Who Shot Ammon Grice?

Every family has its legends, stories of notorious family members who beat the odds, took part in a historical event, or made the headlines through some nefarious act.  Sometimes the stories are true but most times the stories have been exaggerated with each telling through the generations until its more fiction than true.  And my family is no exception.  There's the story of Wyatt Earp, my 3rd cousin 4 times removed.  There's Elizabeth Bathory, the famous Blood Countess of Hungary, my 9th great-grandmother.  And there's Robert the Bruce, 32nd King of the Scots, my 21st great-grandfather.  Each have historical accounts of their lives and the parts they played in history, but they also are embroidered with threads of fiction, making the historical accounts so much more fantastic than they probably really were.  

While I was growing up the story that titillated my generation of cousins was the story of our great uncle Ammon Grice, our great-grandmother's baby brother.  Shot to death when he was just 59, the story of his death took on many facades, the most common being that he was having an affair with a neighbor's wife and that the husband took his jealous revenge out on Uncle Ammon during a hunting trip in one of the local cherry orchards.  Now, since his nephew (my paternal grandfather) was a well-known womanizer, it didn't seem too much of a stretch that this trait might have been passed down the family tree from Uncle Ammon.  But there were other intriguing suggestions that had been made.  He was the president of the local cherry growers' association and Blue Pack Canners.  Was it possible he was killed because of his political position?

While my paternal grandmother was still living, at the age of 95, I was just getting involved in genealogy.  My sister-in-law and I were visiting Grandma one afternoon when my sister-in-law, Sharon, suggested that we dig into the story and find out the truth about Uncle Ammon.  My normally reserved grandmother got very upset and said, "Leave it alone!  It's in the past and it's done!  Do not go stirring up trouble!"  She was so upset that we promised we would leave it be, but now we were even more intrigued.  What about this case would cause her to be that upset about finding the truth?  After she passed away, I could wait no longer.  I wanted to know, who shot Uncle Ammon, and why?

AMMON SAMUEL GRICE

Ammon Grice was the 7th child and only son of Larkin and Amanda Grice.  Larkin and Amanda immigrated to Oregon from Roanoke, Virginia, in about 1890, settling in West Salem, Oregon.  To say that Ammon was doted upon by his 6 older sisters would not be a gross exaggeration.  The son of a successful farmer and pillar of their church and community, he participated in work and events that lent him respect and admiration as he grew into a young man.  His family hosted annual Thanksgiving dinners for their entire community, filling their home with young and old.  He was said to have had an extraordinary singing voice, singing bass in the church choir as well as in his high school cadet band.  He played baseball for Salem High School and was said to be able to "connect with the ball whenever it was within his reach."  And, as with the local farmers at that time, he helped in his father's orchards as well as with his neighbors' orchards during the harvest seasons.

When Ammon was 19 he married his high school sweetheart, Florence May Keefe.  They lived with Ammon's family on Orchard Heights Road in an area called "Chapman Corners" and continued to live there after the death of his mother three years later.  They had a daughter, Irene, and both were involved with her education at Mountain View School, with Ammon serving on the school board. After the death of his father, he acquired his father's 200-acre farm and continued raising cherries and prunes as his father had.  He was a member of the Marion County Farmers Union and served as their state president from 1942 to 1944, also serving on their executive board from 1948 through 1958.  He was on the Blue Lake Co-op board of directors from 1944 through 1958 and was appointed by the State of Oregon to serve on a farm advisory council to the state employment service in 1948. Likewise, his wife was involved with the Orchard Heights Womens Club, the Valley View Club, as well as the Mountain View PTA and the Popcorn Methodist Church. 

A HUNTING PARTY GONE WRONG

The morning of Tuesday, October 21, 1958, dawned partly cloudy with the promise of warmer than usual temperatures for that time of year.  Rain was expected the following day, so the farmers of Chapman Corners decided it would be a good time to try and thin out the deer herds that had been causing so much damage to the prune and cherry trees.  Ervin Simmon's orchards had been particularly plagued by the hungry deer so it was decided to begin there.  The party of eight included Ervin and his 24-year-old son, Wayne, their neighbor, Ammon, along with Glen Southwick and his hired hand 36-year-old David McGee.  There were three other local farmers whose names I do not know but may have included Robert Adams, Mr. Schroeder and Mr. Doran, other neighboring farmers.  The eight men trudged up Grice Hill along Winslow Gulch, spread out in the brushy back acres of the Simmon's farm to try and flush out the deer.  According to Wayne, a shot suddenly rang out along with a yell.  As the men all ran to where they had heard the shot they found Ammon leaning against a tree, his octagon-barrelled 0.32 caliber rifle on the ground at his side.  "I've gone and accidentally shot myself!" he exclaimed.  An ambulance was called and soon arrived but the two attendants had to pack him out nearly a mile on a stretcher before they could take him to Salem General Hospital where he was admitted in critical condition.  

When he was admitted, the doctors believed Ammon had somehow shot himself in the left abdomen with the bullet exiting his right hip, shattering his right elbow.  On investigating the scene, State Police Sgt. Jim Darby was having difficulty understanding how Ammon could have fired his own gun to achieve the wounds he had.  Could the shot have come from a different gun? On questioning the other hunters, Sgt. Darby asked David McGee if he had fired his gun.  David replied that he didn't know if his gun had fired or not, but he had been on Ammon's right and it appeared the shot had come from the left.

Back at Salem General, surgeons found a 0.30-caliber bullet lodged just under the skin in Ammon's abdomen near what they had previously thought was the entrance wound.  Based on his wounds they now determined that the shot had come from Ammon's right, hitting his right elbow first, then entering and shattering his right hip and lodging in his left abdomen.  The velocity had left a hole in his abdomen the size of a baseball and his condition was grave.  

Now that the determination had been made that the bullet had come from the right, Sgt. Darby suspected the shot had come from David McGee's gun.  The bullet was sent to the Oregon State ballistics laboratory for verification.

THE DEATH OF AMMON GRICE

On October 24, three days after he was shot, Ammon succumbed to the fatal bullet wound.  An autopsy was performed which verified what the surgeons had already suspected.  The ballistics report came back with the confirmation:  The shot had come from the rifle belonging to David McGee.  David was arrested on charges of manslaughter.  He was arraigned and held in the Polk County Jail with bail set at $5,000 (about $50,000 value in 2023).  The following day, David's bail was paid and he was allowed to return to Glen Southwick's residence and obtain an attorney before entering a plea.  

DAVID MICHAEL MCGEE

In researching the man thought to have fired the fatal shot ending my Uncle Ammon's life, I only found one David Michael McGee in the Salem area in 1958.  His birthdate corresponded with his age at the time of the shooting, as did his occupation.  

David was the oldest child of a single mother of five born in the Siletz Tribe of the Grand Ronde, west of Salem.  Indian Census Records indicate that he had no education and that he worked as a farm laborer.  In 1957 he married Elois Durling in Washington State, and it is presumed they lived together at the residence of Glen Southwick.  While available records are incomplete, it is speculated that this is indeed the David McGee who participated in the hunting party in October 1958.  Based on my conversation with Wayne Simmons, David was well-liked by everyone, and like the other farmers in the area, was always available to lend a hand when needed.  His employer, Glen Southwick, had previously raised his own grandchildren, so perhaps he felt that taking in David and his wife was his way of being able to help them also get a start in their newlywed life.

On November 25, 1958, the Polk County Grand Jury indicted David Michael McGee on a charge of manslaughter, wanton disregard, and culpable negligence.  He pleaded not guilty.  Trial was set for February 2, 1959.

THE FINAL VERDICT

On the day of David's trial, the judge who had been scheduled to hear the case, Circuit Court Judge Arlie G. Walker, was absent.  In his place Pro Tem Judge Fred McHenry of Corvallis, Oregon, was to hear the case.  Before the trial began, David changed his plea to guilty, and Judge McHenry sentenced him to a suspended one-year sentence during which time he was not allowed to drive, use firearms, or leave the Salem area.  

David and Elois McGee continued to live and raise their family in Salem, Oregon.  In August of 1973 at the age of 51, David stopped to help a stranded motorist near the Warm Springs Reservation.  The vehicle exploded, and David was killed. 

A LEGEND LAID TO REST

For all the exaggeration in the telling of the story of the death of my Uncle Ammon, the final truth is that it was simply a very unfortunate accident.  Ammon, wanting to shift any blame away from his neighbor's young farm hand, simply told everyone that he had accidentally shot himself.  Court records indicate that David became startled at hearing the winter brush rattle and shot prematurely before verifying what he was shooting at, something he would have to live with the rest of his short life.  It is likely also that Uncle Ammon was afraid of the prejudice resulting from an uneducated Indian shooting a prominent farmer in 1958.  We will never know these finer details as they were laid to rest with both Ammon and David.  For myself, I am glad to have ferreted out the truth and laid the legend to rest!

Rev. Reuben Coleman Hill - A Man of All Seasons

When studying family history, one always hopes to find someone with an interesting life story.  Someone who crossed the United States on the Oregon Trail or was part of the gold rush.  Or even related to Abraham Lincoln!  In our ancestor, Rev. R.C. Hill, you can find all three—and more!

Reuben was one of seven children born to Reuben and Sarah Joyce “Joiasy” Hanks.  His father, also named Reuben, was a Baptist minister; a man described as “a leading man in society” who read a great deal more than his neighbors, and “whose judgement was respected as sound and reliable.”  His mother was described as “a well-read, well-informed lady, firm in her beliefs and always ready to give a reason for the doctrine she advocated.” (Joiasy was a first cousin of President Abraham Lincoln!) 

When Reuben was 24 he met Margaret Graham Lair, the daughter of a prominent family in the area whose father was the local Justice of the Peace. They were married in the fall of 1821 at her father’s home in Kentucky.

After about a dozen hard but enjoyable years as a farmer he felt led to religion and soon became deacon of their Baptist church. He was baptized by his mother’s brother, Rev. Elijah Hanks.  Reuben and Margaret and their family settled near Purdy, Tennessee, where they then joined the Clear CreekBaptist Church.  Reuben served as deacon of that church for 10 years and was ordained there as a gospel minister.

In 1848 the California Gold Rush became front-page news and the excitement about gold was on everyone’s minds including Reuben’s.  By this time, he and Margaret had seven children:  Six sons and three daughters, the youngest of whom was your 2x great grandmother, Addie Hill.  Reuben and his friend, Dr. Clemmons, decided to send some men to the gold mines to work for two years.  Reuben was to oversee their work.   

Leaving his family in Purdy, Reuben and the men set out in wagons on the Oregon Trail. They began their journey in 1851 in Independence, Missouri, and headed to Ft. Laramie, Wyoming, where they left their wagons and packed mules for the remainder of the trip west.

 

“The cries of those stricken with cholera in the tents and around the camps almost every night, and the fresh graves caused us to want to leave the regular trains, making the trip with pack mules.  But because of the fact that the trains were broken up into so many small parties, we were with some train or other most of the way across the plains.

“On the way we had great discouragements.  People had made a great mistake.  We with the rest left a large portions of our provisions behind us.  It was said to be the heaviest emigration that had ever gone to California, consequently feed became scarce, many head of stock dying, and that which remained got very poor.

 

“On the way we crossed a desert place.  About midway from the starting in of this desert to the water, there was a high point of rocks. This point was not more than twenty feet high but was several hundred feet long.  The shade of this eminence was the means of saving the lives of several of us.  Many were exhausted.

 

“Several miles from this place there was a stream of water which we could see clearly, and we had it in our guide laid down.  The stream was considerably shaded with willows and a grassy plain on the other side.  We started a short time before day and we made the trip to the water before night.  There we had plenty of water and grass for the mules, and there was shrubbery under which we might rest.  We remained there two days to recruit.”

 

Reuben and his men arrived in Weaver, California, nearly out of provisions and in poor health after having endured the punishing trip.  Reuben himself had been very sick and couldn’t eat any of the strong meat they had had for the trip.

 

“I saw a pancake in the dust.  I got down from my mule, picked it up, rubbed it on my pants to get a little of the dirt off, and then ate it with great relish.”

 

Many of their mules were close to death after their journey, but they were able to sell one to buy fresh provisions so they could continue their journey.  Arriving in Mud Springs (now called El Dorado), California, they prepared quarters for the winter and began prospecting for the gold that had led them west.  Reuben preached under a large tree on the Sabbath to the many men who had come from the East in search of their fortunes.

 

During his time in Mud Springs Reuben worked side-by-side with the physicians there and began the practice of medicine with them. Although he had no formal medical training, he was soon introduced as a preacher and physician. Mud Springs had grown to nearly 3000 people by this time, and Reuben was asked to be their minister.  He was provided a house in which to preach, and a church of about 30 members was soon organized.

Early sketch of Corvallis, 1858

 

In 1851, Reuben moved to Oregon, stopping for a short time in Shasta to prospect for gold.  He then moved on to the Willamette Valley, stopping in Marysville (which is now called Corvallis) and finally to Albany.   There he worked as a physician, visiting Linn, Benton, and Polk counties, a teacher, and Baptist minister.

In the spring of 1852 Reuben returned to Missouri to bring his family to Oregon.

“In the spring of 1853, with my family and company in the train strong enough to feel secure from the attacks of Indians, we started out, and crossed the plains without serious loss or without experiencing more than usually befalls emigrants on a trip of that magnitude.”

 

Reuben and his family settled in Albany in 1854, where he organized the first Baptist church there.  As a minister he was a fluent speaker and was held in high esteem by those who knew him, both as a good counselor and a successful physician, and it was said he was “a doctor to the body and soul.” 

 

Between 1857 and 1858 he served on the Oregon Territorial Legislature as a representative for Benton County.  He had strong educational convictions, feeling that education and religion were the cornerstones of life, and drew the charter for the McMinnville Baptist College, later known as McMinnville College.  He served on the Board of Trustees until his death and in 1870 he was named Financial Agent for the college.  He believed so strongly in the importance of education that he made a third, arduous trip back East to promote and raise funds for the college.  Then, rather than receiving pay for his efforts, Reuben accepted four perpetual scholarships to the college, some ofwhich are still in use today.  (The college was renamed Linfield College in 1922.)

Just short of 150 years later three of the scholarships were found in a trunk by a relative, unused.  Linfield claimed them void and tried to buy them back.  After a heated legal battle, the college agreed to honor them for 50 years, available to family members and administered by the R.C. Hill Trust.  

Reuben’s limitless energy allowed him to be a life member of the American Bible Union, the American Baptist Home Mission Society, and the Oregon Baptist State Convention, as well as other various societies.  In later years his physical energy declined, but his mental stamina remained until his death on the last day of the year of 1890.  His wife, Margaret and three of their children had preceded him in death, but he left behind four sons and one daughter, each of whom were very successful and well-respected in the Albany, Oregon, community.

 

 Reuben Coleman Hill—a man of deep Christian conviction and compassionate doctor, and a dedicated teacher—is buried in the Masonic Cemetery in Albany where a prominent monument is erected in his memory.