A Trip to Kalama and Freeport
By Abigail Scott Duniway
The New Northwest
Portland, May 13, 1879

Abigail Scott Duniway and Susan B. Anthony both traveled up the Cowlitz Corridor lecturing the citizens on the women's right to vote. The following is an account of their journey to Kalama and Freeport.

Dear Readers of the New Northwest; Kalama, or "Calamity," as the ere-while pretentious city of the Columbia was once prophetically called, which was for a time the headquarters of the Northern Pacific Railroad, the abode of the Kalama Beacon, and the general rendezvous for impecunious seekers after corner lots and landlord's bonanzas; Kalama, the disappointed, doomed and dying city of fizzled expectations, was the scene of the visit or visitation of the author of these peregrinations on Wednesday of last week. 

The good steamer Emma Hayward left her dock at six o'clock in the morning of the day named, and, journeying down the Willamette to its mouth, and from thence down the Columbia to the above-mentioned city of decimation, we landed at 10:30am and proceeded to the Fulton House, where arrangements were completed, after much delay, for securing the M. E. Church for an evening lecture. 

The church in question sits, as it did in the palmier days of the calamity-stricken town, in a cul-de-sac formed by the intersection of two spurs of the billowy and abounding hills, and opening at its mouth beside a roaring stream, spanned by a slippery foot-bridge, safe enough in daylight, but a very bridge of peril in the dense gloom of a rainy, moonless night, when you couldn't see your hand before you, nor hear the footfall or your equally night-blinded guide, because of the din of the madly-roaring stream beneath us.

We were advised by one of the remaining merchants in the once busy burg, to call upon the Auditor and secure the court-room for the lecture, which is now the county's rented property, and was once the dining-room of the then pretentious Kazano House. The Auditor is a mild mannered, corpulent and good-looking specimen of the aristocracy of sex, who graciously in formed us that the Commissioners couldn't let the court-room for anything but legal or political business, so we went our way church-hunting wondering what he thought our business was. 

Mr. Vestal, as janitor, received us kindly, and caused the long-closed church to be opened, warmed and lighted for the use of the public. But the long-unused stove-pipe had rusted so nearly off at its base that a little expansion by fire sent it tumbling with a crash upon the yet fortunately empty benches. Had the accident occurred fifteen minutes later, there would have been a chronicle of broken heads to render this column tragically interesting. 

Some gentlemen carried the hot stove outside with ropes, the few citizens gathered themselves together, and the lecture was delivered amidst profound and respectful attention, the County Commissioners themselves honoring us with their presence, and evidently feeling crest-fallen because the quiet, orderly political meeting had been denied the use of the court-room. We are sure they will be more courteous with us next time. Men are not half as selfish as they imagine themselves to be. 

And when they understand that this woman movement does not mean a crusade against their own individual rights, we have yet to see one of them opposing it. Their supreme caution permits them to be frightened without being hurt; that's all. We had gone to the church, over the foot-bridge, and through the gulches; by the expiring twilight. On returning, the night was black as Erebus and there was that yawning chasm, equally suggestive of the gap at its fatal mouth, that were to us no fable. 

No body had a lantern; the rain beat time with the roaring waterfall, and beat a silent symphony with the waves of darkness. What was to be done? Never did the headlight in a hotel seem so far away. We not only have no dread of death, but we have in later years had no desire to escape it; but the idea of broken bones and crippled bodies has long been
our pet horror. A small boy caught an idea. We had with us a few copies of the New Northwest, and he said he would make torches if he had a match. 

Somebody had matches, and both small boy and smoker are hereby blessed for their sagacity and providence. The agony was soon over; but it was long before your correspondent could forget in sleep the memory of that falling stove-pipe, that slippery footbridge, that roaring waterfall, and those blazing newspaper torches. The county of Cowlitz boasts a lady Superintendent of its Common Schools, in the person of Mrs. Professor Huntington, whose acquaintance we had formed while yet a high private in the commercial and domestic walks of life. This lady has been for several months the principal of the Kalama school, and is highly esteemed as a capable and honest teacher and office-holder. 

At the time of our visit, she was holding public examination for the benefit of the teachers of the county, the most of whom were present, with whom we formed a very agreeable acquaintance. As usual, the large majority were ladles, and, as a matter of course, the larger salaries were commanded by the minority, of men. But there were none of the terrible and oft-predicted consequences of women holding office visible. The gentlemen were as courteous to the ladies as ever, and vice versa, and that, too, notwithstanding that the lady teachers all want to vote.

There are several good families yet living in Kalama, trying to hold on to their homes and business and waiting for better times. These, doubtless, will come by and by, but they will advance steadily and healthfully, and with little thanks to the erewhile alma mater of the place, the Northern Pacific Railroad. At twelve, the steamer Dayton touched at the wharf, and we suddenly decided to board her and go to Freeport. 

So, with several of the lady teachers of the county for company, we were soon on our way, cruising leisurely along the shore line, and entering the Cowlitz at last, up which the trim craft labored steadily, and at five P. M. came in sight of a wide stretch of alluvial green, rolling away upon either side, through which upon one hand the railway runs, and upon both the white houses nestled lovingly upon the lawns and among the fruit trees, a very Arcadia of loveliness. 

Late as the hour was, it was not too late to circulate an appointment for a lecture, which was given in the church, followed by another on the succeeding evening, both of which were well attended by an intelligent and appreciative auditory. There being no hotel in Freeport, we found pleasant entertainment at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Catlin, the former a brother of John Catlin, Esq., and the latter an old-time brief acquaintance of the undersigned, with whom we were soon delightfully engaged in reviving olden memories. 

The Catlin brothers are owners of an immense stock and meadow farm, and were once also engaged for a long time in merchandizing. There are now two stores in full operation, one the property of Commissioner Olson and the other of Mr. Caples. Professor Elyea teaches the district school, and J. Rierdon keeps a boot and shoe shop. These, with the post office, parsonage and a few other dwelling houses, constitute the village proper, back of which beautiful farms lie in smiling luxury, laid at their feet by the River Cowlitz, which is navigable for small steamers much farther up than we have yet explored It.