…the lies I told my students
Early in my teaching career, I came
up with the idea of using read-aloud time with students to prepare them for
whatever the next social studies unit of instruction might be about. So, while I was teaching California
geography to my fourth graders, I’d be reading Scott O’Dell’s classic Island
of the Blue Dolphins to surreptitiously provide a little background knowledge
for the upcoming unit on California Indians.
In preparation for my unit on the westward movement, while
teaching about California Indians, I read a compelling novel called Oregon
At Last! by a Dutch author named A.Rutgers Van Der Loeff. It tells the remarkable tale of the
seven children of the Sager family.
It seems the family, like so many others during the 1840s, decided to
leave Illinois and migrate to the fertile prospects of Oregon’s Willamette
Valley. Tragically along the way,
mother died shortly after giving birth, then a few weeks later, father died. Alone in a foreign and hostile
environment, oldest boy, John, led his brothers and sisters through floods,
fires, blizzards and threats of bears and wolves to finally arrive at Marcus
and Narcissa Whitman’s outpost on the banks of the Walla Walla River.
The book was a great read, with the savvy reader – me –
learning that if I closed the volume about two sentences before the end of each
chapter, just before each crisis was resolved, my students would clamor for me
to not stop, sometimes even disturbing the class next door with their
protestations. They loved the book
and many were in tears at the end when Narcissa Whitman, clutching the
eight-week-old infant declares: “Where did you come from? I cannot believe that I’ve ever seen a
child so beautiful as you.” Or
something to that effect.
We used the themes of the book to write our own stories
about bravery, perseverance and luck.
All good stuff. Except…
Long on my list of things to do has
been a visit to the grounds of Marcus and Narcissa Whitman’s outpost near the Columbia
River. The story of their care for
the Sager children long drove this desire in me.
In the 1835, prompted by an evangelical movement known as
“the Second Great Awakening,” easterners Reverend Samuel Parker and a young Dr.
Marcus Whitman traveled to Oregon country to assess the prospects of
establishing Presbyterian Missions in order to save the “heathen natives” who’d
long settled in the area.
Parker remained west while, in 1836, Whitman returned with
his new bride, Narcissa – one of the history’s first two white women to venture
west of the Rockies – and a group of evangelical volunteers along what was soon
to become the Oregon Trail.
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| Painting of Whitman Mission as imagined by William Henry Jackson based on written descriptions. |
With the influx of immigrants, the mission of the mission
changed from that of civilizing the Indians to providing aid and rest to the
newcomers who’d suffered immeasurable privations on their journey west. Among these were the seven Sager
children.
But the kids hadn’t roughed it alone as Van Der Loeff (and
later, Disney: recall the film “Seven Alone”) would have us believe. The practice of the times was that if a
parent died, others within the traveling company would pitch in – and if both parents passed, offspring would be
divvied up amongst other families and cared for. Such was the case with John and his siblings. Tragic, but not quite so compelling a
tale.
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| National Park Service |
In 1847, a measles plague swept through this section of the Columbia
Plateau. Dr. Whitman’s medicine appeared
only to work on immigrant children.
The children of Cayuse died, sometimes several per day. Believing that the Whitmans were
responsible, the Cayuse determined that in order to save their people, the
white people needed to die.
A monument is erected atop a nearby hill with a sweeping
view of the area the Whitmans hoped to tame. The plaque thereon lists the names of those killed in the
assault including John Sager and a brother, both of whom had stayed at the
mission.
The story of the short existence of
the Whitman Mission provides fascinating insights into our movement west, our
penchant for believing our religion is somehow superior, the tragedies that
befell both the whites who first ventured onto the Columbia Plateau and the
natives they encountered. Remains
of the outpost include only the foundation locations of some of the original
buildings, a restored pond that had provided irrigation water, a resurrected
orchard, and a pleasant interpretive center.
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| National Park Service |
After a visit to this spot, one cannot but be moved by the
enormity of what events here precipitated. Citizens moving west established the
Oregon Trail, which might not have taken its soon-to-be-established route, had
it not been for the mission. Word
of the tragedy prompted Washington to deploy personnel to protect citizens
moving west. Treaties were
written, signed and ignored. And
many brave and beautiful cultures were ultimately trodden to dust as one people
overtook another.
You may find yourself driving away consumed in reflective
silence.
o0o
Notes:
The Whitman Mission is a National Historic Site maintained
by the National Park Service.
Details: https://www.nps.gov/nr/travel/cultural_diversity/Whitman_Mission_National_Historic_Site.html
The Park Service has provided an excellent video exploring both
the Native American’s and the immigrant’s perspective on the Whitman Mission
and the tragic events that unfolded.
It is well worth 25 minutes of your time and may be accessed at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFLsOEnKMg0
Related: A fine Oregon Trail Interpretive Center has been
established by the Bureau of Land Management in Baker City, Oregon another
worthy stop while on the Open Road.
Details: http://www.blm.gov/or/oregontrail/#
For one man’s contemporary view of the Oregon Trail, check
out my little review of this recent book, in which, in the end, the author pays
his respects to Mrs. Whitman: http://thechurchoftheopenroad.blogspot.com/2016/04/suggested-reading-oregon-trail-new.html
© 2016
Church of the Open Road Press
