Will Cave Finds Lost Father After 43 Years
Will Cave Finds Lost Father After 43 Years – 1912
Missoula Man Finds Lost Father
Will Cave Discovers Parent Whom He Thought To Be Dead.
Forty Years Separated
George Harland, Pioneer of Bitter Root, Leaves Wife and Boy and Has Life of Adventure – Discovered at Last in Idaho Mining Camp – Will Be a Joyful Christmas for Both.
To have been denied the love, protection and companionship of a father for 43 years, to have grown to middle age in the firm belief that his father was dead and then, suddenly, to have discovered that he was living and well; to have made the search that resulted successfully and then to have brought his parent home just in time for a Christmas celebration – these are circumstances which have befallen Will Cave of this city and which made him one of the happiest men in the world yesterday.
To have left his wife and boy with relatives in the Bitter Root valley 43 years ago, to have roamed the country o’er and lived the strenuous life of soldier, pioneer, Indian scout and miner; to have freed himself of the curse of drink that drove him from his family and yet never having had the heart to make his whereabouts known to his son and then to have been sought out and welcomed to his boy’s heart and home – these are circumstances which do not befall many men, but they go to make up the romantic history of George Harland, a venerable old gentleman 87 years of age, whose heart is beating with such joyous strokes that he was nearly overcome yesterday, being unable to fully realize the truth of his good fortune.
Will Cave, one of the best known residents of this city and known throughout Montana, had supposed for the last 26 years that his father was dead. When, through some acquaintances, the report reached him a week ago that this was not the case, but that his father was alive and living near Salmon City, Idaho, he left Missoula on the first train and started on a search that led to his father being found at a little mining camp named Bay Horse. The two arrived here yesterday and Christmas at the Cave home promises to be truly a happy occasion.
Mr. Cave had often attempted to locate his father, but was always thrown off the track on account of the fact that the latter had changed his name to that of his stepfather. The father was likewise thrown off track in keeping track of his son as the latter had assumed his stepfather’s name after his mother married Alfred Cave, a well known resident of this community.
In addition to the joy of the meeting with his son, Mr. Harland was made happy yesterday afternoon when Robert Nicol of Hamilton arrived. Mr. Nicol is Mr. Harland’s wife’s brother, and it was a touching scene when the two old men fell into each other’s arms yesterday afternoon and clasped hands for the first time in over 40 years.
Will Cave’s Story.
Of the circumstances which are connected with the happy reunion of father and son, Will Cave said yesterday:
“My mother obtained a legal separation from my father in 1871. The same year she married Alfred Cave and we went to Cedar Rapids, where we lived a couple of years, coming to Missoula in 1872. We stayed here that winter, went back to Cedar Rapids and in the fall of ’73, then returned to Missoula, and I have lived here ever since. Mrs. Cave, my mother, died the 17th of October, 1901. Alfred Cave died the 17th of March, 1909.
“A week ago Thursday, I got a letter from my uncle Robert Nicol, stating that Alex Chaffin, who lives at Hamilton and who grew up with me and knew more or less of my family history, had met Mr. Nicol on the street and told him that this fall he was in Salmon City, where he met a man named Wallace St. Clair, an old resident of the Bitter Root, who knew us all, and St. Clair asked if I knew that my father was living. He said he had seen him recently and that he was getting very old and that if I would write to him at Shoupe, Idaho, I would secure my father’s address. But I made up my mind not to waste time writing and took the train to Salmon City, to locate Wallace St. Clair. He had gone in the mountains 18 miles from Shoupe, so I talked with his son and he spoke of a man by the name of George Adams at Challis, who could give me the information. I took the stage the following morning, Tuesday, and went to Challis. On arriving at Challis, I endeavored to locate George Adams and found that there was no such person there, so it became necessary for me to tell my story to a number of residents of Challis in order to locate the man I wanted to find. At the W. W. Waters saddle store, Mr. Waters being formerly of Missoula, I met a Dr. Kirtley, who had lived in that country all his life and who was acquainted with all the old timers. I told him my story and he took me across the street to the McGowan store, conducted by Arthur McGowan, formerly of Frenchtown valley, and brother of George McGowan, well known in Missoula. In the store we found, besides Arthur McGowan, George Coryell and Judge Baldwin, and we talked the matter over, I telling them all I knew about my father and they comparing the description with the man they had in mind. Dr. Kirtley said that the description fitted George Hackelman of Bay Horse, a mining camp 13 miles from Challis, perfectly. All thought that Mr. Hackelman must be the right man. Mr. McGown produced a copy of an order for goods in his hand writing and although it had been a good many years since I had seen any of my father’s writing, I recognized his penmanship on this order. After considerable discussion of the situation some one mentioned that the county auditor, Mr. Michaels would know all about it, if anybody did, and Judge Baldwin took me to Mr. Michaels’ house. Michaels was out so we talked with Mrs. Michaels and found out that she was well acquainted with George Hackelman and after the necessary explanations she agreed at once that the description fitted my father perfectly.
“I found another man who said he knew George Hackelman of Bay Horse. He also knew something of Hackelman’s history, and felt sure that he was my father. I left the next morning and found my father’s house before he was out of bed. The joy of that meeting I will never forget.”
The Father’s History.
Mr. Harland related the following facts in connection with the history of his life:
“I was born in Paris, Bourbone county, Kentucky, June 11, 1825. My father was a steamboat captain on the Mississippi river as early as 1824, and was killed by an explosion on the steamboat in 1827. When I was 4 years old my mother married Dr. Hackelman, and I went under that name until I went to Mexico. My grandfather was William Kentley Harland; he served under General Francis Marion in the revolutionary war and immigrated to Kentucky four or five years after Daniel Boone. I enlisted in the Mexican war under Captain Crittenden, and served with Colonel William Haines’ regiment. My brother, Will Harland, was the first American soldier shot at the battle of Vera Cruz. During that war I took part in the battles of Contreas, Molius del Rey and Chapultapec. I was at Pueblo under General Patterson, where we were surrounded by Mexican soldiers and had our last sharp encounter. We were mustered out at Louisville, Ky.
“After my discharge I took up the printer’s trade under George Prentiss, and worked for the Courier Journal at Louisville. In the spring of 1854 I enlisted under General William Walker[1], who organized the well-remembered filibustering expedition, and we went to Nicaragua. I was captured at San Migiou on the San Brito river, tributary to the Pacific, after but a short service, and after my capture was sent to Greytown and put on board the United States gunboat Powhattan, under Captain Paulding. Then I was transferred to the Trinidad and taken to Fort St. Phillips on the Mississippi river. Lieutenant Talmadge of the Fourth artillery, an old schoolmate of my boyhood days, secured a parole for me and I went to New Orleans and went to work at my trade as a printer on the True Delta, a well-known sheet of that city at that date, and worked there for five weeks. Then I was sent to Jefferson, where we were tried for filibustering and acquitted. I then went to Fort Leavenworth, and on September 18, 1854, I joined the courier corps under Captain Van Vleit. This corps was really a picked bunch of Indian scouts, composed of 52 men. I was one of a detachment that was sent to Fort Laramie under Captain Tod Renolds, and while in this service was in the battle of Ash Hollow, September 18, 1855, with the Sioux Indians. This was my only Indian battle. Of the 52 men who enlisted with me, 10 came out whole, 16 were crippled for life and the bones of the others have long since crumbled to dust. You can feel the bullet here in my leg that I carry as a souvenir of this fight. From Laramie I went to Denver city. I helped lay out both that city and Boulder; was the first recorder at Boulder City in 1858, and I helped carry the chain that laid out Blake and Laramie streets in Denver city. I opened the first saloon and store on the west side of Cherry creek, which now divides the city of Denver, in November, 1858. In 1859 about 36 of us left Fort Laramie and went to Frazier river, British Columbia, where there was mining excitement. We wintered at Victoria, and then went back up the Frazier river in the spring of 1860, and opened the Caribou mines and remained there some time, when we came down to Portland, Ore. From there we went to The Dalles, Ore., and then started up through this section of the country. From the Dalles came to Florence, Idaho, then crossed the old Elk City trail, at the head of the Bitter Root valley and into Fort Owens at Stevensville. We came down to Missoula – or where the city now stands – and then to Gold Creek and to Bannock [his spelling], the first capital of Montana.
“From Bannock I went to Fort Bridger, Utah, in 1861, and in 1862 married Caroline Nicol, Will’s mother, at Fort Bridger. Judge Carter officiating. In 1863 I carried the first pony express that came into Montana, my route being between Fort Bridger and Bannock City. In 1865 I prospected in German gulch and French gulch. In the fall of 1865 we came to the Bitter Root and wintered at Hamilton with Robert Nicol, who was my wife’s brother, on the place where Robert lives now. After that we lived in the Deer Lodge valley and around that place. I worked on the Independent and the New Northwest, papers published then at Deer Lodge. In the fall of 1870 I moved to Cedar creek, having parted company with my wife and son at her brother’s ranch on the Skalkaho in April, 1870, and never saw either of them again until Will dropped in on me last Wednesday, just 43 years after I left.
“I went to Utah, Alta City, and after then I went to Arizona, New Mexico, South America, to Alaska twice; in fact, I have been all over the world. I have prospected a great deal, too, since leaving the Bitter Root. Went into Death valley, California, in 1873, to Bingham county, Utah, in 1876, and then came to Salmon City, Idaho. I struck the first mines in Bay Horse, and after many years I am now in charge there for the company which owns the Bay Horse property.
“The other morning as I was getting up a man stepped in my cabin and asked me if I knew who he was. I thought he was a mining expert that I had seen some place and had forgotten. Then he said, ‘Is your name George Hackelman?’ and I said, ‘Yes.’ He said; ‘I was born December 8, 1863, at the mouth of Alder gulch, Montana.’ Then I knew. It was Will.”
As Mr. Cave stated he received the first intimation that his father was alive a week ago last Thursday. He left Missoula last Sunday night to run down the report and arrived with Mr. Harland on delayed passenger No. 1 early yesterday morning. He had sent word ahead that this father had come to life and notified his uncle, Mr. Nicol, of Hamilton, to come to Missoula today. Mr. Nicol is one of the pioneers of the Bitter Root and is living today on the same farm where Mr. Harland left his wife and boy 43 years ago.
When a Missoulian reporter called at the Cave home yesterday afternoon he was prepared to meet a feeble old man in the person of Mr. Cave’s father, and a surprise awaited him, also, when he was introduced to a gentleman apparently not over 55 or 60 years old, as Mr. Harland. Rather small of stature, but as lithe and straight as a young soldier is Mr. Harland, and his handclasp was that of an athlete. His eye is clear and his hand is steady; in every way a remarkably preserved old gentleman.
“You must excuse me if I don’t act exactly right today,” said Mr. Harland, “for the things which have transpired within the last few days are almost too much for me to bear.”
“Yes,” said the son, “you must excuse us all, for this happy reunion, following those days of anxiety and anticipation since I first got encouraging word that my father was alive has unnerved me completely. I expect that I do act crazy. You would not think my father is 87. He does not look or act much older than I do. I met a woman down in Idaho who said she had known him since he was 7 years of age, and that he had not changed one bit since that time. He has lost his hair, though. Now I know why I am so bald. When I last saw father he had a wonderful head of hair. It was one of the distinctive features about him that I best remember.”
“Yes, boy,” spoke up Mr. Harland, “I carried that hair for many years. When I was scouting on the plains I wore my hair in massive curls to my shoulders. In fact, I was so marked on this account that I was known everywhere as “Curly George.” Many men with whom I served knew me by no other name.”
Mixup of Names.
“Of course I knew my father by the name of George Harland,” said Mr. Cave, in talking about the changes that had been adopted by both he and his father, a fact that served to keep them apart for so long. “But his mother married a second time and after he left us he went under his stepfather’s name, Hackelman. On my part it was the same. After my mother’s marriage to Mr. Cave, I was called Cave so much that I finally decided to adopt it as my own.”
“Did you attempt to keep track of Will?” Mr. Harland was asked.
“Yes,” said he. “I found that he was alive and doing well and through watching for news of Missoula in Montana papers, whenever I could get one, I knew that he was a county officer for a long while. But I was an old man. I knew I was wrong in leaving home and I was not sure that my son would care to know of my whereabouts.” The joy in the thought that he had been mistaken in this overpowered the old warrior at this point and the tears came to his eyes and his voice choked with emotion. Will Cave also found it convenient to make frequent trips into the next room, but there was untold joy beaming from wet eyes and expressed in every action of both father and son. There is one interesting point of resemblance between father and son, one in addition to their both being bald – that one can not fail to notice. That is in their gestures. Each uses his hands and fingers freely in expressing themselves and the similarity in these movements is striking.
Mr. Harland remembers many of the old-timers of this community. He called their names at times yesterday, but was too much absorbed with things of dearer interest to give a list of those who he used to know. Many here will also remember him and take occasion to pay him a visit to renew the acquaintance of 40 years ago.
“Won’t you go home with me to spend Christmas?” asked Mr. Nicol of his brother-in-law just before the reporter left. Mr. Nicol was immediately throttled by Mrs. Cave.
“I guess I can’t,” said Mr. Harland. “They have me hobbled now and it’s the first time in my life that I have ever had the hobbles on.”
It was very evident that Mr. Cave’s father will not budge an inch from the Cave home for the Christmas celebration.
The above article appeared in The Missoulian on December 23, 1912.
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You can read more about the Nicol family and their trip the Bitter Root at the link below: