By Obediah Sattley Church
On a certain day in June, 1867, a man trudged his weary way over the Donner Summit of the Sierra Nevada mountains enroute to any place that would assure him of work during the ensuing summer and autumn.
Down the almost cliff-like eastern side of the Pass, wound the road, made by the emigrants of the “forties” to Donner Lake, noted as the place where perished, by starvation, the major portion of the celebrated Donner Party, during the winter of 1846-47, and immortalized by CF. McGlashen in his “History of the Donner Party” past this most beautiful of all lakes and on to the then bustling town of Truckee.
Samuel Berry was a quiet man of studious habits, and was seldom seen alone without a book, magazines or newspaper in his hand. He was from the north of Ireland of Scottish parentage, and came to America in his early youth. He was, at the time we are introducing him, about thirty years of age.
While in the reading room of the Truckee Hotel, he learned of the great Sierra valley thirty miles to the north, as the most likely locality for a farmhand to secure permanent employment. The next evening found him in the little town of Sierraville. The day following, Abram D. Church of Church’s Corner (now Sattley) desiring a helping hand, drove into town from his ranch four miles away.
He met our traveling friend and secured his services for the summer and autumn’s labor.
Sam’s ability so commended itself to Mr. Church, that when the season’s work was over, he exacted a promise from him to return the following spring. This he did, and for several seasons faithfully served the three Church brothers in their farming operations. During this time, he formed the acquaintance of Joseph and Sanford Morrison and George Pettingill, all farmhands from the state of Maine.
Finally Mr. Berry, or Same as we shall call him, became so enamored with the country, that he decided to make Sierra Valley his future home. He located for a time, on what was afterwards known as the Hapgood place between Sierra and Mohawk Valley but soon gave up this locations and rented the old Ewer place near where Hamlin’s canyon debouches into Sierra Valley, with the intention of making it his future home.
There being, at this time, so many small fur bearing animals, pine marten (American Sable), mink otter, foxes, coyotes and even lynxes in the many ramifications of this broad but deep and gloomy canyon, it occurred to Sam to trap for these animals during the long, dreary winter months. This he did with good results during the first winter’s stay in the new home.
Sometime during the next summer, while grouse hunting in the canyon’s fastnesses, Sam suddenly came across the fresh tracks of an immense grizzly bear Being armed only with a shotgun, he wisely decided to take the back track. The tracks led back to a point near an old log cabin where he found he carcass of a young heifer upon which his bearship had been feeding. He inspected the cabin, and found it to be poor protection against an infuriated grizzly. However he decided to secure a rifle and lay in wait for the bear. After nearly a week’s waiting, his vigil was at length rewarded, but the bear was of such enormous size, the night o intensely ark and the cabin at such a distance from the target, he dared not attempt a shot at his time. The bear failed to put in an appearance after this.
For company’s sake, Sam shared his home with Sanford Morrison during the winter of ’74 and ’75. Early in the morning of November 29, 1874, Sam shouldered his skiis and pole and entered the depths of Hamlin’s Canyon to collect the trapped animals and to reset and rebait the traps. That afternoon he failed to return at the usual hour. Morrison, at the time, thought nothing of this, as snow to the depth of four or five feet had lately fallen in the upper reaches of the canyon, necessitating very slow traveling even on skiis. But, as nine, ten, eleven and finally twelve o’clock passed and still no welcome footstep, Sanford became thoroughly alarmed.
Early the next morning, after a sleepless night he entered the canyon in an attempt to solve the puzzling absence. He was of the opinion that Sam had become disabled by falling or by having been thrown from his swiftly running skiis. After a fruitless all day search through the deep snow and another storm threatening, he hastened to the Corner and sound the alarm. He was able, on this second day of the search, to gather, at most, but about twelve or fourteen men. With six inches of new snow as an additional ham per to their operations, these men searched as thoroughly as was possible under the circumstances but to no purpose. The whole community, being now thoroughly aroused, the third day of the search found more than two hundred men floundering through the deep snow in every part of the canyon. All were armed, for the signal, if Berry was found, was to be three shots.
It happened, during the afternoon, George Pettingill, Abram D. Church and Frank Rowland met far up in the upper reaches of the canyon, and, while resting, Pettingill mentioned the fact that he had discovered what he believed to be bear tracks further down the canyon, and that if they were bear tracks, he was a monster. Mr. Rowland suggested that they examine the tracks, so the three retraced Pettingill’s steps down the canyon to the point where he had made the discovery. After clearing one of the deep depressions of its accumulated snow, the imprint of a bear’s foot and claws were plainly to be seen. The bear was evidently making his way down the canyon. A suspicion came into their minds that perhaps the tracks might lead to a solving of the disappearance.
Tired, as they were, they decided to trace the track back up the canyon. They met with some difficulty in following the tracks, as in many places, they were all but obliterated by masses of snow falling from the windblown trees of the dense pine forest that clothes this portion of the canyon. They were but a very short distance away from and within night of what proved to be the death scene, when they saw Isaac Church and H.F. Turner in the canyon above them.
By this time, many had become exhausted by the heavy traveling and had given up the search for the day and were leaving the canyon, when, Hark! From far up in the dark recesses of the gloomy canyon came the boom, boom, boom, of a distant shotgun. Isaac S.. Church and H.F. Turner who had been searching together during the day, in passing by an immense, dead and burned out pine stumbled over Sam’s skiis. They shouted to the party toiling up the canyon and in a few moments, Pettingill, having a shotgun, fired the signal that the search was over
They examined the tree and fund that it had been the winter home of a large grizzly bear. A few steps down the mountain side blood began to stain the snow. Fifty feet further down the canyon, in a grove of small fir trees, the body lay torn and mangled beyond recognition. Soon grim visage mountaineers began to assemble and preparations for removing the body were quickly made by lashing to it a small fir sapling. Four men, working relays, then shouldered the burden, and poor Sam was borne to the home where he was destined never again to enter alive.
Isaac S. Church, and other, in commenting on what probably occurred at the time of the great tragedy, believed that the bear when he sprang from his den would have run away, had he not been confronted by a large tree that had fallen down in front of his den. He sprang directly into this trap and could go o further in this direction. He evidently saw Sam running and started in pursuit. Sam ran to and escaped over one of the fallen trees, the bear was upon him, striking him first in the back, tearing off his coast vest shirt, and flesh from neck to waist,, laying bare the ribs. Then the one-sided struggle began. In order to protect his face, Sam to all appearances, had attempted to ward off the fierce onslaught of the bear by using his bare hands, as the hands and fingers were broken mangled and torn to shreds. After struggling into the grove of small fir sapplings, Sam had grasped one of them with his mangled hands, and then around and around this tree they struggle until Sam sank, probably unconscious. The bear had then clawed and torn him until and unrecognizable mass. So fierce and sudden had been the bear’s onslaught, that Sam had no opportunity to draw a weapon, as his knife and hatchet were still in their scabbards attached to his belt.
The next day Bill Gogle and Doc Sargant, two hunters and trappers of those days, living in Sierraville, took the bear’s track the next day, and followed them in back of Weber Lake, but did not overtake him.
It was supposed to be the bear called “Old Club Foot.” Club Foot was a grizzly that had been caught in a steel trap and lost two or three toes. He was killed ii Shasta County some years later, and weighed over 1,600 pounds. If these men were there on the hunt, Lafe Blatchley of Sierraville; Henry Quingley of Downieville, Sierra County Clerk; Alfred Garfield of Sattley and Levi Garfield of Golconda, Nev. They were the only men that took part in the hunt. At that time they were young men from 16 to 18 years of age. C.G. Church of Loyalton, will vouch for every word of this being a true story, as he has heard his father tell it many times, and remember the day it happened, being 11 years of age.
Hamlin Canyon is three miles southwest of Sierraville, about south of the Henry Dotta ranch.
On a certain day in June, 1867, a man trudged his weary way over the Donner Summit of the Sierra Nevada mountains enroute to any place that would assure him of work during the ensuing summer and autumn.
Down the almost cliff-like eastern side of the Pass, wound the road, made by the emigrants of the “forties” to Donner Lake, noted as the place where perished, by starvation, the major portion of the celebrated Donner Party, during the winter of 1846-47, and immortalized by CF. McGlashen in his “History of the Donner Party” past this most beautiful of all lakes and on to the then bustling town of Truckee.
Samuel Berry was a quiet man of studious habits, and was seldom seen alone without a book, magazines or newspaper in his hand. He was from the north of Ireland of Scottish parentage, and came to America in his early youth. He was, at the time we are introducing him, about thirty years of age.
While in the reading room of the Truckee Hotel, he learned of the great Sierra valley thirty miles to the north, as the most likely locality for a farmhand to secure permanent employment. The next evening found him in the little town of Sierraville. The day following, Abram D. Church of Church’s Corner (now Sattley) desiring a helping hand, drove into town from his ranch four miles away.
He met our traveling friend and secured his services for the summer and autumn’s labor.
Sam’s ability so commended itself to Mr. Church, that when the season’s work was over, he exacted a promise from him to return the following spring. This he did, and for several seasons faithfully served the three Church brothers in their farming operations. During this time, he formed the acquaintance of Joseph and Sanford Morrison and George Pettingill, all farmhands from the state of Maine.
Finally Mr. Berry, or Same as we shall call him, became so enamored with the country, that he decided to make Sierra Valley his future home. He located for a time, on what was afterwards known as the Hapgood place between Sierra and Mohawk Valley but soon gave up this locations and rented the old Ewer place near where Hamlin’s canyon debouches into Sierra Valley, with the intention of making it his future home.
There being, at this time, so many small fur bearing animals, pine marten (American Sable), mink otter, foxes, coyotes and even lynxes in the many ramifications of this broad but deep and gloomy canyon, it occurred to Sam to trap for these animals during the long, dreary winter months. This he did with good results during the first winter’s stay in the new home.
Sometime during the next summer, while grouse hunting in the canyon’s fastnesses, Sam suddenly came across the fresh tracks of an immense grizzly bear Being armed only with a shotgun, he wisely decided to take the back track. The tracks led back to a point near an old log cabin where he found he carcass of a young heifer upon which his bearship had been feeding. He inspected the cabin, and found it to be poor protection against an infuriated grizzly. However he decided to secure a rifle and lay in wait for the bear. After nearly a week’s waiting, his vigil was at length rewarded, but the bear was of such enormous size, the night o intensely ark and the cabin at such a distance from the target, he dared not attempt a shot at his time. The bear failed to put in an appearance after this.
For company’s sake, Sam shared his home with Sanford Morrison during the winter of ’74 and ’75. Early in the morning of November 29, 1874, Sam shouldered his skiis and pole and entered the depths of Hamlin’s Canyon to collect the trapped animals and to reset and rebait the traps. That afternoon he failed to return at the usual hour. Morrison, at the time, thought nothing of this, as snow to the depth of four or five feet had lately fallen in the upper reaches of the canyon, necessitating very slow traveling even on skiis. But, as nine, ten, eleven and finally twelve o’clock passed and still no welcome footstep, Sanford became thoroughly alarmed.
Early the next morning, after a sleepless night he entered the canyon in an attempt to solve the puzzling absence. He was of the opinion that Sam had become disabled by falling or by having been thrown from his swiftly running skiis. After a fruitless all day search through the deep snow and another storm threatening, he hastened to the Corner and sound the alarm. He was able, on this second day of the search, to gather, at most, but about twelve or fourteen men. With six inches of new snow as an additional ham per to their operations, these men searched as thoroughly as was possible under the circumstances but to no purpose. The whole community, being now thoroughly aroused, the third day of the search found more than two hundred men floundering through the deep snow in every part of the canyon. All were armed, for the signal, if Berry was found, was to be three shots.
It happened, during the afternoon, George Pettingill, Abram D. Church and Frank Rowland met far up in the upper reaches of the canyon, and, while resting, Pettingill mentioned the fact that he had discovered what he believed to be bear tracks further down the canyon, and that if they were bear tracks, he was a monster. Mr. Rowland suggested that they examine the tracks, so the three retraced Pettingill’s steps down the canyon to the point where he had made the discovery. After clearing one of the deep depressions of its accumulated snow, the imprint of a bear’s foot and claws were plainly to be seen. The bear was evidently making his way down the canyon. A suspicion came into their minds that perhaps the tracks might lead to a solving of the disappearance.
Tired, as they were, they decided to trace the track back up the canyon. They met with some difficulty in following the tracks, as in many places, they were all but obliterated by masses of snow falling from the windblown trees of the dense pine forest that clothes this portion of the canyon. They were but a very short distance away from and within night of what proved to be the death scene, when they saw Isaac Church and H.F. Turner in the canyon above them.
By this time, many had become exhausted by the heavy traveling and had given up the search for the day and were leaving the canyon, when, Hark! From far up in the dark recesses of the gloomy canyon came the boom, boom, boom, of a distant shotgun. Isaac S.. Church and H.F. Turner who had been searching together during the day, in passing by an immense, dead and burned out pine stumbled over Sam’s skiis. They shouted to the party toiling up the canyon and in a few moments, Pettingill, having a shotgun, fired the signal that the search was over
They examined the tree and fund that it had been the winter home of a large grizzly bear. A few steps down the mountain side blood began to stain the snow. Fifty feet further down the canyon, in a grove of small fir trees, the body lay torn and mangled beyond recognition. Soon grim visage mountaineers began to assemble and preparations for removing the body were quickly made by lashing to it a small fir sapling. Four men, working relays, then shouldered the burden, and poor Sam was borne to the home where he was destined never again to enter alive.
Isaac S. Church, and other, in commenting on what probably occurred at the time of the great tragedy, believed that the bear when he sprang from his den would have run away, had he not been confronted by a large tree that had fallen down in front of his den. He sprang directly into this trap and could go o further in this direction. He evidently saw Sam running and started in pursuit. Sam ran to and escaped over one of the fallen trees, the bear was upon him, striking him first in the back, tearing off his coast vest shirt, and flesh from neck to waist,, laying bare the ribs. Then the one-sided struggle began. In order to protect his face, Sam to all appearances, had attempted to ward off the fierce onslaught of the bear by using his bare hands, as the hands and fingers were broken mangled and torn to shreds. After struggling into the grove of small fir sapplings, Sam had grasped one of them with his mangled hands, and then around and around this tree they struggle until Sam sank, probably unconscious. The bear had then clawed and torn him until and unrecognizable mass. So fierce and sudden had been the bear’s onslaught, that Sam had no opportunity to draw a weapon, as his knife and hatchet were still in their scabbards attached to his belt.
The next day Bill Gogle and Doc Sargant, two hunters and trappers of those days, living in Sierraville, took the bear’s track the next day, and followed them in back of Weber Lake, but did not overtake him.
It was supposed to be the bear called “Old Club Foot.” Club Foot was a grizzly that had been caught in a steel trap and lost two or three toes. He was killed ii Shasta County some years later, and weighed over 1,600 pounds. If these men were there on the hunt, Lafe Blatchley of Sierraville; Henry Quingley of Downieville, Sierra County Clerk; Alfred Garfield of Sattley and Levi Garfield of Golconda, Nev. They were the only men that took part in the hunt. At that time they were young men from 16 to 18 years of age. C.G. Church of Loyalton, will vouch for every word of this being a true story, as he has heard his father tell it many times, and remember the day it happened, being 11 years of age.
Hamlin Canyon is three miles southwest of Sierraville, about south of the Henry Dotta ranch.
