Zerlina Eakin, the first county superintendent of schools in Foster County, a true pioneer, came to Foster County with her sister in 1883. They filed on two adjoining quarter sections of farmland near Carrington, where the Olaf Gussiaas farm is now located (1982). Miss Eaken served eight years as superintendent of schools of Foster County, being elected first in January 1899. She also taught school in Foster County for 25 years in Birtsell, Nordmore, Melville, Haven townships and in Carrington, She was active in the beginnings of the Carrington library and served as first librarian. She was also a member of the Carrington chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution and traced both sides of her family back to pre‑revolutionary days in Colonial America.
The following article was written by her in March 1933 and published in the Independent January 22, 1970:
"My land was shantied in the fall of 1882, soon after my arrival in Jamestown. Early in 1883 my sister and I landed in Melville from the second train carrying passengers into Foster County. Melville at that time was only a pile of railroad ties.
Messrs. Keepers and Harriman had platted the town of Newport a half mile east of Melville and refusing to give the railroad a half interest in the townsite the railway company just switched their road a half mile to the west leaving Newport high and dry. Needless to say there were no further improvements on the deserted townsite.
Driving straight north from Melville eleven miles, being guided by section stakes, we arrived at section twelve, Carrington township, on which our claims were located. Not knowing a thing about claim shanties, I had hoped to find a nice little house on my land but instead found a little box of a shack exactly six feet square, five feet high on west side and six feet high on the east side, thus providing the necessary slope to the board roof.
The little building was not standing up and looking the whole world in the face, for it had collapsed just like a pasteboard box and lay prone upon mother earth. In that case, at least, it was not difficult to raise the fallen and we soon had it righted and standing alone. No floor, no windows, no doors, just an aperture for ingress and egress.
But time brings changes and 'ere long I had a house twelve by fourteen, with a gable roof, a small lean to and the rear the style of architecture being known as a Queen Anne front and a Mary Ann back.
Once when my sister and I were spending the night on the claim we tied our team of ponies to the axle of the buggy for the night as usual. A sudden windstorm came up and we found ponies and buggy away out on the prairie. We secured the buggy by tying front wheels to the back so they couldn't turn and then brought the ponies into the house, after taking down the camp stove and putting it under the bed in order to make room for the ponies. Needless to say the little house was filled with ponies and girls.
In order to make acceptable proof of our having lived on those claims it was necessary to have a well and a habitable house. We undertook to dig a well on my sister's claim. When we were down some seven or eight feet our neighbors, Li Holcomb and Ed Hanna, cousin of our illustrious ex‑governor, drove up to see how the well was progressing. Ella happened to be the one at the surface and she reported we were getting along just fine now but the well being somewhat narrow, Lina had to come up and take off her bustle so she could turn around in the well. You may be sure I was glad I was down in the well at the moment.
We had the dearest little cave about four feet deep, with a low framework of boards over it and covered with earth. Steps cut in the earth, a door fitting the opening and we had a splendid little cellar, a refuge in case of a tornado or prairie fire.
One night there was a ring of fire all around us, coming nearer every moment. A frosted wheat crop uncut was on two sides of the house and from the one side the fire was coming toward us.
We carried our belongings to the cave, drew all the water we could from the wells, nailed cleats on the corner of the house so we could go up and put out a fire if it would start, had wet blankets ready for an emergency, then we went to pulling wheat. We made a broad pathway, carrying the wheat far enough from the building that the heat could not do any harm should it ignite. All night we worked and made ready for the demon but when the fire reached the grain field, it died down. The wheat had too much moisture in it to ignite and we were saved."
Miss Eakin was born in New Galilee, Penn. September 10, 1857. Her mother died when she was three years old and her father a year later, leaving her an orphan. She and her sister were adopted into the family of her mother's sister in Ohio and she made her home there until she completed school and began teaching.
They decided to come to Dakota Territory to take advantage of Uncle Sam's offer for land.
Source: A History of Foster County 1983 Page 42