USA > Illinois > Cook County > Chicago > Biographical Sketches of Some of the Early Settlers of the City Chicago Part 1 > Part 3
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Any who foretold what would arise from the ashes would have been deemed insane. But the mind of Richard I .. Wilson grasped much of what has been-what will yet be. He realized the importance of its geographical position its immense business resources and activity, and that, sitting as it did, drinking in the commerce of the chain of lakes upon one side. and stretching out its broad arms of prairie upon the other, it must become great. And in every way he assisted to its present. This his paper enabled him to do-for this he labored in season and out of season-for this he created friends by his personal attractiveness-and
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RICHARD L. WILSON.
for this, if the departed have power to return to the earth and minister to the wants of the living, his loyal spirit yet lingers over the city of his love and haunts the inner shrine of the Chicago Fournal.
LEWIS C. KERCHIVAL.
Probably. very few of the younger generation in Chicago have any distinct remembrance of Lewis C. Kerchival. But such as do must have been impressed by the striking points in a character that stood out strongly from his fel- lows.
The elder citizens-those who still linger in green old age and ripe usefulness, and it is to be hoped with plenty of this world's goods, after the great majority of their associ- ates have passed away, will recall him as "Inspector of the Port" (with commerce that was a laughable burlesque upon the present), and later as Justice of the Peace, with an of- fice in the second story of the tumble-down wooden tene- ment (Clark's Hardware Store), on the north-east corner of Lake and Clark Streets, and directly facing the famous "Saloon Building," a history of which would be a history of almost all the public meetings, and gatherings, and socie- ties of early Chicago.
Lewis C. Kerchival rises before me to-day as distinct as when I used to meet him in the streets, straight as a pine, unbending as an oak, defiant and tough as a hickory: with his tall, muscular form, his grizzled hair, blue, brass-but- toned coat, and his soldier-like bearing, proud as Julius Cæsar and imperious as the Czar; always neatly dressed, with cleanly-shaved face and-a rara avis in those muddy times-well-polished boots.
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LEWIS C. KERCHIVAL.
Should I compare him with any other well-known char- acter it would be Andrew Jackson. The mental calibre of the men, as well as their physique, was much the same. Each knew and did not shrink from "taking the responsi- bility" of any act they thought right-had no dread of, per- haps never even gave a thought to the consequences. The "by the Eternal" of the President was the animus of the citizen, and I often fancied (as did others) that they were very alike in looks.
The hair of Col. Kerchival was a true index of his charac- ter. It was kept cut short, and every " particular one" of the dense growth stood stiffly, savagely erect, without de- pending upon, and as if scorning the support of, the others ; and had an individuality of its own-had a gladiatorial presence and a challenge to combat. So, too, was it with the man. He appeared to snuff the battle from afar, like an old war-horse, and had the most sublime contempt for those who did not agree with him. There was something grand in his attitude, whether right or wrong, though it is very much to be doubted if he ever admitted the possibility of the latter. That would have been a human weakness, of which he could never have believed himself guilty. What he thought and said must be right, and it was impudence of the most gross character in any to question. And if the disputant happened to be young : Ah: then Lear was rivalled. But his passion was like
"A full hot horse, who being allowed his way, Self-mettle tires him."
And he soon became the calm gentleman again; for under all the heat there was a tender, almost womanly heart, and the eyes that one moment flashed baleful lightnings would the next be misty with genuine tears.
Of the more than iron will, memory will reproduce many examples to the minds of those no longer young, whose eyes kindly rest upon these pages. A few are so strikingly
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LEWIS C. KERCHIVAL.
characteristic of the man that I cannot refrain from giving them place. And I do so the more willingly as one in- stance proves beyond all cavil his inward, native goodness, no matter how warped at times, and a determination for the right.
The habits of Mr. Kerchival, in the matter of drinking, had not been good. It was the crying sin of the era-the most serious blight upon the escutcheon of the fair young City. His indulgences had grown upon him. Inebriety became the rule rather than the exception, and a speedy and dishonored grave appeared to be his inevitable doom, unless there was a radical change. And it came when least. expected by his friends. He decided to drink no more- and instantly stopped. Severe sickness followed, as a natu- ral sequence to the sudden lack of stimulant; and when a physician prescribed and held the "poisoned cup" to his lips, and told him he must drink if he would live, the old Roman dashed it aside, and vowed "he would die before he tasted a single drop"-and he kept his word.
Subsequently he became the president of the Temperance Society, and one night, when a meeting was in progress, some one brought forward a negro to sign the pledge, his face flamed with indignation, he declared the meeting ad- journed, and rushed from the room. It was touching him in a very tender spot. His hatred for a colored person was too intense for him to admit the slightest association. In- deed, it was laughable how peculiarly sensitive he was upon the subject, and his loathing was so great that had he then (his views became somewhat softened at a later date) been convinced that that particular race would have been ad- mitted into heaven, he would have considered it a good and sufficient reason and ample justification for going in the contrary direction.
The same imperative will-the same strong, overmaster- ing prejudice controlled his judicial acts and legal decisions, even more than he was himself aware. Though I believe
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LEWIS C. KERCHIVAL.
him to have been honest to his heart's core, yet there was an irresistible bias that sometimes ran away with his better judgment, and bordered upon the ludicrous, and he made law quite a different affair from that laid down in the stat- ute book and held to be sound by higher authority. I give an instance :
It was claimed, and justly, that active firemen were ex- empt from street tax, and custom, at least. had made it binding. But "Squire Kerchival" argued otherwise. He permitted a suit to be brought against one of the "fire fight- ters" for the amount, and sternly overruled the exemption. Then the defense produced three of the most prominent physicians, who swore point blank, that on account of bod- ily injuries, the defendant was not able to work upon the streets and consequently not liable. There was nothing in rebuttal. But "the Squire" ignored the testimony entirely. He had made up his mind and that was sufficient-said "he had seen the defendant dance half the night. and any one who was able to dance was able to work on the streets. and he'd be (well, say blessed!) if he shouldn't either do it or pay !"-vowed he wouldn't permit an appeal, and forth- with issued an execution.
But nothing came of it; and his books, if now to be found, will reveal the judgment unsatisfied. Sober second- thought had shown him the impracticability and absurdity of his course, and I presume he laughed as heartily as did others at his high-handed defiance of law and testimony. It was simply one of the furious storms that the soonest clear the sky.
Next to, if not equal with his hatred of "our brothers carved in ebony" was that of dogs. He had the most mor- tal antipathy to them. They never entered into his con- ception of Paradise. In that particular, if in no other, he was "close communion," and would have cut off the best of his friends among the Red Men from the happy hunting- grounds, for their love of and close intimacy with their use-
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LEWIS C. KERCHIVAL.
ful four-footed companions. This feeling was no secret, and it was made use of to annoy the old gentleman, though truth to tell more from the fun that would arise out of it than malice.
The prime mover was Doctor - (he might not fancy having his name given to the public, so I'll e'en whisper it very lowly and confidentially upon the solemn pledge that you'll "never tell nobody") -- Doctor Max Myers. He caused an advertisement to be inserted in one of the papers, that Squire Kerchival was very anxious to purchase a good dog, and requested any who had one for sale to bring it to his office between the hours of nine and twelve upon the following day. And such a collection as ap- peared, mirabile dictu! Dutch men, and dutch women, and dutch girls, and dutch boys from the neighborhood of "Lill's Brewery"; Milesian men, women, girls, and boys from the North, South, East, and West, and ragged juve- niles from every alley. And dogs? No race appeared unrepresented. The "School Section" (old settlers will understand the meaning of the term) were in full force, terriers, Newfoundland, pointers, setters, hounds, bulldogs, "Tray, Blanche, and Sweetheart," big, little, useful, worth- less were all there, and the office was taken by storm, and the street crowded, and a human and canine Babel reigned and Bedlam was outdone !
But the reception they received ! It beggars all the power of description, let imagination run riot ever so madly ; the motley crowd was hurried, driven, hustled, not very gently. down the stairs amid the wildest jargon and carnival of denunciation, and curses, and vows of vengence from Teu- tonic, Irish and-that was the feather that crushed the spine of the camel-colored lips; the door locked, and the scales of Justice that day left untended. And "wrathy" indeed was the Squire when he found it was a practical joke-blew hot and blew cold-but when the waves had lashed their fury out he bore no malice.
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LEWIS C. KERCHIVAL.
Despite his peppery temper. Lewis C. Kerchival-Colonel Kerchival-was a man to be respected. None of us are without faults, and his came from natural organization- from the want perhaps of proper training when young- from his head rather than heart. He was of the ancient regimé - had the manners of a "gentleman of the old school"-the will that would have caused him to march triumphantly to the stake for a principle, and the nerve to endure torture without a groan. He was as much a part of his times as the buildings-has left a name that is indis- solutly connected with Chicago-was true as steel in his friendships and when the sod was placed over him, many of what the world called "better men" would have been less missed.
URIAH P. HARRIS.
Nature created Uriah P. Harris for a fireman, and I am inclined to the belief that his playthings in the cradle must have been miniature trumpets, spanners, and wrenches, and that the first use he made of his limbs was to "run with the machine." and of his hands, to hold a pipe and a butt : This may seem an idle delusion of the fancy, but the after- life of the man would appear to prove the theory.
Mr. Harris, I am quite confident, owed his nativity to New York City. During his younger days he was a mem- ber, and we may be certain an active one, of engine number 27, "Old North River," and in the rough school of the Vol- unteer department, the constant calls for energy and cour- age, and the not unfrequent difficulties with rival companies. he learned, and learned well, the stern lessons that fitted him for his after career.
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URIAH P. HARRIS.
Upon his arrival in Chicago, he joined "Osceola, num- ber 3," then having a house upon the river bank on the north side, at the foot of Dearborn Street -- the "Kid Glove Company," as its enemies dubbed it. It was composed for the most part of the "solid men" of the North Division (with a few from the South side), and represented much wealth, and the very first of social standing; a distinctive feature it retained in a great degree to the very last, al- though the first members bore away the palm in these re- spects, and the names to be found upon its (then) roll stood and stand to-day as high as any in the city, and the paid department do no more severe work than was done by the "hand engines" then-if they equal it.
The coolness, the power to control and direct others, the far-sightedness, the quickness of decision, the knowledge of the fantastic moods of the flames, the scope and force of water, the best point of attack, the surest way to defeat, all belonged to Mr. Harris, and he was dowered with the strength and stamina to defy the excesses of heat, and cold, and exposure, inseparable to such a life.
All will remember him, for he was a part of the new as well as the old Chicago. His figure was tall and presence commanding-a shade too heavy in his later years for the arduous duty, but never shirking it. The strongest, the ab- sorbing passion of his life was to be a fireman. It was his beau ideal of perfect manhood --- the achme of human bliss- the highest aim of his ambition. No general ever felt more happy than he in marshalling his forces against the "de- vouring element"-none were more jubilant in victory.
But it must be remembered that his was no common conception of what constituted a true fireman. It had been the study of his lifetime-he had consecrated himself to it, as it were, and the one who reached his mark had to combine all the elements of daring, even to recklessness, coolness, amid the most trying circumstances, trained judg- ment, a quick eye, a firm hand, untiring muscle, an iron
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URIAH P. HARRIS.
constitution, to know by intuition what was right, and the nerve to carry it out, unheeding the clamor of the populace or the intermeddling of those who held quasi power in municipal affairs.
That Uriah P. Harris combined in a remarkable degree these rare qualities, his repeated election to the office of Chief Engineer (and no more important one can be ad- duced), I think, conclusively proves. In this even the outcry of party was strangled, and though there were plenty of seekers after the "loaves and fishes" connected with it, yet to the praise of Chicago be it recorded, the better judg- ment permitted no swelling and fury of political waves to turn them from what was believed their best interests and the most certain means of safety. The fiat was then, what- ever it may be now, that life and property, when weighed against fire, was above and paramount to all party feeling.
I think, none will question the ability with which Mr. Harris managed fires. And it must be taken into consider- ation, how often and much he was crippled for want of nec- essary machines and an adequate supply of water. Human muscle is not as tireless as steam, human nature not as reli- able as steel, human passions have no safety-valve that can be chained down and control them, humanity is ever subject to the overthrowing powers of jealousy, envy, malice, and in- subordination. And all these were against him, at least in the early part of his career, and I remember well a remark from his lips, when the change came from the Volunteer de- partment and breath of fire, lungs of steam and sinews of iron were substituted; when horses did the heavy labor of drawing and machinery of working -- when men arrived at the scene of destruction without being already tired out.
"I tell you," he said, "steamers don't get exhausted or drunk, and can be depended on every time."
This was immediately after what was then termed "a great fire" (ah! how fearfully the memory of it was blotted out at a later day, when a second Sodom swept away acres
3
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URIAH P. HARRIS.
of buildings, and in a breath crumbled even the most sub- stantial to ashes or melted them as wax in a thrice-heated furnace!) in Lake street (on the north side of the street between Clark and Dearborn), when tired nature strove to sustain itself by stimulants, and there was left behind a sad, sad record of destruction and death - heavy pecuniary losses and monumental marbles in the graveyard.
Mr. Harris was a man of intense feelings and strong pas- sions. They were the requisite fuel to drive him on in his chosen career, just as much as coal and wood are to the locomotive. Without them he could never have been what he was. But passion with him was no long-lingering feel- ing. It would have been impossible for him to have "nursed wrath to keep it warm." He was too great- hearted for that. Beside his inherent love of mirth-his rollicking nature would never have permitted such a thing. His laugh was most hearty and contagious ; his play bois- terous, and the very corner-stone of his being was socia- bility. Condemned to a hermit life-sundered from genial companionship, he would have been the most unhappy of mortals and not long known to the living. As a Crusoe, he would not have survived to see a "Friday," whether day or man! Generous he was to a fault-far too much so for his own good in a pecuniary point, and was some- thing of a gourmand in eating, while exceedingly dainty in taste and not to be charged with gluttony. Like many men of his mould, he was tender-hearted-unusually so. Charity with him was more than a name-was not simply a spasm, but an ever-living and breathing reality, and tears in the eyes of woman, no matter who she might be, ever caused his own to flow.
Mr. Harris was perhaps too much of the order of Sans Souci, to have claimed the motto of Bayard, but to that can be attributed much of the personal popularity which, in connection with his ability in his chosen profession, en- abled him so long to retain his high position as Chief.
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URIAH P. HARRIS.
His friends were very warm and lasting ones. He threw his whole soul into his intercourse, as indeed he did into everything else-was fond even to extremes of the amuse- ments that go very far toward relieving the dullness of life -to compensate for its trials. A good horse had in him a good friend and protector, and the drama an ardent ad- mirer. Indeed he was enthusiastic concerning it, and chess might almost have been called a passion. And, though the fact is probably not widely known, he was quite literary in his tastes.
His faults, whatever they may have been, sprang from an excess of warmth in his nature, from too much carbonic acid, I might say, in his organization, from impulse not to be resisted, from the whip and spur of too rapidly bound- ing blood-never from premeditated wrong. No one ever yet heard so hearty and spontaneous a laugh come from a villian's throat.
But whatever his errors, the mantle of that broad charity, with which he ever so liberally shrouded others, should be extended to him. His virtues counterbalance them, and it has been well written, "none are perfect, no not one." He has passed "beneath the veil," but will not soon be for- gotten-cannot be. As long as there is a Chicago Fire Department, he will be remembered with pleasure. What it now is (without detracting one iota from the fame of others), he assisted greatly to make it, and no true fireman will hesitate to lay a wreath of asphodel upon his resting place.
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HENRY B. CLARKE.
No one among the olden time hunters will ever pass the grave of Henry B. Clarke save reverently and with uncov- ered head.
Mr. Clarke was, de facto, one of the "old settlers." About forty years ago he erected his (then) famous mansion, dwarfing all others, on the South side of the river, and equalled only by that of William B. Ogden on the north- of which it was the rival. Its cost was some ten thousand dollars-a mere bagatelle now, but at the time was looked upon with alarm, and designated by many names, the most gentle of which was, perhaps, "folly." The building was fashioned after, and to a great degree a reproduction of, that of the first Mayor of Chicago (William B. Ogden, A.D. 1837), with broad, pillared porch; inviting, comfort- able, substantial, and a marked object in the almost wilder- ness of prairie.
One can scarcely conceive, at this day, the enterprise and energy necessary to successfully carry out such an undertaking, when the city was yet in its swaddling clothes (with only about two thousand inhabitants), the country unsettled, the trail of the Indians yet unobliterated, their corn growing at "Wolf's Point," their camp fires nightly burning, and their war cry scarcely stilled; when skilled labor was difficult to command, and when much of the interior wood-work had to be transported from the State of New York. Indeed, everything taken into consideration, it might well have been looked upon as Herculanean labor, and one bordering even upon insanity. But the South side
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gloried in it, as they did in everything that tended, in the least, to break the somewhat arrogant power of the North, and lessen its prestige.
When Mr. Clarke builded his home it fronted to the East, and was sentinelled by tall Lombardy poplars-strik- ing objects amid such surroundings. It was distant a mile and one-half from the nearest neighbor, was in a streetless plain, and to be reached only by the road along the lake shore-the highway from the Wabash. And it is recorded as an instance of his goodness of heart, and thoughtfulness for the welfare of others, that he every night hung out a lantern to guide belated and perplexed travellers, and save them from the treacherous and almost bottomless sloughs.
The location of the house was near the scene-a trifle to the south, if I remember correctly-of the massacre of 1812, and amid the mimic mountains of ever-shifting sand rested the bones of the soldiers ruthlessly slain by Indian treachery and-why should it not be written ?- by the obstinacy and incompetency of white leaders.
Not here, perhaps. is the proper place to discuss the merits of that fatal evacuation of Fort Dearborn; but a decade and a half of years since investigation of the facts (after gathering the most authentic information possible) forced this conclusion: the massacre was the result of self- opinion, suspicion, and jealousy of inferiors, the destruction of stores, the want of knowledge of the Indian character and contempt of their power. But whatever the cause, its history was written in blood.
Mr. Clarke combined shrewdness with energy of char- acter. He was a partner of William Jones and Byram King (notable names in the early history of the Garden City) in the Hardware business (on South Water Street), and a director in the Chicago Branch of the State Bank. In his later years he withdrew from active business associa- tions, and devoted his time to the cultivation of the soil and to the sport his very soul loved -- that of hunting; having
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HENRY B. CLARKE.
for companions such men as D. D. Stanton, Harvey Blakesley, L. C. Hugunin ("Len"), Ashley Gilbert, and others.
Judging from his treatment of me, and from what I heard from others, Mr. Clarke must have been a remarkably genial companion-one with command of self and one possessing the traits of character that make men loved while living, and when gone, remembered with tender re- gret. Certainly his friends were warm ones, though I fancy the number admitted to the very hearth-stone of his heart was not large. But those who enjoyed the privilege re- mained firm to the last-till, in 1849, the blight and mil- dew and doom of cholera fell upon the the City and swept him away.
He was a man of strong feelings, and remembered injus- tice very keenly. His early life had been passed amid the scenes that most truly "tried men's souls," for the business battle of those years was not what it is now-the means of transportation but as a pony express to the countless rail- way cars-or, as the speed of a tortoise to that of a grey- hound. Money was scarce and hard to command; credit sat weeping amid the ruined altars of speculation, and when the crash of 1837 came, Mr. Clarke did not escape being crippled. This, and subsequent struggles, I think,. must have somewhat distilled the gall of bitterness into his cup of life, and ever after shadowed it. But he was the possessor of a brave heart and high moral courage. The latter was shown upon his death-bed. He calmly faced the inevitable, gave minute directions about his temporal affairs, and designated the spot of his burial -that he should be placed beneath a spreading tree upon his own ground, and not consigned to the cheerless graveyard where the drifting sand hid all trace one day, and the next per- mitted the wind to blow upon the unearthed coffin !
I know not if tree or grave remains now, so completely has the city swallowed up the surroundings-so much has
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HENRY B. CLARKE.
the vandal hand of "improvement " obliterated old and cherished land-marks. But I do know that in former days the grave of Henry B. Clarke was held in reverence by old settlers and huntsmen, and each in passing laid (at least mentally) a flower upon the grassy mound.
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