AN ADDRESS DELIVERED AT THE SECOND ANNUAL REUNION OF THE BOND FAMILY, BY ITS PRESIDENT, H.S. BOND, AT TURNER, OREGON, SUNDAY, AUGUST 21, 1938.
During dinner one day, a father said to his boy, “Sonny, after dinner, I want to have a heart to heart talk with you, I want to discuss with you some of the facts of life.” Accordingly, after dinner the father and the boy repaired to another room. After Sonny had carefully closed the door, he said, “Well, Dad, what is it you would like to know?” I would not assume the attitude of Sonny this afternoon, but having partaken with you a very appetizing and satisfying lunch, I would like to discuss with you some facts of life, facts connected with the lives of some of those from whom we have come.
The object of this assembly as I understand it, is of a two fold nature. First—to honor those ancestors who came to the Oregon country in an early day and have since passed from earth. Second—to provide an opportunity for the descendents of those men and women and those related to them by marriage, to become better acquainted with each other and to enjoy themselves in a social way. I think both those objects are very praiseworthy.
Those whom we would thus honor today, are the Rev. John Bond and wife and their sons and daughters. The sons were William, Solomon, George W. and James. I am not sure that I can correctly name the daughters for I have to depend entirely upon my memory of what I heard from my parents when I was a boy. If my statements are in error I would appreciate correction from anyone who may have more accurate information. I think the names of the daughters were Elizabeth, Rebecca, Ann and Suzan. If my memory is true, Elizabeth, Rebecca and Suzan married brothers, Nelson, Isaac, and Harmon Davis. Aunt Ann married James Tong. They lived in Powell Prairie not far from the city of Portland. Aunt Ann died when I was a boy. I distinctly remember my father’s going to Powell Prairie to attend her funeral.
The only one of my father’s sisters whom I remember was Aunt Rebecca. I remember visiting her home somewhere in the McKinzie River country. I remember also something of her family; James Nelson, Ed, Josephine, and another daughter whose name I do not now recall.
The father of the “clan” came with most of his family in a wagon train which started from the vicinity of Knoxville Iowa on Tuesday, April 12th, 1853, and arrived in the Willamette Valley Wednesday, Sept., 21st of the same year; five months and nine days having elapsed between the beginning and the ending of the pilgrimage. Most of the wagons were drawn by oxen. That journey may not have been so eventful as were some others of Oregon Pioneers, nevertheless, our ancestors encountered obstacles and endured hardships which sorely tried their metal and the manner in which they overcame and endured, entitle them to have their names enrolled among the heroes of the “covered wagon days.”
Grandfather Bond located in Clackamas county and occasionally preached for the Clackamas river about six miles north of Oregon City.
Of those whom we honor today, the first to come to Oregon was the Rev. James Bond. He arrived here in 1847. He was the youngest of the brothers, having been born in Henry county Kentucky, February 14, 1821. Soon after coming to Oregon he began to preach in a little church at Skipanon in Clatsop county. He organized Sunday schools there and at Astoria. On February 18, 1849, he was accidentally shot; as a result of which he died, and his death contributed to the death of the little church where he had preached. Rev. Ch. Matoon, in his book, Baptist Annals of Oregon, says of him, “His death wan an irreparable loss to the little church. He had already given evidence of unusual talent and ability, and was full of zeal for the cause.” So far as know, Uncle James was the first Baptist to die in Oregon, the first Baptist to be buried in Oregon soil. He has a daughter and a grand-daughter now living at Hubbard.
The only one of father’s brothers with whom I was personally acquainted was the Rev. George W. Bond; Uncle George I called him. I was twelve years of age when he died. I remember him as a man of genial, even jovial disposition. I was always glad when Uncle George came to our home.
He came to Oregon in that emigrant train of ’53 and was one of the strong pillars of the Baptist church in Oregon. For the last 18 months of his residence in Iowa he served under appointment of the American Baptist Home Mission Society. During the 13 months immediately preceding his migration to Oregon, he preached 134 sermons, baptized 36 persons and solemnized 16 weddings. He preached in dwelling houses, school houses, court houses and church houses. Some of the towns and cities in which he preached were Knoxville, Iowa City, Pella, Albia, Keokuk, Oskaloosa, Blakesburg, Freemont, and DesMoines. He sometimes rode twenty or more miles to a preaching service.
It is said that in Oregon at different times he preached in nearly all the churches south of Corvallis and Pleasant Butte, besides preaching in many school houses.
In going to his appointments, he frequently had to travel on foot, sometimes wading thru water from four inches to a foot or more in depth. He would pull off his shoes and socks, roll up his pant legs, wade thru, then sitting down on a log, he would redress his feet after which he would march on, singing his favorite hymns.
His first sermon in Oregon was preached on Sunday, October 22, 1853 from this text, found in Galatians 6:9, “Let us not be weary in well doing for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” It seems to me that was a very appropriate text for his first sermon here. During his 26 years of subsequent service in the vineyard of the Lord, he must have been frequently very weary in body and mind, but he was never spiritually weary. He never “wearied in well doing.” He never fainted in the work of his Master. As a result he reaped a most glorious and abundant harvest. During those 26 years, he preached 1307 sermons, baptized 81, married 58 couples, helpd ordain seven preachers, helped organize five churches and four associations.
He was pastor of the Eugene Baptist church for about 14 years, of the Springfield church 8 years, and was pastor of the Springfield and Halsey churches at the time of his death. I understand that he was the first pastor called to the pastorate of the Eugene church after it was located in the Eugene area. Among the other words of praise and commendation of him written by C. H. Matoon, in his book, Baptist Annals of Oregon, are these. “As a preacher Brother Bond was doctrinal and practical. He always said something worth thinking about, and his short sentences and clear and conclusive arguments called forth frequently such expressions as ‘A strong man’, and ‘a sound preacher,’ ‘a solid discourse,’ etc. He was one of the pillars of the Corvallis Association and he always met with a warm welcome when he visited other associations. He had an easy command of language and spoke rapidly but distinctly, and without manuscript from a few notes and always had good attention. His genial countenance, his tender admonitions, his earnest warnings, his labor and sacrifice for the cause, his prudent counsel and salutary advice will long be felt and remembered by the Baptists of Oregon.”
I hold in my hand a letter written by Uncle George to my father in his last illness. This letter is dated at Eugene, December 24, 1879. He wrote this letter sitting in bed. In it he said that his doctor thought his life might be prolonged for awhile, perhaps for some years. But said Uncle George, “I think it very doubtful about even getting up, but I am not afraid of death. I can say, ‘welcome, death.’ I am prepared to go, I have put my trust in Him who said, ‘I am the resurrection and the life.’”
Of him in his last illness, Mr. J. C. Bushnell, one of his close friends and brothers in Christ, said, “As he talked to us of dying, of his past life, of his hopes beyond the grave, he seemed almost to speak to us from the other side.”
Uncle William Bond suffered a great and tragic loss, when near the end of his trek to the Oregon country. On August 24th, while encamped in the Blue Mountains, his wife, who was my mother’s sister, presented to him a little baby girl whom they named Emma. On Thursday, September 15th, the mother of that little girl said goodbye to her loved ones, and two days later was tenderly laid to rest somewhere on the eastern slope of old Mt. Hood, there to sleep until the resurrection morn. The caravan moved on to its destination, the Willamette Valley. Uncle William, with a heavy heart but with an undaunted spirit, faced the duties and responsibilities of life in the new land. The little babe, Emma, was cared for by her grandmother Hayes. At nine years of age she died from scarlet fever. The boys, Seth, James, Ebenezer became members of my father’s and mother’s family until after awhile Uncle William brought to them another good mother, Mrs. Cuma Star. That union was blessed with a daughter, Irene, who is still living. I had the privilege of visiting her a few years ago. I think she was one of the sweetest ladies I have ever known, a very sweet singer. At our urgent request she sat at her organ and sang for us and old time hymn which deeply touched our hearts.
In their young manhood, Seth, James, and Ebeneezer migrated to California, where Seth for many years taught in the public schools of that state. James after rearing a family, studied medicine, graduated from a San Francisco medical college and became a very successful physician. At the time of his death, he was the proprietor of a sanitarium. Ebeneezer remained a farmer. It was my privilege to visit him not very long before his death. He was a grand old man, a sincere and devoted Christian. The descendents of William Bond have contributed much to human welfare by their labors in the religious and professional world.
The remaining son was known to some of you who are here this afternoon as “Uncle Solomon,” to others as grandfather Bond. He was my father. We don’t have much to say about the selection of our parents. If such privilege had been mine, I am sure I could not have chosen better parents than those which God gave me.
My father and mother with their five children, three daughters and two sons, soon after arriving in Oregon, made their home near Scio in that part of the country known as “The forks of the Santiam.” There they united by letter with the historic Providence Baptist church which had been organized the previous year and of which the pastor was the Rev. Joab Powell. He was a very eccentric individual, uneducated, yet not ignorant. He knew much of his Bible by heart, was full of the Spirit and of zeal for the Master. It is said that with his own hand he baptized 3000 persons. This was the man who when asked to open a session of the Oregon legislature responded by praying, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”
My father did not reside long in the “Forks of the Santiam,” but moved to a donation land claim the right to which he had purchased, adjoining the little town of Halsey on the north. He lived there until his death on February 18, 1900 at the age of 80 years.
I think I never saw my father angry. I know I never heard him utter an obscene or profane word. He was rather a strict disciplinarian. He did not always spare the rod, but he never applied it in anger. More than once after cutting lumber switch, he pulled up my trousers leg; then, after saying, “Harvey, I hate to do this,” he put that switch into action, and believe me before he had finished, I hated it too.
Every one of his children believed in him and in his religion. They trusted him, they admired him, they loved him.
I remember one day when I was a little fellow, father and I were out in the old orchard gathering apples. A deputy sheriff came and served my father with a subpoena as a juryman. As he handed father the paper he said, “Mr. Bond, when my boss gave me this paper to serve on you, he said, if all men were like Solomon Bond there would be no need for jurymen or for courts of law.[“] And that was true. My father never sued any man nor was he ever sued. He lived at peace with all men. His only connection with a court of law was as a juryman or possibly as a witness.
A few years ago, after several years absence from my old home town, I returned and was talking to a man who was a boy when my father died. He said to me, “Harvey, I never knew a man whom I admired more than your father. I regarded him as a model Christian. His life has ever been an inspiration to me.”
My father was the father of eleven children, the first born, a daughter, died in infancy. All the others lived to maturity, some to a ripe age. I alone am left to tell you of him.
His last words were, “I love Jesus.” And truly he did love him. He expressed his love not only with his lips but also by his life.
Well, I have told you just a little about the character and lives of those whom we honor today, but from that little you may know that we of the Bond family have no reason sto be ashamed of our pioneer ancestors. None of them acquired fame, they were not great as the world measures greatness, but they were good; of good character, strict integrity, moral and upright before God and man. They belongs to that class of citizens which, after all, has contributed most to the solid enduring moral foundation on which our state was built and on which it today so proudly stands. Our people did well their part in helping to weave into the fabric of our state strong and beautiful strands of morality. We do well to honor them today. We shall do even better if we emulate their example.