By Jessie Schamp
as told to A. R. Bastian, Chugwater.
(Transcribed by Carolyn Dennis Kress)

I remember my first day of school better than anything. The little red building the odd seats or benches, my books, the dinner pail and the children who were there. The teacher asked, "What is your name?" I said, "Jessie Dennis." "Well, well," she replied, "you are a pretty nice young lady, a little Irish girl."
Proud of Irish Ancestry
I have often been called Irish since then, but I rather resented it. Not that I was ever ashamed or wanted to apologize for the Irish that is in me, but I've always been first and last an American. United States is my home and always was my home. I don't think there ever was a desire during my life that I wanted to be anywhere else. If transplanted I'm afraid I'd prove like some of our mountain flowers do when brought into the villages.
Most of my life has been spent west of the Mississippi River. Only three years of it east, and that was the first three, from 1866 to 1869. I remember a few events, places, and happenings of old Sycamore, Ill., but it all seems so long, long ago. My parents, like many others of that age, imbibed the spirit of the times. Go west, and west we went. So, in 1870 my father and mother were nicely located on their homestead 40 miles from Coffeeville, Kansas. Those were interesting and stirring times. Just a few years after the Civil War, with most of the people still feeling the effects of it.
Kansas, the dark and bloody ground. Here is where Jesse James' gang and others, not so honorable, were scouring the country, where John Brown started his raid; Indians, too, were more or less on the warpath, as you know by reading history. Hence, it took more than just ordinary courage to stay and make a home. But the pioneers of that day were equal to the occasion. They simply stayed and made good. My father not only received a deed for his land, but he saw the time when a town was laid out on the farm which bore his name.
As I think of it now the thing that made the greatest impression on me in those days was the rolling prairies. How beautiful they looked in the spring and summer, but in the fall when the grass dried, how treacherous and dangerous. Fires were frequent. I have seen flames leap seemingly hundreds of feet upward, sweeping everything as they went. Cattle, horses and wild life had to run for their lives. Homes were in danger and fighting fires by breaking sod and back burning got to be a real accomplishment. I haven't words to describe the beauty and horror of a great prairie fire. Sometimes it would seem that all of the furnaces of the world had broken loose and then by some miraculous event such as a rain or a wind, the flames would cease and be subdued quicker than an army of men could conquer it. Just as tho some unseen power had come to our rescue.
In that early day, too, good drinking water was hard to obtain. Shallow wells, low streams, whatever it was caused more or less fever. I was a victim of the malady (typhoid). Think of it, a sick girl, so sick that she didn't even care to live, and 40 miles from the nearest doctor. Did I say 40 miles? Yes, from a real M. D. But thanks to my father, he seemed to understand what to do and what not to do; fact is, I think of him as just as good as any doctor. Anyway, he pulled me thru. As time went on his skill became well known and he was frequently called on to administer relief in one way or another to the entire neighborhood. In after years many folks admitted that he had saved their lives.
We didn't stay in Kansas very long. Not much longer than to get a good home established, when father got crowded. He longed for greener and newer fields and we moved into Indian Territory, later Oklahoma. We made the trip with an ox team. Compared now to the automobile, it was slow, but we finally got there. (I can't say that this has always been true about the automobile.) It was lots of fun, camping as we went. We could walk or we could ride. Lots of game and fish and plenty of time. I wish now I could make that trip all over again.
Adopted By Indians
When we arrived at our destination in the Indian Territory, we found we were in a country almost as wild as Columbus found when he landed in America. Just one white family, named Green, besides us. In a way, however, I'm glad it was that way for I got acquainted with the Indians. I used to run about their camp and play with the Indian children just like I would have with the whites. I shall never forget the kindness of all of them to me, especially the older folks. Fact is, I think my father must have apologized to them for my boldness. Anyway, Chief Joe Kernal of the Indians not only seemed to get more kindly as the time went by, but he and father became good friends as well, He even brought some of his braves over and had them help build the log house on our place.
Later on the season of dances and sacrifices came on, (this is in the fall of the year) and the Indians worship the Great Spirit. I don't know really; but there are certain ceremonies and rites they go thru. Anyway, I was invited to take part and did (my parents gave their consent) and I became an Indian by adoption. This ceremony gave me Indian privileges and Indian rights. Later in life I failed to follow this up with prayer papers as I should have. Had I done this I might now be the owner of several oil wells in Oklahoma, as some of my Indian friends now possess. This little mistake is just the difference between success and failure.
We were allowed, I'm afraid sometime too much liberty. One little prank almost cost me my life, but now as I look back I just see the bright side. The white neighbors, to which I referred a while ago, had a girl about my size. One day we undertook to go somewhere.

Take Chief's Horse
We took the Indian Chief's prize saddle horse and started out riding double. We wandered around enjoying ourselves, going here and there in and over the timber, forgetting that the day was passing, until the sun was about down. We then tried to retrace our path, but look as we might, we just couldn't find our way. We didn't know what to do. Darkness came on, panthers wildcats and wolves followed and howled.
Some kind of great big animal got right in front of us, snapping and snarling. It had eyes as big as the moon. Just imagine two little girls eight years old in a place like that. We cried as tho our hearts would break, and maybe that helped to keep the wild animals away. Our horse fought like a demon with mouth and hoofs. How we kids managed to keep on her back is now a marvel. Our guardian angel must have been with us, for when all our hopes were exhausted, we heard voices. Our folks, the Indian Chief and his whole tribe were out with guns and lanterns hunting for us. What happy girls we were to get home safely. Never again did we venture like that.
One time I went to the spring to get some water. I was on my way back when I heard a peculiar sound. Looking back I saw a herd of wild hogs coming on high. I couldn't make it to the house, but I made it to the nearest tree, and none too soon, either, for the hogs were there too. I got out on a limb and stayed until my father came home that evening. He heard the hogs even before getting to the house, and with gun and dogs drove the animals away.
Another time I happened to notice a peculiar looking object in the trees above the path where we were accustomed to walk. Looking closer I saw that it was a larger panther, just getting ready to spring. Maybe it was for me, I never knew. Anyway I hastily retraced my steps, told father. He took down the big rifle, and that said panther's hide afterwards became a rug that lay beside my bed.
We children had a kind of natural playground. That is, there were great peculiar shaped trees to climb, grassy plots, many grapevines for swings, and so forth. One day we noticed a new swing, a black one, and were about to try it when we saw that it was a black snake. No harm came from this, but it did give us a scare, anyway. There was always more or less excitement and fun as we were pleased to call it. One day, getting wood with my parents we ran on to a wild cat. It was one of the fighting kind, which made it dangerous to run and too risky to stand still. Father and I held the attention of the animal and called to mother, who was out of sight, to shoot. (She had the rifle.) She did and the cat rolled over seemingly dead. Father picked it up by the hind legs and started toward the wagon. All at once he heard a peculiar howl and with that he gave a jump and a cream. The cat had him by the leg for a change. The cat didn't get away, because it was too dead for that, but Dad carried the marks for some time. Be sides his pants were a sorry wreck.

Tames Pet Snake
Droves of deer were seen many times. They would come to the house. Wild horses, too, were plentiful. I used to like to watch them feed and play. For pets we had various things. Coons were about the nicest ones from among the wild animals. Once, however, I had a garter snake that was very nice. It showed real affection and sometimes intelligence.
Bull fighting, getting two bulls together was quite a past time for the Indians. They had a regular corral built to hold the animals and a pen for them to fight in. Big trees overhung this pen and here is where I, with other children, had our reserved seats for every entertainment. It was a cruel sport, for usually one bull or the other is dead after each performance, but it was exciting from beginning to end. I have seen one bull throw his opponent 30 feet, killing him dead; then again I have seen them battle for hours.
Don't know just the reason why we moved again this time but we did. It wasn't a long ways, just across the river, but it was far enough away to take me from my associates. There was another tribe of Indians here too, but they weren't like the friends I had left. Father too began to have trouble from the first. He carried his grievances to the Chief with no result. However, matters only went from bad to worse until one day my Dad up and gave the Indian Chief a good beating. It was deserving all right but it nevertheless was a mistake. It was impossible to live in the country of the enemy even if you can man handle them. Hannibal when he conquered the Armies of Rome one after another, as they came to fight him realized that he had to abandon his campaign. Well, Father decided the same. He sent word to Chief Joe Kernal who at once responded by coming in person and bringing with him 300 of his warriors. After some discussion Chief Joe decided that it would be best for us to leave the State entirely for a while; that our lives would be in danger if we stayed.
Again we took the ox team and started on the big road with our covered wagon, back again to civilization as we said in these days, landing in Fontanelle, Iowa. Traveling through Kansas we ran into grasshoppers. I never saw so many before or afterwards, clouds of them. They were stripping fields and trees, in fact all vegetables, where ever they went. People were out fighting them in every way they could and I doubt helped some, but I'm wondering if a man with a scoop shovel, or a woman with a broom proves very effective and profitable way. We believe the modern way has it over that, namely, poisoning.
Our journey like the others was very interesting. We saw many buffaloes on this trip, passed many cattle from the Texas ranges on their way to the Eastern Markets. We never looked for meat at anytime during our entire journey, and the stock stood the trip very well.
We just stopped a short time in Fontanelle, Iowa, long enough to get rested good. Greener fields were farther away. This time my father decided to take two wagons and I was designated to drive one of them. He let me have the colts, a young span of frisky mares. We got along nicely and in due time arrived in Kingston, Missouri. I was then 17 years old and so for me to be in this lively and easy going community was something entirely new. Until now my social life had been much neglected. Now followed a merry round of pleasure, dances and parties and more dances and more parties. Many a time I went to these social gatherings riding double on the back of my escort's horse. It was lots of fun.
On Sundays we went to Sunday school and to other meetings. The place I attended was five miles away and we used to carry our boots so as to keep them nice.
We would go barefooted until we got to the meeting house, when we would stop, wash our feet, and put on our boots and walk in. This particular church to which I am now referring belonged to the Duncard Society. I think they are an outgrowth of the Friends church, or Quakers. About the only difference I could see in them and others was that they practiced foot washings. Good people. Never saw better folks anywhere.
Kissed At Husking Bees
I have not told all, tho, about the various social times. The log-rolling, molasses-cooking, barn-raising and corn husking days will never be forgotten. I, like other girls, was kissed by the boy who luckily found a red ear. But don't think that we just gently submitted. Oh, no. the boy who found the red ear had to earn his kiss and if he wasn't husky, and a fairly good foot racer, he was out of luck.
When I was 19 my parents moved again. First to Creston, Iowa, where we sold our horses, wagon, and other belongings. Here we boarded the train for Lincoln, Nebraska. And here, for me, ended a chapter in my life and a new one began. Norman A. Schamp, a young farmer, later brakeman and conductor, took a fancy to me. As his work allowed, and as often as he could arrange it, he would come to see me or take me places. Well, I knew from the first that cupid was in the game, so resistance was useless. We were married and settled down to a quiet life.
Likes Married Life
Perhaps some of the young people who read this would like to ask right here: Well, were you satisfied when you settled down to this quiet life? I must answer yes. I had had enough of the single blessedness, and was ready for something else. I never once in my many years of married life had so much as the least desire to give up my husband an family and go back to single life again. More care, more trials, more work, more everything, of course, but that is what I enjoyed for that is what makes life worth while.
We were never rich, but we never went hungry. If husband had a dollar it was mine as well as his. Any luxury or pleasure was for us both. He would never even so much as go to a show without my knowing or having a chance to enjoy it too, or something of a similar nature. In a word, he played the game squarely, and I tried to do the same. This principle is the biggest factor in a happy married life.
Husband Was Respected.
When my husband was in business, often men, working meant especially, would come and bring their savings to him for safekeeping. Small amounts and large—it made no difference. They knew that when they needed it, they had it.
One morning a rancher (he was a single man then) casually dropped in and without any ceremony handed my husband a bill of sale and deed for his property. Said my husband, "What do you mean by this?" "Well," answered the ranch man, "I'm going away for several months' visit and if I don't come back, you do with the property as tho it were your own; deal it out to my relatives as you think best, and if I do come back just give it back." I'm telling these vents just to show you how he was held by his nearest friends and neighbors.
In 1894 we moved to Laramie, Wyoming. Five years later Cheyenne became our home and here where Mr. Schamp quit the railroad and went into business. In 1909 we heard of the Chugwater country, that it was open for homesteading, and was as good a part of the state for farming as could be found. The Albin country, just eat, having been settled for a good may years, was proving to be very good.
Settle in Early Chug Community
I enjoyed homesteading from the first day. I was largely responsible for us attempting—But perhaps I'd better not say it that way either. The boys wanted to go to a farm, and for their good I consented. I don't believe the flats ever looked any prettier than they did that spring of 1909. Grass was fine and wild flowers were everywhere.
We had neighbors, too, right away. Some of the Hebrew folks were already here, the Massions, Blatts, Shaperos, Goldbergs, etc. Grandpa Branden, Ed Branden (latter my son-in-law), the Emerys, the Kelleys and the Robinsons. Later came H. F. Lutzke and Jim Girmus and so forth. I look back at the early settlement days as very pleasant ones, indeed.
In 1917 my husband passed away. How I missed him only god knows. In 1918 my oldest boy, Robert, was called leaving two children. In 1923 my son, Tom, lost his wife; three girls aged 5 and 3 years and 4 months were left behind and it was my lot to have them. Tho they sometimes were a trial, they have proved little blessings. Brought up six children of my own and have the care of three families of grandchildren, and I'm glad I was able to do it. There have been times when I was afraid that my strength would give out, and many times I have prayed. "Lord, keep me until the kids get big, for they need me." I'm not what I used to be, but there are a lot of things in this world worth living for, even for me; so I thank God for life, strength, and the hope that is mine.
As I started out, I still think Wyoming is just as good a state as there is in the union, and that Chugwater is just as good a town as there is in the state; that we have just as good people here as there are anywhere or anyplace. Here is where I like it and here is where I want to live.

"Platte County Record"
Wheatland, Wyo.
Friday, September 1, 1950

CHUGWATER PIONEER IS CALLED BY DEATH

Mrs. Jessie Alida Schamp, a resident of Chugwater since 1908, died August 25 at the Wheatland general hospital, following an illness since August 4. She was born in Sycamore, Illinois, August 12, 1866.

She is survived by four children, Frances Barndon of Buhl, Idaho, Tom Schamp of Chugwater, Mrs. Fred Schnell of Walla Walla, Washington, and Norman also of Walla Walla, three sisters Mrs. Hazel Olford of Hollywood, California, Mrs. George Ray of Eugene, Oregon, and Mrs. Georgia Baldwin of Port Orchard, Washington. Twenty-one grand children and twenty-five great grand children. Her husband and two sons preceded her in death.

Services were held Monday at 1:30 p.m. at the Baptist Church in Chugwater with the Rev. John Weidenaar officiating. Burial was made in the Iowa Center Cemetery.

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Nebraska State Journal
July 8, 1885
Page 8, Column 3

Dennis, Jessie A., married Norman A. Shamp, July 7, 1885, at Lincoln, Ne. Both are from Lancaster Co., Nebraska