fromgerm.html

This story was submitted for use here by Mrs. Violet Thompson.

FROM GERMANY TO GLENWOOD, WASHINGTON IN 1884

The Journey of William F. Jebe
As Told to his wife, Mary R. Jebe in 1946
Submitted by Mrs. Violet Thompson

(Note from Nora Rumbaugh, who was Mary's sister; Mary was visiting the Rumbaughs in Parkdale, Oregon during the winter of 1948 when the snow was eleven feet deep so there was little to do except catch up on the olden times. The following story is written exactly as told by her husband William Jebe…and as he wrote it.)

To the brave citizens and pioneers in this country that have built their home next to the perpetual snow line of our beautiful Mt. Adams. That have left our homes once upon a time. Mother, Father, or both, and home, with the desire to possess a home of their own, and that have still, after half a century has slipped by in, like in the case of myself, a loving memory of those who were left behind.
Yes, my dear reader, it was just this way with my own self. I see my dear mother with her apron drawn up to her eyes to wipe away the tears that almost broke her dear heart and mine.
In the fall of 1882, December the 3rd, the German liner Vandalia left the seaport of Hamburg, Germany for the big city of New York, U.S.A.. It turned out to be a stormy ride. They usually made the trip in nine days but the waves battered the ship so bad that Christmas was at hand when we landed in New York. A day or so later we boarded the train for San Francisco, Calif., arriving there by New Year's Eve 1882.
Now really I have left my old home a little bit too sudden, so in order to give the reader a better understanding why the change of climate should made in, I'll take you back another year or so and the picture will look better.
In the fall of 1879 the German government thought they would give me some military training which ended in the fall of 1881.
Now then during of the summer of 1882 I applied to the government for a pass to leave Germany and find a place somewhere else to make a home. So the pass was granted and now begun the pleading with my dear mother. She finally consented. My old home left behind we are coming closer to Mt. Adams.
Three friends of mine had come over here several years before this. They were distant cousins of mine and had taken a homestead which now belongs to Will Markgraf. Their names were Peter George and Detlef Tams.
Detlef bought a ticket which gave me a ride from Hamburg, Germany, to Portland, Oregon, U.S.A. for $100. I forgot to mention that a German boy had boarded the train in Cheyene on his way to Portland, Oregon. He on arriving in San Francisco, Calif. thought we'd better take a show. As we had all next day before our steamer would leave. And now you must listen to my first big sorrow in this land so far away from home. You know my ticket should bring me to Portland, Oregon, but Lo Behold, somebody just stole my ticket out of my coat pocket which I left in the Hotel Lobby.
Well, $10.00 was all I had left and it took just that much to get to Portland …. and then what? No place to eat, no place to sleep. The Columbia River was frozen solid in January weather. No trains were running. Of course of their was no railroads in this instance.
Well a friend in need was a friend indeed. My traveling companion it turned out just such a friend. He boosted me up to White Salmon on the boot when the ice broke. This was about the 15th of January 1883. A few days rest and Detlef Tams loaded me on a saddle horse headed to Camas Prairie and by evening unloaded his green German freight (friend) where the two brothers made their home. My visit with them lasted until the middle of March when a job, milking cows awaited me at White Salmon…or Bingen as it is called now.
The Suksdorf Brothers were running a dairy. They had bought a piece of land where Bingen is located now. A donation claim owned by Mr. and Mrs. Joslin, I must make you a little bit better acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. E.S. Joslin for they were really brave pioneers, making a home here on the mighty Columbia River with good and bad redskins all around. It was surely a courageous undertaking. Chief Ormes lived up on the hillside turned out to be the white man's friend a number of times. These people had to flee for their lives across a river where Hood River now stands, to Nathaniel Coe. Mr. Oeamans, a friendly Indian, gave them warning and saved their lives in each instance. Remains of their houses which have been burned by the Indians were evidence of determination on Mr. and Mrs. Joslins part to stick to their new home. Several tumbled down fireplaces in the orchard, wondered at by the visitor, were proof of the Indians hatred and murderous contempt for the white race.
In the fall of 1883 I picked a few pears off of a young pear tree in these same orchard, not anticipating that that I would be so fortunate to pick fruit from the same tree in 1933, but such was the case.
In declaring to become a citizen of the U.S.A. in 1884 and filing on a homestead in 1885 and to take a companion in marriage in the same year was my first important work in the Camas Prairie. In 1890 a deed was handed to me by the government for my home.
The house was located on the road running from Camas Prairie to Lyle, Washington, where a road branched off to Pannicnack … better known as Plateau, a station for the J. Neil logging railroad. A home to my liking, a tiny swale all covered with cottonwood trees and buck brush. Here and there a crystal spring where the range cattle, bears, deer and grouse filled themselves with the sparkling juice all summer long. Surrounded by great tall stately pines and fir trees … a delight to my companion and myself. We called it the Cotton Wood Slough. The birth place of my three children, the place of our honeymoon and the place where the brave mother died on May 20th, 1893. We were a happy couple, both German school mates and neighbors in the same village from Schlewig Holstein, formerly the northern peninsula, including Denmark.
It was my lot to leave Germany first but soon earned enough to pay back my own fare and hers a year later. Her maiden name Margretha Scheel. The Almighty Master called her home leaving her husband and three little children. The youngest, a girl, Mrs. Tillie DeVoe, now. William, the second child, died during that terrible epidemic in 1918 leaving his wife and baby girl. John, the oldest, making his home near Seattle, Wash. (Margretha is buried in the cemetery in Glenwood near the rest of the Jebe family. Her headstone is the one her husband William Jebe carved out of native stone from the area. Note; V. Thompson, niece of Mary.)
That trip across the Atlantic Ocean gave me my first look at the moving pictures thrown on the canvas to show how vital and dirty a human can get to serve the devil. You may know that at my age and all alone a fellow is longing for company and so as luck would have it, strolling along on deck one day I met a girl of my age, Mildred Rodla, offered to make several friendly remarks about seeing flying fish jumping out of the water. Well, to make a long story short we grew to be friends especially when we learned we would travel together all the way to San Francisco, Calif.
One fine day she was coming along with another friend but the funny part of it was that I didn't like the looks of that white slave trader!!! The opportunity came soon for her to tell me that "Herr" so when so would come with her as far as Chicago and help her get on the freight train for San Francisco. She had given him what money she had and other things to take care of for her. Now, as inexperienced as I was but I wasn't slow in letting the ship authority know in what danger this girl, Matilda Rodler was. (Notice change in the name). Well, he soon had to give up his charge and her valuables, but he made another attempt on landing in New York but she didn't listen to his pleading. He came to Chicago where we had to change cars, and such a crowd of immigrants. It kinda bewildered this bird and taking care of my own luggage I forgot my friend but luckily caught sight of her, and dropping my bundle rushed for her, grabbed her coat tail and snatched the satchel from "her friend" who was leading her to a place where she would never hear from her aunt in San Francisco. Well, she was mighty thankful and hung onto my coat tails until the street car conductor (on Market Street) promised me he would bring her to the right address. I never heard from her again.

W. F. Jebe

Copied by Mrs. Mary Jebe - December 1948
Recopied by Violet M. Thompson - Oct. 29, 1991 (niece of Mary Jebe)

SUMMARY (by Nora Rumbaugh)

Mr. Jebe (pronounced JayBee)
Left Germany in the fall of 1882. Arrived in Bingen, Wa. Jan. 15, 1883
Married in 1885
Became U.S.A. citizen in 1884
Filed on homestead in 1884
Margretha died on May 20, 1893
Went to Alaska March 1898