Whitney Reflections

A tribute to the early settlers of a western Nebraska village

WHITNEY HISTORY

a  poem  by

Mabel L. Kendrick

Through the vast and treeless prairie

 Flowed the river called the White;

‘Twas a wat’ring place at noontime,

 And a camping spot at night

For the Sioux who, by his valor,

 Won this pleasant hunting ground,

Where the buffalo and other

 Kinds of game and fish were found.

To the south the blue Pine Ridge gave

 Depth and beauty to the view;

So that folk who saw the country

 Wrote their friends so they’d come too,

To the fertile, virgin prairie

 Waiting only for the plow

To be changed to fertile farmsteads

 By the sweat of someone’s brow.

Hearing of the planned extension

 Of the railroad farther west,

People felt a town was needed

 Past the Junction; and they guessed

That the claim of Alex Johnson

 Would a pleasant townsite be;

So Dawes City was established,

 Grew and prospered readily.

Eight six was an exciting

 Winter in that neighborhood;

Baldy Ford was taken frozen

 From the ice of Cottonwood;

Money for the Fort was stolen

 From the driver of the stage;

Both these myst’ries have continued

 Unexplained on hist’ry’s page.

When the railroad built its station,

 It just passed Dawes City by;

Built a new town; named it Earth Lodge

 From a large Sioux lodge nearby;

‘Twas the death knell for Dawes City;

 Buildings soon were moved away.

Where was once a thriving city,

 Just a well remains today.

Residents of this new village

 Felt the name Earth Lodge unkind;

Feared prospective settlers would have

 Structures made of sod in mind;

So they chose the name of “Whitney”;

 Got the Post Office to heed,

But it took two years before the

 Townsite Company agreed.

Whitney was a growing city

 With most every kind of store,

Two newspapers, two hotels, two

 Banks, a flour mill and more.

It had grown and prospered so in

 Eighty seven it ‘most became

County seat; a close election

 Forced the town to drop its claim.

In eighteen eighty six some thirty

 Pupils with their teacher came

Together in the Woods Hotel; to

 Start the first school was their aim.

The ages of the pupils ranged from

 Very young to almost grown;

The teacher, Eleanor Burkitt, was no

 Older if the truth were known.

Books were varied and the desks were

 Makeshift in those early days,

But the parents were determined

 Standards of the school to raise.

The school they built in eight seven

 Served the town for many years,

Training well its sons and daughters

 For their future life careers.

A Congregational missionary,

 Rev. Ricker, held the first

Christian services, but moved on;

 So the membership dispersed.

Sunday School was held in diff’rent

 Public buildings for a spell,

But the people felt they needed

 Preaching services as well.

The Methodists then took a hand; in

 Eight seven a church was raised.

Father Taylor, the first pastor,

 Cannot be too highly praised;

By his life and through his preaching,

 He a firm foundation laid

For this church which still is looking

 Toward the future unafraid.

In ninety six a Cath’lic Church was

 Built, but since there was no priest,

And people of that faith were all too

 Few, the services soon ceased.

The Modern Woodmen bought the building

 For their lodge and moved it down

The hill where it became the only

 Auditorium in town.

Came the dry years of the nineties;

 Winds were hot; the sun beat down;

Crops were nonexistent; water

 Failed; the prairie grass turned brown.

People sold their stock and land and

 Went back east in sad defeat.

Whitney suffered with the others;

 Empty buildings lined the street.

The new century brought better

 Times, and Whitney once more grew;

A switchboard and some telephones then

 Ushered in an era new.

Later on a water system

 Made the old wells obsolete;

When electricity was added,

 Renovation was complete.

In twenty one the railroad trestle

 Over Cottonwood gave ‘way,

While the passenger was crossing—

 Flood had washed the pile away.

Five were killed and thirty two were

 Injured in that awful smash!

People came for miles to look upon

 This vicinity’s worst crash.

Whitney Irrigation Project

 In the early twenties brought

Other farmland to production;

 Changes in the landscape wrought.

Whitney Lake became a mecca

 For all anglers far and near;

Swimming, boating, water skiing

 Did not take long to appear.

Things were going nicely when in

 Twenty seven disaster struck!

Late one night a fire was found in

 A store building just by luck.

Help arrived from nearby towns but

 Six old buildings were consumed.

The town was glad it was no worse, still

 Those businesses were ne’er resumed.

Whitney built a new school house and

 Started a full high school too.

The first commencement was in twenty

 Five; the last in forty two.

Now there is a grade school here of

 Which the town is justly proud.

The school house is a voting place and

 Meeting site for various crowds.

The Assembly of God Church was

 Organized in thirty five;

The first meetings were in the Woodman

 Hall.  As the Assembly thrived,

They needed their own building; so they

   Bought the former school house and made

Of it a lovely church from which the

 Gospel was for years conveyed.

In the thirties came more dry years;

 Brassy sky, hot winds, no rain

Reminded people of the nineties;

 Still few residents complained.

Grasshoppers then hatched by billions,

 Ate what had escaped the heat.

Many people stayed despite them—

 They would not admit defeat.

Forty nine will be remembered

 As the year of the big snow;

Drifts closed all the roads and still the

 Gusty winds continued to blow.

Weasels from the government took

 Food to many stranded folk;

Planes dropped hay to hungry cattle

 Till the might blizzard broke.

Whitney may not be a city,

 But its people never shirk;

Activities are always numerous so

 Everyone at each must work.

Whitney will not be remembered

 For its size; but its crown

Is its fellowship and friendship

 Which will always bring renown.