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Flying and the stagecoach romance By Bill Miller Dec 11, 2022 12:30 AM A A “It’s something like being born again into a new age and a new life,” Fred Tice said. A month before his 73rd birthday, Jackson County’s last surviving stagecoach driver eagerly climbed into the passenger seat of an airplane. His eyes gleamed with excitement as the motor began to roar. This was his first flight, but he wasn’t afraid. In May 1929, Harold Sander, owner of the Sander Aeronautical School, approached Fred and offered him a chance to see his old stagecoach route from the air. Fred, who had never been this far off the ground before, jumped at the chance. No sooner had the plane left the ground than the silver-haired Fred became like a giddy teenager. Ignoring the wind, he leaned far out of the window, not willing to miss a single sight. His finger tried to trace the coach route he knew so well when he was on the ground. “There it is,” he shouted, “the old stage road. It was nothing but brush in those days — not much of a road. I’ve watched that road changing through the years, but I never thought I’d ever see it like this. … I don’t think I ever want to go down — unless, of course, they’d bring back my six-horse team and a stagecoach.” Fred was born in June 1857, halfway between Jacksonville and Medford on his mother’s and father’s land claim. By the time Fred was 17, he was driving teams and soon was one of the best drivers in the county. In 1878, when he was 21, he became a stagecoach driver for the California-Oregon Stage Company. It was the same year he married Martha Dodge. His first route was from Rock Point to Leven’s Station, just south of Canyonville, near today’s Galesville. In 1880, after losing six horses in a flood while crossing Cow Creek, he transferred to the southern run, over the Siskiyou Mountains to Yreka. There he set a record, driving a six-horse team 45 miles in four and a half hours. “It was quite a trick to pick up six lines and drive them over some of the tricky passes we had in those days,” Fred said. “In that day, it was a skill to be proud of.” Changing teams every 15 miles, fewer than 15 drivers drove a total of about 180 horses for each leg of the 275-mile trip between Roseburg and Redding, California. Because of the terrain, six-horse teams were required in Oregon while only four were needed in California. Oregon drivers received $55 a month, California drivers just $50. At the end of 1887, the railroad over the mountains to California was complete, ending the need for the stage line. Fred returned to his ranch. In 1934, five years after his first flight, Fred was up in the air again. Now 78, he was heading to San Francisco in a “three-mile-a-minute” United Airlines airliner. He would visit relatives and also invite Californians to Oregon’s Diamond Jubilee, a statewide event celebrating the 75th anniversary of statehood. Fred marveled this airplane, in just one and a half hours, could cover the distance of the entire old stage route that had taken drivers a total of 100 hours to finish. There were two women stewards on board the plane, one dressed in the new United Airlines uniform, the other in the style of 1887. When they began serving lunch, Fred was heard to say, “I never dreamed anything like this would happen.” He quickly added, “The old days might not have been speedy, but they were far more romantic.” A year later, Fred died and was buried in Medford’s Eastwood, I.O.O.F. Cemetery. His wife, Martha, followed in 1948. Writer Bill Miller is the author of six books, including “History Snoopin’” — a collection of his previous columns. Reach him at [email protected].