known or effective at the time, and their failure to do so gave rise to much trouble, contention and litigation thereafter.

But it must strike every reader that it was a most singular proceeding, counting very largely on the lax ideas held by those pioneers on the subjects of land titles, that these two men could take up a tract of land in the wilderness without a shadow of a title from either the United States or Great Britain -the governments claiming title to the land-and proceed to sell and make deeds to the purchasers for gold dust, beaver money or beaver skins, as came in handy, and everything going "merry as a marriage bell." No abstract of title can be found that covers or explains these anomalies in the dealings of the pioneer town lot settlers; but it is proper to add that in assuming control of the country, Congress approved of the land titles initiated by the Provisional Government.

However, the real estate dealers in Portland in 1845 were giving a better deal to their customers in some things than their successors are in 1912. Nowadays the first thing in the history of the city is a grand map and a grander name. In 1845 Portland was started, and lots sold before it had any name. This proving somewhat awkward and embarrassing, the matter came up for discussion and decision at a family dinner party of the Lovejoys and Pettygroves at Oregon City. Mr. Pettygrove hailing from Maine, wished to name the town for his favorite old home town of Portland, while General Lovejoy coming from Massachusetts, desired to honor Boston with the name. And not being able to settle the matter with any good reason, it was proposed to decide the difference by tossing a copper; and so, on the production of and old fashioned copper cent, an engraving of which is given on another page, the cent was tossed up three times and came down "tails up" twice for Portland, and once "heads up" for dear old Boston. And that is the way Portland got its appropriate name.

The town started slowly, and its rate of growth for the first three years was scarcely noticeable. Oregon City was the head center of all the Americans; the seat of government, the saw and the grist mill; and Vancouver did not invite and encourage settlers at that point. Men came and looked, and then passed on up the valley, or out into Tualatin plains, and took land for farms. The people coming into the country were mostly farmers, had always been farmers, as had their forefathers, and had but little confidence in townsite opportunities. And beside all this, the lots offered for sale were so heavily covered with timber that it would cost more to clear a lot than the owner could sell it for after it was cleared; and so the town stood still, or nearly so. One of the first to start anything that looked like business at a cross roads or a townsite, was James Terwilliger, who erected a blacksmith shop and rang an anvil chorus for customers from the vast woods all around. Terwilliger was born in New York in 1809; went west, following up the Indians, and came out to Oregon with the immigration of 1845. His shop at Portland was evidently only a side issue with him, running it only five years, for he at the same time took up a land claim a mile south of Lovejoy and Pettygrove, improved it, and there passed the remainder of his life, passing away in 1892, at the advanced age of 82 years. James Terwilliger was always an active man of affairs, stoutly de

fending his opinion of the right, and with true public spirit, contributing to the improvement of the town and the development of the country.

Pettygrove erected a building for a store and put in a very small stock from his remnants at Oregon City. The business of the town moved imperceptibly; in fact there was no business worth mentioning. When a ship would come in, all that had money, furs, or wheat, would buy of the ship, and trade in their produce, so that merchandise at the store was a mere pretense.

The first item of improvement that so attracted the attention of the country as to have Portland talked about, was the starting of a tannery by Daniel H. Lownsdale in 1847-the first in Portland. As a matter of fact, however, there were three small tanneries at or near Oregon City, and many of the farmers up in the valley had been tanning deer and calves skins in a limited way, as nearly all the pioneer people knew something of the art of tanning skins; but the Lownsdale tannery was started as a business enterprise to accommodate the public and make profit to its proprietor. Hides would be tanned for so much cash, or leather would be traded for hides; or leather would be sold for cash, furs or wheat. Here was a start in a productive manufacturing business, and Lownsdale's tannery was the talk of the whole country, and advertised Portland quite as much as it did the tannery. This tannery was not started on the townsite, but way back in the forest a mile from the river, on the spot now occupied by the "Multnomah Field" of the Athletic Association. And with $5000 dollars worth of leather, not yet tanned, Lownsdale bought out Pettygrove's interest in the townsite. After running the tannery for two years, Lownsdale sold it to two newcomers-Ebson and Ballance-who in turn sold it to Amos N. King, who then took up the mile square of land adjoining Portland on the west, known as the King Donation Claim, and which has made fortunes for all his children by the sale of town lots. Amos N. King was not much of a town lot speculator. It was a long time before he could muster up couragé enought to ask a big price for a little piece of ground. He stuck to his tannery, and made honest leather for more than twenty years before he platted an addition to the city.

A leading citizen of those early days of Portland was John Waymire, who built the first double log cabin, and made some efforts to accommodate strangers and traders who dropped off the passing bateaux to look at the new city, by furnishing meals and giving them a hospitable place to spread their blankets for the night. Waymire further enlarged his fortunes by going into the transportation business with a pair of oxen he had driven two thousand miles all the way from old Missouri across the mountains and plains. As the new town was the nearest spot to Oregon City where the ships could safely tie up to the shore and discharge cargo, Waymire got business both ways. With his oxen he could haul the goods up to his big cabin for safety, and then with his oxen he could haul the stuff back to the river to load into small boats and lighters for transportation to Oregon City. In addition to the transfer business, and the hotel business, Waymire started a sawmill on Front street. The machinery outfit would not compare well with the big sawmills along the river in Portland at the present time, being only an old whip-saw brought all the way from Missouri, where it had been used in building up that state. The motive power being one man standing on top of the log pulling the saw up preparatory for the

down stroke, and another man in the pit under the log who pulled the saw down and got the benefit of all the sawdust. Waymire was the only busy man in the new town, and prospered from the start. He knew well how to turn an honest penny in the face of severe financial troubles. With the money made in Portland, he went to Dallas, in Polk county, in later years and started a store, thinking it safer to rely on the farmers for prosperity than take chances on such a strenuous city life. There he sold goods "on tick" (credit) as was the custom of the country, and not being a good bookkeeper, he wrote down on the inside board walls of his store with a piece of chalk the names of his customers, and under each name the goods they had bought on credit, with sums due. And while absent on a brief trip to Portland, his good wife, thinking to tidy up the store, got some lime and whitewashed the inside of the whole establishment. On his return and seeing what had been done, he threw up his hands in despair and declared he was a ruined man. The good woman consoled him with the suggestion that he could remember all the accounts and simply write them all over again on the wall. And so the next day being Sunday, and a good day, and everybody absent at church, he undertook the task. His wife dropped in after divine service and inquired how he was getting along. He replied, "Well, I've got the accounts all down on the wall agin; I don't know that I've got them agin just the same men, but I believe I've got them agin lot of fellows better able to pay." There were preachers and teachers and all sorts of men in Oregon then, as now.

Another man that dropped in on young Portland the next year after Waymire, was William H. Bennett (Bill Bennett) who, having quit the mountains and the fur trade, started in to make his fortune in making shingles out of the cedar timber on the townsite, which was a gift to him. Bennett got a start and prospered until he was ruined by his convivial habits. He pushed various small enterprises, finally starting a livery stable at the corner where the Mulkey block is now located. The business started by Bennett was owned successively by John S. White, Lew Goddard, Elijah Corbett, P. J. Mann (founder of the Old Folks' Home), Godard & Frazier and now by Frazier and McLean, at the corner of Fifth and Taylor streets. In 1846 came Job McNamee from Ohio, having come into the valley with the immigration of 1845. McNamee was a good citizen and brought a good family, wife and daughter, possibly among the first ladies of the place, and whose presence smothered down some of the rough places in the village. Miss McNamee became the wife of E. J. Northrup, one of the best citizens Portland ever had, and the founder of the great wholesale and retail hardware store now owned by the "Honeyman Hardware Company." Not long after the advent of the McNamees, came Dr. Ralph Wilcox from New York, a pioneer of 1845. Dr. Wilcox was the first physician and the first school teacher of the city, and a most useful and public-spirited citizen, taking a leading part in organizing society and serving the public as clerk of the state legislature and as clerk of the United States district and circuit courts. His widow, Mrs. Julia Wilcox, now over ninety-two years of age, is still active and an interested spectator of the growth of a city of two hundred and fifty thousand people, which she came to in her early womanhood as a few log cabins in an unbroken forest.

And about the same time as Dr. Wilcox came, also came the O'Bryant broth