USA > Illinois > White County > Carmi > Sesquicentennial, Carmi, Illinois, 1816-1966 > Part 1
Note: The text from this book was generated using artificial intelligence so there may be some errors. The full pages can be found on Archive.org.
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
977.396 Se7
Sesquicentennial, Carmi, Illinois, 1816-1966.
(1966)
ILLINOIS HISTORICAL SURVEY
white
CARMI ILLINOIS 1816-1966
SESQUICENTENNIAL
MENO'S HISTORICAL SURVEY.
SESQUICENTENNIAL CARMI, ILLINOIS 1816 -- 1966
15-1965
ARMI, IL
1828
5
INN
WHITE COU
OFF
JEDAL
WHITE COUNTY HISTORICAL SOCIETY
Published by the Carmi Sesquicentennial Commission, Inc.
J. Robert Smith, President
C. F. Rebstock, Vice President
Mrs. Allen Ball, Secretary
William F. Sharp, Treasurer
Mrs. Douglas J. Ames, Sr. Sam B. Hart
Mayor Laurence Boehringer
Sam A. Hassan
Mrs. Ray A. McCallister
Mrs. Edwin Stocke
Publication Committee
Mrs. Fred J. Reinwald, Chairman Mrs. Henry Lichtman
Mrs. Henry J. Karch
Mrs. Robert Ready Williams. Mrs. Hazel K. Munsey
Miss E. Wave Jamerson
Business and Professional Women's Club
This souvenir booklet of Carmi's 150th birthday was made possible by many enthusi- astic people - those who graciously loaned old pictures, women who collected the photos, the staff of the Carmi Times, the sponsors, members of the Business and Professional Women's Club, who enlisted the support of the sponsors, and the author, J. Robert Smith.
Mrs. R. C. Brown
James Robert Endicott
IFF
Glimpses down the decades . . .
S HOULD YOU ASK ME, whence these stories; whence these legends and traditions-of the pioneer in buckskin; with the hitching racks and ox teams; of the cobblestones and candles, and the grinding of the corn mill-where the Little Wabash wanders in and out of old White County ?
I should answer, I should tell you : from the eager lips long silent; from the hist'ry of the county, from the vaults where ledgers moulder; from the files of crumbling papers.
Here we read and pored and pondered; read some more and then recorded. We repeat them as we found them, all these stories and tradi- tions.
Now we cherish, save and guard them.
Your Sesquicentennial book is not a history.
Although it starts before the beginning of Carmi, no attempt was made to write a complete chronological story about people and events of the past 150 years.
We present here a few glances backward down the decades; attempting to preserve in words and pictures the ways of life of dear hearts and gentle people our ancestors.
974,396 Se7
My name is Carmi ...
I AM 150 years old, and you are celebrating.
Oh, how the years have sped by !
I was born in a wilderness, beside a meandering stream. Attending my birth were pioneers in buckskin, linsey-woolsey and calico. They walked and rode horse- back from Carolina, Kentucky, Pennsyl- vania and Virginia.
I was born in Lowry Hay's log cabin near the Little Wabash River. It was February 8, 1816-a cold, raw day. The winter wind moaned through cracks in the cabin. Close by, the grist mill's water wheel creaked as it turned.
My christening came on a bright April day. On the sixteenth people met at the log house of John Craw. Dr. Josiah Stew- art was there. With him were Daniel and Lowry Hay. Leonard White arrived. The county had been named for him. Now it was time to name the town-me!
15319G
I am told that many names were sug- gested. Just who opened the Bible I do not know. Perhaps it was the Rev. John C. Slocumb, a Methodist minister. Genesis 46:9 . .. Exodus 6:14 ... Numbers 26:6 . . . Joshua 7:1, 18 ... First Chronicles 2:7, 4:1, 5:3. In all those passages one finds the name of the son of Reuben, the grand- son of Jacob, the nephew of Joseph.
And so, a log cabin settlement in the forest was named Carmi.
Who am I ? For what do I stand ?
I am more than 6,000 people, and the spirit of thousands of others who lived, labored, loved and died here the past 150 years. My sons and daughters remember me with affection as they have gone out to the far places of the world. Many return to visit or retire.
I am a log village on a muddy, rutted road, and a modern city with wide, paved streets. My way has been lighted down the decades by pine knots, candles, kerosene, gas and electricity.
I can still hear the whirring wheel spinning flax and wool; the clicking loom weaving linsey-woolsey; creaking wagons drawn by oxen; hoof beats of circuit riders' horses; the lonely howl of the tim- ber wolf; the coachman's horn as the stage approaches; the whistle of steamboats on the Little Wabash.
I can still smell venison roasting on the spit; corn bread baking on the coals ; hickory burning in the fireplace.
My first settlers told me about the violent earthquakes of 1811 and 1812; how the ground shook and rocked and then rolled like waves of the sea. They told me about the "harraken" of 1815-a cyclone that mowed down the forest in a path a mile wide.
I remember November 12, 1833, "the night the stars fell," when the wife of Chief Justice William E. Wilson went out- side to gaze in wonder; to wash her hands and face with stars, as though they had been snow flakes, then bathed her baby's face with stardust.
I am the Little Wabash River and Shipley Hill; 'Possum Road and the old Shawneetown Trail; the tan yard and dis- tillery and pioneer ferry.
I am Joseph Pomeroy and Benjamin R. Smith; Doctors Josiah Stewart and Thomas Shannon, Daniel P. Berry and William Brimble-Combe, Frank Sibley and R. C. Brown; Lieutenant Governor Wil- liam H. Davidson and Attorney General Ivan A. Elliott.
I am Willis Hargrave, who rode horse- back from Equality to find my birthplace, and Chamber of Commerce President Albert W. McCallister, who flies to distant cities to look after my interests.
I remember the men enlisting for the Black Hawk and Mexican wars ; the excite- ment and sadness of the Civil War; the Spanish war volunteers of 1898; the troop trains of 1917; the casualty lists of the 1940's and 1950's. And now, Vietnam !
I am Ratcliff Inn and the Damron House; the Robinson home and the Old Graveyard; the Reinwald and Ziegler stave factory and the Staley mill; the Ainsbrooke Corporation and Sterling Aluminum; the Innovation and Burrell's Woods.
You can look at me and see State Sen- ator Edwin B. Webb crossing the dusty street to board a stagecoach for Spring- field; U. S. Senator John M. Robinson riding in the fancy brougham he bought ill Baltimore.
I am the Home Culture Circle start- ing a library in 1898; the Thursday and Friday clubs of years gone by ; the D.A.R. and its Memorial Circle in the Old Ceme- tery.
I am Colonel John M. Whiting and General Frederick J. Karch; Congressmen John M. Crebs, James R. Williams, Orlando Burrell and Roy Clippinger; Ephraim Joy and Charles Berry; Dr. Elam Stewart, my first mayor, and Laur- ence Boehringer, the present mayor; Nathaniel Holderby and Roy E. Pearce.
I am Colonel Everton Conger captur- ing John Wilkes Booth and C. F. (Bud) Rebstock bringing a new industry to town;
William Stewart, long at rest in the Old Graveyard, and Herbert G. Bayley, devo- ting years to civic work.
I am Benjamin St. John and John G. Powell, Adam Miller and North Storms, Doctors J. I. Spicknall and Ray McCallis- ter, A. S. Rudolph and Edwin Stocke. I am Frank J. Foster and Allen Ball.
I can still hear Abraham Lincoln speaking in Stewart's Grove in 1840; the eloquence of William Jennings Bryan down by the depot in 1896; the Missouri twang of Harry Truman beside the court- house in 1948; the clipped sentences of Dwight Eisenhower at the back of the campaign train in 1948.
I remember the covered bridge of 1840; the flood of 1913; the tornado's roar in 1925.
I am the Historical Society saving Rat- cliff Inn; the Kiwanis Club on Corn Day ; the Rotary Club at its annual barbecue ; the Lions Club at its hamburger stand at the White County Fair.
Yes, I am 150 years old-but I am young !
The past has been gracious and good, but my eyes are on the future. I cherish the past but look forward eagerly to my next 150 years.
What will I be in the year 2116 ? Look in the mirror.
There is your answer.
nº
Before the beginning . . .
L ONG BEFORE there was a Carmi, Indians lived here.
Through their village ran a trail to a ford in the river. Eastward it went through tall prairie grass to the Ouabache River. Westward it plunged into the deep, dark forest; forked southward to La Belle Riviere and west to the Mississippi.
Braves loafed in the sunshine. Squaws skinned deer, tended fires, carried water from the stream, worked in corn rows, picked pumpkins and squash. Children played with dogs and splashed in the river.
Shawnees, Piankeshaws and Potawa- tomis prowled prairie and forest, as free as foxes and deer. They left the land un- changed. The river ran crystal clear, swift and deep. The forest remained uncut, un- spoiled.
Giant oaks, maples, walnuts, chest- nuts, sycamores and sweet gums reared skyward. They were so dense they shut out the light; left the forest floor in green shadow. Grape vines as big as a man's thigh snaked high into the trees.
This place was wildly beautiful. Whip- poorwills called. Beavers built dams. Wolves howled. Passenger pigeons flew in flocks of millions. There were deer and bears in abundance.
East of the river, prairie grasses rip- pled as the waves of the sea. In spring- time the prairies glowed with scarlet lilies, yellow cowslips, sweet William and violets. When the bluestem and Indian grasses grew in the summer sun they were high enough to hide a man on horseback.
From the Ouabache River the prairie sea rolled westward to the Petite Oua- bache, then stopped-right here!
West of the river was the forest sea- a mighty green ocean of trees, billowing and rolling in the ridges, hills and knobs of southern Illinois.
To the Indians, this land was beauti- ful, bountiful and old . . . old.
To the pioneers pushing westward, it was wild, bleak and - new !
A
The beginning . . .
F IRST CAME the trappers and hunters, seeking fur and game.
And then the land-lookers, wanting to settle. Daniel Bain, a Revolutionary War soldier from Virginia, pushed into this area in 1806. He sired 18 children; was step-father of six more.
Others built on the Big Prairie- Peter Kuykendall in 1808; Robert Land, Thomas Miller, Henry Jones, James Gar- rison, Thomas Gray and the Rev. Daniel McHenry in 1809.
Isaac Veach arrived that year. He turned his back on the prairie; crossed the Little Wabash; built his cabin on the bluff overlooking the river. It stood just south of what is now Carmi's Main Street bridge.
People kept arriving at Big Prairie. In 1810, John Hanna, Captain William Mc- Henry, Benjamin Mobley, Daniel Boulting- house.
Perhaps they laughed at Isaac Veach. Why didn't he choose rich, level land ? Why build a home at the edge of the for- est ?
Most land-lookers wanted not only good soil but running water. They sought locations beside a river or creek. That is where towns were started.
The year 1811 was one of trouble and terror. Indians were killing and scalping. Tecumseh was trying to unite all tribes for war. "This is our land," he told General William Henry Harrison at Vincennes.
Potawatomis started scalping in Illi- nois. Gen. Harrison planned an invasion of Indian territory. People on the prairie hurried to build blockhouses for protec- tion. Frightened families fled to these forts built by Robert Land, John Hanna, Capt. William McHenry, Hardy Council, Aaron Williams and John Slocumb.
Going to their corn patches, men car- ried guns; leaned them against stumps. They armed themselves before shepherd- ing their families to worship services in log cabin homes.
The attacks did come. In one raid on a cabin near here Indians killed two men and wounded four.
A flaming comet swept the skies that summer. Worried settlers gazed in awe and consternation.
FIERY SKY, TREMBLING EARTH
Then came that terrifying December 16.
It was 2 a.m. Monday. Settlers slept.
Suddenly, the earth shook. Cabins shuddered. Logs creaked. Cradles rocked. Chimneys cracked. Bells rang. Clocks stop- ped. Dishes crashed.
Cattle bawled. Dogs howled. Horses panicked.
People fled from their cabins; hud- dled in the cold. Parents prayed. Children cried.
The ground rolled in waves. Trees blew up, cracked, split, fell by the thous- ands. When earth waves hit the tall tim- ber, forest giants weaved their tops togeth- er, interlocked their branches, sprang back and cracked like whip lashes.
The earth rumbled, roared, split open, raised in some places, sank in others. On the prairie, snow-white sand shot up like geysers.
Along the Wabash and Little Wabash Rivers banks caved in. Trees toppled into the water. Mrs. Edward McCallister hur- ried her children into a dugout canoe, pushed it into the Wabash River. Violent waves forced her to struggle back to the heaving land.
The earth shook all night and the fol- lowing day. Tremors continued for three months, with massive shocks January 23 and February 7.
The praying pioneers didn't know it, but they had experienced the heaviest earthquake ever to shake the American continent. It shook 1,000,000 square miles; rang church bells in Boston ; toppled chim- neys in Charleston, S. C .; frightened peo- ple in New Orleans, Washington, D. C., Louisville and Cincinnati.
WAR BREAKS OUT
While the earth still trembled Indians harried the countryside. The War of 1812 broke out. A company of mounted U. S. Rangers rode into the area; built a block- house ; guarded the settlers for two years.
Men named Williams and Weed arrived here in 1812. They looked at Veach's cabin on the river bluff and liked the location. They felled trees, burned brush, built a log dam and crude water mill, opened a trading post, started a tan- nery, added a distillery.
Until then the closest mill was at New Haven. Now, from miles around people came to the new mill on the Little Wabash. They brought their corn by canoe, on horseback and on foot.
The late W. D. Hay talked with a Wayne County man whose people traveled to the Williams and Weed mill seven years before there was a Wayne County.
A certain settler, tired of pounding his corn into meal by hand in an Indian mor- tar, walked more than 30 miles to the mill, carrying a bushel of corn strapped on his shoulders.
It took three days to make the round trip. He spent two nights alone in the woods; killed and cooked food when hun- gry, arrived home tired but happy.
Beside the mill, the tannery was turn- ing out leather. The distillery was pro- ducing whisky. The trading post was ex- changing powder, lead, liquor, coffee and calico for corn, coonskins, venison hams, deerskins, ginseng and hogs.
News of this activity reached New Haven, Shawneetown and Equality. "Hmm-m-m," said folks down there, "is a new settlement about to start in our county ?"
LEADERS WERE WAITING
Leaders of men were living at Equal- ity, Shawneetown and the U. S. Saline in those days. Fortunes were being made and lost at the salt works. Waves of migration rolled westward, swept through the Wil- derness Road and down the Ohio River in flatboats.
Shawneetown was the principal port of entry into the vast Illinois Territory. Among the impoverished pioneers were men of substance and education. They became the natural leaders.
There was Captain Leonard White, U. S. agent at the Saline ; former postmas- ter there; erstwhile judge of the court of common pleas.
James Ratcliff, a Virginia gentleman, succeeded White as postmaster.
Ratcliff's father-in-law was Colonel Willis Hargrave. Governor Ninian Ed- wards appointed him commander of the 4th Regiment militia. His property included numerous slaves.
In the frontier excitement of Shaw- neetown, Equality and the U. S. Saline one could find Joseph Pomroy, John Craw, Lowry Hay and his nephew, John; Har- grave's sons, George and Samuel ; his sons- in-law, Ratcliff, Benjamin White and James A. Richardson.
There was talk at Kaskaskia that the Territorial Assembly was going to divide Gallatin County. Well! That would mean a new county seat.
Big plans were soon afoot. Leonard White and Lowry Hay got their heads together. They formed some sort of part- nership. Hay and his nephew, John, took over the Williams and Weed mill, tannery and distillery.
White built a log storehouse near Hay's mill. George Hargrave started a store there.
John Craw built a two-room log house back in the woods. (This is now the en- larged, beautified home of Miss Mary Jane Stewart.)
On October 16, 1814, John Hay en- tered the northeast quarter of Section 13. Through it ran the Little Wabash River. On it stood the mill, tannery, distillery ; the log homes of Craw and Veach; the White-Hargrave store. (The greater part of Carmi now occupies Section 13.)
OWNERS WERE WHITE AND HAY
It was soon learned that Lowry Hay and Leonard White were the joint proprie- tors of the proposed town site. On Nov. 29, 1815, Willis Hargrave bought 40 acres in Section 13 and 40 in Section 14.
More and more people were coming to trade and have their corn ground. The place had no name. Settlers said they were going to Hay's Mill or to Hargrave's store.
And then it happened. On December 9, 1815, White County was created. Governor Edwards appointed the officials for the new county :
Judges of the County Commissioners Court, Willis Hargrave, Joseph Pomroy and the Rev. John C. Slocumb;
County clerk and recorder, James Rat- cliff ;
Commissioners to fix the seat of jus- tice, Hargrave's sons-in-law, Ratcliff and Benjamin White; Stephen E. Hogg and Samuel Hays;
Colonel of the 5th Regiment county militia, Willis Hargrave;
Surveyor, Lowry Hay; sheriff, Ben- jamin R. Smith; justices of the peace. Lowry Hay, William Nash, the Rev. Dan- iel McHenry, Stephen Standly, Thomas Rutledge, Edmond Covington, Moses Thompson and Thomas Randolph.
It was all set. Hay, White and Har- grave owned 220 acres. The grist mill was busy. Cabins were going up. Why, the place would soon rival New Haven as a trading center!
About this time Daniel Hay was on the move again. The 34-year-old Virginian was dissatisfied with life in Butler County, Kentucky.
He had a growing family; told his wife, Priscilla, he longed to go to the Illi- nois country, perhaps as far north as the Sangamon River.
In the winter of 1815-1816, Hay sad- dled his horse, bid his family farewell and rode northward. He would explore the new land, decide on a location, then return for his family.
He crossed the river at Shawneetown ; rode on to Equality. In the French settle- ment he paused to listen to men talking about a new county being organized. It was named for Leonard White. And there was Captain White !
Yes, he said he already had interests up there. On the Little Wabash River he and Lowry Hay had a mill going. They had entered land; were going to build a town-a county seat !
Why not settle there ? Go along with us !
Hay then talked with Willis Hargrave. Forget the Sangamon, Hay was advised. Get in on the ground floor of this venture. We're leaving soon.
One of Carmi's earliest pioneers was William Stewart, a Revolutionary War soldier who served in the company of his father, Captain Matthew Stewart. The family ieft North Carolina and settled near Marion, Kentucky, before coming to Carmi. Wil- liam Stewart was the father of Dr. Josiah Stewart and grandfather of Dr. Eiam L. Stewart, Carmi's first mayor. He died in 1856 at the age of 93 and is buried in the Oid Graveyard.
EIGHT MEN RIDE NORTHWARD
It was a cold winter morning in 1816. Eight men on horseback rode out of Equal- ity; took the trail toward New Haven. Daniel Hay was with them. Col. Hargrave led the way, followed by Capt. Leonard White; Hargrave's sons, George and Sam- uel; sons-in-law, Benjamin White, James A. Richardson and James Ratcliff.
It was a long ride. Perhaps they dis- mounted at New Haven for rest and refreshments; talked with Joseph Boone, Samuel Dagley and Paddy Robinson; then pushed onward up the snowy trail.
Dusk or darkness must have fallen by the time they arrived at Hay's mill. Tired horses whinnied at the sight of candle light, the smell of feed.
Weary riders were cheered to see smoke spiraling from cabin chimneys; to think of hot corn bread and venison stew.
Cabin doors opened. People ran out to welcome the new arrivals; ask for news from the outside world.
Now! A county seat must be selected. Guess where it would be ?
On Monday morning, Feb. 5, the four commissioners met in Lowry Hay's cabin near the mill. They talked all day; met again Tuesday and Wednesday, discussing "the settlements, the geography of the county, the convenience of the people and the eligibility of the situation."
By Thursday, Feb. 8, they had made their decision; were ready to draft their report. The county seat would be right here at this settlement without a name.
Now to make it legal. The county com- missioners-Hargrave, Pomroy and Slo- cumb-must meet and accept the report. The following Monday, Feb. 12, they went to Hay's house. The Rev. Mr. Slocumb opened the first county court session with prayer.
20 ACRES GIVEN FOR TOWN
They looked at a crude map of the large new county. It extended from the Wabash River westward into what is now Hamilton, Franklin and part of Jefferson.
They divided the area into three townships-Prairie, Fox River and West -appointed overseers of the poor, consta- bles and fence viewers. After a long day they adjourned.
The next morning James Ratcliff, county clerk, and Benjamin R. Smith, sher- iff, presented their official bonds. The judges then called for the report of the commission named to locate the seat of justice.
JAMES RATCLIFF
Ratcliff, White, Hogg and Hays recommended for the county seat a 40- acre tract in the northeast quarter of Sec- tion 13; announced that Leonard White and Lowry Hay would donate 20 of these acres to the county. A stake had been driven in the center to mark the public square.
The official surveyor, Lowry Hay, was ordered to lay off the town. Daniel McHenry was empowered to mark off lots and sell them.
And so, a town was born. People didn't know what to call it . . . Hay's Mill ? ... Hargrave's Store ? No, a new county seat must have a good name; something with a meaning.
Did John Slocumb then start leafing through his Bible ? Had he met the Wells family from Vermont ? Far from their Eastern home, this pioneer family took up land in this area just before the town was formally established. Carmi Wells was the father's name, and the youngest of his children was named Carmi.
The Wells family moved on; settled in Wayne County, but they left their name here. The parents died and the grand- father came west to take the children back to Vermont.
Meeting at John Craw's log house on April 16, leaders decided to call the town Carmi, a name mentioned eight times in Genesis, Exodus, Numbers, Joshua and First Chronicles.
The town grew and flourished . . .
W HITE COUNTY grew fast. By 1818 it passed Gallatin in popu- lation-3,529 to 3,348-and was the third most populous county in the state.
Settlers poured into Prairie, Fox River and West Townships. The forest echoed to axes. More and more cabins were built in Carmi. The western boundary was where the Methodist Church now stands- but that was 'way out in the country. And the country then was a forest!
Oh, the town was thriving. Lowry Hay added a sawmill. He and his nephew shipped whisky, pork and corn to New Orleans. The river front was a busy place when flatboats were being loaded.
James S. Graham started a ferry close to his hotel; opened a store and blacksmith shop.
George Webb and James Gray ran trading posts. They paid $1 for pork bar- rels, 121/2c a pound for deerskins, 4c a pound for hogs.
Settlers trading there found these prices :
Bacon 10c lb .; eggs 121/2c a doz .; chickens 10c each ; tallow 121/2c lb .; salt 6c Ib .; tea 2 ounces 37c; coffee 50c lb .; sugar 32c lb .; soap 25c bar; wheat $1 bu .;
Jack knife 371/2c; fish hooks 371%c doz .; looking glass 871/2c; flints 25c doz .; lead 25c lb .; powder $1.25 lb .; curry comb 371/2c; nails 25c lb .; grindstone $2.75; nails and planks for coffin 621/2c;
Socks 871/2c pair; buttons 25 and 50c doz .; flannel 621/2c yd .; broadcloth $3 and $4 yd .; linen $1.25 yd .; silk $1.50 yd .; needles 121/2c doz .; oilcloth 75c; bedspread $2; ribbons 25c yd .; indigo 2 ounces 25c.
FRAME JAIL, NO COURTHOUSE
A frame jail was built (where the Municipal Building now stands) but the county still had no courthouse. Court was held in the home of John Craw.
The settlement had about 50 families. There were four taverns, operated by John Craw, Samuel Bozeman, John Lucas and Phillip Buckner, and three doctors, Thomas Shannon, Josiah Stewart and James E. Throckmorton.
The new county seat attracted law- yers. Riding into town in 1818 came John M. Robinson, 24, member of a distin- guished Lexington, Ky., family.
Out of Virginia, via Shawneetown, came William E. Wilson. Since 1816 he had owned land southwest of town. Now in 1819 he brought his family here. Soon after arriving he was elected a Justice of the Illinois Supreme Court.
It was a log cabin village. There were no streets-only dirt roads, with short stumps standing in some places.
But there were dreams of beauty and gracious living even in a backwoods settle- ment. Many came here from Virginia and the Carolinas, where they had been accus- tomed to stately houses. They appreciated good architecture, art, literature and music.
Need help finding more records? Try our genealogical records directory which has more than 1 million sources to help you more easily locate the available records.