Thomas Waters Cropper (1842 - 1932) Profile

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Thomas Waters Cropper

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Oak City Ward, Record of members collection, 1836-1970

Oak City Ward, Record of members collection, 1836-1970, Page 1-315.

Oak City Ward, Record of members collection, 1836-1970.

The Robert L. Ashby and Hannah Cropper family book of their descendants and ancestors

The Robert L. Ashby and Hannah Cropper family book of their descendants and ancestors. Salt Lake City: Armis J. Ashby, 1991. Page 9-11.

<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">Headed for Utah Again</center>
In the Spring of 1856, we decided to go to Utah. We started in April with 150 head of cattle, some horses, three wagons, and a buggy. William Hawley, having married my half-sister, Nancy, a wagon was fitted out for them. Isaac Hawley, husband of my sister Amelia, drove one wagon and Sam Bertice drove the other wagon.	
Jacob Croft drove the buggy and Stephen Duggins drove his wagon. George and John Hawley each had a wagon. James Slade and his family had three wagons. [Enoch]Hack Shaw [Hackshaw] had an outfit as did also Robert Lloyd.
The company started with about 200 head of cattle. Leigh [Richmond Cropper], George and I helped to drive them. The roads to Kansas City were bad. When we arrived there, fitted out with supplies to cross the plains. We traded some twenty-five head of cattle for the supplies.
<center>West From Kansas City</center>
In May we left Kansas City on our journey to the "Valleys of the Mountains". We crossed the Big Blue River; then on to the Little Blue. The country was very sparsely settled.
Whenever a cow had a calf, we gave it to some rancher, and thus brought on ourselves considerable trouble with the cows breaking back. To overcome this, we took to killing the calves and taking their skins along in some conspicuous place. The cow would follow the skin. We were soon out into the wild Indian country.
<center>Cattle Stampede</center>
One day we were traveling along when we saw several Indians pass our train. The captain became suspicious that we might be attacked and our cattle stolen. That night we put our cattle in a stockade made of logs about eight feet high which was large enough to hold our cattle.
The cattle were uneasy and would not settle down. Four or five of us on horseback rode around and around the stockade trying to quiet them before we left them for the night. Finally they all laid down and we were at the point of leaving them when like a clap of thunder they were on their feet running and trampling each other until they went over the top of the fence and broke the pickets off, making a hole big enough for them to get out.
Away they went with us in front of them letting our horses out as fast as they could go, swinging our hats and hollering at them to try to stop them.
This race continued for about a mile when they stopped as suddenly as they started. We drove them back to the stockade and repaired the fence. This performance was repeated three times during the night. When we counted next morning, nine head of our best beeves were missing. We reported this to the Indian Agent and he paid for the cattle at $20.00 per head.
<center>Indians Demand Toll</center>
Every few days a band of savages, all painted up, would ride into our camp. They would form a line across the road and demand toll in the form of salt, beans, flour, etc. before they would let us pass. At one time an Indian Agent at one point brought us a fine horse that the Indians had stolen from us the year before.
To lessen the danger of attack, we never camped twice on the same campground. We traveled every day an average of fifteen to twenty miles, except on Saturdays and Sundays. Saturday was washday and we traveled only half a day. Sunday we held services and traveled half a day. We always traveled a little every day, no matter what the conditions.
<center>The Platte River Indians</center>
Finally we reached the Platte River, near which we came across a very large camp of savages—mostly women and children. The men were hunting buffalo. The women came into our camp with all sorts of indian finery—moccasins, shawls embroidered with beads and porcupine quills. They wanted to trade for salt, bright colored cloth or flour. They would give about fifty cents in moccasins for a pint of salt or ten cents worth of glass beads.
<center>Buffalo</center>
As we followed along the Platte River the buffalo were very numerous. They surrounded our train on all sides. One day they bolted right through our train and tipped over three wagons. The wagon bows were broken and the contents of the wagons spilled around on the ground, but no one was injured and no serious damage was done.
On one occasion, I was riding my horse "Tobe", which had been trained by the Indians to run buffalo. There was a herd of buffalo nearby. "Tobe" was champing at the bits and acting like he wanted to give chase, so I decided to run up to one of them. After about a quarter of a mile run I got up to one. Then I had a difficult time turning the horse away and back to the train.
<center>Buffalo Meat</center>
We killed a number of buffalo and selected the choicest parts, cut them up, and hung them out to dry on lines along the sides of our wagons. We had plenty of dried meat for our journey, and some left, which we ate after we reached Utah. I never lost my appetite for "Jerked" meat
<center>My New Job</center>
We followed the south bank of the Platte River for two hundred miles and came to a bridge where we crossed to the other side. Near was Fort Kearny where a garrison of soldiers were stationed. Here, Sam Bertice, our teamster joined the soldiers and I was taken from the cattle herding to drive his team.
I was thirteen and I continued with this job into Utah and on down to Fillmore. We came to the Sweet Water River, a small stream which we crossed twenty-six times in twelve miles, We were now on the old Mormon Trail, and saw as many as twenty graves a day where people had been buried along the route.
<center>Hand Cart Companies</center>
There was one Hand Cart Company ahead of us and one behind us. A four mule team from the one in front waited for us and asked for donations for their company. We gave them a ton of flour, a beef and some other provisions. We expected to catch up with them any day, but we lost a number of our work oxen and had to break more, so they beat us to Salt Lake City by two days.
<center>Nearing the Valleys</center>
We finally crossed the Great Divide where the streams ran west instead of east. Then we reached Bear River and went down Echo Canyon, crossing the stream 46 times. There were no bridges at that time. We came up over Little Mountain, also Big Mountain and down Immigration Canyon to Salt Lake City and camped on Immigration Square, where the City and County Building now stands. This was on the eleventh of October, 1856.

Transcript for Cropper, Thomas Waters, "History of Thomas Waters Cropper," in Robert L. Ashby, ed., The Robert L. Ashby and Hannah Cropper Family Book of Their Descendants and Ancestors, Book 4, [1991], 9-11

The Robert L. Ashby and Hannah Cropper family book of their descendants and ancestors.

Thomas Waters Cropper in Family History of Thomas Waters Cropper and Hannah Lucretia Rogers (1957), 22-26, written by Robert L. Ashby

Thomas Waters Cropper in Family History of Thomas Waters Cropper and Hannah Lucretia Rogers (1957), 22-26, written by Robert L. Ashby.

<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">The Missouri River</center>



We reached the Missouri at Weeping Water, four and one-half miles above Nebraska City. Here we had to wait for seven weeks for the immigrants to come. We hired out to farmers to cut and bind grain. One day, while there were about 100 men at the river, a Mr. Hans Jasperson challenged anyone to swim the Missouri with him. I accepted. We went across and back. The water ran swift and was filled with driftwood. The stream was about half a mile wide. It took us down stream four miles. While on the road we practiced running races. I beat all but Hammond. My time was 100 yards in ten and a half seconds.



 



<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">Immigrants</center>



 
When the immigrants came, the captain gave instructions. Eighteen men, women, and children placed their belongings in my wagon. All able-bodied were required to walk. The first night it rained and we had some trouble sleeping. The first day we traveled four miles. Some of the immigrants did not get to camp until dark. On the trip there was much sickness. I should judge about one-tenth died.



 



 



<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">Indian Troubles</center>



 
When we got out on the Platt River the indians were numerous and very warlike. They burned some stations and killed many people. We doubled trains, making 210 wagons in all, averaging about ten persons to the wagon. Just before we reached Plum Creek, a group of United States soldiers passed us. We learned the indians were attacking and burning a train of about fifteen wagons. They were drawn by four horse teams and were loaded with machinery and supplies for Big Horn. I was permitted by the captain to see the massacre. The wagons were on fire, some of the horses were killed by being shot full of arrow. The soldiers buried the victims. A woman was taken alive. There were fifteen graves.



 



We came to a place where a ranch had been burned and a dead man lay where the house had stood. We stopped to bury the man. We camped that night in a bend of the Platt[e] River and put out a heavy guard around the cattle and camp. I was on guard and counted in the moonlight fourteen indians crossing the river not far from our camp. As I passed some of the wagons I could hear the people's teeth chattering with fear. As we traveled the next day we saw about a mile from the road more than a thousand tepees, or wickieups, of Cheyenne and Sioux indians.



As we drove along, four indians came toward the train at full speed on horseback one in advance of the other three. Every man grabbed his gun thinking it might be an attack. The lead indian had a short shotgun. He dashed into the train snapping the gun at the women and girls, making them scream. I had my gun leveled on him and called out to James Jenkins, the teamster ahead, "Shall I shoot him?". He answered, "Don't shoot. His gun didn't go off". The other three indians came up and grabbed him and took him away. The fellow was drunk.



 



<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">Stampede</center>



 
Next morning we were about to start the train, and nearly all the people were with the first twenty wagons, as quick as a clap of thunder, there was a stampede which tipped over wagons and broke oxen's horns off. The cattle ran about 300 yards, then stopped as suddenly as they started. This caused quite a confusion. Some of the broken wagons had to be abandoned and the loads put on other wagons.



 



We came to several streams that were difficult to cross, which caused us quite a lot of trouble. Finally, we had to cross the Platte. Double teams took over half the train at a time. All the people waded. The stream was crotch deep at the deepest places.



In my wagon a woman was confined. I did most of the cooking as these women did not understand cooking on a camp fire. W[illia]m. Brangum [Brangham] was the father of the new baby [Sarah Ann Brangham]. He was not a member of the church and he and his mother-in-law [Ann Barrett] quarreled a great deal of the time. One day they were quarreling and he started to choking his wife [Charlotte Barrett Brangham] and his mother-in-law was fighting him. I grabbed him by the leg and gave him a trouncing. He began to cry and said, "I'll leave you and you'll never see me again".



He left and his wife cried and blamed her mother for driving him off. About nine o'clock he came crawling into the wagon. From that day on he was a changed man. He was good to his wife and her mother and did everything I asked him to do. Finally this man came to Logan and joined the church and was Justice of the Peace the last I heard of him.



 



<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">Meetings</center>



 
We reached the Sweet Water and had to cross the stream twenty-six times. Some of the people decided to take a round about road. We went on through the canyon and camped. The others did not get in that night. We had to lay over a half day and send men out to bring them in. Prayer meeting was held every night. There were some missionaries who preached to us. In the camp there were several concertinas and violins and we often danced on the ground inside the ring of wagons.



 



 



<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">Camp Formation</center>



 
The camp was formed in a circle leaving a gap at each end. The tongues of the wagons pointed out and the front wheels of one wagon chained to the back wheel of the next. The tents were pitched inside the circle next to the wagons. In the morning all tents were folded before the cattle were driven in to be yoked up. With guards at each of the two openings a complete corral was formed.



 



 



<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">Nearing Utah</center>



 
When we reached South Pass, bullberries were plentiful and all enjoyed picking berries. The people felt encouraged to find the water running west. We passed Hams Fork, Black Fork, and the old Fort Bridger; and went on to the head of Echo Canyon. Down the canyon we crossed the stream forty-six times. The deepest places were bridged now. We came to the Weber River and followed the Mormon Trail over the mountains and down Immigration Canyon to Salt Lake City. There the teamsters were discharged and allowed to go home. Some of the men took immigrants with them. I reached home at Deseret near my birthday, October 24, 1864. I was now 22 years old.



 



 



<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">Pay</center>



 
The teamsters were allowed $25.00 a month labor tithing. This you could sell or transfer to men who owed their immigration fund, which was $50.00, to be paid into the perpetual Church immigration fund. I turned $50.00 to Joseph Jensen in exchange for labor. Croft, my step-father [stepfather], furnished four yoke of cattle and one wagon. We furnished our own provisions going down, the Church furnished them coming back.



 



At Nebraska City the captain took one of my oxen, Paddy, to the manager of the immigration fund and it was sold for flour and bacon. Our pay was merely a tithing credit. The $50.00 above mentioned was all I ever received. I went to transfer some more and was told by the Bishop's clerk that it had been transferred to Croft's account, he having been delinquent in his labor tithing. This transaction took place after I was married.



 



<center xmlns:its="http://www.w3.org/2005/11/its" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml">My Buckskin Pants</center>



 
Before I started, mother made me a light green suit from cloth she hired made from Dixie cotton. She employed a widow, Mrs. Anderson, to spin, weave, and dye the cloth. The cloth was died with rabbit brush. I had a good heavy pair of shoes and straw hat which was home braided.



 



When we arrived at the Platt[e] River, Ephraim Tomkinson, one of the teamsters, a stout, heavy-set fellow, bantered me into a trade—his buckskin pants for my cotton ones. His had been wet and had shrunk until he couldn't wear them. My pants fit him like a glove. His were much too short for me, the knee places came inches too high and the bottoms ended half-way to my knees. I could not wear them but the exchange was made.



I had a cow hide in my wagon. This gave me an idea. While riding in the slow moving caravan, I cut the pants and the cow hide into strips and braided nice ox whips. I put a sign on the wagon, "Whips for Sale".



We were meeting many immigrants and the whips sold readily at $1.00 each. I obtained $20.00 from the sales. This, together with the money I earned while waiting for the immigrants, I spent in Nebraska City for clothing and equipment. A trunk cost me $5.00; a suit of clothes was $12.00; a pair of shoes, $2.00, etc. I came home a well dressed young man.

Transcript for Thomas Waters Cropper in Family History of Thomas Waters Cropper and Hannah Lucretia Rogers (1957), 22-26, written by Robert L. Ashby

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