It was 10 years ago. I was tagging along while Meda attended the annual meeting of the American Society of Criminology in San Francisco, held in the Marriott Marquis Hotel.

When my sister, Bonnie Stevens, heard where we were staying, she asked if I could walk over to the California Historical Society, which wasn’t more than two blocks from the hotel. She wanted me to look up and copy the handwritten memoirs of my great-great-grandmother, Eleanor Knowlton. Eleanor’s daughter, Helene, had married James Frederick Moore Yonge, my great grandfather. Their son, Duke Yonge, was my mom’s dad, my maternal grandfather.

So I did as I was told. I checked in at the historical society, put on gloves to handle the fragile pages of the two handwritten volumes in which Eleanor wrote about her journey across the country in group of several wagons in 1857, and the various adventures and misadventures along the way to Nevada, and finally on to California. It took me only 90 minutes to scan the nearly 250 pages with my iPhone.

I turned those over to Bonnie, who proceeded to transcribe both volumes, although deciphering Eleanor’s handwriting wasn’t a straightforward task.

By the beginning of 2016, Bonnie had wrestled the whole transcribed text into a formatted MS Word document, with footnotes and accompanying commentary. It was her final big project. Bonnie was diagnosed with breast cancer several months later, and died in October 2016. At some point, I hope to get the manuscript into print. But that’s another project.

What I’m sharing below is the final section of the memoir, which I ran into yesterday while digging through old files looking for something else. I recall reading about the sociologist C. Wright Mills, who described periodically pulling his accumulated files out of the file cabinets and dumping them on the floor, where he would then go through and organize them based on his then-current interests and understandings. Mills said it led him to discoveries, connections, seeing the world differently. Looking for things that are “somewhere” in my digital archives leads to the same feeling, old things being rediscovered, now somehow new and different.

If there’s any interest, I could post certain chapters, a bit at a time.

MEMOIRS OF
ELEANOR HOWARD (THOMAS) BRITTAIN KNOWLTON
NOVEMBER 1834 – AUGUST 1908

Genealogy from memory and family stories.

Covered wagons, an infant, a toddler, a husband and a herd of cattle: Crossing the Plains from Missouri to Nevada in 1857.
Life in Nevada and California 1857-1865.

On the Road, widowhood, remarriage, divorce, and growing old, 1865-1907. Family and friends along the way.

This is the final entry in Eleanor’s journals.

It is now new year, January 1907. I am in my 73rd year and have lived to note the death of another one of my old and respected friends of Nevada in 1857 whom I have written of in my history. He was brave and honorable. He is Theodore Winters. He died in Washoe City Nevada 3 Aug 1906 at the age of 83 years. He was a native of Illinois.

I am the only old Nevada settlers of 57 to tell the story of those early days. We had no laws except vigilantes. They had to rule. Winters was one of the head ones and my husband Mr. Brittain was also one. Mr. Winters said they had to have a place to meet and said I should be told if they met at my house what it was for, so I was told when ever a meeting occurred I was the only woman that was trusted to keep their plans and I feel sad to note his death. I see that Mark Twain was 71 years old on the first of December 1906 and celebrated his birth day by playing pool almost the entire day. Mr. Clements says he expects to live many more years to enjoy the beauty and hospitality of the world. I remember him in the early days as a true and polished gentleman.

This is the 21st day of Feb and we are having very cold weather with heavy fog and I am getting ready to visit my daughter Mrs. Helene Yonge who lives in San Francisco. Although I am in my 73* year I feel that I can make the trip alright. I had made up my mind not to take any more trips and I now feel as I shall never take any more I live to get home again. I have no home of my own. But I have lived with Mr. Madson my son-in-law and his wife so long it is hard for me to go away and leave them even for a visit.

I have not been very well for some time. I hope the change I am going to make will be of some benefit to my health and if not – I am willing to suffer what ever may befall to my lot. I hope to live to know my son-in-law Mr. Madson and his wife my daughter will get settled again and I can come home to them.

I will close this history for the present as I am not in possession of any news which I can write as I leave in the 9:00 train tomorrow. If I encounter any thing worth writing of I will send it to you and you can add it to this. Others
close the book people.

I will say to you Mr. Madson, what I have written is the truth and if you find anything which is not fit to publish leave it out. I have written this for you as you asked me to tell you something of my ancestors and my own life, my life has been one of worry, but honorable virtuous and honest.

I now bid you both good bye and may you be prosperous and healthy is the wish of your mother. Be good to yourselfs and to each other. I hope to live to come home to you again, if not there is another world where we will know each other. We will meet there. So good-bye, my dear children.

/s/ Mrs. Ellen H. Knowlton

Next: On to Missouri