Austin, Oregon
By Steve Lent, Crook County Historian
Tucked into the Malheur National Forest, Austin, Oregon, was once a bustling stop along the main route between Baker City and Canyon City. But before it became Austin, it was Newton Station—a modest stagecoach stop run by Mr. and Mrs. Newton. When their son, Minot Austin, inherited the land, he and his wife, Linda, took over operations, renaming it Austin in 1888. That same year, Minot became the town’s first postmaster, and Linda—better known as “Ma” Austin—began serving meals to travelers at her boarding house.
At the turn of the 20th century, Austin was more than just a stage stop. With its small store, hotel, and supply center, it became a gathering place for settlers and miners in the region. Then in 1905, the arrival of the Sumpter Valley Railroad changed everything. The Oregon Lumber Company laid tracks straight into the forests, using Austin as a key logging site. The once-sleepy stop quickly transformed into a lively town of nearly 500 people, complete with saloons, stores, a jail, and even boardwalk-lined streets.
At its peak, Austin housed a four-stall engine house, a water tank, and extensive rail yards to support the booming timber industry. Three sawmills ran in the area, feeding the ever-growing demand for lumber. But in 1917, the Oregon Lumber Company built a company town just a mile west—Bates. With a new sawmill and its own infrastructure, Bates took over as the center of logging operations, and Austin began to fade.
Though the post office closed in 1950 and the last sawmill shut down decades ago, Austin never completely disappeared. By the late 20th century, most of the original buildings were gone, but a few false-front structures remained standing as late as 1997. Today, Austin House—built in 1959 at nearby Austin Junction—keeps the name alive as a combination tavern, grocery store, restaurant, and gas station.
While Austin may no longer be the busy stop it once was, its history as a key player in Oregon’s early transportation and logging industries still lingers in the landscape—and in the stories of those who passed through.