Reclaiming Our Family Stories: The Story of the Little White Cabins (Part Four)

Series: Beyond the Paper Trail: Unlocking Jennie McKay’s Roots in Oregon History

← Part Three  | Current | Part Five → Coming soon!

When you look at an old photograph like this from the 1860–1910 50th anniversary celebration at St. Michael's, it’s amazing how many different storylines are folded into a single image. On the surface, it captures a community gathering at St. Michael's, but when you look closer, you're searching the background for the landscape itself—trying to spot Agency Creek and any trace of where those small cabins once stood.

St. Michael’s Catholic Church during the 50th celebration in 1910 (1860–1910). Photo courtesy of Marquette University Archives (BCIM Collections).

After learning that Jennie was a Klickitat history keeper who shared Ikanum, we can imagine this is how she would have us share her Trail of Tears story about those little white cabins:

An Ikanum of Removal and Survival: The Story of Jennie

Listen now, while the winter winds settle over the hills and the fire warms our hearth. This is the story of how our matriarch, Jennie, came to this ground at Agency Creek—a tale told as the elders tell it, kept alive through the cold months so the footprints of our grandmothers are never erased.

It was in the month of October, in the year 1855, when the superintendent Joel Palmer issued a command that swept across the land like a bitter draft. The soldiers came to gather up every Native heart living between the mouths of the Sandy and Willamette rivers. Jennie, her mother, and her aunt belonged to the Klickitat people across the big river, the Columbia. Their elders spoke fiercely to the agents, telling them, “Our homes and our roots are across the water in Klickitat country.” But the soldiers turned a deaf ear. They bound our family’s name to the Clackamas, the Tumwater, and the other river bands, refusing to hear the truth of who they were.

On the day the military came to round up the people, Jennie, her mother, and her aunt had gone down to the falls at Oregon City to fish, as our people had done since the beginning. Jennie’s mother was already very sick, her breath shallow and weak. Seeing her condition, the officials did not make her walk the hard ground out of Oregon City right away. Instead, they put them aboard the steamboat Lot Whitcomb at Willamette Falls. They traded the long, dusty trek for a slow voyage down the Willamette and Yamhill rivers, carrying them south toward Dayton.

Yet water could only carry them so far. At Dayton, the boat journey ended, and the hard march began. It was late winter—February turning into the freezing spring of 1856. They were forced off the water and made to march across the mountains through a foot of freezing snow, trudging through damp, bitter air toward the valley of Grand Ronde.

It was in April of 1856 when their weary feet finally stepped onto this ground. Behind where St. Michael’s stands today, along the banks of Agency Creek, the agents had built small wooden cabins for the families. Each cabin had a door that faced out toward the water. Inside, the soldiers had built raised wooden bunk beds—a thing completely foreign to Jennie, her mother, and her aunt, who had known only the earth and woven mats beneath them.

The long journey down the river, the freezing march through the mountain snow, and the strange walls of the cabin took their final toll. Just a few days after their arrival in April 1856, in that small cabin by the creek, Jennie’s mother closed her eyes and passed into the spirit world.

That was the heavy cost of our arrival on this land. But as Jennie stood beside Agency Creek in the quiet that followed her mother's passing, she carried the strength of her ancestors within her. In that place of deep grief, she lived on, planting the roots that would nourish our family for generations to come.

Driving by St. Michael's, watching for the Agency Creek sign along the road, and taking photos of the grounds brings that history right into the present. Standing where Agency Creek flows behind the church, we can find ourselves imagining this as the very place where our ancestors stood. One life ended right here in those first days, while another was just beginning—facing an entire lifetime ahead on this ground.

Driving past St. Michael's and over Agency Creek, watching the landscape
 to imagine where those little white cabins once stood along the water.

Without a photograph of Mercelene and with records so scarce when we first began, every piece of her story is a treasured find. Piecing together her life and the grounds she walked on helps bring our grandmothers out of the shadows and back into the family light.

Yet as you look across that landscape—and back at the photographs of the community gathered outside St. Michael's—another story of survival emerges. Right here on these same grounds, where those little white cabins once stood along Agency Creek, Jennie stood inside St. Michael’s in 1871 to marry Solomon in a Christian ceremony after the Indian Agent said their marriage was not legal. Forced to re-marry in "the white man's way" to protect her family's legal rights and status, she asserted her rightful presence on the very land where she had once arrived as a grieving young girl.

Fast forward through the decades, and church records reveal that her daughter, our direct matriarchal grandmother Mercelene Riggs (recorded under her confirmation name, Juliana), was confirmed right there at St. Michael's in April 1880 at just 13 years old. Growing up in that same footprint meant she was surrounded by the living, breathing endurance of the family that came before her.

St. Michael's Catholic Church today, with Agency Creek flowing through the trees
 just beyond the church grounds where the cabins once stood.

The story of those cabins on Agency Creek is one of unimaginable hardship—of an arrival marked by deep uncertainty, foreign built-in beds, and the devastating loss of a mother who gave everything just to reach this place. Yet, looking down the page at a confirmation record written decades later, we see the other half of the truth: life went on. Across generations, our family anchored its roots in the very soil where our grandmothers endured and survived. Though we may not have a photograph of Mercelene, we are fortunate to hold images of Jennie. Together with their mothers, they carried these stories forward—remaining a living, breathing part of this land and the family we are today.

Historical Context & Sources

This story is based on historical documentation recorded in Living in the Great Circle: The Grand Ronde Indian Reservation, 1855–1905 (p. 287), referencing an interview conducted by Henry Zenk with Clara Riggs on June 15, 1982:

"On the day the American military picked up the Clackamas people, Jennie and her mother had gone to Oregon City for fish. Since Jennie's mother was very ill, they were assigned to the group being transported to Dayton by boat. From Dayton they were marched across country to Grand Ronde.

On the reservation, they found some little cabins that had been constructed for them along Agency Creek behind the present day Catholic church. The door of each cabin faced the creek. Inside, bunk beds had been built for their comfort, but neither Jennie nor her mother had ever slept in a bed of this sort. After just a few days, Jennie's Mother died."

Cultural Note on Ikanum: In Chinuk Wawa and Pacific Northwest oral traditions, an Ikanum (or ikhanum) refers to sacred stories, historical accounts, and oral traditions passed down through generations—often shared during the winter months to preserve community memory, family history, and ancestral teachings. 

Key Historical Milestones:

• Forced Removal (Spring 1856): The U.S. military forcibly removed the Klickitat people that were at Willamette Falls to the Grand Ronde Indian Reservation.

• Agency Creek Cabins: Small wooden cabins stood along Agency Creek directly behind where St. Michael’s Catholic Church stands today.

• St. Michael's Marriage (1871): Jennie and Solomon were remarried at St. Michael's Catholic Church to fulfill legal requirements under federal and state law, standing directly adjacent to the site where the agency cabins once stood.

• St. Michael's Confirmation (April 1880): Church records at St. Michael’s record Jennie’s daughter, Mercelene Riggs (under her confirmation name, Juliana), being confirmed on these same grounds, marking decades of continuous family history on this land.

St. Michael's Confirmation (April 1880): Church records at St. Michael’s record Jennie’s daughter, Mercelene Riggs (listed as Riggs (Juliana) in the lower right corner, just beneath the "Property of Museum" watermark), being confirmed on these same grounds, marking decades of continuous family history on this land

• Primary Oral History & Book Source:
  
  
  • Living in the Great Circle: The Grand Ronde Indian Reservation, 1855–1905 (p. 287), featuring the June 15, 1982 interview conducted by linguist/anthropologist Henry Zenk with Clara Riggs. This provides the primary account of the 1855–1856 removal, the travel via steamboat to Dayton, the march to Grand Ronde, the cabin descriptions along Agency Creek, and the passing of Jennie's mother.
    
    
• Parish Records & Church Archives:
  
  
  • St. Michael’s Catholic Church Parish Registers (Grand Ronde, OR): Historical marriage records (September 8, 1871) documenting Jennie and Solomon, as well as the April 1880 confirmation index card listing Mercelene Riggs (Juliana).
    
    
  • Marquette University Archives (Bureau of Catholic Indian Missions Collections): Photographic documentation of St. Michael’s Catholic Church during the 50th anniversary celebration (1860–1910).
    
    
• Historical & Federal Context:
  
  
  • 1855–1856 U.S. Indian Affairs & Military Records: Superintendent Joel Palmer’s removal directives and historical records of steamboat transport (Lot Whitcomb) from Willamette Falls to Dayton during the forced relocation to the Grand Ronde Reservation.