Skirts In The Snow

In order to save his family, William Eddy had to leave behind his wife, Eleanor Priscilla Roach Eddy, and their two children, Margaret, age one, and Jimmy, age three, never to see them again. In early February 1847, mother and daughter died within days of each other while Eddy tried to return to Truckee Lake with the First Relief. Their son died in March before his father reached him with the Third Relief. Before her husband left with the Snowshoe Party, Mrs. Eddy packed grizzly bear meat enclosed with a note in Eddy’s backpack without telling him, hoping it would save him. It did. Eddy honored her memory by naming his first-born child with his second wife, Eleanor“Nellie” Priscilla.

– – – – –

Dear Will, the good fight has left me,

inside these frozen prison walls.

I’m dying among strangers,

while angels catch my fall.

You’re a man who leaps to the rescue,

I’m your wife who smiles and waits.

You’ll keep grappling to the last breath

while I wish for twelve shining gates.

Chorus

Did you find the meat wrapped in your pack?

Don’t you dare share it with your friends.

Did you read the note I wrote you?

Did you cry at the very end?

How many lives are you going to change?

How many lives are stuck in a grave?

How many lives are you going to save?

Sometimes it hurts to be brave.

I promise to hold on as long as I can,

but the children are growing weak.

Come back to us through the pass soon—

Margaret won’t nurse…won’t sleep.

You’re both easy and hard to love,

keep your dreams alive, Will Eddy.

I don’t know who I really am,

just a girl without a destiny.

Chorus

Dear Will, the good fight has left me,

inside these frozen prison walls.

I’m dying among strangers

while angels catch my fall.

Dear Will, please accept my last trade.

Do you wonder what it was all for?

Oh, how the pencil shakes…

signed, your own dear Eleanor.

Mary Ann Graves was the “belle of the Donner Party” and one of the fifteen men and women of the Snowshoe Party, later known as the Forlorn Hope, who left the Truckee Lake camp in order to find rescue in the middle of December 1846. She and the others climbed the Sierras, and endured the brutal conditions without enough food and resources—the journey took them thirty-three days. Mary Ann never lost hope and when spirits dipped, she encouraged the others to continue; she was the last person to speak to Charles Stanton, their leader. Only half of the Snowshoe Party survived and they did because they resorted to cannibalism. Their efforts saved the lives of over twenty people when the First Relief reached Truckee Lake on February 18, 1847, which means that 25,000 people are alive today because of the Forlorn Hope’s extraordinary endurance and courage.

– – – – –

In the morning I’d rather sleep,

grab my snowshoes, a mountain so steep.

I pause a moment, it’s a painter’s scene.

The sun warms, and turns bitter cold,

reflects off the powdered snow.

Blinds Mr. Stanton, the bravest man I know.

Chorus

You won’t push me down,

or steal me today.

My doubts all swirl, but I fling them away.

I carry the lost.

I carry the blind.

I carry the ghosts.

I am the Forlorn Hope.

Packs on our weary backs,

like Norwegians among the ice stacks.

I’ve come too far to return to camp

and hear the desperate cries of hunger

from my sisters and my brothers.

Mr. Stanton studies the moon.

Chorus

I’m about as near heaven as I can get,

but soon hell will want its pound of flesh.

Walking somewhere in between,

too far from where I used to be.

I’m the last one to see our friend alive,

we can’t control anything except our minds.

Nothing is real when everything is white.

I’m so weak but I have power.

If I survive, I’ll meet my second life.

The one before no longer matters.

Chorus

Photo source: iStock by Getty Images

With limited means and the absence of her husband, James Reed, Margaret Reed and her four children struggled for resources at Truckee Lake, but she never lacked in determination and resilience. When Charles Stanton returned with provisions in October from Sutter’s Fort before the Donner Party became blocked by the snow at the summit, Mrs. Reed saved some of her allotment for a Christmas dinner—knowing it would be up to her to boost her family’s morale on Christmas Day. Said her oldest daughter, Virginia, ”So bitter was the misery relieved by that one bright day that I have never sat down again to a Christmas dinner without my thoughts going back to Donner Lake.”

– – – – –

The cold woke me up again.

What’s the difference from out and in?

It’s Christmas; the snow fell two feet—

I’d be warm and clean miles away.

It’s Christmas, but no pie or sweets—

just another Friday with boiled broth to eat.

Then Mama brings out a dish—

Chorus

“Children, eat slowly, today you can have all you wish!”

Apples, bacon, and beans.

For a moment we are warm—

Mama made the cold disappear,

brought us yuletide cheer.

And wiped away all of our tears.

At the end of the world it’s Christmas Day.

Mr. Breen’s boys gather wood and play.

Mrs. Murphy serves oxtail stew—

but at Alder Creek the Donners eat ox glue.

Does the Lord Jesus look down on you?

Will He show us His mercy on the holiest of days?

Then Mama brings out a dish—

Chorus

Oh, the Christmas bells ring,

Mama, you’re the reason we’ll see another spring.

Oh, the Christmas bells ring,

Mama, you’re the reason we’ll see another spring.

She saved up the rays of sunshine…

Chorus

Photo source: iStock by Getty Images

Sarah Graves was the eldest Graves daughter and felt a responsibility to accompany her family to California,rather than stay behind in Illinois to start a new life with husband Jay Fosdick, the talented fiddler of the Donner Party. Fosdick was the last soul of the Forlorn Hope to perish—missing the chance to eat the deer his sister-inlaw, Mary Ann, and William Eddy had just killed. He died around midnight and Sarah hoped she would freeze alongside her beloved. In the morning, William Foster and his wife Sarah cannibalized the young man’s body in front of his widow.

 – – – – – –

Jay, play me a tune

about a girl who leaps to the moon,

who loves a boy

who dances jigs in the rain.

Play one for dear friends

who fly on golden wings,

but who will never see the spring again.

Stars watch us without fear

as our shoes disappear.

Ice cracks our minds,

God is snow blind.

Don’t fall behind—

you are strong, hurry along.

Jay, play me a tune

about a girl who leaps to the moon,

who loves a boy

who dances jigs in the rain.

Play one for Father

who flies on golden wings,

but who will never see the spring again.

Now we number only seven—

fiddle me one from heaven.

Death smiles too soon,

play a sweet tune

about the man on the moon.

Hungry souls, lost—no home.

Jay, play me a song

about a girl who is always wrong

who loves a boy

who dances in the rain.

Play one for me,

I will always wear your ring

and I’ll see the spring again…

The survivors quickly learned that rain in the Sacramento Valley meant snow in the Sierra Nevada mountains. William Eddy, after leading the Forlorn Hope group ninety miles, thirty-three days, staggered into Johnson’s Ranch on January 17, 1847. When Eddy asked for bread, fifteen-year-old Harriet Ritchie burst into tears after seeing the severely emaciated man. His dreadful condition and persuasive letter hastened the help from Sutter’s Fort despite the flooded conditions, thus initiating the First Relief’s rescue of the Donner Party—saving many lives. Unfortunately, Eddy’s entire family died before he returned to Truckee Lake two months later, but he was able to rescue four children, including the three orphaned Donner daughters.

– – – – –

Don’t cry, child, please let me in.

I’m not a fiend or a ghost,

but I need bread and a bed for a while.

Please don’t stare, I’m not who I used to be…

what I’ve seen I don’t know.

But I pray the darkness won’t cover me.

Chorus

We lost eight brave souls over the inches, yards, and miles.

More will die if you don’t ride tonight.

There’s no time to waste and I may be too late.

When it rains in the valley, the mountains fill with snow.

Thirty-three days ago, we carried

an axe, a gun, and one blanket each.

I may be a father without a family.

I hear the birds, forget the pain for a while.

Oh, I wanted to give up,

but I thought, if I don’t make it, nobody will.

Chorus

Our only chance at rescue meant leaving you behind,

I’m so sorry for what my dreams put you through.

As soon as I can stand, I’m running back to you ‘cause

I know, when it rains in the valley, the mountains fill with snow.

Chorus

Photo source: Clyde Arbuckle, Photograph Collection, San Jose, CA Public Libr

Some say Mrs. Levinah Murphy asked this question when the seven First Relief rescuers reached Truckee Lake the evening of February 18, 1847, four and a half months after the Donner Party became trapped by snow on Halloween night 1846. The First Relief was an extraordinary humanitarian mission as very few traveled east to west through the Sierra Nevadas in wintertime. Mrs. Murphy is known for being the first cannibal at the lake and she is also known for taking care of the many children who were too weak to be rescued. These children included William Foster’s and William Eddy’s young sons as well as her own son, Simon Murphy. She was also kind to the three Donner girls, Frances, Georgia, and Eliza, when they were dropped in her cabin before William Eddy’s Third Relief party rescued them and Simon in mid-March 1847. Mrs. Murphy was a Mormon widow, who moved her family west from Nauvoo, Illinois, with the dream of having the freedom to practice her religion. The sprawling Murphy clan included children from babies to adults, half of whom survived.

– – – – –

Hope is like bread.

What does it taste like?

Huddled in dirty shawls,

cheeks are sunken in.

Are you surprised we haven’t all died?

Are you surprised we haven’t all died?

Then Mrs. Murphy pokes her head out

hearing shouts and weakly says:

Chorus

Are you men from California or

do you come from heaven?

Belief is tough to come by in 1847.

We’ve been waiting so long for you.

Birds won’t sing; our hearts are dim.

Can you scoop up a speck of life?

Please help us, it’s too hard to cry.

Ready the strong,

faith will fight the snow.

Wrap tight heads and toes

for the ninety miles.

It’s a long drive, keep the kids alive.

It’s a long drive, keep my kids alive.

Then Mrs. Murphy pokes her head out

hearing shouts and weakly says:

Chorus

Whisper prayers,

kiss the little ones.

It’s not over yet,

see how they fly high from the herd.

The clouds hang close, who wants to live the most?

Those clouds hang close, who wants to live

the most?

Then Mrs. Murphy points to the dead,

smiles and weakly says:

Chorus

Are you men from California or

do you come from heaven?

It’s another bitter morning in 1847.

Goodbye, men, brave, sound, and true.

I can’t sing; my heart is dim.

And I will eat up a speck of life.

You can’t help me, it’s too late to cry.

Photo source: Alice Osbo

Peggy Breen was the matriarch of the Breen family—every member of this family survived the Donner Party because they arrived at the camp with more oxen than any of the others. They quickly found shelter in the previously built Moses Schallenberger cabin from 1844. Mr. and Mrs. Breen’s strong faith in God sustained them through the harsh months but that faith was deeply shattered while they were being rescued with the Second Relief in March 1847, led by James Reed. Their seven in number, along with seven others, took shelter in a pit of snow for a week, in the now named Starved Camp, probably located on the eastern end of Summit Valley, without any food. Mrs. Breen was the strongest who tended the fire and fed their dead companions to the living.Fortunately, all were saved thanks to John Stark refusing to leave anyone behind who could not walk out on their own. The Breens settled in San Juan Bautista. Mrs. Breen attended Mass every day and showed her gratitude to John Stark with these words: “I thank nobody but God, Stark, and the Virgin Mary.”

– – –

My Irish luck has almost run out,

everyone near dead, I’m left to feed them all.

Just yesterday you told me,

“Let the boy die, Mother, he’ll be better off.”

Do you hear a voice? Over the wind?

Nothing to eat except those who died,

two Graves and a Donner child.

What am I supposed to do?

Choking on the blessed bones.

Do you hear a voice? It says… I hear a voice; it says:

Chorus

I’m on a mission of mercy,

and I won’t do half the work.

Save the others,

but I’ll stay by these people

for as long as it takes.

John Stark spared us nine

before we froze somewhere in time.

He laughed, “I could carry you all at once

if only my back were broad enough.”

Chorus

This kind man is my savior—

I thank nobody but God, Stark, and the Virgin Mary.

william eddy

(Georgia Donner)

William H. Eddy (née Eaddy) was a wheelwright originally from Lynches River, South Carolina, but most recently

from Belleville, Illinois. He co-led the fifteen-member Snowshoe Party with Charles Stanton in December 1846.

After Stanton died, Eddy led the remaining six others to safety at Johnson’s Ranch and then made preparations

to return to the mountains to rescue his family. He was still too weak from his exertions to join the First Relief over

the Sierras, but guided the Third Relief along with fellow Forlorn Hoper, William Foster. Both men prayed they

would find their young sons alive in the Murphy cabin once they reached Truckee Lake. Unfortunately, both of

their children perished, but Eddy and Foster were able to save four other children. Eddy carried young Georgia

Donner on his back and she later stated, “I have been told that Mr. Eddy was not a truthful man, but he certainly

was a kind-hearted man, and to his tender care I owe my life.”

William Eddy,

do you remember me?

I am Georgia

and to your tender care

I owe my life.

William Eddy,

what was your destiny?

Why did you come so far?

Staring at indifferent stars…

William Eddy,

in the hour of desperation,

you stole and killed,

left behind all you knew.

Chorus

I was five when you saved my life.

But you couldn’t save your children and wife.

Was it worth it to be so kind?

Was it worth the sacrifice?

Through the what-ifs and the cries,

my sisters and I survived.

You told our mother

you’d save us or die.

William Eddy,

you led us through the pass.

Always patient,

we could only go so fast.

William Eddy,

in the hour of desperation,

you stole and killed,

left behind all you knew.

Chorus

Was it worth it to be so kind?

Was it worth the sacrifice?

It took everyone…

Chorus

William Eddy,

do you remember me?

Photo source: UC Berkley, Bancroft Library

Photo source

William H. Eddy (née Eaddy) was a wheelwright originally from Lynches River, South Carolina, but most recently from Belleville, Illinois. He co-led the fifteen-member Snowshoe Party with Charles Stanton in December 1846. After Stanton died, Eddy led the remaining six others to safety at Johnson’s Ranch and then made preparations to return to the mountains to rescue his family. He was still too weak from his exertions to join the First Relief over the Sierras, but guided the Third Relief along with fellow Forlorn Hoper, William Foster. Both men prayed they would find their young sons alive in the Murphy cabin once they reached Truckee Lake. Unfortunately, both of their children perished, but Eddy and Foster were able to save four other children. Eddy carried young Georgia Donner on his back and she later stated, “I have been told that Mr. Eddy was not a truthful man, but he certainly was a kind-hearted man, and to his tender care I owe my life.”

– – – – – –

William Eddy,

do you remember me?

I am Georgia

and to your tender care

I owe my life.

William Eddy,

what was your destiny?

Why did you come so far?

Staring at indifferent stars…

William Eddy,

in the hour of desperation,

you stole and killed,

left behind all you knew.

Chorus

I was five when you saved my life.

But you couldn’t save your children and wife.

Was it worth it to be so kind?

Was it worth the sacrifice?

Through the what-ifs and the cries,

my sisters and I survived.

You told our mother

you’d save us or die.

William Eddy,

you led us through the pass.

Always patient,

we could only go so fast.

William Eddy,

in the hour of desperation,

you stole and killed,

left behind all you knew.

Chorus

Was it worth it to be so kind?

Was it worth the sacrifice?

It took everyone…

Chorus

William Eddy,

do you remember me?

Photo source: UC Berkley, Bancroft Library

Photo

On Saturday, March 13, 1847, the four men of the Third Relief reached Truckee Lake. William Eddy and William Foster both hoped that their sons were still alive in the Murphy cabin, but this was not to be. However, the three young Donner daughters were all healthy and ready to travel over the Sierras, along with Simon Murphy, Foster’s eight-year-old brother-in-law. Tamsen Donner, the girls’ mother, arrived at the same time that Eddy and the others did. She knew that her girls had not left with the “rescuers” Cady and Stone—instead, Cady and Stone left behind the girls and the family’s keepsakes Mrs. Donner entrusted to them, such as silver spoons and silk dresses, and pocketed Mrs. Donner’s thousand dollars meant to transport the girls to safety. Mrs. Donner left her girls in Eddy’s care, minutes after he found out his son had died. After a day of travel, the party found the bundles left behind by Cady and Stone. The Third Relief threw the girls’ old dresses into the fire, while Eddy fashioned new cloaks out of the former silk dresses.

– – – – – –

Mother once fed me soup with this spoon;

it’s the only thing of hers I know,

but you say that’s not true.

When she left us that March day

I never stopped seeing her in every stranger’s face:

in the wildflowers growing, or in the full moon you told me

to speak my mother’s name or she’ll die all over again.

Chorus

Why didn’t you change her mind?

Stop her from running through the pines?

Stop her from saying goodbye?

You promised to save us or die on the trail,

she had to hurry back to Father and couldn’t fail.

Mother once stitched our dresses with perfect seams,

she combed our hair while sharing her dreams.

She didn’t turn around once,

growing smaller and smaller out of sight.

We find our three sacks, treasures in the snow.

Left behind too heavy, protecting my spoon,

and you sew those silk skirts

into our new clothes.

Chorus

I feed you soup now with this spoon;

I have nothing to remember you.

But you say that’s not true—

speak up when you see a wrong.

Be kind when you’d rather be cross.

Give a hand when a stranger needs, feed an orphan child.

Speak our names often

so we’ll never die all over again.

Tamsen Donner, William Eddy.

Tamsen Donner’s two stepdaughters, Elitha and Leanna, were rescued by the First Relief in February 1847 but Mrs. Donner stayed behind to take care of her dying husband, George, and her three youngest girls ages three to six: Eliza, Georgia, and Frances. She pleaded with William Eddy, to “O, save! Save my children!” and offered him silver, which he refused. She had not been with her first husband when he died and she wasn’t going to let that happen again. Tamsen and George Donner both had strong North Carolina connections: she worked in Elizabeth City near the Outer Banks as a teacher and the Donner brothers were from Rowan County near Charlotte. Lewis Keseberg consumed Mrs. Donner after she died in his cabin while on her way to cross over the Sierra Nevada mountains to reunite with her girls.

– – – –

Wagon filled with books and wonder,

dear husband navigates in thunder.

In the fall I’ll build a new school

teaching girls math and the Golden Rule.

We rode west in the spring of ’46,

took a shortcut, bad luck we can’t fix.

Broken axle, your wounded hand,

now you’re dying, in this strange land.

Chorus

Paradise, guide us around the bend,

please, let this winter end.

Stop the sky from falling,

oh, the cold from calling.

No, sir, I cannot leave.

Please save my children.

I know some dreams weren’t meant to be.

The girls step out dry and true,

I will be along someday too.

When I gave up you believed in me,

and now your soul is mine to keep.

We shiver in this garden of thorns,

under a blanket, thin and worn,

dreaming our daughters are so very safe.

Let’s shed this skin; we’re not our pain.

Chorus

Paradise, guide them around the bend,

please, let this winter end.

Stop the sky from falling,

the hell from calling.

By your side for eternity,

I know some dreams weren’t meant to be.

The silence so harsh and cold,

all my words eaten up by snow.

Eggs, apples, corn, and milk,

will our daughters grow up strong without guilt?

Chorus

Paradise, guide them around the bend,

please, let this winter end.

Stop the sky from falling,

the cold from calling.

Farewell, goodbye—

why did all my dreams turn into lies?

I hear hummingbirds, meadows warm in the sun,

just like Carolina where we come from.

I float over the cabins and creek…

girls—you made it to paradise without me.

Patty Reed Lewis was eight years old at the time of the Donner Party tragedy, and at eighty years old she commemorated the Pioneer Monument on June 6, 1918, along with the two surviving Donner sisters, Frances Donner Wilder and Eliza Donner Houghton, whose parents died in the tragedy. Patty almost died at the lake and later at Starved Camp. A vital part of her survival was Dolly, her precious doll that kept her company, which she hid from her parents because carrying non-food items was forbidden. The Reeds, along with the Breens, were the only two families to survive the Donner Party tragedy intact. Today, Donner Party historians and aficionados thank Patty’s diligence in preserving her family’s documents and artifacts for future generations.

– – – – –

I don’t fancy the mountains,

don’t talk much about the past.

Some places grip your heart,

and you cling to them like a life raft.

Love having the bed to myself

and any kind of food.

Grateful for sunshine,

but rain puts me in a dreadful mood.

I hold her; she’s all I have,

black eyes and black hair.

I won’t share her with my sister—

it’s us against the ice and bears.

Chorus

I cry at night where no one can see.

I cry at night where I am free.

I cry at night to break the spell.

I cry, cry, cry, but the snow won’t ever melt.

My grandchildren see an old lady

warming her hands, always cold.

Not the little girl too short

to stand up in the snow.

Long ago on the dusty trail

I could hold her in my hand.

I went back to pick her up

after Mama threw her in the sand.

You’ll never take her,

she’s the only thing that’s mine.

I usually listen to the rules,

but I can’t leave her behind.

Chorus

We honor the pioneers’ statue

high as that winter’s snowfall.

The Donner sisters don’t smile,

they listen for a lonely call.

Now I clutch her tight to my dress,

remember our ruined plans.

I once told Mama, “If you don’t

see me again, do the best you can.”

Did someone mark our trail,

the forgotten Camp of Death?

Now the train surges past the summit

too busy to catch its breath.

Chorus

Photo source: iStock by Getty Images