Dakota Diary - 2 - The Train Journey

 Bismarck, Dakota Territory, is 1500 miles as the crow flies from Bridgeport, Connecticut. But unfortunately, trains don’t follow the straight lines of crows. We had a choice of routes. We could go north, via Boston, as we had done when we arrived from La Crosse all those years before. Or we could go south to New York City - a journey of two hours covering 51 miles, which is what we chose.

We changed trains at Grand Central Station (where we had spent some time three years previously when we had gone to find out more about the Indians who were involved in the massacre from the New York Herald offices). In New York we actually had the choice of four train routes to Chicago, but decided on the most direct one and took the New York Central.

As well as writing in my diary each day, I need to keep an account of the money we spend on this trip. We started out with $300, thinking we were quite rich. But the train tickets have cost us 2 cents a mile, which means that 38 of our precious dollars have been spent on only the first leg of our journey.

“All aboard!” and a train bell, which was mounted on top of the train engine began to ring, to let us know it was time to take our seats, and for those waiting on the platform to stand well back.

Having eaten before we boarded the train at 7 p.m. we were getting settled in our compartment, when we were addressed by a middle aged man who immediately put us at ease. He was dressed very smartly in a dark suit with a pearl gray waist coat, which had a watch chain across it.
Of medium height and weight, with brown eyes and hair, he had wire glasses which seemed almost to be falling off his nose. And he had smile that looked most sincere, with deep dimples on each side of his mustache-topped mouth.

“How do you ladies do?” He stood up, took off his hat, and bowed deeply. He had a very upper class accent. We couldn’t help but giggle.

“We are well, thank you,” I said. I almost said, “kind sir,” but stopped myself in time.

“May I introduce myself, as we shall be in close company for many hours to come. My name is John Erastus Lester. I come from Providence, Rhode Island. Have you girls ever been there?”

“No, but we would very much like to,” I answered for both of us.

“Well, I am very pleased to be traveling west. This is not my first visit. You might say that I am a veteran train journeyman, and I am at your service if you have any questions about the trip.”

“What do you do in Providence?”

“I am a lawyer, or perhaps I should say, I was. I am sort of semi-retired due to bad health. I thought a spot of sunshine out west would do me well.”

“Where do you intend to go?”

“I am booked for San Francisco - and I might go down to Yosemite. I have to wait and see when I get there. When I last made this journey, in 1872, I traveled the length of the country on the train, much as we are doing today, and I fell in love with it. I wrote a book about it, in fact several books.”

“Are you married?”

“Yes indeed, and we have two sons.”

“Didn't your wife and family want to travel with you?”

“My wife doesn't enjoy traveling, and my sons are in boarding school. But tell me, if I might be so bold, are you young ladies going to Chicago?”

“Oh, how rude. We haven’t introduced ourselves,” I said. “I am Mattie Kellogg, and this is my sister Cora Sue. We are going to Chicago - but that is only the start of our journey. We change there
to go to visit relatives in La Crosse, Wisconsin, and then go to Dakota Territory. Have you ever been there?”

“No, I can’t say that I have. Do you recommend it?”

We giggled. “We don’t know anything about it. But we lost our Pa six years ago in 1876. He was killed by Indians. Anyway, the last place he lived was in Bismarck in Dakota Territory and we thought it would be nice to go there and meet the people who knew him.”

“You didn’t live with him then?”

“No, we were living with our grandmother and aunt. Our mother died when we were young, and our father left us pretty soon after that. He came home for the odd week over the years, but we saw and heard little of him.”

“And you say he was killed by Indians?”

“Yes, well, I expect you will have heard of the Battle of the Little Bighorn when General Custer’s entire company was massacred. Our Pa was a journalist, following the troops for the story, and he paid the same price as those who carried guns instead of a pencil.”

“Ah, I am so sorry to hear that. And you hope to find out more about him and about the whole sad story. I do wish you luck. Now, I am going to change the subject and tell you a bit of my vast knowledge of this country as we go past it.”

It turned out he was a fount of knowledge and kept up a running commentary about what we were seeing out of the window for the trip - which was to take us 36 hours for the 950 miles journey. The train averaged 25 miles per hour - although occasionally it could go as fast as 40 - much faster than a coach or boat could travel - but the trains stopped for meals, so that slowed us down somewhat.

“Now
from New York to Albany (which is 144 miles), we go directly along the banks of the Hudson River, and I feel it is amongst the finest scenery in the world. The River takes its name from Hendrik Hudson, the Dutch navigator, who was one of the earliest explorers of this part of the New World. Look across the broad bosom of the river, which is here about two miles wide, look at the palisades; the high perpendicular cliffs, which form the western bank of the stream. They extend for about two miles, and are an unfailing cause of wonder and interest.”

He was a good teacher - and very knowledgeable. We were happy to let him tell us all he knew.

As we sped along, he continued, “All along the river on the eastern side lie country mansions and cottages of the merchant princes and the old Knickerbocker families, the elegant retreats of thousands noted for their wealth or for success in business, politics, or literature. The landed estates are extensive and highly cultivated. The river is navigable as far as Albany.”

Soon it was getting late, and although we had not made any arrangements in advance, Mr. Lester suggested that we avail ourselves of overnight accommodation in the sleeping car, and he arranged with the conductor to see that we were set up. It cost us an extra $2 (plus a 25 cent tip to the porter) but was well worth it for assuring that we had a reasonable night’s sleep.

When we had breakfasted and rejoined Mr. Lester in our coach, he told us about what we would have seen in the night had we been awake.
He said we had passed through agricultural regions; and a continuous chain of cities and large towns as far as Niagara Falls.

“This area is one of the most important, most populous, and wealthiest sections of the Union,” said Mr. Lester. “The Erie Canal, the greatest public work in America, is just there,” he said, pointing
out the window. He then added, “New York is called the ‘Empire State’ having held a more numerous population, and, until the admission of Texas in 1870, having been larger, than any other state
of the Union..

It was at Buffalo that we had to change trains and we joined the Chicago and Michigan Lake Shore line. We were very pleased that Mr. Lester was continuing on the same journey, as we felt very comforted by his knowledge. On the route we went through Cleveland, Ohio, and along
many industrial cities, until the train hugged the shore of Lake Michigan itself, which was truly an amazing sight.

Mr. Lester, informed us of what we were viewing at every opportunity. “In earlier days, national thoroughfares extended only from the Atlantic coast to the Allegheny Mountains, or, like the Erie Canal, to the Lakes nearest the coast; and, later, the National Road (a wide turnpike) extended hardly as far as Illinois. Now, ‘through’ routes must extend from ocean to ocean. The lines from New York have are now almost completed.”

I told Mr. Lester, “We will soon be viewing the bridge over the Missouri at Bismarck, which when completed, will mean the northern route from coast to coast is complete.”

“You are very lucky,” he said, “to be a part of that great piece of history.”

As we were soon due to arrive in Chicago, Mr. Lester pointed out to us what we would be seeing.

“You will find the citizens have an asserting spirit and they are usually accused of rather frequent proclamations of Chicago’s greatness. They boast of her as the prodigy of the Western World; and, even in her destruction by the conflagration of October, 1871, they seemed to forget their misfortunes in exulting that it was the greatest bonfire on record.

"I expect we shall feel lost when we get there. Do you have any suggestions as to where we should lodge in Chicago, as we intend to stay a day or two before we take a trip south to Springfield to see
Buffalo Bill in the Wild West show?”

“Well, I myself am staying at the Grand Pacific, (pictured above) and I cannot recommend any place better in the city. Mr. Drake, the manager, is a great friend of mine. And it is reasonably close to both the train station and to the main sightseeing district and shopping area of downtown Chicago. If you wish to go there, you can share my taxi,” he added.

We were again very pleased to be able to avail ourselves of his kindness, and thanked him very much.

On embarking, Mr. Lester flagged down a taxi outside the station, and we all climbed in, but the trip to the hotel took only a few minutes. He was expected and greeted at the door as an old friend. He waved to us, and said he hoped to see us at dinner. We thanked him effusively for his help.

As we took our turn at the desk, I had an idea. “Why don’t I ask to see the manager, and show him Mr. Bennett’s letter, and see if he can suggest any items that I might write up for the New York Herald?”

“Oh, Mattie,” said Cora Sue, “I am not at all sure about this pretending to be journalists thing. I am not that competent at writing, and am not even sure what makes a good story.”

“Oh, don’t be a spoil sport,” I said. “You say you want to experience life, and travel. As long as we are here in Chicago, let’s make the most of it. He can only said that he has no suggestions for
us. We can still stay at his hotel and do our own investigations. I don’t see what we have to lose.”

“Oh, all right, then, but you must do all the talking.”

So when we came into the palatial lobby of the hotel, I went up to the main desk, and said that we wished accommodation for three nights. We were duly booked in, and then I asked if it might be possible for us to see the manager.

“Whatever for?” asked the clerk.

“I have a letter from Mr Bennett, owner of the New York Herald, giving me authority to use his name to get information about interesting stories we come up with in our travels. I would just like
to ask Mr. Drake, the manager, if he has any suggestions for me.”

The clerk perked up considerably with the name Mr. Bennett and the The New York Herald,
and said to wait and she would see if Mr. Drake could see us. After a few minutes, she returned, and invited us to go into his office. She said our luggage would be taken up to our room, 301.

Both visibly trembling with excitement and nervousness, we were ushered into Mr. Drake’s office. He stood up, and shook our hands gravely.

“My receptionist tells me you are working for Mr. Bennett - and want some suggestions about Chicago things to write about,” he said, not wasting words on trivialities.

I handed him our letter of introduction. He read it through and handed it back.

“So you are Mark Kellogg’s daughters. I certainly heard of him - as has the whole world I expect. But as far as I know he had no connection with Chicago.”

“We are not here because of our father. Our trip to Dakota Territory is for that purpose,” I said, “and it is only items that we might write up as young, interested tourists to your wonderful city, that we are seeking.”

“Well,” he said, “you must visit our business district and see the Water Tower, which we are very proud of. I assume you have heard about the great fire in Chicago in 1871?”

We agreed we had heard a bit about it.

“Well this hotel for one was burned to the ground, and so were blocks and blocks of buildings in the city. But we are proud that ours was the first hotel back in business again less than two years later. And the Fire Tower is a monument to those who lost their lives in that fire, as well as being a very powerful method of preventing future disasters of that sort. How long are you girls staying in our fair
city?”

“About three days.”

“Are you interested in baseball? You might well do a story about our new park, called the 'Baseball Palace of the World' by some. It really is something else, holding 29,000 people. And they sometimes now have a Ladies' Day, you know.

“Also I expect you ladies would like to do some shopping while you are here. Marshall Fields and Butler Brothers are the ones I think most ladies prefer. When are you leaving?”

“We
plan to take the train to Springfield on Thursday in order to see the Wild West show with Buffalo Bill,” Cora Sue said.

“Ah, what fun that will be for you. He isn’t bringing his show up this far or I would be tempted to go to it as well. Do you plan on returning here?”

“Yes, as we are going on to La Crosse to visit relatives and then on to Bismarck in Dakota Territory.”

“Well, if you could manage to stay in Chicago over this next weekend, you would certainly get a story out of the transportation fair that it taking place. History will be made when they reveal the train which will be the future for our railways, as it travels on electricity, rather than steam.”

“Oh, yes, that would be most interesting. If we are here, we will certainly take that in.”

“I will inform the desk that you will be our guests during your stay here, and I hope you will let Mr. Bennett know that you have had a warm welcome and a comfortable stay in Chicago.”

We thanked him, and couldn’t believe our good fortune. The hotel cost $7.50 a night for a double room - so we would be able to save at least $25, if, as he implied, his generosity included our meals.

We walked up the two flights of stairs to our very adequate room, and settled down to plan our day of sightseeing.