I peddled matches in New York one year. I saved up one hundred dollars. I was looking around to see where I could make more money.

I had an uncle in Chicago. So I wrote him a letter and asked him if I could make more money in Chicago. He wrote me a very nice letter. He said that I could make more money if I peddled dry goods in the country. Well, I wanted to see my uncle and aunt. I wanted to see Chicago. So I sold my basket and I went to Chicago in June 1871.

The day after I arrived I started peddling. My uncle and aunt lived on Fourth Avenue at that time. They had three rooms. One room was rented to two roomers. I shared the room with them. I lived there when the great fire broke out! Yes, I remember the fire. The nights were getting chilly. The family used to go to bed early to save coal. We were all going to bed, when we heard the fire bells.

“Do you want to see where the fire is?” I asked the two roomers.

“As long as our house is not on fire, I don’t care,” one of the men said. “Why should I bother about a fire?”

But I wanted to see the fire. So I went out into the street. I saw big flames across the river. Well, I thought, the river is between the house and fire, so why should I worry? I went into the house and got into bed.

The next thing I knew the two men were shaking me trying to wake me.

“Get up!” they said, “The whole city is on fire! Save your things! We are going to Lincoln Park!”

I jumped out of bed and pulled on my pants. Everybody in the house was trying to save as much as he could. I tied my clothes in a sheet. With this bundle on one shoulder and my pack of goods on the other I left the house.

Everybody was running north. People were carrying all kinds of crazy things. A woman was carrying a pot of soup, which was spilling all over her dress. People were carrying cats, dogs and goats. In the great excitement people saved worthless things and left behind good things. I saw a woman carrying a big frame in which was framed her wedding veil and wreath. She said it would have been bad luck to leave it behind.

Then I came to Lake Street, I saw all the wagons of Marshall Field lined up in front of the place of business. Men and boys were carrying the goods out of the building and loading everything into the wagons. The goods were taken to the car barns at State and Twentieth Street. A few days later, Marshall Field started doing business in the car barn. I remember buying some things before I started peddling.

No one slept that night. People gathered on the streets and all kinds of reasons were given for the fire. I stood near a minister. He was talking to a group of men. He said the fire was sent by God as a warning that the people were wicked. He said there were too many saloons in Chicago. A woman who heard this said that since the fire started in a barn it was a direct warning from God. She said Jesus was also born in a barn.

As many of the homes were burned, many people left the city. Some went to live with relatives in other cities. A great many men became country peddlers. There were thousands of men walking from farm to farm with heavy packs on their books. These peddlers carried all kinds of merchandise, things that they thought the farmers and their families could use.

The house where I lived was burned down. I took my pack and started walking to the country. I had pins, needles, thread, safety pins, knitting needles and yarn, hat pins, cotton and woolen cloth, underwear and stockings for the whole family.

Yes, I carried a department store on my back. I walked from farm to farm. There was no rural mail delivery in those days. Months would pass without a newspaper. The farmers were hungry for news. Everybody wanted to know about the fire. I would sell my goods and bring news at the same time.

Most of the time it would take all day to walk from one farm to another. The farms were fifteen, twenty, and thirty miles apart. But I always made a good day’s profit at each farm house.

The living expenses of the peddlers were very little. The farmers’ wives always gave us plenty of food. I did not eat anything that was not kosher. But I could eat eggs and there were plenty of them. There was fresh milk and bread and butter. The farmers always gave us a place to sleep. In the summer we slept in the hay-loft. In the winter, if there was no spare bed, we would sleep on the floor. When the farmer had no extra blankets, we slept with our clothes on to keep warm.

I walked through Illinois, Indiana, Iowa and some of the southern states with my pack. I never worked on my Sabbath. I never worked on the farmer’s Sabbath. The farmers always respected my religion and I respected his. You see I had a five day week long before the unions.

I had a customer in Iowa. I used to get to his farm once a year. He had a nice six room house, and it was one of the few places where I could have a bed to sleep in. When I got to the place after a year’s absence, there was no house. The ground was covered with snow, and I could not even see the place where the house had been. As I was looking around, thinking that I was lost, my good friend the farmer came out of a dug-out. I asked him what had happened to his house.

“Oh, we had a terrible storm about four months ago, and the house blew away,” said the farmer. “We are living in this dug-out now; it isn’t as nice as the house was, but it’s safe and warm. Come on in.”

I had never been in a dug-out and I was surprised to see how nice the farmer and his wife had fixed up this hole in the ground. There were seven people living in this dug-out, but they made room for me.

Next: Peddling on the Plains
Adaptation c. 2004, Mike Peterson

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