"Jesse James and I were born in the same town and in the same year," said Judge William M. Colvig, when I interviewed him recently at his home in Medford. "We were both born at Richmond, Mo. September 2, 1845. I spell my name 'Colvig,' though my father's grandfather signed his name 'Jean Baptiste Colvigne.' He was a sea captain and merchant trader. He became a partner of Mr. Lyngae, a wealthy Greek merchant. He married his partner's daughter, Zelesta Lyngae. She was born in Athens. My great-grandfather had charge of the Paris branch of the firm. Their son, Jacob Lyngae Colvigne, my grandfather, was born in Paris in 1776. When he was 18 he enlisted under Napoleon. He was wounded at the battle of Lodi, in 1795, when he was 19. With Napoleon in Egypt, he took part in the battle of the Pyramids. In 1800 he crossed the Alps. He took part in the battle of Marengo. In 1801 he was part of a detachment of French troops sent to put down a slave insurrection in the West Indies, led by Toussaint L'Ouverture. L'Ouverture acclaimed himself governor, promulgated a new constitution, abolished slavery, adopted free trade and confiscated the estates of the absentee French landlords. Napoleon sent a naval force to put down the insurrection. France and England at this time were at war, and Napoleon was threatening to invade England. Jerome Bonaparte, in charge of the expedition, to escape a battle with a superior English fleet put in at Baltimore, a neutral port. Here Jerome met, wooed and won a Baltimore belle, Miss Elizabeth Patterson.
    "Meanwhile, my grandfather's enlistment had expired, so he took French leave and settled at Leesburg, Va. As a young man he had been apprenticed to a cabinetmaker, so he took up his old trade, and soon his cherry and walnut furniture was in demand, and he had all he could do to supply his handmade chairs, highboys, bedsteads and tables to the wealthy planters. In 1809 he married Winifred Hoffman, a cousin of Robert E. Lee's father. She was only 15, and her relatives bitterly opposed the match. They promised to forgive her if she would leave her husband, but she was a high-spirited southern girl and refused. Her relatives bought up a note of my grandfather's, and when it fell due refused to renew it. They had him imprisoned for debt, thinking his wife would leave him. Instead of this she sold her jewelry, paid the note and, with her husband, moved to Ohio.
    "My father, Dr. William L. Colvig, was born at Leesburg, Va. in 1814. When he was 23 he was married at Marietta, Ohio to Helen Woodford. My mother, Helen Woodford Colvig, was born at Hartford, Conn. in 1816. The Woodfords and the Woodruffs came from England to Connecticut in 640, and the families have intermarried till I have a host of relatives in both families.
    "On May 4, 1851, when I was 6 years old, we held an auction in our home at Parksville, Platte County, Missouri and sold everything that Mother did not want to take to Oregon. Our home was six miles from Westport, now Kansas City. Though I was only 6 years old, I still remember hearing the neighbors bid us goodbye and Godspeed. We camped at Platte City. Father and four other men who were on their way to Oregon decided to organize a wagon train. They constituted themselves a committee to pass on all applications of those wanting to join. Many applicants were rejected, either because they did not have the required amount of bacon, cornmeal, brown sugar and other supplies, because their firearms and ammunition were not up to the standard required, because their wagons and oxen were not considered heavy enough to make the trip across the plains, or because their moral character was not up to requirement. Some others who were unacceptable refused to subscribe to the regulations drawn up by my father and the other four charter members of the company, so that when they were ready to go there were but 23 families who had signed, agreeing to obey the captain and stand by and assist the other members through thick and thin till their destination was reached. James Dunn, who located in Benton County, was elected captain. My father was elected assistant.
    "I can still visualize our family wagon. In it were my father and mother, we four boys and my baby sister, Wilda, nine months old. On a rack, fastened to the hickory wagon bows, was Father's Kentucky rifle, and beside it his powder horn and bullet pouch. On the side of the wagon bed the coffee mill was fastened. Mother had reduced the library to just a few books--the Bible, a hymn book, Pilgrim's Progress, Frost's Pictorial History of the United States, Webster's elementary spelling book and McGuffey's First and Second Readers. During the six months or more we were on the plains Mother had me recite to her, so that by the end of the trip I was reading in the Second Reader.
    "On the Sweetwater the men killed a number of buffalo and jerked the meat. After that, whenever we boys begged for something to eat, Mother would give us a hunk of buffalo 'jerky' to chew on. To every member of the train certain duties were assigned. My job was to gather buffalo chips for Mother to cook supper over at night. The Indians had burned the grass, so our fresh cows soon went dry, and we had to do without fresh milk. One day we had a heavy thunderstorm, and one of the wagons was struck by lightning. The lightning exploded a can of gunpowder in the wagon bed and wrecked the wagon and scattered its contents over the prairie. On one occasion the Indians gathered to attack the train. An old trapper and mountain man in our train had one of the wagons pull out to one side of the road and told the women to cry out loud. The Indian chief, dressed in his war paint, rode forward and asked why the women were wailing. The trapper said, 'They are crying for their dead, who have died of the cholera.' The chief rode back to his braves, and a moment or so later all we saw was a cloud of dust. They were deathly afraid of the cholera. They passed the word to the other tribes, who gave us a wide berth.
    "Four of our oxen died, so we had to abandon our largest wagon at Fort Hall. Near Salt Lake City our train divided, some going to California, and others decided to lay over for a while. With six other families we pressed on to the Willamette Valley, where we arrived on October 5. We went to the home of Tom Carter, at the head of Clay Street, in Portland, where we spent the winter of 1851 and '52." --(Portland Journal)
Medford Mail Tribune, May 14, 1927, page B4