Harper Homestead Cabin

Hand-Hewn Log Cabin Stands in Weiser, Oldest There

This 61-year-old Harper Cabin, situated at the extreme east edge of Weiser, is that town’s oldest house.

The oldest house in Weiser, a little nut-brown cabin built of hand-hewn logs in 1880, is the subject of historic lingerings. It was built by the late William Harper, an early-day freight mule-skinner than whom there was none better. Its early history and the experiences connected with it live vividly today in the memory of Ed Harper of Payette, 64, a robust, genial westerner who came with his parents to the Weiser country from Utah in 1879.

This can be said for the sunburned little cabin: It still stands on the original foundation, the cracks between the logs chinked with the mud of 1880 that turns back the wintry blasts today just as it did 61 years ago. The lumber part, at the rear as shown in the picture, was built a few years later.

Recalls History

Ed Harper packs a good day’s conversation full of reminiscences on the old home. He and Mrs. Harper (his mother) lived there until 1909. Though the house hasn’t paid its way for years as a rental proposition, and the city of Weiser has offered to take it over for its historic value, according to Mr. Harper, he still holds it for reasons mostly sentimental.

Ed Harper, looking backward:

“My father was a freighter for the Weiser merchants, hauling from Bellevue in Idaho, Kelton in Utah, and Umatilla and The Dalles in Oregon. On account of the railroad’s coming through, my father planned the trip on which he was drowned to be his last.”

Freighter Drowned

That was 1883. The freighter was drowned at Olds Ferry between Weiser and Huntington on the Snake. With two other men, he was in a rowboat, slowly paying out the cable; his leg became entangled in a coil and he was dragged overboard.

Mrs. Harper, in reliance typically pioneer, took in washing, worked bravely and reared a fine family—besides Ed, Mrs. Emma Equals, now of McCall, who was born at the old cabin, W.H. Harper of Tacoma, and Mary Z. Harper of Portland. The pioneer Weiser woman died in 1928.

Back to Ed Harper and his story of the old home:

“My father bought the relinquishment on the 160-acre homestead from a man named Hall, as I recall. During the summer of 1880, between farming and freighting trips, he hewed and hauled the logs from near the old Hitt sawmill on Mann Creek northeast of Weiser.

“Helping him build it were Hiram Willis, a half-brother of my father; Frank Fieldhouse, my mother’s brother; and Dave Anderson.

Of the original acres, 67 remain. Thirteen were sold, two donated to the city for the Weiser reservoir site and 78 acres lost to the Monroe Creek irrigation district.

Harper mentions that a mortgage against the place has never been issued but recalls that in early days a man tried to “jump” it on the strength of a technical error in the filing abstract. “A vigilance committee met at the log house and wanted to take the matter into their own hands, but my father persuaded them to let him handle it, and he had no difficulty straightening out things at the Boise land office.”

Barber Hanged

That pioneer vigilance group holds another indelible niche in Mr. Harper’s memory. A Weiser barber, for reasons unrecalled, stepped out of his shop and, point-blank, shot to death a passer-by. The vigilantes dragged the barber from the jail, shot him, then hanged him from the village slaughterhouse which stood a short distance to the rear of the Harper log cabin.

“I still see that swinging body, how scared we kids were, so scared that we couldn’t turn our backs on the eerie spectacle and backed cautiously away.”

Vividly remembered, too, is the time two Indians came to the Harper cabin, asked for a handout. Mrs. Harper answered that the cupboard was bare, forgot the family had deer meat hanging on the northwest side of the home. The stoical braves marched outside, cut off venison steaks, trooped back into the house and threw the meat in the stove on the coals, ate, trooped away silently without harming the family.

Recalls Big Fire

Big spikes still stick on the walls where the late Mr. Harper hung the deer he killed. He hauled wood in from the hills in late fall and on the last trip bagged the family’s winter meat supply as well.

Ed Harper witnessed the start of the fire that destroyed the old town of Weiser about 1888. He just had delivered a washing for his mother and was standing in front of a saloon to watch the bartender mount a ladder to light the coal oil lamp. The barkeep slipped; lamp and all crashed to the floor. Weiser’s meager business district soon had gone up in smoke.

The railroad had come through in 1883, and the new Weiser sprang up a few rods west, nearer the depot.

Robust Kids

The Harper kids were robust rascals. Ed remembers the time his brother and he dared each other to tread barefoot after the cows. A skiff of snow covered the ground—but a Harper never flubbed a dare.

Fences had not appeared then, and grazing was as good in Main street as anywhere, so finding the bossies sometimes was quite a job. Ed was to go one way and young Bill was to head toward the river by way of Main street.

“A bunch of cowboys,” recalls Ed, “spied my brother hiking barefoot down the street and took ‘pity’ on him. He came home wearing a pair of spanking new boots the cowboys bought him. I stumbled home with nothing but feet nearly frozen.”

Still Occupied

As for the old cabin, Mr. Harper recalls that it amounted at first to a living room and bedroom. Its principal furnishings consisted of a walnut table, high bedstead, and an old-fashioned organ. Family singing around the old music box provided many hours of rapt pleasure, Mr. Harper declares.

“In early days we often took in families who were new to the community and had not established homes,” ruminated Mr. Harper. “An Anderson family had sleeping quarters in the attic, lived with us for some time, and it was here that Mrs. Anderson gave birth to a son. I don’t know, that son may be living somewhere in these parts today.”

The rustic cabin is occupied today by the James McCord family. Their 15-month-old son was drowned in a small irrigation ditch in front of the home ten days ago, and that was the first tragedy ever to beset the place, says Mr. Harper.

From The Idaho Daily Statesman – Boise Idaho – Friday Morning – July 18, 1941