USA > Iowa > Jackson County > History of Jackson County, Iowa; Volume I > Part 47
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THE MAJESTY OF THE LAW.
Jack Phillips, who has passed about seventy-three years of his life in the vi- cinity of Maquoketa, has some interesting reminiscences of pioneer days. He tells a story of one of "Rocky Mountain Bill" Mitchell's escapades which shows some of the difficulties of the early settlers experienced in enforcing the laws. On one occasion Mitchell took a horse that belonged to Phillip's father and rode it almost to death, without permission from Phillips. A warrant was procured from Squire Clark, which Ben Hansen, who was constable at the time, served by arresting Mitchell and bringing him into the squire's cabin for trial.
Mitchell demanded a jury, and the constable left the prisoner in charge of the squire, and set out to draw up a jury, which was not an easy matter, as settlers
S. D. TUBBS
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were few and far between. After riding some twelve or fifteen miles, he secured six men, good and true, and returned. Mitchell, in the meantime visited with the squire, seemingly contented and easy, until the constable was seen returning with the jurymen, when he jumped up and ran like a deer in the direction of Mill Creek. Squire Clark was something of a sprinter himself, and leaped out in close pursuit, followed by the constable and jurymen.
The squire was in a fair way to overhaul the fugitive, who turned and threw a stone at his honor, breaking one of his fingers. This mishap of the squire's de- layed the pursuit long enough to permit the pursued to reach the creek, which was considerable of a stream at that time, into which he plunged and crossed to the east side, where the bank was steep and difficult of ascent. When the pur- suers reached the stream Mitchell stood on the opposite bank with a hat full of rocks and threatened to kill the first one who attempted to cross.
Mitchell was master of the situation and a truce was called and a parley ensued. Mitchell finally proposed if Phillips would ride his horse over he would get on and go back with them, but stipulated that he was to have the post of honor ; i. e., to ride in front of Phillips. His terms were finally complied with and the pro- cession, headed by Mitchell and Phillips on horseback, returned to the squire's cabin, where the case was heard, and Mitchell was given a jail sentence.
Such jail as there was in those days, was located in Bellevue. Constable Han- son secured his prisoner from any further escapades by binding his arms behind his back, and set out for Bellevue in a two horse wagon, reaching that place late in the afternoon. Mitchell insisted that he was very hungry and prevailed upon the constable to go to the hotel and get supper before they put the team out. While eating supper Mitchell said he didn't mind staying there a few days, in fact rather enjoyed the prospect and seemed jovial and content. He walked about the room and finally stepped outside. A moment later Hansen heard his name called, and stepping to the door saw Mitchell sitting on his best horse, which he had taken from the team, and was informed by Mitchell that he had changed his mind and was going back to Maquoketa: and he went, leaving the constable with a two horse wagon, double harness and one horse to get home the best way he could. He had to come home and get his horse and go back for the wagon, and "Rocky Mountain Bill's" sentence was never carried out.
ANSON H. WILSON. (By J. W. Ellis.)
Anson H. Wilson was born May 27, 1816, near Niagara Falls, on the Cana- dian side, on a farm rented and occupied by his father for one season. The next spring after his birth, the family moved back to the old homestead in Crowland township, Lincoln county, now Ontario, where young Anson grew up to manhood working on the farm in the summer and attending school in winter. In 1835 he traveled quite extensively in Michigan, being very favorably impressed with that country, returning home where he remained until June, 1838, when General Chan- dler came to him one day and asked him to drive him to Point Ebino. Mr. Wil- son consented to do so and on the way the general told him that they (meaning himself and men) would attack St. John's on Friday of that week.
There was a company of lancers stationed at St. John's whose tyranny, abuse and brutality had caused a revolt among the people who determined to fall upon them and crush them, and while Mr. Wilson heartily sympathized with the people in their desire for revenge on the brutal military, he had had all the military ex- perience he wanted and made up his mind to go back to Michigan, and told his father he would start next day.
His father fully approved of his plans, but Mahlon Brookfield and Ira Stim- son, who were present, said if he would wait another day they would go with him. This he assented to, and the three young men set out with a two horse team and
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wagon, crossed the St. Lawrence at Black Rock Ferry, went to Buffalo and from there to Michigan overland through the states of New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio, striking the Maumee River at Perrysburg and crossing over to Maumee city and from there to Toledo, at which place they parted company, Brookfield and Stimson securing employment there, and Mr. Wilson went to Kalamazoo county, where he remained until the next February, when he was joined at Niles by his brothers, Jesse, William, and Mark and Joe Current, and the five young men made arrangements for a trip to the great west in search of a suitable location where they had their ideals. They wanted to find good farming land with good water and convenient to good timber and building stone.
Starting on the 6th day of April, 1839, they traveled on foot taking with them a horse on which they carried their baggage. They explored pretty thoroughly through Michigan, Indiana and Illinois, a large portion of the country through which they passed being trackless prairie or tangled forests, swimming or wading the rivers, and experiencing almost incredible hardships and dangers. Arriving at Savanna on the east bank of the Mississippi, they determined to cross over into the Territory of Iowa. The ferry boat was out of repair but the ferryman told them that if they could get their horse into his skiff he would set them across. The horse went into the boat all right and it fell to Anse to sit in the bow of the boat and hold the horse to keep him quiet while the boat was being propelled across the stream, as any movement of the horse would be liable to capsize the boat. They landed safely and the ferryman went back after the remainder of the party and the baggage, and when all was safely over they started for the interior.
Arriving at Deep Creek they found the stream quite deep and no bridge, and their horse objected to enter the water. However, they secured a stout pole and with their united strength forced the animal into the stream with Jesse Wilson on his back. Both horse and rider sank out of sight, but soon came up and made for the other bank, and the other men who had crossed on a log, put a rope around the neck of the horse and pulled him out of the water and struck out in a westerly direction bringing up at the present site of Maquoketa, which at that time, was marked only by the log cabin of John E. Goodenow. After a journey of more than fifteen hundred miles, occupying sixty days of continuous travel, here the party found exactly what they were looking for, beautiful prairie land adjacent to a heavy body of timber with an abundance of pure water and fine quarries of building and limestone.
Mr. Wilson first found employment with Mr. Goodenow, but soon found a tract of land nearby that had not been claimed and on this he settled and built for himself a substantial and comfortable home in which he had resided up to the time of his death. Mr. Wilson always practiced rigid economy in business matters and was opposed to display and extravagance in any form. This trait in his char- acter was strongly exemplified in his old age. In the spring of 1842 he was haul- ing rails from his timber land to his farm, and on one occasion on passing through what was known as Montgomery's Grove, he pulled up a small cherry sprout by the roots and laid it on his load and when he reached home handed it to his wife and asked her to plant it and they would raise their own cherries and have cherry bounce. The good woman planted the tiny tree which grew wonderfully thrifty, and in time bore large quantities of cherries, although the hand that planted the tree never was permitted to pick any of the fruit.
In 1895 the sprout had grown to be quite a large tree and Mr. Wilson had it cut down and its body taken to the sawmill and sawed into boards, some of which were sixteen inches wide, and took them home and put them in a dry place until thoroughly seasoned, and in 1897 took them to a planing mill and had them dressed, after which he took them to Reuben Kauffman's shop and had them converted into a beautiful casket which he brought home when completed. He then purchased of Sutherland and Tubbs sufficient red cedar lumber at the rate of eighty- five dol- lars per thousand to make an outside case. When the case was made and the casket lined and all completed he had a burial casket fit for a king, and the entire
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expense for material and work was only eleven dollars and thirty-five cents. This casket was carefully stored away. to be used when Mr. Wilson should be summoned.
During his military experience, which was very irksome, he did a great deal of thinking and formed certain resolutions which governed his conduct throughout life. He resolved to obey the Lord's commands by earning his bread by the sweat of his brow, working six days in each week and resting on the seventh, to treat all men as he would like to be treated and keep out of debt. It was his boast late in life that he never had tobacco in any form in his mouth, never paid a cent of in- terest on his own account, and never was dunned for a bill or debt of his own making. In his home life he was noted for benevolence and hospitality and ad- mired for his sterling honesty and integrity and his well known disposition to at- tend strictly to his own affairs and avoid interfering with the affairs of his neighbors.
On December 3, 1904, he sent for his old friend, J. W. Ellis, and made him acquainted with his wishes in regard to his funeral obsequies. He appointed his pall bearers whose consent he had obtained to act in that capacity, and insisted that his body be taken to the cemetery in a wagon, and that his pallbearers ride in a wagon, thereby exemplifying that simplicity of character and avoidance of dis- play and extravagance for which he had always been noted.
REMINISCENCES OF ANSON WILSON.
The first sheriff of the county was W. A. Warren, who was also assessor and tax collector. In those days money was a scarce article, and furs of almost any kind was legal tender. The collector would take furs for taxes and make change in furs. For instance, if a man had an otter skin it was often worth more than the taxes amounted to and he would get change back in coon skins or skins of some animal less valuable than otter skins. Not only taxes were paid in pelts, but they were the medium of exchange in nearly all deals except with Uncle Sam. Coon skins would not pay postage.
The first postoffice in this locality was at Bridgeport, and of course the people of the Maquoketa settlement had to cross the river to get their mail, which was sometimes a hard proposition. The ford was never good by any means, and a slight rise in the river made fording impossible. The mail was carried in those days from Davenport to Dubuque on horseback. The carrier would ford the river at Bridgeport when fordable, and John B. Doan, the postmaster, had a rope stretched across the river to which he attached a pulley and a small rope or line was attached to this pulley. When the river was too high to wade or swim, the mail carrier would fasten the mail sack to the pulley and the postmaster would pull it over and get someone from that side of the river to take it on to Dubuque.
The people of Maquoketa soon tired of swimming the river for mail, and set to work to secure a postoffice. At that time Frink and Walker had contracts for carrying nearly all of the mail for the government. J. E. Goodenow was elected postmaster, and received his appointment in due time, but he had no place to keep the mail which at that time was not extensive. He went to Dubuque and got a boot box which he transformed into postoffice fixtures, and said postoffice was kept under the table or under the bed to be out of the way. When mail came, Mr. Goodenow seldom had time to look it over and each one helped himself. A place was fixed in one corner of the box where the twenty- five cents, the price of each letter, was deposited. Doan, the postmaster at Bridgeport, was not pleased with the prospects of a postoffice at Springfield, as it was then called, and tried to injure the coming town. The Springfield people to get even with him concluded to build a ferry at another place on the river and leave Bridgeport out, and they did make a ferry near the forks of the Maquoketa, and operated it free, and made a road across the sand prairie to Andrew.
A boat was made large enough to carry a team and wagon, and as it was free, of course each man did his own ferrying. Ropes were fixed so it could
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be pulled back and forth, and the work and expense of making the ferry and road was all by voluntary contributions. An Irishman, who helped cut out the road to Andrew, remarked that he always considered himself half way when he got to Andrew, even if he was going to Ireland.
A couple of neighbors fell out about something in a business way, and could not come to an agreement, and as the amount in dispute was not suf- ficient to hire a lawyer, it was agreed to leave the matter in dispute with Squire Clark, and abide by his decision. The squire decided that one of the parties should pay the other a certain amount of corn, and the case was re- ferred to for years afterward as Clark's corn case.
The first convention held in the county to nominate officers was held by the side of the road between Andrew and Cottonville. There was not material enough out of which to make up two tickets, and it was decided that as each was named he should announced his politics. W. A. Warren was nominated for sheriff and said he was a whig. Uncle Tommy Wright was named for re- corder, and declared himself to be a Jeffersonian democrat. Some were Jack- son democrats, and of course all who were nominated were elected for the rea- son that there was no opposition at the election.
The first 4th of July I spent in Maquoketa was in 1839, and I was the only human being in the place on that day. Lorenzo Spalding was married on that day to a lady living near the four corners, now Emeline, and Mr. Goodenow, Mr. Nims and wife, and Lyman Bates left early in the morning for the wedding and I was left to look after the cabin. As the party had to go to Canton to cross the river, they started early and came home late. I did not see a human being that day.
The next 4th of July, 1840, we had gained some in population, and we con- cluded to at least remember the day. We got Amasa Nims' team and gathered up a load of settlers, taking provisions enough along for our dinner, and started south over the beautiful prairie country which at that time was a veritable flower garden. We stopped at a spring about noon, ate our dinner and picked flowers, and enjoyed the day very much.
The next 4th of July, 1841, was a day long to be remembered by the settlers in the Maquoketa Valley. Uncle Tommy Wright and I had talked about how we could get up a celebration, and finally concluded that if we could get. Scott Kirkpatrick to make the oration, we could manage the rest of it. We saw Kirk- patrick and he readily consented and thought it would be a good thing for the country to get the people together and have them get acquainted with each other. After deciding to celebrate the next thing of importance was a flag. I went to Dubuque and got some white cotton cloth and some blue cotton cloth and some red paint to make the stripes with, and Uncle Tommy Wright and I cut it out and Aunt Rachael Wright sewed it together and we had a pretty respectable flag. That was the first flag ever raised in the Maquoketa Valley.
We now had our orator and flag, and we sent out word through the country that we were going to celebrate, and called a meeting at Fred Mallard's to formulate plans and make arrangements. At that meeting Joe Brown vol- unteered to read the Declaration of Independence, William Y. Earle agreed to play the fife, Jason Pangborn to beat the snare drum, and Ben Hanson the bass drum. Lorentus Adolphius Ferdinand Corbin was elected marshal of the day, and Jonas Clark was selected as chairman and toastmaster.
We set a day that we could meet and put up a bowery, but when we got the frame up, we found that no arrangements had been made for lumber for seats and tables, so we got teams and went to Canton and got planks for this pur- pose, and unloaded them at the bowery. We had also built a place for the storage of the provisions. On the 3d of July we met again and covered the bowery with brush, got a liberty pole and made seats and tables.
We got a very nice hickory pole, drawed it to the place where we were to raise it, dug a pit to set it in, but did not raise it that day. On the morning of
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the 4th we met again to raise our liberty pole, had our flag ready, but when we tried to raise the pole we found that some one had bored it through with an auger near the middle and ruined it. We were determined to raise a liberty pole and Henry Mallard started after his oxen, and some of us took our axes and went to the woods for another pole. We found a white oak that would answer our purpose, and by the time we had trimmed it up, Mallard was there with his oxen and we hitched the cattle to the pole, and then some of us got after them cattle and we made them make pretty good time to the bowery, and soon had our pole up and flag flying, and I never saw a fairer day.
The people came from far and near, the crowd being much larger than we expected. When the hour arrived, the marshal formed a grand procession, headed by the fife and drums, and after a brief march brought up at the bow- ery and was called to order by Jonas Clark who introduced Joe Brown, who read the Declaration of Independence in a highly creditable manner; Scott Kirkpatrick was introduced as the orator of the day and talked for two hours, taking for his subject "The Declaration of Independence" and a finer address was never made in the Maquoketa Valley.
After the speaking was over the ladies brought out the baskets, and loaded the tables with the best the country afforded, and we enjoyed the day as only pioneers can enjoy an occasion of that kind. After the banquet, the toast- master, Clark, called for toasts, one for each of the original thirteen states or colonies, and after each toast Clark would call for so many cheers, either from the drum corps or audience. Nearly every one present had an opportunity to give a toast and a good many responded.
Finally Squire Harris suggested that some one should give a toast to the man that bored the liberty pole and he, Harris, was elected to give the toast. He raised his glass and said: If he is as black outside as he is within, and his hair is as black and as curly as mine, he will pass for a native of Africa. That wound up the first 4th of July celebration. Many of us met for the first time that day and some of us formed acquaintances that ripened into friendship which laster through life.
Our next 4th of July celebration was held where the high school building now stands and the officers were the same as on the previous year. The next was held on Ira Stimson's land where William Bodkin now lives, and our officers were the same, except that Ira Stimson was our marshal. The program was about the same as the preceding celebrations.
In 1844, Shade Burleson built a barn and got a roof on and floor laid in time for us to celebrate there.
Zal Livermore had been to Bellevue and had heard that there was a fine flag there that could be bought cheap and the people chipped in, raised money and bought it. The flag was used at Burleson's and I don't know what became of the flag that Uncle Tommy Wright and I made. At this celebration Zal Livermore was marshal and a man from Dubuque assisted as orator and made a fine speech.
Another notable celebration was held at A. H. Wilson's. He had built a large barn in which was a matched floor where nine sets could dance at one time. There were two thousand people attended this celebration and one hundred and twenty-nine numbers issued to dancers. Dancing kept up all night and large tables were placed in the basement loaded with edibles to which all had access.
Anson H. Wilson told an interesting incident illustrating some of the difficul- ties experienced in the early days. It is about his first letter. He heard there was a letter at the Bridgeport postoffice for him, and he set out on foot for Bridge- port. It was late in the fall and he found a thin crust of ice along the bank of the river and the water looked cold indeed to the young man, but he was bound to have that letter and taking off his clothes made them into a small bundle as possible, fastened them to his head and plunged into the water and swam and waded to the other shore, dressed himself and went to the postoffice and demanded his letter. But there was further trouble in store for him, for there was a charge
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of twenty-five cents for additional postage on the letter and twenty-five cents he did not have.
The letter was from Canada and it cost twenty-five cents to send a letter to any part of the United States and an additional twenty-five cents to Canada. For instance, if he wrote to his folks in Canada, it cost him twenty-five cents to mail the letter, and his folks had to pay twenty-five cents to get it out of the office; if his friends in Canada wrote to him it cost them twenty-five cents to start the letter and him twenty-five cents to get it from the office; in other words, it cost him one dollar to write home and get an answer. Mr. Wilson could not raise the money nor could he trade his coon skin cap, as he offered to, and had to go back without his letter. He went to his friend Goodenow, nor could he help him for the reason that he had no money. Mr. Wilson then went to Shade Bur- leson, worked two days, took his pay in corn, sold the corn to the miller and got the money to pay the postage on his letter.
Mr. Wilson said while staying with J. E. Goodenow, "the first year I came here I was taken very sick with fever. A Mr. Dunham, commonly known as Hog Dunham, with whom I had become acquainted, heard of my sickness and came to see me. After looking me over for some time he said, 'Ance, you are going to die as sure as hell. Would you like to die comfortably?' I said, 'Yes, if I have to die I would like to die comfortably.' He got some cold water, gave me all I could drink and poured cold water all over me, and he and Mark Current began rubbing me and rubbed me until I fairly shone, and in three days after the cold water treatment they had me so I could ride horseback. I have always felt that Dunham saved my life."
While batching on his claim in the early days, Mr. Wilson says he got awful hungry for meat and with one of his neighbors concluded to go and see Hog Dunham, who then lived near Canton, and try and induce him to kill a hog. They started out with a team of horses. Ance had the ague and had to shake every forenoon and the neighbor shook every afternoon. About the usual time Ance began shaking and shook so hard the other man had to take the lines and drive, when Ance had about had his shake out, the other man began shaking and the lines were turned over to Ance. When they came to Mineral Creek, the banks were high and the mud and water pretty deep; they forced the horses down the bank and the wagon came down on top of them. Ance fell across a horse and the box on top of him and the other man was floundering in the water. They got the wagon righted and led the horses to where they could get up the banks, but were in a sad plight, shaking with ague and saturated with cold water, but they made their way to Dunham's without further mishap and were heartily welcomed.
Mr. Dunham readily agreed to kill a hog for them. The hogs were running in the woods. Next morning Mr. Dunham got his old horse, Salem, and was getting ready to go after the hogs, when Ance offered to go with him, but Mr. Dunham told him no, if he went they would see no hogs, but he stationed them in a clump of bushes with a gun and told them to keep perfectly quiet, and he would bring the hogs past where they were concealed, and point out the one he wanted them to shoot, and he rode off calling his hogs. After an hour waiting they heard Dunham coming and he was followed by swarms of hogs, as they passed the concealed men, Dunham pointed out the hog to kill and it was shot in the eye and never squealed. A rope was fastened to it and it was pulled out of sight without alarming the herd. Ance says that while the hogs were as wild as any wild hogs, they would follow Dunham anywhere.
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