Jenny Koppin

Tonight is the dress rehearsal for Tombstone Tales, and then we do it for real, bright and early tomorrow morning. I think I'm ready. I've only been able to run through my part completely through from memory just a few times. I tried to go through it again last night while I was folding laundry while the kids were going to bed, but I kept getting interrupted. Alyssa needed more water and I told her to wait, Ethan started coughing so hard that he threw up, then Marcus saw all the attention that Ethan was getting, so he started coughing to try to get me over to him, which caused him to start coughing for real until he threw up, too. Once the boys were asleep, I still had some laundry to fold, so Alyssa promised to be quiet long enough for me to get through my part just once.

Since I've never been able to successfully practice while the kids are not in bed, I'm going to type out my part to you. So here we go. Ahem.

My name is Jenny Crawford Koppin. I was born back east in 1858, but when I was small my family and I headed South. My father was a newspaperman and printer. Naturally, he kept up with current events, and the Civil War captured his constant attention. It didn't take long for Father, a sympathetic man by nature, to feel that the South was being misrepresented in print. When he expressed his views, he was branded a Southern Sympathizer and became an outcast in his own community. Southern Sympathizers were never welcome and rarely safe in Northern towns. Well, ever the determined optimist, and despite protests made by mother, Father decided to pack up the buckboard with his printing tools and supplies and see if he could offer his services to organize publicity and make more appropriate posters for the Confederacy.

Father knew that to make his plan succeed he would need to go straight to the top. But Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis were hard men to request an audience with. Security measures had been tightened considerably, so we drove the team as far south as we could, avoiding any Union posts, and finally made it to the Confederate line. The guards of the outpost weren't exactly the cream of Southern aristocrats, and father, despite a very thorough explanation, was apprehended by them when they didn't agree with his self imposed mission. And he was lynched. Right then and there, without a trial or anything.

Mother and us were put on a horse and told to ride outta there as fast as we could or we would meet the same fate. Mother was beside herself, as you can imagine, with where to go, so she did the only thing she could think of, and that was to go to our nearest relatives, which were in Minnesota. We ended up staying there for quite a while. I completed my education at Winona college and taugh school in Minneapolis. My brothers grew into fine young men with a pioneering spirit. They had been wooed by the cheap land being so attractively advertised in the west, and they convince mother and me to go with them.

We traveled to Ellensburg in the new state of Washington in 1890 by the Northern Pacific Railroad. What an experience it was to see new lands as they flew by the window. Ellensbrug had suffered a great fire the year before, but it was a progressive town, and had already made impressive strides in rebuilding. A new college opened the next year, the State Normal School, which I enrolled in for a certificate to teach in Washington. School was different then. Tuition and books were free, and I got room and board for four dollars a week.

My brother, Johnny, had been out prospecting a suitable homestead in 1892, and he found us a nice piece just North of here at Waluke Slope. We built a cabin out there, but planned on spending most of our time in Ellensburg, visiting the farm only as necessary. It was on one such visit that a young German man knocked on our door and asked if he could join us for a meal. This was not an unusual occurrence, as people were often stopping by on their way through. Frederich Koppin was his name. I took an instant liking to him, and as his passes through our area became more frequent, so did his visits to our farm. He would often spend several days with us at Waluke. He was a kind man, and we always looked forward to his visits.

Well, in late November 1892, I became Mrs. Jennie Koppin. Frederich decided that rather than move us to his homestead in Idaho, that we would remain here, among family. I was forever greatful to him for that decision. How I woul have missed my mother and brothers had we moved. We spent the first few years of our marriage in Ellensburg, but after Mother died, we came to live permanently in Waluke. The Ellensburg house was much more comfortable, I can asssure you, but after visiting Waluke one time and finding the back door broken open with our belongings strewn about and several items missing, we felt the move was necessary.

It seems strange to think now, but when Frederich and I first met, he couldn't read or write. Even his English was broken. I guess it was providence that brought me, a teacher, to him. We spent long hours together pronouncing grammer, and practicing spelling and reading. Simple book at first, but as Frederich progressed, so did the books. He was a good student and a smart man.

Frederich became quite the farmer out here. He was of the opinion that anything would grow if we could only get water to it. Of course, irrigation was always a problem. Even if we dug the ditches deep, and long enough, the soil was so sandy that the water would leech out of it before it could reach the crops. But once we started using sprocket wheels to move the water from the river, we could reliably grow more. Lets see, we planted fruit trees, butternut trees, all sorts of vegetables, peanuts, berries, sugar cane, maize, alfalfa, and all sorts of flowers. Frederich was proud of all these, but his pride and joy was the Black Lily of the Nile, and extraordinary flower with a very unpleasant odor.

While Frederich enjoyed experimenting in the garden, I taught school part time at White Bluffs. You see, at that time, once a woman was married, she was not allowed to work more than part time outside the home. I made up for it by tutoring in art. I was actually the first teacher at the new White Bluffs school, which was made entirely out of driftwood logs retrieved from the Columbia. At first White Bluffs was part of the Yakima School District, and the superintendent and I exchanged words on more than one occasion about his views on education. I had to write several searing and poignant letters to him until, thankfully, we became part of the Franklin District.

Waluke was a pretty desolate place. Our nearest neighbor was nigh four miles downriver. We kept a raft on our banks, and if the flow was right, I could reach them in about 40 minutes. Then, if I needed to, I could borrow a horse for the return trip.

Being that our neighbors were so far away, any chance to get together was a welcome thing. Celebrations were a big part of pioneering life. One Christmas we held a party and invited everyone in the area. We had over 20 guests that year, and they all stayed late - 3 or 4 in the morning, as I recall. No one wanted to make the long trek home in the snow to a cold, dark house. Babies were put ot sleep on the coats and wraps on our bed, and the adults became more exuberant as the night went on. George Borden place the accordian, and we began to dance. Now, there's always one stickler in the bunch. Mrs Brice was the minister's wife, and she made such a fuss at our outrageous behavior. She was incensed that we dare allow dancing in our home, and demanded to be taken home immediately. Mrs. Craig sided with her while she was here, but once Mrs. Brice was gone, Mrs. Craig readily enjoyed in the festivities.

That was the year the Columbia forze over solid enough to drive a team of horses over. The river was wide and swift and rarely froze over for more than a week at a time. I remember how eery it was to cross on foot. You could hear the water rushing under your feet. Winter was always long and cold. I would cook nearly all day to keep the house warm.

Our house was the first post office in the area. All the mail came through us, though it only came every three months or so, as we weren't on a direct line.

By 1901 there were so many new settlers in the area that we felt it was high time to form an organization of the first comers to bind us together and furnish some entertainment. It was under that pretense that the Old Settlers Union was formed. I was the first president of the club, and though the idea was not mine to begin with, I enjoyed the post. It gave us another reason to come together with neighbors and enjoy a little song and dance.


And then the Grim Reaper, who will be leading the groups around will say that I died in 1928 in an automobile accident. And then I'll do again for the next group, all day long on Friday and Saturday. I'm honestly more nervous for the rehearsal tonight than for the actual performance tomorrow. We start out tomorrow with a bunch of school groups, so I'm not worried about that at all. But tonight I'll have to do it in front of my fellow portrayers, some of which are professional actors. I know that in the end it'll all be okay, and overall I'm excited for the whole thing. If I get pictures tonight, I'll add them to the post.