USA > Illinois > Lee County > Recollections of the pioneers of Lee County [Illinois] > Part 23
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All who know him know how faithful he is to every trust reposed in him. He is an efficient worker in the Baptist church, and on Memorial
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day what would we do without Adam? He is never absent from his post of duty and having served in the army, his heart and soul are in the work.
As in all newly settled countries, the beaux were so much more num- erous here that every girl within twenty miles was in great demand when a dance was to be given. There was one family in the "Kingdom" where there were two or three daughters, but owing to the violent tem- per and stinging tongue of their mother, the young men were extremely shy of bringing upon their heads the wrath and sound berating of the matron, which invariably followed their appearance upon the scene, so they were wont to draw cuts to decide which would be the victim, the shortest straw being the herald of doom. He who was so unfortunate as to have drawn it would take his life in his hand and heavy of heart pro- ceed on his way to invite the young lady.
The Tallmadges were well known here in the early days, having come in 1835. He was a venerable-looking old man with snow-white hair and beard, but very much disfigured by a hare-lip. He usually wore black clothes, the coat (like "old Grimes'" of nursery lore) "all buttoned up be- fore," and a high silk hat. A small child, seeing him pass the house one day, called: "Oh! mother, come quick, there goes our Heavenly Father." Mrs. Tallmadge was much younger than her husband, and in many ways an excellent woman, but possessed of many fancied ailments from which she was always sure she was going to die and sending for the doctor in hot haste without the least necessity. "Tell it not in Gath," but I have heard it whispered that Dr. Everett kept an excellent quality of bread pills on hand for patients of that description which always proved so efficacious that a speedy cure was sure to follow.
Mrs. John Brown, then a girl, was at Mrs. Tallmadge's and one evening
was taken very sick and the doctor was sent for but failed to put in an appearance. A still more imperative summons just as day was dawning brought him-about ten o'clock. Mrs. Tallmadge met him at the door, fairly bombarding him with reproaches, and wound up by saying: "Why Dr. Everett, you ought to be ashamed of yourself: you Have a very sick patient in there (indicating the bedroom), I can tell you." Regarding her with some amazement, the doctor replied in his deliberate manner: "Why, Mrs. Tallmadge, I thought it was you and I knew there was no hurry."
There is another story of a man who was not always strictly honest. He went into Mr. Brooks' store (so my informant said) one day, and think -
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ing himself unobserved, confiscated some butter, which, like "Handy Andy," he placed in his hat. A clerk, who had witnessed the act, spoke to some others who were in the store, asking their aid in carrying out a plan for the culprit's undoing: so as Mr. S. camne forward with most inno- cent mein, they gathered about him talking and laughing, and finally hemmed him into a corner near the stove. Someone complained of feel- ing very cold and the wood was thrown on the fire with no sparing hand, so that soon the room became very warm and poor Mr. S. was in the warmest place, in fact, almost "too hot to. hold him." What is that stealing slowly down his cheeks, trickling down his nose, bedewing his forehead and matting his hair? Butter! yes, butter-rivers of butter. Surely "the way of the transgressor is hard."
One time when work was in progress upon the Illinois Central rail- road, Dixon was threatened with a serious riot. One or two of the gang of workmen had been arrested and placed in jail, whereat their comrades were very much incensed and they struck work, marched in a body to the town threatening to burn it. This catastrophe was averted by Prophet Myres, who missed no opportunity for making a speech, and as they came in line across the bridge, he beheld an audience ready at hand, such as it was rarely his good fortune to meet. Mounting a dry goods box on the corner opposite Mrs. Baker's present home, he began a characteristic harangue, and soon had the mob in such a good humor that they entirely forgot their errand of vengeance and. when he was through quietly dis- persed, much to the relief of the citizens, who fearing the worst, had armed themselves to defend their homes.
I have been told the story of how one fearless woman saved her home from claim jumpers. Otis Loveland came here in 1837 and took up the claim since known as the Loveland. farm, and with his wifeand twoyoung children lived in a small house where the milk factory now stands. In those days there was the same lawless element here that we read of in the west, peculiar to all newly settled countries, and claim-jumping was not by any means an unheard-of occurrence. One day when Mr. Loveland was away from home three or four men armed themselves intending to jump the claim, anticipating no opposition. Mrs. Loveland saw them at a little distance, and having been informed of their intentions, deter- mined to thwart their plans. She placed a rocking chair across the open door and taking her knitting in her hand, calmly seated herself to await their coming. When they reached the house they told her to move out
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of the way, for they wanted that claim and were going to have It, too. She replied: "You shall not step one foot inside this house unless you first pass over my dead body." I suppose they did not quite care to kill her, for they finally departed, swearing as they went. This lady was the step-mother of Mrs. J. B. Brooks.
When Mrs. Brooks (then Ophelia Loveland) tauglit school in the "Bend" she received the enormous salary of one dollar and a quarter per week and "boarded around." This was not a very great hardship as the people, in most instances, were pleasant and kind, but there were two or three exceptions where the housewives were poor cooks and their houses none too cleanly. One place the children bragged of what good things they were going to have to eat when the teacher came there,to board. The "good things" resolved themselves into dried apple and peach pies, which were made without first stewing the fruit. If not quite to the taste made in this way, they may have proved filling, particularly with fluid accompaniment.
Another place the teacher was awakened at break of day and sewing laid out for her until school time, and as soon as she returned she was set at work again until bedtime. At the end of the week this thrifty matron returned no thanks, but only expressed regret that Mrs. Brooks "could not stay long enough to make Susanna a dress." A child in this same family died while Mrs. Brooks was teaching in the neighborhood, and the balance of the children were put into deep mourning, consisting of black calico ruffies worn around each child's neck.
Mrs. Brooks saved enough money from her school teaching to buy a quarter section of land in Wisconsin, which she afterward sold for four hundred dollars to assist her husband in buying their home on Galena street, where Mr. Tillson's store now is, reserving, however, the price of a half-dozen silver spoons which she "was bound to have." She was a kind-hearted, hospitable woman, never so happy as when entertaining her friends. One time during the early days of the war her sister, Mrs. Rudd (well-known to many old settlers), was visiting her and Mrs. Brooks gave a tea party in her honor. Mrs. Rudd was a very strong abolitionist, in fact, kept a station on the underground railway in the southern part of the state. Some of the guests at the party were what was termed "copperheads" in those days. Mrs. Rudd was an extremely outspoken woman and not prone to "hide her light under a bushel," or her opinions either. A very heated discussion arose and for a time it appeared as if bloodshed was imminent. Mrs. Brooks, who had left the 100m to attend to her tea arrangements, was very much amazed and disconcerted a little 1
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later when two ladies, who had taken umbrage at Mrs. Rudd's remarks, came with their wraps on to bid her good bye. Her dismayed query, "Why! you are not going without your supl er?" brought forth an explan- ation, and through her intervention peace was patched up. harmony restored, and they did not go home without their supper.
We have been told that there were no rats in Dixon for a number of years, and that the first that was seen here came in a load of goods be- longing to a Baptist minister which Mr. Little moved fron La Moille and as the goods were being unpacked a rat jumped from the wagon. That there was no lack of them later will be illustrated by a little story which at least, has the virtue of being true. It was told us that once when a guest of the Dixon house was leaving, after having seated himself in the stage with several others, he shouted to Henry McKenney that there was something that he wanted attended to before he came this way again. Mr. McKenney, all smiles and anxiety to please, as became a good land- lord, wanted to know what he could do for him. "Why," said he, "I want you to teach those rats of yours to hold up their tails when they run over a man's face."
John Brown came to Dixon in 1836, with no intention of locating, but here he remained until the day of his death, a most worthy citizen. In 1840 he married Eliza Cotton, who had come from Canada the year before with two Quaker families, the latter returning from "whence they came" not long afterward. As soon as they were married they went to live on the farm now well-known as the McRoberts place. There were no neigh- bors near at first and when Mrs. Brown saw a storm coming up she would hasten to town; but later, when she had one baby to carry, and then two, it became quite an undertaking, for three little daughters came to them during the three years they lived upon the farm. They then moved to town and occupied the Chapman house near Dr. Paine's present home. Mrs. Brown is rich in reminiscence and I would that I might write more that she has told me, but "the day of reckoning is at hand" and I must confine myself to a few items. Mr. Brown had been an employe of Seth Thomas in his clock factory before coming west, and in 1843 he sent for some clocks, with which he supplied many of the homes in Dixon. One of those self-same clocks is ticking away as merrily in our dining-room as it did fifty pears ago when my father first bought it, and Mrs. E. C. Smith nas another.
Soon after they moved from the farm Mrs. Brown had a very severe
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illness of three months duration, and she was forced to rely upon her neighbors for the care which she in turn had given them. No pen can picture the kindness and devotion of one to another in those early years: sacrifices were made every day quite as a matter of course, which at the present time would be regarded as immense. One's personal comfort or convenience was never considered if there were sick to be cared for. High or low, rich or poor, each received the same attention. Mrs. James Hatch is spoken of as one of the best of women, and I should think deservedly, for when Mrs. Brown was so long ill she weaned her own more healthy baby that she might give nourishment to the very delicate babe of her sick neighbor.
Another who was never weary of well-doing was Aunt Rhoda McKen- ney, the wife of Uncle Peter, of whom she was the exact opposite in al- most every respect, even to size, as he was a little lean man, while she was a large and exceedingly fleshy woman. When her time came to die she was surrounded by the loving hands of those unto whom she had ministered. At this time Uncle Peter was inconsolable, crying as if his heart would break, he turned to one who was there and said, amid his sobs, "Is it posssible she is going off with all that fat on her?"
Mrs. Brown, too, was ever ready to go where she was needed, and many a sick person received her tender care. One time, when she was with a very poor woman, she was obliged to wash the new arrival in an ordinary quart bowl, and later, as there were no other dishes in the house except plates, furnish the woman with gruel from the same bowl. So it was that these people who have lived out their lives among us went about doing good. Mr. Brown died in 1878 but his wife still lives to bless her children with her presence and does not look the seventy-six years which she has numbered.
. There are one or two funny stories in which James VanArnam figures. One time when Jim was going to Chicago that prince of jokers, Perse Cheney, telegraphed a description of him to the police and notified them to arrest him as soon as the train reached the city. This was done and Jim was held in "durance vile" until an order for his release came with the assurance that no one would appear against him. Jim determined that he would unearth the perpetrator of the joke which had been played so successfully upon him and soon traced it to Mr. Cheney. Not long after these two were taking a drive in the country and came to Mrs. Dana's fine orchard. This matron had the reputation of being a some. what formidable person for trespassers to meet and it was well-known
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fact that she was the owner of some still more formidable dogs. The "forbidden fruit" looked very tempting and Jim suggested that Mr. Cheney go in and gather some apples while he would go on to the house and engage the old lady in conversation. This was readily agreed. to by his unsuspecting companion, and Jim went on his way rejoicing. The manner in which he engaged the lady in converse was to tell her that there was a fellow down in the orchard stealing her apples and advising her to let the dogs loose. When Mr. Cheney heard them coming he took to a tree and there he remained, "forgotten of the world" but not by the quadrupeds (unfortunately), for nearly two hours, then the dogs were called off and he, being permitted to descend, was obliged to own that for once in his life he had been "paid back in his own coin."
It will be remembered that Jim was-well, yes-cross-eyed. One time when he was about to butcher a beef with an ax the man who was hold- ing its head inquired with some trepidation if he was going to hit where he was aiming or where he was looking, "cause, if it was where he was looking, he wanted to get out of the way."
Jim was marshal at the time that Mr. J. C. Ayres was city clerk, and he was in the habit of coming up into that gentleman's office when he had any writing to do. One day when Mr. Ayres was engaged in making out some pension papers for an old lady who was waiting in the office, Jim came in as usual and asked for pen and paper and seated himself at the ·opposite side of the desk to write a letter. His contortions and facial expressions while undergoing this ordeal can better be illustrated by pan- tomine than described, so I shall not attempt it. After laboring pain- fully for some minutes Jim looked up at Mr. Ayres and asked "how do you spell anxious?" The old iady, some little distance off to one side, and on whom Jim's "weather eye" was fixed in wild interrogation, straightened herself up, began to hem and haw, and at last blurted out "ank-no-anck-no, no-ancqu-no, that's not it. Well (with a deep sigh), I'll give it up! I used to be a beautiful speller, but I can't spell worth a cent since I lost my teeth."
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Isaac Means came here in 1845, followed three years later by the other members of the family. They lived on a farm two miles east of town on the Franklin Grove road. Mrs. Jane Little, a daughter of the family, resided at that time in the house now occupied by George McBride on Ottawa avenue. She was well-known here, always jolly and laughing, the life of every gathering. She was the only woman (so far as I have heard) ever admitted to the rites of Masonry, and this honor she obtained
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by that propensity of our Mother Eye, which is said to have been trans- mitted to all her descendants in the female line, viz., curiosity, but the story is too long to tell now. She had a family of four boys and many a struggle had she to rear them until they were able to do for themselves. She, too, has passed into the "beyond" with so many others of those early years.
Mr. Means died in 1878 at the age of ninety-five years. His wife sur- vived him until 1881. There were four old ladies who were often invited to tea at one or other of their daughters, and they were dubbed the "Irish Convention" by some of the irrevelent young members of their families. They would assemble soon after dinner so as to have a long afternoon's visit, knitting in hand. They could certainly do more real genuine visiting "to the square yard" than any others I have ever seen. They were Mrs. Means, noble-looking, with deep-toned voice, Mrs. Law, placid of countenance, straight and dignified, Mrs. Richards, with sweet laughing face and loving manner, Mrs. Mulligan, the youngest of the party, with high sweet voice and look of supreme contentment. Memory brings their dear faces so plainly before me that I can scarcely believe that I shall never again behold them in the flesh, and as I write I can e'en hear the hum of their happy voices which have been stilled in death these many years.
A few years after the Means came here a very sad accident occurred in their home. During a severe thunder storm in the early morning their daughter Charlotte, a beautiful girl who was soon to have been married, was struck by lightning and instantly killed. Her mother in the room beneath also received a severe shock.
Mrs. Maxwell, the only remaining member of the family here, was married in a striped calico dress. There had been one or two quite styl- ishi weddings here a little before and Mr. Maxwell made up his mind that there should be no "high jinks" when they were married, so it took place just as he had planned it. I will add, however, that they gave a very swell supper to their friends an evening or two later. Mrs. Maxwell has reared a family of whom any mother might feel proud, and the years have dealt so gently with her that her hair is only sprinkled with gray.
One time there was an Irish family living in the basement of Jim VanArnam's old stone house who would neither pay their rent or vacate the preniises and Jim determined to take matters into his own hands. Some masons had been at work in the upper story and had left a heavy timber there, and one night he went to the house, took off his boots and
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crept up stairs, laid hold of the timber, raised it and let it drop with a tremendous thud just over the heads of his sleeping victims, then made his escape undetected. A day or two later the woman came to Mr. Ayres (to whom Jim had unfolded his plan) for the purpose of borrowing some money with which to build a shanty. Mr. Ayres remarked that he had supposed that slie was well fixed where she was. She then began telling him of the fearful noises they had heard there in the dead of night, guns going off and dreadful pounding and not a soul about the place, and no one could convince her that a horrible murder had not sometime been committed there and for all the world, in that house they would not stay. So Jim got rid of his tenant.
The best part is still to come. Mr. Ayres owned the old "Dixon Gar- . dens" east of town and was greatly annoyed by the young Hibernians of the neighborhood, wno continually kept breaking into the house smaslı- ing the windows and destroying all that was destroyable. Jim's success- ful campaign flashed into his mind and he resolved to emulate his noble example. He got a dark lantern and late in the evening would let him- self into the liouse, turn on the light and flash it about. To make mat-' ters still more sure, he asked an old Irishman in the neighborhood, who was in his office one day, if he had noticed anything strange about the house. He had not, and Mr. Ayres, swearing him to secrecy, told hin all he had heard that the old man (who had formerly lived there and died) "walked." Of course the startled old man told every one he met (as it was intended he should) the fearful story, and sure enough, that same night a strange, uncanny light was seen flashing here, there and · everywhere through the old house. From that time the boys never troubled the house but took trouble to give it a wide berth. Not long after Mr. Ayres had an opportunity of selling the place and was congrat- ulating himself on his good fortune, but before the transaction was quite completed, the man had heard the grewsome tale and would have none of it, although the hero of the exploit even humbled himself to confess to him the boyish pranks which he had been playing. It was all in vain, and Mr. Ayres lost the sale of the place and since has not yearned to . follow Jim VanArnam's example in any way.
As I read over this paper which I have written, somewhat unwillingly it strikes me that it is a little (in parts) after the manner of "Peck's Bad Boy," or the "Danbury News" and I shall censure no one should the book be laid aside after a perusal of one or two of my stories. I have garnered them from the memory of various old settlers and they are well authenticated, yet I tremble at my boldness in presenting them to you, all unaccustomed as I amı to writing, but "as ye are strong, be ye also merciful." GRACE E. JOHNSON.
Some Early Homes of Dixon.
V ERY late in the course of our preparation of material for this little book we were deeply pained to learn that the hand of death had been laid upon one of our most gifted contributors-well-known and loved in Dixon - Mrs. S. A. Bethea. To her had been assigned the pleasant task of preparing a chapter upon the pioneers of Dixon-but the story was unwritten, for death came too soon. To those who have been associated in this work there will always be a missing "number" in the promised programme, a vacant chair at our table. To all who read, there will be a missing chord in the harmony. Efforts to fill this blank have resulted in various shorter papers which will be read with interest, we trust, but at the eleventh hour it has fallen upon unworthy nie to en- deavor to picture to the friends of today some of the early homes of Dixon and their occupants. Both time and opportunity for gathering material for such a sketch have been inadequate, and no one can regret more than myself that hearty desire and deep interest cannot be equalled in results.
Many will discover (as Mr. Sabin Trobridge used to say in his S. S. prayers) "sins of o-mission and sins of com-mission," but they are not willful sins, and I trust they will be forgiven-and that those who see them will not fail to remember that they are all partakers thereof, since all have been asked, again and again to "lend a hand in the gathering of these "Recollections" and far too few have responded. All honor t the "few!"
I begin with the first home in the town-Father Dixon's log cabin, so often referred to in these pages which stood partly in J. M. Cropsey's lot, partly in Peoria street. It was a large "double cabin," the space between the two cabins (about twelve feet,) being enclosed and used as a dining- room in mild weather. Here Father Dixon lived for several years, but in 1837 he was living on the Cyrus Williams farm, in what is now "High- land Park" near where the homestead of the Williams family stood-the present.site of Robert Fargo's house.
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After a short time he went to the farm, now known as the Dr. Everett farm, where they lived until Mrs. Dixon grew too feeble to be alone; then they came to the home of his son James, in the small brick house opposite the Dement place, where in 1847 "Mother Dixon" died. The old cabin was again used as a dwelling house at one time and was occupied by the Loveland family. Here Emmeline Loveland was married to Smith Gil- braith, one of the original stockholders of the town, and one of its most promising business men Father Dixon's cabin was also used as a hotel, as a store, and was finally called the "Buzzard's Roost"-in 1840. I have not been able to learn its fate, but the probability seems to be that it was used as a part of Cropsey's blacksmith shop for a time, and then torn down.
James P. Dixon had a log house on Main street, and in a "lean-to" was the P. O (when it wasn't in Father Dixon's hat). Jude W. Hamilton had a little frame house near, which after several removals stood for a long time just east of the express office and was pulled down in 1876. This was the first frame house in the town, and was, probably, built by John K. Robison, and one of the sons of Father Dixon. John W. Dixon built the house on Ottawa street known as the Gilbraith house, lately occupied by Mr. Ingraham, but sold it to Mr. Gilbraith as soon as it was done, and built for himself the one next it, now owned by George Mc- Bride.
Mr. and Mrs. Elijah Kellogg with their little girl, now Mrs. E. B. Baker, went to New York on a visit in 1837, and on their return brought with them their neice, Elizabeth Sherwood, a young lady of eighteen, to spend a year with them and her aunt, Mrs. Dixon. We must believe the year, or the visit, a very long one, for the lady is still here. She was married in 1839 to John W. Dixon, at the home of her aunt at Kellogg's Grove, by the Rev. James DePui. They went first to the home of Father Dixon, on Dr. Everett's farm, but came to the McBride house within a year. After Mrs. Dixon's death they lived for many years in the house which Mr. Bovey used, until lately, for an office at his lumber yard, on Water street. As Mother Dixon died only six weeks before Mr. John W. Dixon, the double bereavement drew Father Dixon to his widowed daughter-in-law, and he made his home with her ever after. In the early '50's they came to live in North Dixon, on N. Jefferson avenue where Father Dixon died in 1876, and where Mrs. Dixon still lives with her son and daughter.
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