Dora Berthe Atwater Sherwood Lindsey's Autobiography 1881-1885

	The Autobiography of Dora Berthe Atwater Sherwood Lindsey Autobiography written by “Mother Lindsey”, Dora Berthe Atwater Sherwood Lindsey. Transcribed by her great grand-daughter, B.S.F.B. 23 July 2013. Dora Berthe Atwater at 5 months old I was born 26 Feb, 1881 at the farm home of my paternal grandparents, Wm [William] Atwater and Calista Post Atwater, located near Stevenstown, La Crosse Co, Wisconsin. ([On] 3 July 1957 the house was still standing in use, in good condition.) At the time my father Elmer Everett  Edwin Atwater was at Neilsville, Wisconsin where he was employed by a lumber company and where mother [Ella Jane Stevens Atwater] expected to join him that spring.  Dora’s Mother, Ella Jane Stevens Atwater Sherwood (1861-1925) Dora’s Father, Elmer Edwin Atwater (1858-1881) He [Elmer Atwater] visited the family briefly in April & made arrangements for moving. While on his return trip to Neilsville he stopped at Black River Falls, at the home of his uncle Montcalm (Mike) Post. The river was high and the logs of the winters cutting all along the Black River were running fast to the Mississippi River and the mills of Onalaska and La Crosse. The sight was exciting and drew crowds of spectators among them quite naturally, Father [Elmer} & Uncle [Montcalm], both lumbermen.  The fatal accident occurred so quickly, reports on what happened vary. It was generally said that father drowned, thrown into the water by a log which was crowded up by the pressure of those around it which struck him as they stood on the bank. Mother always said that the blow of the log across his temple killed him, tho he was in the water some time before the logs could be drawn off and the body recovered.  When I visited Cousin Leslie Atwater, son of Uncle Le[o]nard (Len) in 2-4 July, 1952, he said “Father always said Uncle Elmer was the most powerful man he ever knew. That the Pevir [Peavey] used by loggers to handle logs broke into three pieces, one still struck in the log, the longer piece flew and struck his temple. The handle broke in his hand and tore away part of the hand but he still held the piece when they found him. Uncle Len was about sixteen at that time, a small slightly built man, his admiration for his powerful eldest brother is quite understandable. Mother and I stayed on at grandfather Atwater’s home for four years. Mother taught the local school, grandmother cared for me while mother was away. She must have had her hands full with Aunt Grace (only 9 mo. older than I) and myself. Nor was grandmother very able to run after us, for she was a heavy woman and her limbs troubled her much.     Grandfather William Bigelow Atwater & Grandmother Caroline Calista Post Atwater  Second photo also William Bigelow Atwater (1833-1917) with his wife Caroline Calista Post (1841-1918) at about age 60 (close up) Perhaps that was one reason why we were often with Uncle Len about his work. Grandmother used to say that no night was too dark for me to run from the house, down the path to the barn to join him when I could see the light from his lantern where he was doing chores. Uncle Leonard Frank Atwater with hogs March 1918 (he lived 1865-1950)   The actual memories I have of our life at the Atwater home are probably of incidents which occurred the last spring and summer, after my fourth birthday. Young Dora Berthe Atwater, holding a cat While our mother did spring sewing, Grace and I sewed, over-hand, blocks of the pieces to make us quilts and ran away out into the spring rain to find last year’s playhouse out by the leach. The leach was a huge container into the which the year’s wood-ashes were dumped. In the spring, water poured into the top, drained slowly down thru the packed ashes and dripped out, heavily impregnated with lye. This was added to the year’s accumulation of waste fats and all were boiled in a huge iron kettle over an outside fire until it turned into soap. A most fascinating performance! Grace and I planted squash seeds around the caved in foundation of the “old house.” Too eager I leaned forward too far and the corner of her hoe cut to the bone just inside the hair line leaving a troublesome lifetime scar. Only the heavy pasteboard slats of my sun-bonnet saved my life that time. But I never can learn. Look! Wonderful! Someone has left the kindling hatchet down. Now I can cut wood like Uncle Len. So I plant my bare foot on the log and bam down came the hatchet between the bones of my foot above the great toe and the next pinning me to the log. Another scar! And, let everyone make way for you Dora, or you will tangle your self in mother’s work and fall squarely on the point of her ripping knife. And you take it on the chin, Ugh! Blood all over her work and another scar. But dresses had too much cloth in them those days, anyway. Ummm – a reputation for being fearless has its points but even I don’t quite like to see mother lift the trap-door to the cellar and hand me a pan to fill with potatoes from the bin under the stairs. But I go and get the dirty, buggy things because I’m not afraid like Aunt Grace, well at least not too much afraid, and I’ll never let on any way.  And there were [and] are great days. Grandmother’s stepfather Kendrick was English and had a brother who went to Australia and made a fortune likewise raised a numerous family. (Mother had pictures of them, 3 sons and [8? 3?] daughters.) Just which ones of the family came to America and visited gr. grandfather Kendrick I do not know. The important point was that they brought Grace and I each a wonderful doll with wax head & arms & feet, real hair and beautiful clothes. They wanted mother to go to Australia with them, to a new life in a wonderful new land. I was quite a grown-up young lady before I ceased to regret that mother did not accept. What exciting adventures we could have had! Oh, well, just wait! A determined, adventurous spirit can lead a small girl thru many experiences in 70 years.  It think the real curls on that dolly helped me to sit hours on a stool in front of grandmother while she curled my hair into curls around her finger and made me sit still while it dried. Wonder if that is why I have always hated to have any one touch my hair.  I do not remember how or when we left there but think it must have been late summer because my first recollection of our new home probably occurred in September. So I will say that the first chapter of my happy childhood ends about August of 1885. I had only brief visits to the home of my birth after that. Dora Berthe Atwater Sherwood Lindsey and Guy William Jenkins Lindsey 1912 - close up Autobiography written by “Mother Lindsey”, Dora Berthe Atwater Sherwood Lindsey. Transcribed by her great grand-daughter, BSFB 23 July 2013. Photos added by transcriber. [ ] = transcriber’s notes or additions. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- For Reference, to make things easier to picture…… Peavey (tool) From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peavey_%28tool%29 A peavey or peavey hook is a logging tool consisting of a handle, generally from 30 to 50 inches long (0.75 to 1.25 m), with a metal spike protruding from the end. The spike is rammed into a log, then a hook (at the end of an arm attached to a pivot a short distance up the handle) grabs the log at a second location. Once engaged, the handle gives the operator leverage to roll or slide or float the log to a new position. The peavey was named for blacksmith Joseph Peavey of Upper Stillwater, Maine, who invented the tool as a refinement to the cant hook (also known as a "cant dog") in the 1850s. Many lumberjacks use the terms interchangeably, though a peavey will have a spike in the end of the handle, and a cant dog will have a blunt end or possibly small teeth for friction.[1] The Peavey Manufacturing Co. is still located in Maine and manufactures several variations. For a view of the city Nellisville, Wisconsin where Elmer was going, visit http://www.flickr.com/photos/whsimages/1338024006/lightbox/ ----------------------------------------- Below: Logging Camp, Black River Falls, Wisconsin approx.. 1880 A “Ripping Knife” like Dora may have fallen on as a child…. Below Image found at:   http://www.wisconsinhistory.org/whi/fullRecord.asp?id=46149 This is NOT a relative, but a representation of how Elmer Edwin Atwater may have dressed as a lumberjack working at Black River Falls, Wisconsin.  Title:  Portrait of Lumberjack Description: Studio portrait of a lumberjack from Black River Falls, Wisconsin, wearing a hat, fringed shirt, trousers, suspenders, and boots. He is holding a peavy and is posing in front of a painted backdrop. Image ID: 46149 Creator Name: Van Schaick, Charles City, State: Black River Falls, Wisconsin Collection Name: Van Schaick, Charles : Photographs And Negatives, ca. 1880-ca. 1940+ Genre: Photographs