every building had been replaced by one built of brick. Most still stand today, except for the ones on the south end torn down to make room for a gas station. 


All in all, Baker City was charming, and most of the 

Historic Home in Downtown Baker City

historic places open to tourists were a wonderful source of material as well as an inspiration. We found the people to be friendly and helpful, and stories about the area abound at every turn—truly a writer’s delight.

Miralee Ferrell is a multi-published, award-winning author of 20 books. She lives in the Pacific NW with her husband of 42 years, where they enjoy working in their yard and series, Love Blossoms in Oregon, was set in Baker City, Oregon, during the 1880s. Her fifth book, Rebel Horse Rescue in the Horses and Friends series, a set of horse novels for middle-grade kids, released three days ago. 

Forget Me Not---Book 2 in the Love Blossoms in Oregon Series

Can a Lost Love be Redeemed?
Baker City, Oregon, 1881

Seven years ago, Julia McKenzie rejected the man she loved, wanting to experience more of life. Now, at the age of twenty-four, she regrets that decision. What will Seth think of her, when they encounter one another hundreds of miles from home? Will the man she cared for understand the direction her life has taken and love her in spite of her choices?

Pastor Seth Russell has never completely forgotten the girl he once courted. When she shows up in his new home of Baker City, all those feelings return. But why is she sneaking around town late at night? Even more important, will she reject him and break his heart again, or can God heal the breach between them?

Forget Me Not is part of the historical romance, Love Blossoms in Oregon series, published by David C Cook. This book can stand alone, but is better enjoyed when reading the series and getting acquainted with the full cast of characters from the Love Blossoms in Oregon series.

This is historical romance that offers hope and healing to the deepest wounds in a woman’s past.

Tidbits About the First Major Wagon Train to Oregon

On May 22, 1843 the first major wagon train headed to the NorthWest. They left with 1000 pioneers and departed from Elms Grove, Missiouri.

You can read more at This Date in History

Please note this is not the first trip on the Oregon Trail it wasn't even the largest as two years later 3000 pioneers left. But this has the unique status of the first largest group to travel. Some of their struggles were unique to the size of the group as well as what had happened on the trail the two years prior.

Below is a quote from Jesse Applegate, one of the members of the company of 1000.
"In his journal of the trip he gave a pleasing picture of the afternoon and evening of a long day:

It is now one o'clock; the bugle has sounded, and the caravan has resumed its westward journey. It is in the same order but the evening is far less animated than the morning march; a drowsiness has fallen apparently on man and beast; teamsters drop asleep on their perches and even when walking by the teams, and the words of command are now addressed to the slowly creeping oxen in the soft tones of women or the piping treble of children, while the snores of the teamsters make a droning accompaniment. But a little incident broke the monotony of the march. An emigrant's wife, whose state of health has caused Doctor Whitman to travel near the wagon for the day, is now taken with violent illness. The Doctor has had the wagon driven out of the line, a tent pitched and a fire kindled. Many conjectures are being made in regard to the mysterious proceeding . . . The sun is now getting low in the west, and at length the painstaking pilot is standing ready to conduct the teams in the circle which he has previously measured and marked out, which is to form the invisible fortification for the night. The leading wagons follow him so evenly around the arch that but a wagon's length separates them. Each wagon follows in the track, until its tongue and oxchain will perfectly reach from one to the other, and so accurate the measure and perfect the practice, that the hindmost wagon of the train always precisely closes the gateway, as each wagon is brought into position. It is dropped from its team (the team being inside the circle), the team unyoked and the yokes and chains are used to connect the wagon strongly with that in front. Within ten minutes from the time the leading wagon halted, the barricade is formed, the teams unyoked and driven out to pasture. Every one is busy preparing fires of buffalo chips to cook the evening meal, pitching tents and otherwise preparing for the night. There are anxious watchers for the absent wagon, for there are many matrons who may be afflicted like its inmate before the journey is over . . . But as the sun goes down the absent wagon rolls into camp, the bright, speaking face and cheery look of the doctor, who rides in advance, declares without words that all is well, and both mother and child are comfortable."



Lynn A. Coleman is an award winning & best-selling author who makes her home in Keystone Heights, Florida, with her husband of 42 years. Lynn's latest novel "The Shepherd's Betrothal" is the third book in her Historical St. Augustine, FL. series. Coming in Oct. The Rails to Love Romance Collection