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Also went by the name Samuel H. Desty and Samuel Hunter as a child. Very likely the half-brother of Robert Desty. Also likely the (illegitimate) son of Sen. Solon Borland as he seems to be the son of (widowed) Madame D'Estimauville (nee Sophie Hunter?) In the 1840s a Madame D'Estimauville lived in Arkansas that had a relationship with Solon Borland. There is no certain proof that this woman was widowed Sophia but the circumstantial evidence is very interesting.
Samuel Houston Borland was born in Texas in 1845. (There is a small chance he was born in Arkansas, though, as in one report of his mother leaving Arkansas she'd had her baby). He always claimed he was from Texas but likely information from his early biography came from what he was told by his mother and half-siblings.
In 1850 "Samuel Hunter" of Texas and "Sophia Hunter" of Canada were living in Milford, Kent County, Delaware. The informant for Samuel Houston Borland's death certificate in 1932 was under the impression that he had been born in Delaware. They stayed in the same household as the Sipple family - Eliza B and her sons Caleb and John. The relationship is unclear but it seems Samuel spent a few years growing up with the other two young boys. Later an eventual relative of John and Caleb was Governor of Delaware (step-son of their step-father).
In a letter back to a Quebec newspaper early 1853, Robert Desty stated that he was sending for his family in June next. I assume this was 1853. On June 12, 1854 in the San Joaquin Republican there is mention that a young boy named Sam Desty about 6 years old was almost kidnapped and then drowned at the wharf (Sam would have been about 9). 1854 was also around the time Sophia married her next husband, Mr. Hamlin. There is not a marriage record or newspaper mention but all census records of her being Canadian and a mention of her in a newspaper in the 1870s as being extremely well educated makes it seem very very very likely this is the correct Sophie (also on the 1860s census is a boarder or household member that is a man from Canada with the same name and age as Sophie's youngest brother).
In 1860 "Samuel H Desty" was staying in Weaverville, CA with Robert Desty. He then served with the California Cavalry forces during the Civil War (also as Samuel H. Desty).
In the 1860s got a job working for Ben Snipes driving cattle and Snipes' brother-in-law partner Henry Allen. He recalled some of his reminiscences of being a cowboy for Snipes & Allen in the 1860s and those are in the records of the Spokane County Pioneers' society (Robert Ballou published some of his story in his book "Early Klickitat Valley Days" in 1938).
For some reason after the Civil War he used the name Samuel H. Borland to marry and register to vote. His voter registration said he was born in Texas. There were a few notes in his Civil War files about him deserting and returning so maybe this was related to his name change. I don't know what he knew of his father although his brother Robert should have known something. On later censuses he always said his father was from Arkansas, his mother from Canada, and that he was born in Texas. He was a clerk in San Francisco after the Civil War was over. He married Addie Given, dressmaker, on October 5, 1868. He resided at 315 Minna St during 1868. On the 1870 census Sam and Addie were in the same dwelling/family of Dr. Herman H. Behr of 646 Bryant. Sam was a Bookkeeper, and Addie kept house. Dr. Behr was involved with the Academy of Sciences, and was from Germany. Around 1871 they stayed at 42 Everett St. In 1872 it was 836 Market. In 1874 he was a barkeeper (w/ James Buckley) and his dwelling was 765 Howard. In 1875 he was a barkeeper with Barrett & Caneau and his dwelling was 30 O'Farrell. In Aug 1880 the address was 8 Mason (clerk), and the address was 16 Mason in 1878 and 1881.
His first wife Addie seems to have only given birth once. In November 1870 she had triplets! The babies did not survive as there were 3 Borland children from 42 Everett St recorded in the 1870 mortuary register. In 1910 she gave her maternity statistic as 3 children born, 0 surviving.
At some point around 1881 when the mining in Tombstone, Arizona (around 1879-1881) was picking up Addie (with Sam?) moved to the area. Addie even had to testify in the 1881 trial of Wyatt Earp as a witness to the shootout that took place in front of her house on Fremont Street. Sam and Addie apparently split or divorced somewhere during this time as Addie lived and remarried in Los Angeles and Sam lived and remarried near San Francisco. There are also records of them with Cochise County Clerk of Superior Court for A.V. Borland vs S.H. Borland in November 1882. Also, A Borland of Maine was on the 1882 Chonchise County Census as residing in Tombstone and Samuel was not.
In 1882 Sam is living at 40 1/2 Geary (2nd floor, room 6).
Sam next married Faithful Jane Locke as recorded in Alameda County on December 19, 1886. She was the daughter of Oregon Trail pioneers. Her obituary seem to incorrectly state that she married Sam in 1881 in Oregon. Perhaps they were together earlier. The 1900 census said that she had 1 of 3 children surviving and had been married for 17 years. Sam was a fruit grower in Redwood, California and son Nelson was at school. ("Marriage Records. December 19th - Samuel Borland, native of Texas, aged 40, resident of Oakland, and Jennie Locke, native of Oregon, aged 28, resident of Oakland; by Justice E. Nusbaumer." Oakland Tribune - Saturday, January 8, 1887).
In 1886 he was a farmer in Wrights, California. His home seemed to be near Lake Elsman (near Wrights Station) by Wright Station Road and Sears Road based on an ordinance published in the paper about him building a private road in 1891. His neighbor then was Jacob Rich (whose estate sold to Antoine Matty in 1896). In 1891 he is also mentioned as a Saloon Keeper in San Jose. His place was called "The Index Saloon" located at 25 North First Street. He he bought out his business partner Wm. P. Barnes in 1892. An 1892 San Jose newspaper article also mentioned that he had three portraits of his family painted by artist A.D. Cooper. Unfortunately in 1892 the newspaper also reported that his home was destroyed by fire, including his fine library! Hopefully the paintings weren't there! A newspaper article about Wrights also mentioned that Sam Borland had a rabbitry.
After leaving the Index Saloon he was mentioned in the newspaper as being one of the attorneys for Miss Maude E. Stocksdale (Stocksdale vs. District Attorney Daniel W. Buchard Seduction Case) in San Jose in 1893.
With his experience as an old scout he played a leading role in the Modoc county raid and the trial of the Modoc Lynchers in 1901 and 1902. He worked with the authorities to solve the mystery surrounding the lynching of a whole family that had made enemies with their neighbors over a grazing dispute. The accused were ultimately acquitted. Borland moved north after this.
While in California his wife also suffered a stroke (stress from her husband's job?) and in 1903 they moved back to Oregon to the area where his wife was born. They were living in Portland when she died in 1904, leaving behind him and their only surviving son who later died of pneumonia in 1914.
At this point he was working as a lighthouse keeper and fisherman in Milwaukie, Oregon. His residence was a houseboat. He died in 1932. The informant for his death certificate (Mrs. Sarah Elmer of Portland) did not know any of his family information but seemed to think that he was born in Delaware.
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S.H. Borland, a cowboy for Snipes & Allen in the 1860s, recalled some of his reminiscences which are in the records of the Spokane County Pioneers' society (Robert Ballou published some of his story in his book "Early Klickitat Valley Days" in 1938) - pages 125-127.
"Sam Houston Borland was born at Galveston, Texas, September 25, 1845. His father, John Borland, a physician, moved from Arkansas to Texas just prior to the Mexican war and became associated with General Sam Houston. Doctor Borland was once a member of Congress from Arkansas. About six months after S. H. Borland was born his father succumbed. In 1853 the widow and young son came to California, through funds supplied by a relative. They arrived in San Francisco on the Sierra Nevada in August. Three years later his mother remarried. This did not suit the boy and he decided to strike out for himself, at the rather early age of 11 years. He had attended school at the Union street school. In speaking of his boyhood days in San Francisco he tells of seeing the bodies of two men suspended with ropes about their necks from a second-story window sill of a frame building on Sacramento street. He was told vigilantes had used a window sill gallows as the only convenient method available. He also witnessed another double hanging, when the vigilantes were making a cleanup in San Francisco. For seven years he drifted from one mining boom town to another, including, Humbolt, Cal., Virginia City, Nev., and camps in New Mexico. For a time, he was in Tombstone*, Arizona, regarded by many as the toughest of the tough, in mining camps of the Old west. In 1864 he decided to try his luck in the Idaho gold fields."
*Note - Tombstone was founded in 1879 and he was there in a later part of his life.
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Sam Borland Recalls Early Days in Oregon Territory
Pacific Northwest in 1864 People Mainly by Indians; Chinook Jargon Widely Spoken; Snake and Camel Meat Relished.
Sam Houston Borland of Milwaukie, Or., who came to Jacksonville, Or., in 1864, recalls many interesting incidents of early days in this state. William S. Lewis, well-known authority on northwest history, tells the story in Mr. Borland's own words.
By Sam Houston Borland, As Told to William S. Lewis.
Born in Galveston, Tex., in 1845, I came west with my parents in 1853. As a mere boy, I drifted about the mining camps of Humboldt Cal.; Virginia City, Nev., and in New Mexico between 1857-1864, when I headed north into Oregon. After spending some time in Jacksonville, I went to Portland in the fall of 1864. There I took a boat for The Dalles. On the boat I met a well-known pioneer character, Ben Snipes, a cattleman from the Yakima country in Washington territory. Ben Snipes took a fancy to me and engaged me to drive cattle for him.
When we reached The Dalles, which was a pretty lively place in those days, Ben Snipes gave me a five-point 20-pound blanket, some sundry supplies, and $5 in gold. He directed me to cross the Columbia river and to go north to the camp of the Klickitat Indians. He told me that when I arrived at the Indian camp I should introduce myself to the chief, hand him the $5 and say "Nykamomakiopabensnipes." Mr. Snipes told me that the chief would understand what that meant, even if I didn't, and that he would then take me to the cabin of the older Snipes on the Yakima river.
Indians Help Traveler.
In those days I was willing to tackle anything, and the fact that I was to make a solitary journey into Indian country didn't bother me a bit. I crossed the Columbia river at The Dalles to what is now Rockland, in December, 1864. From the north bank I took a well-traveled Indian trail to a place where two fir trees marked a pass through the mountain which finally led me to Klickitat Indian camp. The chief proved to be a pleasant, good-natured fellow. I have him the $5, recited my Chinook greeting adn the chief then led me safely to the Snipes' cabin on the Yakima river. I afterwards learned something of the Chinook, and what Snipes had me say to the chief was: "Nykaa (I) momaki (work or go) opa (towards or for) Ben Snipes."
The cabin was built of Balm of Gilead wood and lay about three-quarters of a mile from the Simcoe Indian reservation. Captain Jack and some 600 Indians were then on the reservation and I don't remember seeing more than two or three white men there or anywhere else between the Columbia river and the Cariboo mines.
The Snipeses were among the first white men to graze cattle in the Yakima valley. Ben Snipes had gone to The Dalles form southern Oregon in 1858. In October, 1860, he and John Golden and Pannott first drove their cattle from the Klickitat into the Yakima valley and wintered them there during the winter of 1860-1. They were firm and square in their dealings with the Indians and were feared and respected. Ben Snipes afterwards became a banker at Ellensburg.
Future Bad Man in Party.
He and John Jeffries then had about 700 head of nice cattle which they wanted to drive from the Simcoe reservation overland to the Cariboo gold mines in the Fraser river country in British Columbia. There were eight men in ou party; a man named Allen was the only other white man; the others were mixed bloods and Indians. One of the halfbreeds was Alex McLean, son of the Scotch McLean who then kept the supply station at Bonaparte in the Cariboo. Alex, I've been told, later became a rather notorious "bad man."
We started from the Yakima country on St. Patrick's day, 1863, and we made good progress. We swam the cattle across the Columbia river at Priest Rapids, and again at "Dancing Bill" Sappington's ferry. At Priest rapids I met the famous Chief Moses. He then looked to be a man between 30 and 40 years old, and his camp as at Grand Coulee, where he then had about 50 Indian followers. Moses and his Indians came over and helped us swim the cattle across the river at Priest rapids. We gave the chief two steers for helping us get the cattle across the river, and proceedd to rest our herd the next day. Moses rode a very large horse which he boasted was able to run as fast as the wind; it didn't take very long to arrange a horse race between the Indians and the whites. Moses talked to his Indians and evidently told them to bet on his horse, for they backed the animal to win. Our little mare Hummingbird won the race; won easily. The Indians were astonished to see our little mare win so easily, but they were good sports and laughed about it and tried to get us to race with them again, but we refused.
Camels Stampede Herd.
Leaving Moses and his band the next morning, we went on and, after recrossing the Columbia again on Dancing Bill's ferry, we went up through the Okanogan valley to the British boundary line, where we paid the customs officer a dollar a head cash duty on our 700 head. We then drove the cattle up to the head of Okanogan lake, and over the ridge down into Grande valley.
Now about camels. Just as our leading cattle got down the hill to the prairie level two large camels suddenly raised up and let out the most terrifying snorts or coughs that I've ever heard. The cattle had never heard anything worse, either. The herd immediately stampeded, bawling and scattering in all directions. It took us several days to collect them again. We then passed on to Kamloops lake and the Bonaparte river. At that point McLean, the Hudson's Bay squaw-man, kept a supply station, where camel meat, mule meat and horse meat were all served. I ate some of each at different meals, but the camel meat was not the best eating. I was told that the camel pack trains were to be given up on account of their frightening the mule and horse pack trains. The feeling then ran high against the further use of the camels for packing freight on the regular pack trains. We cattle drivers shared in the general prejudice against the animals.
Baby Born on Trail
I was 20 years old at that time. This man Allen who was in our party owned the finest riding horse I've ever seen. It knew about everything except to read and write. On of our Indians was Siouxwaps Dick; he had his klutchman along, and he had charge of our bell-mare and the cooking outfit. One evening on the trip he said that he wanted to drop behind, as his klutchman was sick. He did so, but within 24 hours Dick and his klutchman had again caught up with our herd, brining a new bright-eyed Indian baby with them. The klutchman just went along doing her full camp work as usual.
We got 40c a pound for all our cattle, on the foot or hoof, just as they stood, and we'd watered them well before weighing. Payment was made in gold dust taken from the Cariboo mines. The British Columbia government collected a 3c export duty on the gold, but they also provided us with 20 gold escort guards to protect the gold until we could reach Fort Yale.
Job with Pack Train Next.
I left the party at Clinton, or what was called "Cut-off valley," and I secured work with a Mexican pack train under a man named Simmons, who was cross-eyed and one of the fiercest looking men I've ever seen. He and I were the only white men in our party. We had 45 mules in that train and we packed freight from Fort Yale to the mouth of the Quesnelle river, some 530 miles. The government had built a first-class road along the Fraser river. It was wide and well graded and in some places one could look down 1000 feet or more to the river below. Just above Fort Yale a suspension bridge, the first I had ever seen, crossed the Fraser river canyon. I stayed some time at Williams creek, a well-known camp of those days. Here meals were $2.00 each; liquor (but a better grace than we get today) 50c a drink, cigars 50c apiece, eggs one dollar each, sugar $1.25 a pound, bacon $1.25 a pound and other commodities in like proportion. Wages at the mine for underground work were $12 a day.
I didn't return to Washington territory the way I came. I went out to Victoria, and having associated with the Indians and learned the Chinook jargon, I became Chinook Interpreter in Justice Pemberton's court. This was a minor court in which many Indian cases were tried. Vancouver island was at that time a separate province from British Columbia. I met and knew Sir James Douglas, governor of the island, and two of his fine looking daughters. His wife was a fine woman of mixed Indian blood. I can't now recall just when I left Victoria by boat for San Francisco. I got back to California in time to vote for General Grant as president in 1868.
Rattler Meat Delicate.
I've eaten horse meat, mule meat, camel meat, dog meat and well over 100 rattlesnakes. The latter are really fine eating, but I've noticed among my acquaintances somewhat the same prejudice against my snake meat that some people, who are uninitiated into the higher epicurean delights, display towards a Frenchman's dish of frog legs or snails.
In 1870 I made a trip to Seattle, which then consisted of a few shacks and a sawmill, and a lot of big fir stumps cluttering up the townsite. I wasn't much impressed with the place. I also visited New Jerusalem, located on top of a hill, and so named because of the expected building of the railroad to that place. New Jerusalem was even punier and tougher looking than Seattle. It has acquired its railroad and is now known as Tacoma.
Some time ago I moved back to Oregon City with my family and for some years looked after the lights for river navigation at Rock Island, and I have now lived at Milwaukie for some years.
(Oregonian - Sunday, May 5, 1929)
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It Is Only Prejudice.
Sam Borland Asserts That Fried Snake is Dainty.
The Festive Rattler to Become One of the Great Food Exports of the State of California
There was quite a delegation of men about town gathered in front of Morehead's drug store on Santa Clara street to-day discussing the recent devouring of a cat by a prominent young blacksmith, under the mistaken impression that the feline was a rabbit. The general opinion seemed to be that the only harm done was the fact that the young man had found out that he had eaten feline instead of hare. Sam Borland joined the crowd and said that humanity was becoming remarkably enlighted in these latter days and he had no doubt but that ere long the prejudice against eating cats and other animals now universally subject to stomachical contempt as an article of diet, would be done away with and the aforesaid animals be allowed their proper place in the commerical world.
"Why," said Sam, "cats as an article of diet are nothing to arouse animosity in any spot of a man's anatomy. I've eaten rattlesnake and it was just as fine a tid-bit as I ever enjoyed in my life."
"Say Sam, just draw it mild please. I was out late last evening and my gastronomical organs are not in the best of humor, in fact are in a state bordering on rebellion and I long to give them rest," remarked a well known insurance man in a dejected tone.
"But there's nothing repulsive about his," said Sam. "Some five years ago I had as a guest on the ranch a young man by the name of Smead who was in the employ of Redington & Company in San Francisco. I killed a large rattlesnake one morning and was skinning it preparatory to frying out the oil from the fat, for as you all know the oil is remarkably efficacious as a cure for rheumatism. I was struck with the splendid appearance of the rattler's meat and it recalled to mind a conversatoin I had with a well known French resident in this city some time before, in which he had told me of the exquisite daintiness of the rattler as an article of food.
"I determined to try it so I done Mr. Rattler up very nicely, took him in to Dora, the cook, and told her to wrap him up in flour, fry him in butter, and serve him at dinner as baked eel.
"I then went into the sitting room and said to Smead, 'Houw would you like some eel for dinner?"
"How can you ask me Sam, when you know I was born and raised in Hoboken. Nothing could please me better."
"We all sat down to dinner and Smead eyed that eel with intesne longing. It was done brown and looked juicy. It was cut in eight pieces and Smead kept passing his plate until it was all gone. We were alone, batching it, and Smead after eating his dinner leaned back. lit his pipe and looked dreamily contented.
"'How did you like that eel Smead,' I asked him."
"'Well, Sam,' said he, 'to tell the truth it was a little more better than any eel I ever ate before, it was simpley delicious.'
"'Have you any idea what you have been eating' I asked."
"'Why eel, of course.'"
"'Well, my boy,' said I, 'you have been eating nothing more nor less than rattlesnake.'"
"Prejudice is an awful ting, gentlemen" said Sam. "Smead just yelled, 'Holy Smoke! God have mercy!' and fell out of his chair. He didn't eat another bite for nearly three days, and yet he had confessed to me that the snake was absolutely delicious.
"A long while after I was telling Emil Lamolle of the incident and he said he would like to try one. I brought a big fat one down and bet him $20 he wouldn't dare to touch it. He weakened, but I ordered it cooked up in proper shape for myself and boy and in the evening went down to enjoy it. Emil asked me when I went in to give him the wink when it was placed on the table and I done so. He sat down and pronounced the snake as fine as any frog that ever was cooked. Turn up your noses gentlemen if you wish but the rattler is destined to become a great commercial export of California, a delicious food product."
(San Jose Herald - December 6, 1893)
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SS Sierra Nevada
Arrival: July 31, 1853
Captain James H. Blethen
From San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua
342 passengers
This vessel was a wooden side-wheeled steamer, built by William Collyer, New York, and launched as the Texas, October 25, 1851. She operated from New York to Chagres from February until October, 1852, by the Empire City Line and originally advertised for this line as the Quartz Rock. Made a trial trip as the Sierra Nevada on February 7, 1852, she was eventually purchased by Cornelius Vanderbilt and sent to San Francisco, where she arrived March 23, 1853. She remained on the San Francisco - San Juan del Sur service until March 1857, and later purchased by the Pacific Mail (1860) and placed in coastal service. In February, 1861, she was purchased by Holladay and Brenham and was wrecked on a reef south of Monterey on October 17, 1869.
The Steamer Sierra Nevada eventually sank in 1869. " To many old Californians, the news of the loss of the Sierra Nevada will be the occasion of bringing up many pleasant reminiscences. The Sierra Nevada was built in New York in 1851 by Chas. Morgan, Esq., and designed for the Texan trade, but before her completion a demand arising for steamers of that class for the California trade, she was purchased by Commodore C. K. Garrison, and made three trips during the same year to Chagres. On the 12th of December, 1852, she sailed from New York for San Francisco, under the command of Captain J. D. Wilson, who died in Panama, and the steamer arrived at this port under the command of Captain Tanner. In the spring of 1853 she made her first trip from this port to San Juan in the Transit Line, and was there met by Captain J. H. Blethen, by whom she was commanded for fifty-two successive passages. The first passage on this steamer made by Captain Blethen will long be remembered by him with pride, as upon that occasion he was the recipient of a token of esteem from the passengers, in the shape of a magnificent gold watch, which to this day serves to mark time for him as faithfully as the sun. In 1857, Captain Huntington took command of the Sierra Nevada. In 1860 she was sold to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and subsequently to Ben. Holladay. Since this last transfer she has been running between this and other ports on the coast, both north and south. Although seemingly an old vessel, she was considered one of the most substantial and well-built steamers on the coast."
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From "Drove Cattle into Cariboo In the Early '60s" By William S. Lewis (date and publication unknown"
"As S.H. Borland Told It."
You inquired how I got the Sam Houston in my name. I'll tell you. My father, John Borland, was a physician. They just called them "Doctor" or "Doc" in those days. He liked to mix in politics as well as to practice medicine and at one time he was a member of congress from Arkansas.
Later father moved to Texas, where he became associated with Sam Houston, who was then disputing territorial sovereignty with Mexico. Mother went along, and I was born at Galveston on September 25, 1845. Six months later, father died of cholera. I've always been told that Sam Houston was my godfather and that I was named after that stanch old pioneer.
Alon in 1853, an older half-brother, Robert Borland, sent money to mother so we could go out to California. Mother and I arrived in San Francisco on the Sierra Nevada in August 1853. Three years later, when I was but 11 years old, mother married again. This didn't suit me and so at that rather early age I struck out for myself.
I attended school for a time at the Union street school with the De Young boys and other youths, who in later years became prominent men of that community."
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It is not specified what happened to his ashes. If I had to guess, they were buried with his wife and son or perhaps where buried at sea, possibly near the location of his houseboat and the lighthouse he kept.
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Also went by the name Samuel H. Desty and Samuel Hunter as a child. Very likely the half-brother of Robert Desty. Also likely the (illegitimate) son of Sen. Solon Borland as he seems to be the son of (widowed) Madame D'Estimauville (nee Sophie Hunter?) In the 1840s a Madame D'Estimauville lived in Arkansas that had a relationship with Solon Borland. There is no certain proof that this woman was widowed Sophia but the circumstantial evidence is very interesting.
Samuel Houston Borland was born in Texas in 1845. (There is a small chance he was born in Arkansas, though, as in one report of his mother leaving Arkansas she'd had her baby). He always claimed he was from Texas but likely information from his early biography came from what he was told by his mother and half-siblings.
In 1850 "Samuel Hunter" of Texas and "Sophia Hunter" of Canada were living in Milford, Kent County, Delaware. The informant for Samuel Houston Borland's death certificate in 1932 was under the impression that he had been born in Delaware. They stayed in the same household as the Sipple family - Eliza B and her sons Caleb and John. The relationship is unclear but it seems Samuel spent a few years growing up with the other two young boys. Later an eventual relative of John and Caleb was Governor of Delaware (step-son of their step-father).
In a letter back to a Quebec newspaper early 1853, Robert Desty stated that he was sending for his family in June next. I assume this was 1853. On June 12, 1854 in the San Joaquin Republican there is mention that a young boy named Sam Desty about 6 years old was almost kidnapped and then drowned at the wharf (Sam would have been about 9). 1854 was also around the time Sophia married her next husband, Mr. Hamlin. There is not a marriage record or newspaper mention but all census records of her being Canadian and a mention of her in a newspaper in the 1870s as being extremely well educated makes it seem very very very likely this is the correct Sophie (also on the 1860s census is a boarder or household member that is a man from Canada with the same name and age as Sophie's youngest brother).
In 1860 "Samuel H Desty" was staying in Weaverville, CA with Robert Desty. He then served with the California Cavalry forces during the Civil War (also as Samuel H. Desty).
In the 1860s got a job working for Ben Snipes driving cattle and Snipes' brother-in-law partner Henry Allen. He recalled some of his reminiscences of being a cowboy for Snipes & Allen in the 1860s and those are in the records of the Spokane County Pioneers' society (Robert Ballou published some of his story in his book "Early Klickitat Valley Days" in 1938).
For some reason after the Civil War he used the name Samuel H. Borland to marry and register to vote. His voter registration said he was born in Texas. There were a few notes in his Civil War files about him deserting and returning so maybe this was related to his name change. I don't know what he knew of his father although his brother Robert should have known something. On later censuses he always said his father was from Arkansas, his mother from Canada, and that he was born in Texas. He was a clerk in San Francisco after the Civil War was over. He married Addie Given, dressmaker, on October 5, 1868. He resided at 315 Minna St during 1868. On the 1870 census Sam and Addie were in the same dwelling/family of Dr. Herman H. Behr of 646 Bryant. Sam was a Bookkeeper, and Addie kept house. Dr. Behr was involved with the Academy of Sciences, and was from Germany. Around 1871 they stayed at 42 Everett St. In 1872 it was 836 Market. In 1874 he was a barkeeper (w/ James Buckley) and his dwelling was 765 Howard. In 1875 he was a barkeeper with Barrett & Caneau and his dwelling was 30 O'Farrell. In Aug 1880 the address was 8 Mason (clerk), and the address was 16 Mason in 1878 and 1881.
His first wife Addie seems to have only given birth once. In November 1870 she had triplets! The babies did not survive as there were 3 Borland children from 42 Everett St recorded in the 1870 mortuary register. In 1910 she gave her maternity statistic as 3 children born, 0 surviving.
At some point around 1881 when the mining in Tombstone, Arizona (around 1879-1881) was picking up Addie (with Sam?) moved to the area. Addie even had to testify in the 1881 trial of Wyatt Earp as a witness to the shootout that took place in front of her house on Fremont Street. Sam and Addie apparently split or divorced somewhere during this time as Addie lived and remarried in Los Angeles and Sam lived and remarried near San Francisco. There are also records of them with Cochise County Clerk of Superior Court for A.V. Borland vs S.H. Borland in November 1882. Also, A Borland of Maine was on the 1882 Chonchise County Census as residing in Tombstone and Samuel was not.
In 1882 Sam is living at 40 1/2 Geary (2nd floor, room 6).
Sam next married Faithful Jane Locke as recorded in Alameda County on December 19, 1886. She was the daughter of Oregon Trail pioneers. Her obituary seem to incorrectly state that she married Sam in 1881 in Oregon. Perhaps they were together earlier. The 1900 census said that she had 1 of 3 children surviving and had been married for 17 years. Sam was a fruit grower in Redwood, California and son Nelson was at school. ("Marriage Records. December 19th - Samuel Borland, native of Texas, aged 40, resident of Oakland, and Jennie Locke, native of Oregon, aged 28, resident of Oakland; by Justice E. Nusbaumer." Oakland Tribune - Saturday, January 8, 1887).
In 1886 he was a farmer in Wrights, California. His home seemed to be near Lake Elsman (near Wrights Station) by Wright Station Road and Sears Road based on an ordinance published in the paper about him building a private road in 1891. His neighbor then was Jacob Rich (whose estate sold to Antoine Matty in 1896). In 1891 he is also mentioned as a Saloon Keeper in San Jose. His place was called "The Index Saloon" located at 25 North First Street. He he bought out his business partner Wm. P. Barnes in 1892. An 1892 San Jose newspaper article also mentioned that he had three portraits of his family painted by artist A.D. Cooper. Unfortunately in 1892 the newspaper also reported that his home was destroyed by fire, including his fine library! Hopefully the paintings weren't there! A newspaper article about Wrights also mentioned that Sam Borland had a rabbitry.
After leaving the Index Saloon he was mentioned in the newspaper as being one of the attorneys for Miss Maude E. Stocksdale (Stocksdale vs. District Attorney Daniel W. Buchard Seduction Case) in San Jose in 1893.
With his experience as an old scout he played a leading role in the Modoc county raid and the trial of the Modoc Lynchers in 1901 and 1902. He worked with the authorities to solve the mystery surrounding the lynching of a whole family that had made enemies with their neighbors over a grazing dispute. The accused were ultimately acquitted. Borland moved north after this.
While in California his wife also suffered a stroke (stress from her husband's job?) and in 1903 they moved back to Oregon to the area where his wife was born. They were living in Portland when she died in 1904, leaving behind him and their only surviving son who later died of pneumonia in 1914.
At this point he was working as a lighthouse keeper and fisherman in Milwaukie, Oregon. His residence was a houseboat. He died in 1932. The informant for his death certificate (Mrs. Sarah Elmer of Portland) did not know any of his family information but seemed to think that he was born in Delaware.
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S.H. Borland, a cowboy for Snipes & Allen in the 1860s, recalled some of his reminiscences which are in the records of the Spokane County Pioneers' society (Robert Ballou published some of his story in his book "Early Klickitat Valley Days" in 1938) - pages 125-127.
"Sam Houston Borland was born at Galveston, Texas, September 25, 1845. His father, John Borland, a physician, moved from Arkansas to Texas just prior to the Mexican war and became associated with General Sam Houston. Doctor Borland was once a member of Congress from Arkansas. About six months after S. H. Borland was born his father succumbed. In 1853 the widow and young son came to California, through funds supplied by a relative. They arrived in San Francisco on the Sierra Nevada in August. Three years later his mother remarried. This did not suit the boy and he decided to strike out for himself, at the rather early age of 11 years. He had attended school at the Union street school. In speaking of his boyhood days in San Francisco he tells of seeing the bodies of two men suspended with ropes about their necks from a second-story window sill of a frame building on Sacramento street. He was told vigilantes had used a window sill gallows as the only convenient method available. He also witnessed another double hanging, when the vigilantes were making a cleanup in San Francisco. For seven years he drifted from one mining boom town to another, including, Humbolt, Cal., Virginia City, Nev., and camps in New Mexico. For a time, he was in Tombstone*, Arizona, regarded by many as the toughest of the tough, in mining camps of the Old west. In 1864 he decided to try his luck in the Idaho gold fields."
*Note - Tombstone was founded in 1879 and he was there in a later part of his life.
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Sam Borland Recalls Early Days in Oregon Territory
Pacific Northwest in 1864 People Mainly by Indians; Chinook Jargon Widely Spoken; Snake and Camel Meat Relished.
Sam Houston Borland of Milwaukie, Or., who came to Jacksonville, Or., in 1864, recalls many interesting incidents of early days in this state. William S. Lewis, well-known authority on northwest history, tells the story in Mr. Borland's own words.
By Sam Houston Borland, As Told to William S. Lewis.
Born in Galveston, Tex., in 1845, I came west with my parents in 1853. As a mere boy, I drifted about the mining camps of Humboldt Cal.; Virginia City, Nev., and in New Mexico between 1857-1864, when I headed north into Oregon. After spending some time in Jacksonville, I went to Portland in the fall of 1864. There I took a boat for The Dalles. On the boat I met a well-known pioneer character, Ben Snipes, a cattleman from the Yakima country in Washington territory. Ben Snipes took a fancy to me and engaged me to drive cattle for him.
When we reached The Dalles, which was a pretty lively place in those days, Ben Snipes gave me a five-point 20-pound blanket, some sundry supplies, and $5 in gold. He directed me to cross the Columbia river and to go north to the camp of the Klickitat Indians. He told me that when I arrived at the Indian camp I should introduce myself to the chief, hand him the $5 and say "Nykamomakiopabensnipes." Mr. Snipes told me that the chief would understand what that meant, even if I didn't, and that he would then take me to the cabin of the older Snipes on the Yakima river.
Indians Help Traveler.
In those days I was willing to tackle anything, and the fact that I was to make a solitary journey into Indian country didn't bother me a bit. I crossed the Columbia river at The Dalles to what is now Rockland, in December, 1864. From the north bank I took a well-traveled Indian trail to a place where two fir trees marked a pass through the mountain which finally led me to Klickitat Indian camp. The chief proved to be a pleasant, good-natured fellow. I have him the $5, recited my Chinook greeting adn the chief then led me safely to the Snipes' cabin on the Yakima river. I afterwards learned something of the Chinook, and what Snipes had me say to the chief was: "Nykaa (I) momaki (work or go) opa (towards or for) Ben Snipes."
The cabin was built of Balm of Gilead wood and lay about three-quarters of a mile from the Simcoe Indian reservation. Captain Jack and some 600 Indians were then on the reservation and I don't remember seeing more than two or three white men there or anywhere else between the Columbia river and the Cariboo mines.
The Snipeses were among the first white men to graze cattle in the Yakima valley. Ben Snipes had gone to The Dalles form southern Oregon in 1858. In October, 1860, he and John Golden and Pannott first drove their cattle from the Klickitat into the Yakima valley and wintered them there during the winter of 1860-1. They were firm and square in their dealings with the Indians and were feared and respected. Ben Snipes afterwards became a banker at Ellensburg.
Future Bad Man in Party.
He and John Jeffries then had about 700 head of nice cattle which they wanted to drive from the Simcoe reservation overland to the Cariboo gold mines in the Fraser river country in British Columbia. There were eight men in ou party; a man named Allen was the only other white man; the others were mixed bloods and Indians. One of the halfbreeds was Alex McLean, son of the Scotch McLean who then kept the supply station at Bonaparte in the Cariboo. Alex, I've been told, later became a rather notorious "bad man."
We started from the Yakima country on St. Patrick's day, 1863, and we made good progress. We swam the cattle across the Columbia river at Priest Rapids, and again at "Dancing Bill" Sappington's ferry. At Priest rapids I met the famous Chief Moses. He then looked to be a man between 30 and 40 years old, and his camp as at Grand Coulee, where he then had about 50 Indian followers. Moses and his Indians came over and helped us swim the cattle across the river at Priest rapids. We gave the chief two steers for helping us get the cattle across the river, and proceedd to rest our herd the next day. Moses rode a very large horse which he boasted was able to run as fast as the wind; it didn't take very long to arrange a horse race between the Indians and the whites. Moses talked to his Indians and evidently told them to bet on his horse, for they backed the animal to win. Our little mare Hummingbird won the race; won easily. The Indians were astonished to see our little mare win so easily, but they were good sports and laughed about it and tried to get us to race with them again, but we refused.
Camels Stampede Herd.
Leaving Moses and his band the next morning, we went on and, after recrossing the Columbia again on Dancing Bill's ferry, we went up through the Okanogan valley to the British boundary line, where we paid the customs officer a dollar a head cash duty on our 700 head. We then drove the cattle up to the head of Okanogan lake, and over the ridge down into Grande valley.
Now about camels. Just as our leading cattle got down the hill to the prairie level two large camels suddenly raised up and let out the most terrifying snorts or coughs that I've ever heard. The cattle had never heard anything worse, either. The herd immediately stampeded, bawling and scattering in all directions. It took us several days to collect them again. We then passed on to Kamloops lake and the Bonaparte river. At that point McLean, the Hudson's Bay squaw-man, kept a supply station, where camel meat, mule meat and horse meat were all served. I ate some of each at different meals, but the camel meat was not the best eating. I was told that the camel pack trains were to be given up on account of their frightening the mule and horse pack trains. The feeling then ran high against the further use of the camels for packing freight on the regular pack trains. We cattle drivers shared in the general prejudice against the animals.
Baby Born on Trail
I was 20 years old at that time. This man Allen who was in our party owned the finest riding horse I've ever seen. It knew about everything except to read and write. On of our Indians was Siouxwaps Dick; he had his klutchman along, and he had charge of our bell-mare and the cooking outfit. One evening on the trip he said that he wanted to drop behind, as his klutchman was sick. He did so, but within 24 hours Dick and his klutchman had again caught up with our herd, brining a new bright-eyed Indian baby with them. The klutchman just went along doing her full camp work as usual.
We got 40c a pound for all our cattle, on the foot or hoof, just as they stood, and we'd watered them well before weighing. Payment was made in gold dust taken from the Cariboo mines. The British Columbia government collected a 3c export duty on the gold, but they also provided us with 20 gold escort guards to protect the gold until we could reach Fort Yale.
Job with Pack Train Next.
I left the party at Clinton, or what was called "Cut-off valley," and I secured work with a Mexican pack train under a man named Simmons, who was cross-eyed and one of the fiercest looking men I've ever seen. He and I were the only white men in our party. We had 45 mules in that train and we packed freight from Fort Yale to the mouth of the Quesnelle river, some 530 miles. The government had built a first-class road along the Fraser river. It was wide and well graded and in some places one could look down 1000 feet or more to the river below. Just above Fort Yale a suspension bridge, the first I had ever seen, crossed the Fraser river canyon. I stayed some time at Williams creek, a well-known camp of those days. Here meals were $2.00 each; liquor (but a better grace than we get today) 50c a drink, cigars 50c apiece, eggs one dollar each, sugar $1.25 a pound, bacon $1.25 a pound and other commodities in like proportion. Wages at the mine for underground work were $12 a day.
I didn't return to Washington territory the way I came. I went out to Victoria, and having associated with the Indians and learned the Chinook jargon, I became Chinook Interpreter in Justice Pemberton's court. This was a minor court in which many Indian cases were tried. Vancouver island was at that time a separate province from British Columbia. I met and knew Sir James Douglas, governor of the island, and two of his fine looking daughters. His wife was a fine woman of mixed Indian blood. I can't now recall just when I left Victoria by boat for San Francisco. I got back to California in time to vote for General Grant as president in 1868.
Rattler Meat Delicate.
I've eaten horse meat, mule meat, camel meat, dog meat and well over 100 rattlesnakes. The latter are really fine eating, but I've noticed among my acquaintances somewhat the same prejudice against my snake meat that some people, who are uninitiated into the higher epicurean delights, display towards a Frenchman's dish of frog legs or snails.
In 1870 I made a trip to Seattle, which then consisted of a few shacks and a sawmill, and a lot of big fir stumps cluttering up the townsite. I wasn't much impressed with the place. I also visited New Jerusalem, located on top of a hill, and so named because of the expected building of the railroad to that place. New Jerusalem was even punier and tougher looking than Seattle. It has acquired its railroad and is now known as Tacoma.
Some time ago I moved back to Oregon City with my family and for some years looked after the lights for river navigation at Rock Island, and I have now lived at Milwaukie for some years.
(Oregonian - Sunday, May 5, 1929)
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It Is Only Prejudice.
Sam Borland Asserts That Fried Snake is Dainty.
The Festive Rattler to Become One of the Great Food Exports of the State of California
There was quite a delegation of men about town gathered in front of Morehead's drug store on Santa Clara street to-day discussing the recent devouring of a cat by a prominent young blacksmith, under the mistaken impression that the feline was a rabbit. The general opinion seemed to be that the only harm done was the fact that the young man had found out that he had eaten feline instead of hare. Sam Borland joined the crowd and said that humanity was becoming remarkably enlighted in these latter days and he had no doubt but that ere long the prejudice against eating cats and other animals now universally subject to stomachical contempt as an article of diet, would be done away with and the aforesaid animals be allowed their proper place in the commerical world.
"Why," said Sam, "cats as an article of diet are nothing to arouse animosity in any spot of a man's anatomy. I've eaten rattlesnake and it was just as fine a tid-bit as I ever enjoyed in my life."
"Say Sam, just draw it mild please. I was out late last evening and my gastronomical organs are not in the best of humor, in fact are in a state bordering on rebellion and I long to give them rest," remarked a well known insurance man in a dejected tone.
"But there's nothing repulsive about his," said Sam. "Some five years ago I had as a guest on the ranch a young man by the name of Smead who was in the employ of Redington & Company in San Francisco. I killed a large rattlesnake one morning and was skinning it preparatory to frying out the oil from the fat, for as you all know the oil is remarkably efficacious as a cure for rheumatism. I was struck with the splendid appearance of the rattler's meat and it recalled to mind a conversatoin I had with a well known French resident in this city some time before, in which he had told me of the exquisite daintiness of the rattler as an article of food.
"I determined to try it so I done Mr. Rattler up very nicely, took him in to Dora, the cook, and told her to wrap him up in flour, fry him in butter, and serve him at dinner as baked eel.
"I then went into the sitting room and said to Smead, 'Houw would you like some eel for dinner?"
"How can you ask me Sam, when you know I was born and raised in Hoboken. Nothing could please me better."
"We all sat down to dinner and Smead eyed that eel with intesne longing. It was done brown and looked juicy. It was cut in eight pieces and Smead kept passing his plate until it was all gone. We were alone, batching it, and Smead after eating his dinner leaned back. lit his pipe and looked dreamily contented.
"'How did you like that eel Smead,' I asked him."
"'Well, Sam,' said he, 'to tell the truth it was a little more better than any eel I ever ate before, it was simpley delicious.'
"'Have you any idea what you have been eating' I asked."
"'Why eel, of course.'"
"'Well, my boy,' said I, 'you have been eating nothing more nor less than rattlesnake.'"
"Prejudice is an awful ting, gentlemen" said Sam. "Smead just yelled, 'Holy Smoke! God have mercy!' and fell out of his chair. He didn't eat another bite for nearly three days, and yet he had confessed to me that the snake was absolutely delicious.
"A long while after I was telling Emil Lamolle of the incident and he said he would like to try one. I brought a big fat one down and bet him $20 he wouldn't dare to touch it. He weakened, but I ordered it cooked up in proper shape for myself and boy and in the evening went down to enjoy it. Emil asked me when I went in to give him the wink when it was placed on the table and I done so. He sat down and pronounced the snake as fine as any frog that ever was cooked. Turn up your noses gentlemen if you wish but the rattler is destined to become a great commercial export of California, a delicious food product."
(San Jose Herald - December 6, 1893)
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SS Sierra Nevada
Arrival: July 31, 1853
Captain James H. Blethen
From San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua
342 passengers
This vessel was a wooden side-wheeled steamer, built by William Collyer, New York, and launched as the Texas, October 25, 1851. She operated from New York to Chagres from February until October, 1852, by the Empire City Line and originally advertised for this line as the Quartz Rock. Made a trial trip as the Sierra Nevada on February 7, 1852, she was eventually purchased by Cornelius Vanderbilt and sent to San Francisco, where she arrived March 23, 1853. She remained on the San Francisco - San Juan del Sur service until March 1857, and later purchased by the Pacific Mail (1860) and placed in coastal service. In February, 1861, she was purchased by Holladay and Brenham and was wrecked on a reef south of Monterey on October 17, 1869.
The Steamer Sierra Nevada eventually sank in 1869. " To many old Californians, the news of the loss of the Sierra Nevada will be the occasion of bringing up many pleasant reminiscences. The Sierra Nevada was built in New York in 1851 by Chas. Morgan, Esq., and designed for the Texan trade, but before her completion a demand arising for steamers of that class for the California trade, she was purchased by Commodore C. K. Garrison, and made three trips during the same year to Chagres. On the 12th of December, 1852, she sailed from New York for San Francisco, under the command of Captain J. D. Wilson, who died in Panama, and the steamer arrived at this port under the command of Captain Tanner. In the spring of 1853 she made her first trip from this port to San Juan in the Transit Line, and was there met by Captain J. H. Blethen, by whom she was commanded for fifty-two successive passages. The first passage on this steamer made by Captain Blethen will long be remembered by him with pride, as upon that occasion he was the recipient of a token of esteem from the passengers, in the shape of a magnificent gold watch, which to this day serves to mark time for him as faithfully as the sun. In 1857, Captain Huntington took command of the Sierra Nevada. In 1860 she was sold to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and subsequently to Ben. Holladay. Since this last transfer she has been running between this and other ports on the coast, both north and south. Although seemingly an old vessel, she was considered one of the most substantial and well-built steamers on the coast."
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From "Drove Cattle into Cariboo In the Early '60s" By William S. Lewis (date and publication unknown"
"As S.H. Borland Told It."
You inquired how I got the Sam Houston in my name. I'll tell you. My father, John Borland, was a physician. They just called them "Doctor" or "Doc" in those days. He liked to mix in politics as well as to practice medicine and at one time he was a member of congress from Arkansas.
Later father moved to Texas, where he became associated with Sam Houston, who was then disputing territorial sovereignty with Mexico. Mother went along, and I was born at Galveston on September 25, 1845. Six months later, father died of cholera. I've always been told that Sam Houston was my godfather and that I was named after that stanch old pioneer.
Alon in 1853, an older half-brother, Robert Borland, sent money to mother so we could go out to California. Mother and I arrived in San Francisco on the Sierra Nevada in August 1853. Three years later, when I was but 11 years old, mother married again. This didn't suit me and so at that rather early age I struck out for myself.
I attended school for a time at the Union street school with the De Young boys and other youths, who in later years became prominent men of that community."
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It is not specified what happened to his ashes. If I had to guess, they were buried with his wife and son or perhaps where buried at sea, possibly near the location of his houseboat and the lighthouse he kept.
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Also went by the name Samuel H. Desty and Samuel Hunter as a child. Very likely the half-brother of Robert Desty. Also likely the (illegitimate) son of Sen. Solon Borland as he seems to be the son of (widowed) Madame D'Estimauville (nee Sophie Hunter?) In the 1840s a Madame D'Estimauville lived in Arkansas that had a relationship with Solon Borland. There is no certain proof that this woman was widowed Sophia but the circumstantial evidence is very interesting.
Samuel Houston Borland was born in Texas in 1845. (There is a small chance he was born in Arkansas, though, as in one report of his mother leaving Arkansas she'd had her baby). He always claimed he was from Texas but likely information from his early biography came from what he was told by his mother and half-siblings.
In 1850 "Samuel Hunter" of Texas and "Sophia Hunter" of Canada were living in Milford, Kent County, Delaware. The informant for Samuel Houston Borland's death certificate in 1932 was under the impression that he had been born in Delaware. They stayed in the same household as the Sipple family - Eliza B and her sons Caleb and John. The relationship is unclear but it seems Samuel spent a few years growing up with the other two young boys. Later an eventual relative of John and Caleb was Governor of Delaware (step-son of their step-father).
In a letter back to a Quebec newspaper early 1853, Robert Desty stated that he was sending for his family in June next. I assume this was 1853. On June 12, 1854 in the San Joaquin Republican there is mention that a young boy named Sam Desty about 6 years old was almost kidnapped and then drowned at the wharf (Sam would have been about 9). 1854 was also around the time Sophia married her next husband, Mr. Hamlin. There is not a marriage record or newspaper mention but all census records of her being Canadian and a mention of her in a newspaper in the 1870s as being extremely well educated makes it seem very very very likely this is the correct Sophie (also on the 1860s census is a boarder or household member that is a man from Canada with the same name and age as Sophie's youngest brother).
In 1860 "Samuel H Desty" was staying in Weaverville, CA with Robert Desty. He then served with the California Cavalry forces during the Civil War (also as Samuel H. Desty).
In the 1860s got a job working for Ben Snipes driving cattle and Snipes' brother-in-law partner Henry Allen. He recalled some of his reminiscences of being a cowboy for Snipes & Allen in the 1860s and those are in the records of the Spokane County Pioneers' society (Robert Ballou published some of his story in his book "Early Klickitat Valley Days" in 1938).
For some reason after the Civil War he used the name Samuel H. Borland to marry and register to vote. His voter registration said he was born in Texas. There were a few notes in his Civil War files about him deserting and returning so maybe this was related to his name change. I don't know what he knew of his father although his brother Robert should have known something. On later censuses he always said his father was from Arkansas, his mother from Canada, and that he was born in Texas. He was a clerk in San Francisco after the Civil War was over. He married Addie Given, dressmaker, on October 5, 1868. He resided at 315 Minna St during 1868. On the 1870 census Sam and Addie were in the same dwelling/family of Dr. Herman H. Behr of 646 Bryant. Sam was a Bookkeeper, and Addie kept house. Dr. Behr was involved with the Academy of Sciences, and was from Germany. Around 1871 they stayed at 42 Everett St. In 1872 it was 836 Market. In 1874 he was a barkeeper (w/ James Buckley) and his dwelling was 765 Howard. In 1875 he was a barkeeper with Barrett & Caneau and his dwelling was 30 O'Farrell. In Aug 1880 the address was 8 Mason (clerk), and the address was 16 Mason in 1878 and 1881.
His first wife Addie seems to have only given birth once. In November 1870 she had triplets! The babies did not survive as there were 3 Borland children from 42 Everett St recorded in the 1870 mortuary register. In 1910 she gave her maternity statistic as 3 children born, 0 surviving.
At some point around 1881 when the mining in Tombstone, Arizona (around 1879-1881) was picking up Addie (with Sam?) moved to the area. Addie even had to testify in the 1881 trial of Wyatt Earp as a witness to the shootout that took place in front of her house on Fremont Street. Sam and Addie apparently split or divorced somewhere during this time as Addie lived and remarried in Los Angeles and Sam lived and remarried near San Francisco. There are also records of them with Cochise County Clerk of Superior Court for A.V. Borland vs S.H. Borland in November 1882. Also, A Borland of Maine was on the 1882 Chonchise County Census as residing in Tombstone and Samuel was not.
In 1882 Sam is living at 40 1/2 Geary (2nd floor, room 6).
Sam next married Faithful Jane Locke as recorded in Alameda County on December 19, 1886. She was the daughter of Oregon Trail pioneers. Her obituary seem to incorrectly state that she married Sam in 1881 in Oregon. Perhaps they were together earlier. The 1900 census said that she had 1 of 3 children surviving and had been married for 17 years. Sam was a fruit grower in Redwood, California and son Nelson was at school. ("Marriage Records. December 19th - Samuel Borland, native of Texas, aged 40, resident of Oakland, and Jennie Locke, native of Oregon, aged 28, resident of Oakland; by Justice E. Nusbaumer." Oakland Tribune - Saturday, January 8, 1887).
In 1886 he was a farmer in Wrights, California. His home seemed to be near Lake Elsman (near Wrights Station) by Wright Station Road and Sears Road based on an ordinance published in the paper about him building a private road in 1891. His neighbor then was Jacob Rich (whose estate sold to Antoine Matty in 1896). In 1891 he is also mentioned as a Saloon Keeper in San Jose. His place was called "The Index Saloon" located at 25 North First Street. He he bought out his business partner Wm. P. Barnes in 1892. An 1892 San Jose newspaper article also mentioned that he had three portraits of his family painted by artist A.D. Cooper. Unfortunately in 1892 the newspaper also reported that his home was destroyed by fire, including his fine library! Hopefully the paintings weren't there! A newspaper article about Wrights also mentioned that Sam Borland had a rabbitry.
After leaving the Index Saloon he was mentioned in the newspaper as being one of the attorneys for Miss Maude E. Stocksdale (Stocksdale vs. District Attorney Daniel W. Buchard Seduction Case) in San Jose in 1893.
With his experience as an old scout he played a leading role in the Modoc county raid and the trial of the Modoc Lynchers in 1901 and 1902. He worked with the authorities to solve the mystery surrounding the lynching of a whole family that had made enemies with their neighbors over a grazing dispute. The accused were ultimately acquitted. Borland moved north after this.
While in California his wife also suffered a stroke (stress from her husband's job?) and in 1903 they moved back to Oregon to the area where his wife was born. They were living in Portland when she died in 1904, leaving behind him and their only surviving son who later died of pneumonia in 1914.
At this point he was working as a lighthouse keeper and fisherman in Milwaukie, Oregon. His residence was a houseboat. He died in 1932. The informant for his death certificate (Mrs. Sarah Elmer of Portland) did not know any of his family information but seemed to think that he was born in Delaware.
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S.H. Borland, a cowboy for Snipes & Allen in the 1860s, recalled some of his reminiscences which are in the records of the Spokane County Pioneers' society (Robert Ballou published some of his story in his book "Early Klickitat Valley Days" in 1938) - pages 125-127.
"Sam Houston Borland was born at Galveston, Texas, September 25, 1845. His father, John Borland, a physician, moved from Arkansas to Texas just prior to the Mexican war and became associated with General Sam Houston. Doctor Borland was once a member of Congress from Arkansas. About six months after S. H. Borland was born his father succumbed. In 1853 the widow and young son came to California, through funds supplied by a relative. They arrived in San Francisco on the Sierra Nevada in August. Three years later his mother remarried. This did not suit the boy and he decided to strike out for himself, at the rather early age of 11 years. He had attended school at the Union street school. In speaking of his boyhood days in San Francisco he tells of seeing the bodies of two men suspended with ropes about their necks from a second-story window sill of a frame building on Sacramento street. He was told vigilantes had used a window sill gallows as the only convenient method available. He also witnessed another double hanging, when the vigilantes were making a cleanup in San Francisco. For seven years he drifted from one mining boom town to another, including, Humbolt, Cal., Virginia City, Nev., and camps in New Mexico. For a time, he was in Tombstone*, Arizona, regarded by many as the toughest of the tough, in mining camps of the Old west. In 1864 he decided to try his luck in the Idaho gold fields."
*Note - Tombstone was founded in 1879 and he was there in a later part of his life.
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Sam Borland Recalls Early Days in Oregon Territory
Pacific Northwest in 1864 People Mainly by Indians; Chinook Jargon Widely Spoken; Snake and Camel Meat Relished.
Sam Houston Borland of Milwaukie, Or., who came to Jacksonville, Or., in 1864, recalls many interesting incidents of early days in this state. William S. Lewis, well-known authority on northwest history, tells the story in Mr. Borland's own words.
By Sam Houston Borland, As Told to William S. Lewis.
Born in Galveston, Tex., in 1845, I came west with my parents in 1853. As a mere boy, I drifted about the mining camps of Humboldt Cal.; Virginia City, Nev., and in New Mexico between 1857-1864, when I headed north into Oregon. After spending some time in Jacksonville, I went to Portland in the fall of 1864. There I took a boat for The Dalles. On the boat I met a well-known pioneer character, Ben Snipes, a cattleman from the Yakima country in Washington territory. Ben Snipes took a fancy to me and engaged me to drive cattle for him.
When we reached The Dalles, which was a pretty lively place in those days, Ben Snipes gave me a five-point 20-pound blanket, some sundry supplies, and $5 in gold. He directed me to cross the Columbia river and to go north to the camp of the Klickitat Indians. He told me that when I arrived at the Indian camp I should introduce myself to the chief, hand him the $5 and say "Nykamomakiopabensnipes." Mr. Snipes told me that the chief would understand what that meant, even if I didn't, and that he would then take me to the cabin of the older Snipes on the Yakima river.
Indians Help Traveler.
In those days I was willing to tackle anything, and the fact that I was to make a solitary journey into Indian country didn't bother me a bit. I crossed the Columbia river at The Dalles to what is now Rockland, in December, 1864. From the north bank I took a well-traveled Indian trail to a place where two fir trees marked a pass through the mountain which finally led me to Klickitat Indian camp. The chief proved to be a pleasant, good-natured fellow. I have him the $5, recited my Chinook greeting adn the chief then led me safely to the Snipes' cabin on the Yakima river. I afterwards learned something of the Chinook, and what Snipes had me say to the chief was: "Nykaa (I) momaki (work or go) opa (towards or for) Ben Snipes."
The cabin was built of Balm of Gilead wood and lay about three-quarters of a mile from the Simcoe Indian reservation. Captain Jack and some 600 Indians were then on the reservation and I don't remember seeing more than two or three white men there or anywhere else between the Columbia river and the Cariboo mines.
The Snipeses were among the first white men to graze cattle in the Yakima valley. Ben Snipes had gone to The Dalles form southern Oregon in 1858. In October, 1860, he and John Golden and Pannott first drove their cattle from the Klickitat into the Yakima valley and wintered them there during the winter of 1860-1. They were firm and square in their dealings with the Indians and were feared and respected. Ben Snipes afterwards became a banker at Ellensburg.
Future Bad Man in Party.
He and John Jeffries then had about 700 head of nice cattle which they wanted to drive from the Simcoe reservation overland to the Cariboo gold mines in the Fraser river country in British Columbia. There were eight men in ou party; a man named Allen was the only other white man; the others were mixed bloods and Indians. One of the halfbreeds was Alex McLean, son of the Scotch McLean who then kept the supply station at Bonaparte in the Cariboo. Alex, I've been told, later became a rather notorious "bad man."
We started from the Yakima country on St. Patrick's day, 1863, and we made good progress. We swam the cattle across the Columbia river at Priest Rapids, and again at "Dancing Bill" Sappington's ferry. At Priest rapids I met the famous Chief Moses. He then looked to be a man between 30 and 40 years old, and his camp as at Grand Coulee, where he then had about 50 Indian followers. Moses and his Indians came over and helped us swim the cattle across the river at Priest rapids. We gave the chief two steers for helping us get the cattle across the river, and proceedd to rest our herd the next day. Moses rode a very large horse which he boasted was able to run as fast as the wind; it didn't take very long to arrange a horse race between the Indians and the whites. Moses talked to his Indians and evidently told them to bet on his horse, for they backed the animal to win. Our little mare Hummingbird won the race; won easily. The Indians were astonished to see our little mare win so easily, but they were good sports and laughed about it and tried to get us to race with them again, but we refused.
Camels Stampede Herd.
Leaving Moses and his band the next morning, we went on and, after recrossing the Columbia again on Dancing Bill's ferry, we went up through the Okanogan valley to the British boundary line, where we paid the customs officer a dollar a head cash duty on our 700 head. We then drove the cattle up to the head of Okanogan lake, and over the ridge down into Grande valley.
Now about camels. Just as our leading cattle got down the hill to the prairie level two large camels suddenly raised up and let out the most terrifying snorts or coughs that I've ever heard. The cattle had never heard anything worse, either. The herd immediately stampeded, bawling and scattering in all directions. It took us several days to collect them again. We then passed on to Kamloops lake and the Bonaparte river. At that point McLean, the Hudson's Bay squaw-man, kept a supply station, where camel meat, mule meat and horse meat were all served. I ate some of each at different meals, but the camel meat was not the best eating. I was told that the camel pack trains were to be given up on account of their frightening the mule and horse pack trains. The feeling then ran high against the further use of the camels for packing freight on the regular pack trains. We cattle drivers shared in the general prejudice against the animals.
Baby Born on Trail
I was 20 years old at that time. This man Allen who was in our party owned the finest riding horse I've ever seen. It knew about everything except to read and write. On of our Indians was Siouxwaps Dick; he had his klutchman along, and he had charge of our bell-mare and the cooking outfit. One evening on the trip he said that he wanted to drop behind, as his klutchman was sick. He did so, but within 24 hours Dick and his klutchman had again caught up with our herd, brining a new bright-eyed Indian baby with them. The klutchman just went along doing her full camp work as usual.
We got 40c a pound for all our cattle, on the foot or hoof, just as they stood, and we'd watered them well before weighing. Payment was made in gold dust taken from the Cariboo mines. The British Columbia government collected a 3c export duty on the gold, but they also provided us with 20 gold escort guards to protect the gold until we could reach Fort Yale.
Job with Pack Train Next.
I left the party at Clinton, or what was called "Cut-off valley," and I secured work with a Mexican pack train under a man named Simmons, who was cross-eyed and one of the fiercest looking men I've ever seen. He and I were the only white men in our party. We had 45 mules in that train and we packed freight from Fort Yale to the mouth of the Quesnelle river, some 530 miles. The government had built a first-class road along the Fraser river. It was wide and well graded and in some places one could look down 1000 feet or more to the river below. Just above Fort Yale a suspension bridge, the first I had ever seen, crossed the Fraser river canyon. I stayed some time at Williams creek, a well-known camp of those days. Here meals were $2.00 each; liquor (but a better grace than we get today) 50c a drink, cigars 50c apiece, eggs one dollar each, sugar $1.25 a pound, bacon $1.25 a pound and other commodities in like proportion. Wages at the mine for underground work were $12 a day.
I didn't return to Washington territory the way I came. I went out to Victoria, and having associated with the Indians and learned the Chinook jargon, I became Chinook Interpreter in Justice Pemberton's court. This was a minor court in which many Indian cases were tried. Vancouver island was at that time a separate province from British Columbia. I met and knew Sir James Douglas, governor of the island, and two of his fine looking daughters. His wife was a fine woman of mixed Indian blood. I can't now recall just when I left Victoria by boat for San Francisco. I got back to California in time to vote for General Grant as president in 1868.
Rattler Meat Delicate.
I've eaten horse meat, mule meat, camel meat, dog meat and well over 100 rattlesnakes. The latter are really fine eating, but I've noticed among my acquaintances somewhat the same prejudice against my snake meat that some people, who are uninitiated into the higher epicurean delights, display towards a Frenchman's dish of frog legs or snails.
In 1870 I made a trip to Seattle, which then consisted of a few shacks and a sawmill, and a lot of big fir stumps cluttering up the townsite. I wasn't much impressed with the place. I also visited New Jerusalem, located on top of a hill, and so named because of the expected building of the railroad to that place. New Jerusalem was even punier and tougher looking than Seattle. It has acquired its railroad and is now known as Tacoma.
Some time ago I moved back to Oregon City with my family and for some years looked after the lights for river navigation at Rock Island, and I have now lived at Milwaukie for some years.
(Oregonian - Sunday, May 5, 1929)
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It Is Only Prejudice.
Sam Borland Asserts That Fried Snake is Dainty.
The Festive Rattler to Become One of the Great Food Exports of the State of California
There was quite a delegation of men about town gathered in front of Morehead's drug store on Santa Clara street to-day discussing the recent devouring of a cat by a prominent young blacksmith, under the mistaken impression that the feline was a rabbit. The general opinion seemed to be that the only harm done was the fact that the young man had found out that he had eaten feline instead of hare. Sam Borland joined the crowd and said that humanity was becoming remarkably enlighted in these latter days and he had no doubt but that ere long the prejudice against eating cats and other animals now universally subject to stomachical contempt as an article of diet, would be done away with and the aforesaid animals be allowed their proper place in the commerical world.
"Why," said Sam, "cats as an article of diet are nothing to arouse animosity in any spot of a man's anatomy. I've eaten rattlesnake and it was just as fine a tid-bit as I ever enjoyed in my life."
"Say Sam, just draw it mild please. I was out late last evening and my gastronomical organs are not in the best of humor, in fact are in a state bordering on rebellion and I long to give them rest," remarked a well known insurance man in a dejected tone.
"But there's nothing repulsive about his," said Sam. "Some five years ago I had as a guest on the ranch a young man by the name of Smead who was in the employ of Redington & Company in San Francisco. I killed a large rattlesnake one morning and was skinning it preparatory to frying out the oil from the fat, for as you all know the oil is remarkably efficacious as a cure for rheumatism. I was struck with the splendid appearance of the rattler's meat and it recalled to mind a conversatoin I had with a well known French resident in this city some time before, in which he had told me of the exquisite daintiness of the rattler as an article of food.
"I determined to try it so I done Mr. Rattler up very nicely, took him in to Dora, the cook, and told her to wrap him up in flour, fry him in butter, and serve him at dinner as baked eel.
"I then went into the sitting room and said to Smead, 'Houw would you like some eel for dinner?"
"How can you ask me Sam, when you know I was born and raised in Hoboken. Nothing could please me better."
"We all sat down to dinner and Smead eyed that eel with intesne longing. It was done brown and looked juicy. It was cut in eight pieces and Smead kept passing his plate until it was all gone. We were alone, batching it, and Smead after eating his dinner leaned back. lit his pipe and looked dreamily contented.
"'How did you like that eel Smead,' I asked him."
"'Well, Sam,' said he, 'to tell the truth it was a little more better than any eel I ever ate before, it was simpley delicious.'
"'Have you any idea what you have been eating' I asked."
"'Why eel, of course.'"
"'Well, my boy,' said I, 'you have been eating nothing more nor less than rattlesnake.'"
"Prejudice is an awful ting, gentlemen" said Sam. "Smead just yelled, 'Holy Smoke! God have mercy!' and fell out of his chair. He didn't eat another bite for nearly three days, and yet he had confessed to me that the snake was absolutely delicious.
"A long while after I was telling Emil Lamolle of the incident and he said he would like to try one. I brought a big fat one down and bet him $20 he wouldn't dare to touch it. He weakened, but I ordered it cooked up in proper shape for myself and boy and in the evening went down to enjoy it. Emil asked me when I went in to give him the wink when it was placed on the table and I done so. He sat down and pronounced the snake as fine as any frog that ever was cooked. Turn up your noses gentlemen if you wish but the rattler is destined to become a great commercial export of California, a delicious food product."
(San Jose Herald - December 6, 1893)
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SS Sierra Nevada
Arrival: July 31, 1853
Captain James H. Blethen
From San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua
342 passengers
This vessel was a wooden side-wheeled steamer, built by William Collyer, New York, and launched as the Texas, October 25, 1851. She operated from New York to Chagres from February until October, 1852, by the Empire City Line and originally advertised for this line as the Quartz Rock. Made a trial trip as the Sierra Nevada on February 7, 1852, she was eventually purchased by Cornelius Vanderbilt and sent to San Francisco, where she arrived March 23, 1853. She remained on the San Francisco - San Juan del Sur service until March 1857, and later purchased by the Pacific Mail (1860) and placed in coastal service. In February, 1861, she was purchased by Holladay and Brenham and was wrecked on a reef south of Monterey on October 17, 1869.
The Steamer Sierra Nevada eventually sank in 1869. " To many old Californians, the news of the loss of the Sierra Nevada will be the occasion of bringing up many pleasant reminiscences. The Sierra Nevada was built in New York in 1851 by Chas. Morgan, Esq., and designed for the Texan trade, but before her completion a demand arising for steamers of that class for the California trade, she was purchased by Commodore C. K. Garrison, and made three trips during the same year to Chagres. On the 12th of December, 1852, she sailed from New York for San Francisco, under the command of Captain J. D. Wilson, who died in Panama, and the steamer arrived at this port under the command of Captain Tanner. In the spring of 1853 she made her first trip from this port to San Juan in the Transit Line, and was there met by Captain J. H. Blethen, by whom she was commanded for fifty-two successive passages. The first passage on this steamer made by Captain Blethen will long be remembered by him with pride, as upon that occasion he was the recipient of a token of esteem from the passengers, in the shape of a magnificent gold watch, which to this day serves to mark time for him as faithfully as the sun. In 1857, Captain Huntington took command of the Sierra Nevada. In 1860 she was sold to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and subsequently to Ben. Holladay. Since this last transfer she has been running between this and other ports on the coast, both north and south. Although seemingly an old vessel, she was considered one of the most substantial and well-built steamers on the coast."
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From "Drove Cattle into Cariboo In the Early '60s" By William S. Lewis (date and publication unknown"
"As S.H. Borland Told It."
You inquired how I got the Sam Houston in my name. I'll tell you. My father, John Borland, was a physician. They just called them "Doctor" or "Doc" in those days. He liked to mix in politics as well as to practice medicine and at one time he was a member of congress from Arkansas.
Later father moved to Texas, where he became associated with Sam Houston, who was then disputing territorial sovereignty with Mexico. Mother went along, and I was born at Galveston on September 25, 1845. Six months later, father died of cholera. I've always been told that Sam Houston was my godfather and that I was named after that stanch old pioneer.
Alon in 1853, an older half-brother, Robert Borland, sent money to mother so we could go out to California. Mother and I arrived in San Francisco on the Sierra Nevada in August 1853. Three years later, when I was but 11 years old, mother married again. This didn't suit me and so at that rather early age I struck out for myself.
I attended school for a time at the Union street school with the De Young boys and other youths, who in later years became prominent men of that community."
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It is not specified what happened to his ashes. If I had to guess, they were buried with his wife and son or perhaps where buried at sea, possibly near the location of his houseboat and the lighthouse he kept.
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Also went by the name Samuel H. Desty and Samuel Hunter as a child. Very likely the half-brother of Robert Desty. Also likely the (illegitimate) son of Sen. Solon Borland as he seems to be the son of (widowed) Madame D'Estimauville (nee Sophie Hunter?) In the 1840s a Madame D'Estimauville lived in Arkansas that had a relationship with Solon Borland. There is no certain proof that this woman was widowed Sophia but the circumstantial evidence is very interesting.
Samuel Houston Borland was born in Texas in 1845. (There is a small chance he was born in Arkansas, though, as in one report of his mother leaving Arkansas she'd had her baby). He always claimed he was from Texas but likely information from his early biography came from what he was told by his mother and half-siblings.
In 1850 "Samuel Hunter" of Texas and "Sophia Hunter" of Canada were living in Milford, Kent County, Delaware. The informant for Samuel Houston Borland's death certificate in 1932 was under the impression that he had been born in Delaware. They stayed in the same household as the Sipple family - Eliza B and her sons Caleb and John. The relationship is unclear but it seems Samuel spent a few years growing up with the other two young boys. Later an eventual relative of John and Caleb was Governor of Delaware (step-son of their step-father).
In a letter back to a Quebec newspaper early 1853, Robert Desty stated that he was sending for his family in June next. I assume this was 1853. On June 12, 1854 in the San Joaquin Republican there is mention that a young boy named Sam Desty about 6 years old was almost kidnapped and then drowned at the wharf (Sam would have been about 9). 1854 was also around the time Sophia married her next husband, Mr. Hamlin. There is not a marriage record or newspaper mention but all census records of her being Canadian and a mention of her in a newspaper in the 1870s as being extremely well educated makes it seem very very very likely this is the correct Sophie (also on the 1860s census is a boarder or household member that is a man from Canada with the same name and age as Sophie's youngest brother).
In 1860 "Samuel H Desty" was staying in Weaverville, CA with Robert Desty. He then served with the California Cavalry forces during the Civil War (also as Samuel H. Desty).
In the 1860s got a job working for Ben Snipes driving cattle and Snipes' brother-in-law partner Henry Allen. He recalled some of his reminiscences of being a cowboy for Snipes & Allen in the 1860s and those are in the records of the Spokane County Pioneers' society (Robert Ballou published some of his story in his book "Early Klickitat Valley Days" in 1938).
For some reason after the Civil War he used the name Samuel H. Borland to marry and register to vote. His voter registration said he was born in Texas. There were a few notes in his Civil War files about him deserting and returning so maybe this was related to his name change. I don't know what he knew of his father although his brother Robert should have known something. On later censuses he always said his father was from Arkansas, his mother from Canada, and that he was born in Texas. He was a clerk in San Francisco after the Civil War was over. He married Addie Given, dressmaker, on October 5, 1868. He resided at 315 Minna St during 1868. On the 1870 census Sam and Addie were in the same dwelling/family of Dr. Herman H. Behr of 646 Bryant. Sam was a Bookkeeper, and Addie kept house. Dr. Behr was involved with the Academy of Sciences, and was from Germany. Around 1871 they stayed at 42 Everett St. In 1872 it was 836 Market. In 1874 he was a barkeeper (w/ James Buckley) and his dwelling was 765 Howard. In 1875 he was a barkeeper with Barrett & Caneau and his dwelling was 30 O'Farrell. In Aug 1880 the address was 8 Mason (clerk), and the address was 16 Mason in 1878 and 1881.
His first wife Addie seems to have only given birth once. In November 1870 she had triplets! The babies did not survive as there were 3 Borland children from 42 Everett St recorded in the 1870 mortuary register. In 1910 she gave her maternity statistic as 3 children born, 0 surviving.
At some point around 1881 when the mining in Tombstone, Arizona (around 1879-1881) was picking up Addie (with Sam?) moved to the area. Addie even had to testify in the 1881 trial of Wyatt Earp as a witness to the shootout that took place in front of her house on Fremont Street. Sam and Addie apparently split or divorced somewhere during this time as Addie lived and remarried in Los Angeles and Sam lived and remarried near San Francisco. There are also records of them with Cochise County Clerk of Superior Court for A.V. Borland vs S.H. Borland in November 1882. Also, A Borland of Maine was on the 1882 Chonchise County Census as residing in Tombstone and Samuel was not.
In 1882 Sam is living at 40 1/2 Geary (2nd floor, room 6).
Sam next married Faithful Jane Locke as recorded in Alameda County on December 19, 1886. She was the daughter of Oregon Trail pioneers. Her obituary seem to incorrectly state that she married Sam in 1881 in Oregon. Perhaps they were together earlier. The 1900 census said that she had 1 of 3 children surviving and had been married for 17 years. Sam was a fruit grower in Redwood, California and son Nelson was at school. ("Marriage Records. December 19th - Samuel Borland, native of Texas, aged 40, resident of Oakland, and Jennie Locke, native of Oregon, aged 28, resident of Oakland; by Justice E. Nusbaumer." Oakland Tribune - Saturday, January 8, 1887).
In 1886 he was a farmer in Wrights, California. His home seemed to be near Lake Elsman (near Wrights Station) by Wright Station Road and Sears Road based on an ordinance published in the paper about him building a private road in 1891. His neighbor then was Jacob Rich (whose estate sold to Antoine Matty in 1896). In 1891 he is also mentioned as a Saloon Keeper in San Jose. His place was called "The Index Saloon" located at 25 North First Street. He he bought out his business partner Wm. P. Barnes in 1892. An 1892 San Jose newspaper article also mentioned that he had three portraits of his family painted by artist A.D. Cooper. Unfortunately in 1892 the newspaper also reported that his home was destroyed by fire, including his fine library! Hopefully the paintings weren't there! A newspaper article about Wrights also mentioned that Sam Borland had a rabbitry.
After leaving the Index Saloon he was mentioned in the newspaper as being one of the attorneys for Miss Maude E. Stocksdale (Stocksdale vs. District Attorney Daniel W. Buchard Seduction Case) in San Jose in 1893.
With his experience as an old scout he played a leading role in the Modoc county raid and the trial of the Modoc Lynchers in 1901 and 1902. He worked with the authorities to solve the mystery surrounding the lynching of a whole family that had made enemies with their neighbors over a grazing dispute. The accused were ultimately acquitted. Borland moved north after this.
While in California his wife also suffered a stroke (stress from her husband's job?) and in 1903 they moved back to Oregon to the area where his wife was born. They were living in Portland when she died in 1904, leaving behind him and their only surviving son who later died of pneumonia in 1914.
At this point he was working as a lighthouse keeper and fisherman in Milwaukie, Oregon. His residence was a houseboat. He died in 1932. The informant for his death certificate (Mrs. Sarah Elmer of Portland) did not know any of his family information but seemed to think that he was born in Delaware.
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S.H. Borland, a cowboy for Snipes & Allen in the 1860s, recalled some of his reminiscences which are in the records of the Spokane County Pioneers' society (Robert Ballou published some of his story in his book "Early Klickitat Valley Days" in 1938) - pages 125-127.
"Sam Houston Borland was born at Galveston, Texas, September 25, 1845. His father, John Borland, a physician, moved from Arkansas to Texas just prior to the Mexican war and became associated with General Sam Houston. Doctor Borland was once a member of Congress from Arkansas. About six months after S. H. Borland was born his father succumbed. In 1853 the widow and young son came to California, through funds supplied by a relative. They arrived in San Francisco on the Sierra Nevada in August. Three years later his mother remarried. This did not suit the boy and he decided to strike out for himself, at the rather early age of 11 years. He had attended school at the Union street school. In speaking of his boyhood days in San Francisco he tells of seeing the bodies of two men suspended with ropes about their necks from a second-story window sill of a frame building on Sacramento street. He was told vigilantes had used a window sill gallows as the only convenient method available. He also witnessed another double hanging, when the vigilantes were making a cleanup in San Francisco. For seven years he drifted from one mining boom town to another, including, Humbolt, Cal., Virginia City, Nev., and camps in New Mexico. For a time, he was in Tombstone*, Arizona, regarded by many as the toughest of the tough, in mining camps of the Old west. In 1864 he decided to try his luck in the Idaho gold fields."
*Note - Tombstone was founded in 1879 and he was there in a later part of his life.
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Sam Borland Recalls Early Days in Oregon Territory
Pacific Northwest in 1864 People Mainly by Indians; Chinook Jargon Widely Spoken; Snake and Camel Meat Relished.
Sam Houston Borland of Milwaukie, Or., who came to Jacksonville, Or., in 1864, recalls many interesting incidents of early days in this state. William S. Lewis, well-known authority on northwest history, tells the story in Mr. Borland's own words.
By Sam Houston Borland, As Told to William S. Lewis.
Born in Galveston, Tex., in 1845, I came west with my parents in 1853. As a mere boy, I drifted about the mining camps of Humboldt Cal.; Virginia City, Nev., and in New Mexico between 1857-1864, when I headed north into Oregon. After spending some time in Jacksonville, I went to Portland in the fall of 1864. There I took a boat for The Dalles. On the boat I met a well-known pioneer character, Ben Snipes, a cattleman from the Yakima country in Washington territory. Ben Snipes took a fancy to me and engaged me to drive cattle for him.
When we reached The Dalles, which was a pretty lively place in those days, Ben Snipes gave me a five-point 20-pound blanket, some sundry supplies, and $5 in gold. He directed me to cross the Columbia river and to go north to the camp of the Klickitat Indians. He told me that when I arrived at the Indian camp I should introduce myself to the chief, hand him the $5 and say "Nykamomakiopabensnipes." Mr. Snipes told me that the chief would understand what that meant, even if I didn't, and that he would then take me to the cabin of the older Snipes on the Yakima river.
Indians Help Traveler.
In those days I was willing to tackle anything, and the fact that I was to make a solitary journey into Indian country didn't bother me a bit. I crossed the Columbia river at The Dalles to what is now Rockland, in December, 1864. From the north bank I took a well-traveled Indian trail to a place where two fir trees marked a pass through the mountain which finally led me to Klickitat Indian camp. The chief proved to be a pleasant, good-natured fellow. I have him the $5, recited my Chinook greeting adn the chief then led me safely to the Snipes' cabin on the Yakima river. I afterwards learned something of the Chinook, and what Snipes had me say to the chief was: "Nykaa (I) momaki (work or go) opa (towards or for) Ben Snipes."
The cabin was built of Balm of Gilead wood and lay about three-quarters of a mile from the Simcoe Indian reservation. Captain Jack and some 600 Indians were then on the reservation and I don't remember seeing more than two or three white men there or anywhere else between the Columbia river and the Cariboo mines.
The Snipeses were among the first white men to graze cattle in the Yakima valley. Ben Snipes had gone to The Dalles form southern Oregon in 1858. In October, 1860, he and John Golden and Pannott first drove their cattle from the Klickitat into the Yakima valley and wintered them there during the winter of 1860-1. They were firm and square in their dealings with the Indians and were feared and respected. Ben Snipes afterwards became a banker at Ellensburg.
Future Bad Man in Party.
He and John Jeffries then had about 700 head of nice cattle which they wanted to drive from the Simcoe reservation overland to the Cariboo gold mines in the Fraser river country in British Columbia. There were eight men in ou party; a man named Allen was the only other white man; the others were mixed bloods and Indians. One of the halfbreeds was Alex McLean, son of the Scotch McLean who then kept the supply station at Bonaparte in the Cariboo. Alex, I've been told, later became a rather notorious "bad man."
We started from the Yakima country on St. Patrick's day, 1863, and we made good progress. We swam the cattle across the Columbia river at Priest Rapids, and again at "Dancing Bill" Sappington's ferry. At Priest rapids I met the famous Chief Moses. He then looked to be a man between 30 and 40 years old, and his camp as at Grand Coulee, where he then had about 50 Indian followers. Moses and his Indians came over and helped us swim the cattle across the river at Priest rapids. We gave the chief two steers for helping us get the cattle across the river, and proceedd to rest our herd the next day. Moses rode a very large horse which he boasted was able to run as fast as the wind; it didn't take very long to arrange a horse race between the Indians and the whites. Moses talked to his Indians and evidently told them to bet on his horse, for they backed the animal to win. Our little mare Hummingbird won the race; won easily. The Indians were astonished to see our little mare win so easily, but they were good sports and laughed about it and tried to get us to race with them again, but we refused.
Camels Stampede Herd.
Leaving Moses and his band the next morning, we went on and, after recrossing the Columbia again on Dancing Bill's ferry, we went up through the Okanogan valley to the British boundary line, where we paid the customs officer a dollar a head cash duty on our 700 head. We then drove the cattle up to the head of Okanogan lake, and over the ridge down into Grande valley.
Now about camels. Just as our leading cattle got down the hill to the prairie level two large camels suddenly raised up and let out the most terrifying snorts or coughs that I've ever heard. The cattle had never heard anything worse, either. The herd immediately stampeded, bawling and scattering in all directions. It took us several days to collect them again. We then passed on to Kamloops lake and the Bonaparte river. At that point McLean, the Hudson's Bay squaw-man, kept a supply station, where camel meat, mule meat and horse meat were all served. I ate some of each at different meals, but the camel meat was not the best eating. I was told that the camel pack trains were to be given up on account of their frightening the mule and horse pack trains. The feeling then ran high against the further use of the camels for packing freight on the regular pack trains. We cattle drivers shared in the general prejudice against the animals.
Baby Born on Trail
I was 20 years old at that time. This man Allen who was in our party owned the finest riding horse I've ever seen. It knew about everything except to read and write. On of our Indians was Siouxwaps Dick; he had his klutchman along, and he had charge of our bell-mare and the cooking outfit. One evening on the trip he said that he wanted to drop behind, as his klutchman was sick. He did so, but within 24 hours Dick and his klutchman had again caught up with our herd, brining a new bright-eyed Indian baby with them. The klutchman just went along doing her full camp work as usual.
We got 40c a pound for all our cattle, on the foot or hoof, just as they stood, and we'd watered them well before weighing. Payment was made in gold dust taken from the Cariboo mines. The British Columbia government collected a 3c export duty on the gold, but they also provided us with 20 gold escort guards to protect the gold until we could reach Fort Yale.
Job with Pack Train Next.
I left the party at Clinton, or what was called "Cut-off valley," and I secured work with a Mexican pack train under a man named Simmons, who was cross-eyed and one of the fiercest looking men I've ever seen. He and I were the only white men in our party. We had 45 mules in that train and we packed freight from Fort Yale to the mouth of the Quesnelle river, some 530 miles. The government had built a first-class road along the Fraser river. It was wide and well graded and in some places one could look down 1000 feet or more to the river below. Just above Fort Yale a suspension bridge, the first I had ever seen, crossed the Fraser river canyon. I stayed some time at Williams creek, a well-known camp of those days. Here meals were $2.00 each; liquor (but a better grace than we get today) 50c a drink, cigars 50c apiece, eggs one dollar each, sugar $1.25 a pound, bacon $1.25 a pound and other commodities in like proportion. Wages at the mine for underground work were $12 a day.
I didn't return to Washington territory the way I came. I went out to Victoria, and having associated with the Indians and learned the Chinook jargon, I became Chinook Interpreter in Justice Pemberton's court. This was a minor court in which many Indian cases were tried. Vancouver island was at that time a separate province from British Columbia. I met and knew Sir James Douglas, governor of the island, and two of his fine looking daughters. His wife was a fine woman of mixed Indian blood. I can't now recall just when I left Victoria by boat for San Francisco. I got back to California in time to vote for General Grant as president in 1868.
Rattler Meat Delicate.
I've eaten horse meat, mule meat, camel meat, dog meat and well over 100 rattlesnakes. The latter are really fine eating, but I've noticed among my acquaintances somewhat the same prejudice against my snake meat that some people, who are uninitiated into the higher epicurean delights, display towards a Frenchman's dish of frog legs or snails.
In 1870 I made a trip to Seattle, which then consisted of a few shacks and a sawmill, and a lot of big fir stumps cluttering up the townsite. I wasn't much impressed with the place. I also visited New Jerusalem, located on top of a hill, and so named because of the expected building of the railroad to that place. New Jerusalem was even punier and tougher looking than Seattle. It has acquired its railroad and is now known as Tacoma.
Some time ago I moved back to Oregon City with my family and for some years looked after the lights for river navigation at Rock Island, and I have now lived at Milwaukie for some years.
(Oregonian - Sunday, May 5, 1929)
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It Is Only Prejudice.
Sam Borland Asserts That Fried Snake is Dainty.
The Festive Rattler to Become One of the Great Food Exports of the State of California
There was quite a delegation of men about town gathered in front of Morehead's drug store on Santa Clara street to-day discussing the recent devouring of a cat by a prominent young blacksmith, under the mistaken impression that the feline was a rabbit. The general opinion seemed to be that the only harm done was the fact that the young man had found out that he had eaten feline instead of hare. Sam Borland joined the crowd and said that humanity was becoming remarkably enlighted in these latter days and he had no doubt but that ere long the prejudice against eating cats and other animals now universally subject to stomachical contempt as an article of diet, would be done away with and the aforesaid animals be allowed their proper place in the commerical world.
"Why," said Sam, "cats as an article of diet are nothing to arouse animosity in any spot of a man's anatomy. I've eaten rattlesnake and it was just as fine a tid-bit as I ever enjoyed in my life."
"Say Sam, just draw it mild please. I was out late last evening and my gastronomical organs are not in the best of humor, in fact are in a state bordering on rebellion and I long to give them rest," remarked a well known insurance man in a dejected tone.
"But there's nothing repulsive about his," said Sam. "Some five years ago I had as a guest on the ranch a young man by the name of Smead who was in the employ of Redington & Company in San Francisco. I killed a large rattlesnake one morning and was skinning it preparatory to frying out the oil from the fat, for as you all know the oil is remarkably efficacious as a cure for rheumatism. I was struck with the splendid appearance of the rattler's meat and it recalled to mind a conversatoin I had with a well known French resident in this city some time before, in which he had told me of the exquisite daintiness of the rattler as an article of food.
"I determined to try it so I done Mr. Rattler up very nicely, took him in to Dora, the cook, and told her to wrap him up in flour, fry him in butter, and serve him at dinner as baked eel.
"I then went into the sitting room and said to Smead, 'Houw would you like some eel for dinner?"
"How can you ask me Sam, when you know I was born and raised in Hoboken. Nothing could please me better."
"We all sat down to dinner and Smead eyed that eel with intesne longing. It was done brown and looked juicy. It was cut in eight pieces and Smead kept passing his plate until it was all gone. We were alone, batching it, and Smead after eating his dinner leaned back. lit his pipe and looked dreamily contented.
"'How did you like that eel Smead,' I asked him."
"'Well, Sam,' said he, 'to tell the truth it was a little more better than any eel I ever ate before, it was simpley delicious.'
"'Have you any idea what you have been eating' I asked."
"'Why eel, of course.'"
"'Well, my boy,' said I, 'you have been eating nothing more nor less than rattlesnake.'"
"Prejudice is an awful ting, gentlemen" said Sam. "Smead just yelled, 'Holy Smoke! God have mercy!' and fell out of his chair. He didn't eat another bite for nearly three days, and yet he had confessed to me that the snake was absolutely delicious.
"A long while after I was telling Emil Lamolle of the incident and he said he would like to try one. I brought a big fat one down and bet him $20 he wouldn't dare to touch it. He weakened, but I ordered it cooked up in proper shape for myself and boy and in the evening went down to enjoy it. Emil asked me when I went in to give him the wink when it was placed on the table and I done so. He sat down and pronounced the snake as fine as any frog that ever was cooked. Turn up your noses gentlemen if you wish but the rattler is destined to become a great commercial export of California, a delicious food product."
(San Jose Herald - December 6, 1893)
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SS Sierra Nevada
Arrival: July 31, 1853
Captain James H. Blethen
From San Juan del Sur, Nicaragua
342 passengers
This vessel was a wooden side-wheeled steamer, built by William Collyer, New York, and launched as the Texas, October 25, 1851. She operated from New York to Chagres from February until October, 1852, by the Empire City Line and originally advertised for this line as the Quartz Rock. Made a trial trip as the Sierra Nevada on February 7, 1852, she was eventually purchased by Cornelius Vanderbilt and sent to San Francisco, where she arrived March 23, 1853. She remained on the San Francisco - San Juan del Sur service until March 1857, and later purchased by the Pacific Mail (1860) and placed in coastal service. In February, 1861, she was purchased by Holladay and Brenham and was wrecked on a reef south of Monterey on October 17, 1869.
The Steamer Sierra Nevada eventually sank in 1869. " To many old Californians, the news of the loss of the Sierra Nevada will be the occasion of bringing up many pleasant reminiscences. The Sierra Nevada was built in New York in 1851 by Chas. Morgan, Esq., and designed for the Texan trade, but before her completion a demand arising for steamers of that class for the California trade, she was purchased by Commodore C. K. Garrison, and made three trips during the same year to Chagres. On the 12th of December, 1852, she sailed from New York for San Francisco, under the command of Captain J. D. Wilson, who died in Panama, and the steamer arrived at this port under the command of Captain Tanner. In the spring of 1853 she made her first trip from this port to San Juan in the Transit Line, and was there met by Captain J. H. Blethen, by whom she was commanded for fifty-two successive passages. The first passage on this steamer made by Captain Blethen will long be remembered by him with pride, as upon that occasion he was the recipient of a token of esteem from the passengers, in the shape of a magnificent gold watch, which to this day serves to mark time for him as faithfully as the sun. In 1857, Captain Huntington took command of the Sierra Nevada. In 1860 she was sold to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and subsequently to Ben. Holladay. Since this last transfer she has been running between this and other ports on the coast, both north and south. Although seemingly an old vessel, she was considered one of the most substantial and well-built steamers on the coast."
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From "Drove Cattle into Cariboo In the Early '60s" By William S. Lewis (date and publication unknown"
"As S.H. Borland Told It."
You inquired how I got the Sam Houston in my name. I'll tell you. My father, John Borland, was a physician. They just called them "Doctor" or "Doc" in those days. He liked to mix in politics as well as to practice medicine and at one time he was a member of congress from Arkansas.
Later father moved to Texas, where he became associated with Sam Houston, who was then disputing territorial sovereignty with Mexico. Mother went along, and I was born at Galveston on September 25, 1845. Six months later, father died of cholera. I've always been told that Sam Houston was my godfather and that I was named after that stanch old pioneer.
Alon in 1853, an older half-brother, Robert Borland, sent money to mother so we could go out to California. Mother and I arrived in San Francisco on the Sierra Nevada in August 1853. Three years later, when I was but 11 years old, mother married again. This didn't suit me and so at that rather early age I struck out for myself.
I attended school for a time at the Union street school with the De Young boys and other youths, who in later years became prominent men of that community."
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It is not specified what happened to his ashes. If I had to guess, they were buried with his wife and son or perhaps where buried at sea, possibly near the location of his houseboat and the lighthouse he kept.
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