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Author Warner "Bearkiller" Karshner,
left, and an older brother
Gerard "Gearhart" Karshner
pose for a studio portrait
not long after their arrival
in Puyallup in 1888.
H. Sierdert Photograph, Puyallup
Black
Bear Skull
Native
to northwest forests
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Read
Dr. Warner M. Karshner's
true saga of
the boy they
called "Bearkiller".
Written
in 1940 and now published for the first time, Bearkiller is the
true saga of author Warner Melvin Karshner, Founder of the Paul
H. Karshner Memorial Museum and revered pioneer physician, legislator,
and civic leader in Puyallup, Washington - nicknamed "Bearkiller"
as a child.
"Bearkiller"
is the story of the Karshner family's life and journey from a
comfortable home in Fremont, Ohio in 1878 to a dugout on the plains
of Kansas and on to the western Washington Territory.
They homesteaded
along the Wynoochee River on the site of the Olympic National
Forest before moving to Puyallup in the 1880's. Father John Karshner,
a passionate frontiersman and advocate of hard work, drove his
wife, Louisa, and their six children into incredible adventure.
One wonders how they survived.
Excerpts
"Near
the tile factory was a great hole where clay had been excavated.
This pit was perhaps a hundred feet long, twenty feet wide, and
seven or eight feet deep, and lay close to and parallel with a
strong rail fence. After a heavy rain it partly filled with water,
making an ideal mudhole for swimming.
"One
Sunday we were there with other boys enjoying the water. We decided
to call the pigs, drive them into the narrow lane between fence
and pool, then close in, forcing the swine to jump into the pond.
Accordingly, the pigs were rounded up and . . . our gang of dancing,
yelling boys forced the hogs to jump.
"Plunging
from the high bank, they sank from sight in the muddy water .
. . not a pig was visible. We had assumed that the animals would
swim out, but they did not swim. Thoroughly scared by this time,
we slid out of our clothes and made ready to rescue the pigs.
Finally the poor, half-drowned things began to appear at the far
end of the puddle. They had waded out."
"Gun-toting
was then in vogue on the frontier, and schools offered no exceptions,
so I traded for an antique, muzzle-loading cap and ball pistol
that I carried at my side in a home-made holster. The weapon was
so large and cumbersome that I could barely bend my hip. When
in school, my leg was shoved sideways . . . extending down the
aisle . . . During the noon recess, schoolboys engaged in pistol
practice, lining up . . . taking turns to see who was the best
shot."
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