USA > Indiana > Allen County > Fort Wayne > Daily life in early Fort Wayne > 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.
Daily Life in Early Fortwayne Mrs. Laura &. Detzer
DAILY LIFE IN
EARLY FORT WAYNE
Prepared by the Staff of the Public Library of Fort Wayne and Allen County
1954
One of a historical series, this pamphlet is published under the direction of the governing Boards of the Public Library of Fort Wayne and allen County.
Mrs. Sadie Fülk Roehrs
BOARD-OF - TRUSTEES.OF - THE-SCHOOL . CITY-OF .FORT.WAYNE
B.F. Geyer, President
Joseph E. Kramer, Secretary
W. Page Yornelle , Treasurer
Willard Shanbaugh
PUBLIC LIBRARY BOARD FOR ALLEN COUNTY
The members of this Board include the members of the Board of Trastees of the School City of FortWayne (with the same oficers) together with the following citizens chosen from allen County outside the corporate City of Fort Wayne
James E. Graham
Mrs. Charles Reynolds
arthur Riemeier
Mrs. Glenn Henderson
FOREWORD
The following sketch of life in early Fort Wayne was compiled by Mrs. Laura G. Detzer from early newspaper accounts, letters, journals, and personal interviews with old settlers. Mrs. Detzer's account was later included by Charles E. Slocum and Robert S. Robertson in the second volume of their HISTORY OF THE MAUMEE RIVER BASIN, published in 1905.
The Boards and the Staff of the Public Library of Fort Wayne and Allen County present this publication in the hope that it will interest and inform the many historically minded citizens of this area. Grammar, spelling, and punctuation have been changed to conform to current usage.
Indian hunting dance
Even the Indian traditions tell of Kekionga as a social center. The wandering tribes often met at this ancient vil - lage for the green-corn dance and for the fishing and hunting dances. Men and women still live who have watched these savage frolics. Sometimes the Indian would be clad in his naked nothingness, but often he wore robes of fur and belts of wampum and had white scalps to fringe his hunting shirt.
Yet the Indian is not a more picturesque figure than the early fur trader. Under the name of woodranger, cou- reur de bois, or voyageur, he has become a bit of stage property for the novelist and playwright. To give local col - or and to serve as a foil to the devoted early Jesuit, this conventional swashbuckler swaggers through many an Indian tale. Only traditional accounts remain of his mode of life around the old post, but very likely it was similar to that of a woodranger anywhere. As he was frequently an outlaw from the older settlements, he realized more fully than his Indian companions what it meant to be free of laws and taxes. Choosing a likely young squaw, he would settle down to a life alternating between hardship and dissolute ease. Here was a natural vantage point for the hunter and trapper. For- est and stream furnished all the needs of Indian or wood- ranger. A national road, either pike or corduroy, would have meant less to him than his three rivers as a passage- way. And the portage, which might have seemed a hindrance to his prosperity, was made a toll road for his profit.
Comte de Volney, during his travels in America in 1796, was very curious as to Indian manners and customs. When he asked about those French Canadians who had set- tled by the waterways, he was told that they were kind, hos - pitable, and sociable; but in ignorance and idleness they beat the Indians. They knew nothing of civil or domestic affairs; their women neither sewed, nor spun, nor made butter, but passed their time in gossiping and tattle. The men hunted, fished, roamed in the woods, and basked in the sun. They did not lay up as we do for winter or provide for a rainy day. They could not cure pork or venison, make sauerkraut or spruce beer. This Arcadian existence was interrupted, however, by the arrival of the new settlers,
1
who as a matter of natural selection were energetic, rest- less, courageous men and women.
There must have been great beauty of river and forest surrounding this wilderness fort. Theletter written by Lieu- tenant Curtis to Mr. Cullen, October 4, 1812, says, "I was on my arrival, and still continue to be, highly delighted with the place and my situation. " Other descriptions tell of the wonderful verdure, the thick bluegrass, the luxuriance of the wooded shores, and the magnificence of the forests. With no exacting game laws, these abundant woods and full streams were a paradise for fishermen and hunters. Even at a much later date, hunting was a royal sport in this vi- cinity. Men are living who have seen deer bounding where the Pennsylvania Company's shops now are.
From letters and from oral tradition we know of the famous hospitality of old Fort Wayne. The officers of the fort and their wives were the first entertainers. Coming from an older and more formal society, they carried into their rude barracks the manners and customs of cultivated folk. A certain punctilio was the natural consequence of their military life. Colonel Hamtramck, the first com- mander of the new fort, had led the life of a soldier from his boyhood. As one line on his tombstone reads, "He was a soldier even before he was a man. "
Some facts have to be seen in retrospect so that one can realize their significance. In 1800, while Captain John Whistler was one of the officers of the fort, his son, George Washington Whistler, was born here. And the son of George Washington Whistler, the famous engineer, was James Mc- Neill Whistler, artistic genius of the nineteenth century. And so through one of his fifteen children, Captain Whistler, later promoted to the rank of major, is kept in the memory of a forgetful generation. Whistler and Haden etchings are among the choicest possessions in houses standing on the site of the old blockhouses and palisades.
We find more than one reference to the generous hos - pitality of the Whistler quarters: "Major Whistler enter- tained the guests, " and again, "Major Whistler's house was the inn for all comers." In 1869, Mrs. Laura Suttenfield
2
Jaren
Major Whistler entertained the quests
wrote a short sketch giving a glimpse of the lonely life of the little garrison in 1814, when Major Whistler was in com- mand. She says:
"The fort at that time contained sixty men of the reg- ular army, all patriotic and anxious to celebrate one day in the year. They made three green bowers, one hundred feet from the pickets of the fort, where Main Street now is. One bower was for the dinner table, one for the cooks, and one for the music. Major Whistler had two German cooks, and they prepared the dinner. There were but eleven persons at the table, and only three are now living to tell of that day. Our dinner consisted of one fine turkey, a side of venison, roast beef, boiled ham, vegetables in abundance, cranber- ries, and green currants. As for dessert, we had none. Eggs were not known here until three years after that time. Three bottles of wine had been sent here from Cincinnati, but only one was used. After a few toasts, three guns, and some music, we went into the fort, and the ladies changed their dresses. Then Major Whistler called for the music, which consisted of one bass drum, two small drums, one fife, a violin, and a flute. There was a long gallery in the fort; the musicians took their seats there. Only three of the gentlemen would dance, and there were but three ladies present. A French four passed off very well for an hour. Then the gates of the fort were closed at sundown, a fact which gave it a gloomy appearance. There were no children and no younger persons for amusement, and everyone soon retired to his room. All was still and quiet. The sentinel on his lonely round would give us the hour of the night. In the morning we were aroused by the beating of the reveille. "
These quiet days were disturbed in 1815 when Major Whistler began to rebuild the fort. To aid the soldiers, twenty new workmen were sent for; and there was much bustle in and around the whole place. Pulling down the old fort, putting up the new one, burning bricks, and felling trees for the oxen to haul gave everything a lively appear- ance.
A letter from Sergeant W. K. Jordan to his wife "Bet- sey" is another delightful scrap that has floated down to us
4
from the old fort. The writer was one of the survivors of the Fort Dearborn Massacre, and the letter is dated Octo- ber 12, 1812. After relating the treachery of the Indians, Sergeant Jordan continues, "Every man, woman, and child was killed but fifteen -- and thanks be to God I was one of them! The first shot took the feather out of my cap; the next shot, the epaulet off my shoulder; and the third broke the handle of my sword. I had to surrender to four damned yellow Indians. " His life was saved by White Raccoon, who held himby the hand as he stood with the fourteen other sur - vivors. Jordan continues, "They stripped all of us to our shirts and trousers, and every family took one captive as long as we lasted; then they started for their towns. Every man to his tent, O Israel! But I will just inform you that when I got to my strange lodging, I looked about like a cat in a strange garret. " Jordan was warned against any at- tempt to escape. He was told that if he remained he should be a chief, but if he attempted to escape he should be burned alive. We are sorry when he says he has no time to write the particulars of his daring escape. So we only know that he stole a horse from his captors and got to Fort Wayne aft- er seven days in the wilderness. He adds, "After all my fun I weigh 190. " Then he tells her that as he writes he is wearing some of the soft hair of her head, and he beseeches her to see that Mountford (his little son) is sent to school.
It is easy to see from these old letters and recollec- tions that life inthe old fort was of much the same stuff that life is today. Styles have changed, and so there is a differ- ent pattern, but the material is the same. A letter written by Major Joseph Jenkinson, another commander, gives us one hasty look over those high and faraway palisades:
Fort Wayne, Indiana March 14, 1814
Dear Sarah,
I have nothing of importance to inform you of, but I shall suffer no opportunity to escape unembraced. I hope, my love, that you and my children are well. I do not know what to think of your coming here, but I wish you were here, and had come with me when I first came. I am bringing
5
Ephraim completely under. I have had him once in the guardhouse handcuffed. I have given him two whippings, the last of which was a very hard one. I shall cool the fellow; he bounces at the word. Give my love to father, mother, and friends. I am, my love,
Your devoted husband, JOSEPH JENKINSON
The unruly Ephraim was the commander's Negro serv- ant, and the punishment was not unusual for the time. Colo- nel Hamtramck, most humane of officers, complained to General Wayne that the "economic allowance" of one hundred lashes as a punishment for theft seemed inadequate to make an honest man of a rascal. The soldiers would steal beef and other rations, and he was "tired flogging them. " But in 1819 the slender garrison was ordered farther west, and military rule in the fort became a thing of the past. It seemed for a time a very sad and lonely little village with- out the pleasant company and the protection of the soldiers.
The military influence had dominated the society of the day. Admiration for the glory and the dignity of a life at arms was a natural feeling of the time and place. The discipline was a much-needed object lesson to the frontiers - men. The United States government has always been a model housekeeper, and we can imagine the plaza in the enclosure of the old fort, which was well kept, smooth, and gravelly. Then, close at hand, there was Fort Wayne's first fire apparatus, for under the double gallery, or veran- da, hung leather fire buckets, painted blue.
For a time we have but slight account of the deserted barracks. The Reverend Isaac McCoy's HISTORY OF BAP- TIST INDIAN MISSIONS, published in 1840, tells much of the Indians but little of the French and English population. His minute account of a spiritual crusade has given us an accurate picture of certain phases of life in and around the old blockhouses. His experiences continually remind one of those early JESUIT RELATIONS which have been such a source of information to American historians. As he trav- els through the forest, he is grateful for a handful of parched corn to eat and a piece of dry bark to sleep on. As Le Jeune
6
south.
a spinning wheel
wrote, "Though my bed had not been made up since the cre- ation of the world, it was not hard enough to prevent my sleeping. " After many adventures by flood and field, on the twenty-ninth of May, 1820, Mr. McCoy opened his mission school in the fort buildings "with ten English scholars, six French, eight Indians, and one Negro. " These eight little Indian boys were to be clothed, fed, and lodged by the mis- sion. Mrs. McCoy had to care for them and for her own seven young children, and she also had to do all the house- work.
Then came the labor problem. "We hired an Indian woman to assist in domestic labors, but she afforded little help." The sad case of Mrs. McCoy is like the one James Russell Lowell writes of as hetries to strengthen the hearts of the discouraged mistresses of modern domestics. He asks them to imagine a household with one wild Indian woman for help, who could communicate only by signs. Those were serious times indeed when your cook might give notice by taking your scalp or chignon, as the case might be, and making off with it into the woods.
In less than a month after his arrival, Mr. McCoy was compelled to make a journey to the state of Ohio to pur - chase needed supplies. Among other things, he brought back two luxuries: a spinning wheel and a two-horse wagon. And then Mrs. McCoy began her efforts to change the simple life of these primitive people to the strenuousness that be- longs to a higher civilization. The gossiping and tattle were to be exchanged for spinning and spelling, and no doubt they even learned to cure pork or venison and to make sauerkraut and spruce beer. Flour and meal had to be hauled in wag- ons about one hundred miles, and most of the way led through a wilderness and over bad roads. Corn, which in the white settlements seldom sold for more than twenty-five cents a bushel, here cost a dollar and a half or two dollars. Soon the Indian youths numbered twenty-six, then thirty. But the Board of Missions seemed to forget the brave mission- aries, and they became so destitute as to be ashamed of their poverty before even the poor Indians. Mrs. McCoy taught the girls to sew and to use the spinning wheel. In
8
-
they camped on shore every night
1821 the mission boasted forty-two "Indian youths, " as Mr. McCoy always called the pupils of this pioneer manual train- ing school. Then it was decided that it would be best for Mrs. McCoy to go back to the settlements for a time. The cheapest and the most available method of travel for her seemed to be to descend the Wabash in an open canoe. Mr. McCoy wrote: "The distance by water was between three and four hundred miles, and more than half of this was through a wilderness inhabited only by uncivilized Indians. It was on the twenty-fifth of June that, with our three young - est children, she took her leave, not expecting to return in less time than three months. " The weather was hot, and the poor mother could scarcely sleep as she tried to keep the mosquitoes away from her little children. They camped on shore every night and spent nine days on the river; it rained almost every day! Their provisions were damaged and their clothing mildewed, but the brave heroine lived to return overland with a young babe the following September.
In February, 1822, when Mr. McCoy was returning from a trip to Philadelphia and Washington, he found his sorest trial awaiting him. During his journey of more than seventeen hundred miles on horseback over wretched roads in cold weather, he had become so ill as to be almost un- able to travel. When he was within five miles of home, he learned of the attempted murder of his nine -year-old daugh - ter by a Potawatomi Indian. As Mr. McCoy writes of his mental and spiritual struggles in this bitter hour, he re- cords his grateful obligations to Mr. B. B. Kercheval, United States Indian agent at that time.
Mr. Kercheval and Mr. McCoy worked hand in hand endeavoring to encourage the Indians to cultivate the soil. On March 8, 1822, the loom began to make cloth from yarn spun by the Indian girls of the mission. Later in the same year three Catholic priests, who came to administer the sacraments and to say Mass, visited the Baptist mission school and drank tea with the missionaries. But at last Mr. McCoy preached a farewell sermon; and the Indians, the oxen, horses, hogs, milch cows, and family were on their way to a new station, farther from white settlements. On
10
December 9, 1822, the little village again felt deserted. The whole story of the hardihood and the sacrifices of the Reverend Isaac McCoy and his wife, Christiana McCoy, is one of pathetic heroism. They seem to illustrate a quaint bit from an old New England sermon, "God sifted a whole nation that he might send choice grain over into this wilder- ness. "
The War Department gives us one bit of description of early life in the village that had grown under the shelter of the fort. In 1823 Major Stephen H. Long, a topographical engineer, was here three days, and he says:
"To a person visiting the Indian country for the first time, this place offers many characteristic and singular features. The village is small; it has grown under the shel - ter of the fort and contains a mixed and apparently very worthless population. The inhabitants are chiefly of French- Canadian origin; all are more or less imbued with Indian blood. The confusion of languages, owing to the diversity of Indian tribes which generally collect near a fort, makes the traveler imagine himself in a real Babel. " He goes on to tell of his disgust at seeing the Frenchmen dressed like Indians in breechcloth and blanket. The ways of living were chiefly matters of adjustment or adaptability. The New England colonist had used the smoky pine knot because it was cheap and near-at-hand. But the northern Indiana pio- neer found no pine forests stretching from his doorway, no fat codfish to be had for the catching. His Betty lamp was filled with lard oil or bear's grease, and the tallow dips were early replaced by molded candles. The prosperous fur traders easily exchanged their peltries for the sperma- ceti candles of the eastern whaler.
The French families loved dinners and dances, gaiety and song; and the visit of thetourist or trader was made the occasion for whatever festivities were possible. The log house of John P. Hedges at the southwest corner. of Calhoun and Berry streets had the whole upstairs in one room, and many a dance was given on that puncheon floor. Owners of several other houses were able to give dances in upstairs rooms built especially with that purpose in mind. Giving a
11
dinner at the tavern was another way of entertaining an hon- ored guest. On these occasions finery from Quebec, Cin- cinnati, New York, or even Paris would deck the dark-eyed beauties who sat around the table. After a time the ladies would be escorted home with lanterns, and all the men would return to drink a few more rounds. Great was the hard- headed hero who could mix his drinks and stay sober as other unsteady guests slid to the floor or reeled home! The old French lady who recounted these tales acknowledged that now and then there were a few chickenhearted youths who refused to get drunk. "But not a many !"
The little village seemed to thrive from the very first, and fine hewn-log houses became common. Those first fur traders who had been bold enough or greedy enough to risk the uncertaintemper of the Indians were accumulating gold. From 1820, when the American Fur Company established an agency here, the fur trader and the dealer in Indian goods were the businessmen of the village. To be sure, anyone who could get a keg of whisky and a box of tobacco could set up a store. Customers, chiefly Indians, were plentiful and gullible. The village at the meeting of the rivers was pros- perous. Canoes lined the banks after the hunting season, when the Indians brought in their great loads of peltries. Blankets, known commercially as Mackinaw blankets, were manufactured in Europe especially for the Indian trader. These blankets were all wool, about one-half inch thick, with two black stripes at each end. The sizes were desig- nated as "points" and were woven into the corners of the blankets. An ordinary overcoat could be made from a three and one-half point blanket. But if a hood was required, or if the blanket was to be used for hunting or war expeditions, a four-point was needed. They cost from eight to fifteen dollars and could be dyed to suit the taste of the purchaser. All profitable trade was Indian trade. On Columbia Street there was a famous jewelry manufactory, supported almost wholly by Indian traders. This was in charge of Jean Bap- tiste Bequette, known as "Father Bequette, " or "the Indian jeweler. " He employed thirty or forty French workmen to make earbobs for the Miami belles. He bought old silver
12
1
1
1
1
the ladies would be escorted home
and melted silver dollarsto make beads, brooches, crosses, bracelets, and other essentials of the Indian toilet. The American Fur Company was his principal customer.
When canoes and pirogues were plying our rivers, and when wild game was cheap and bearskin and wolfskin rugs were common, land was considered relatively unimportant and was purchased cheaply. One man boasts that he bought the lot on which he is still living from an Indian for a keg of whisky. Later, a lawyer received a house and lot as a fee for securing a divorce for his client. Agriculture was slow and tedious work in the face of comparatively easy returns from other activities. The sale of lots in 1823, the organi- zation of the county, and the canal talk all helped to attract immigrants to this place and to favor the establishment of permanent homes. According to local tradition, those were handsome, double hewn-log houses which were unusual even for that time. The house of Major Samuel Lewis (near the site of the Lewis homestead on Montgomery Street) was one of the famous sights of the village. It was covered with roses climbing over its doors and windows, and the yard had hedges and great clumps of wild roses. It was to this pic - turesque home that General Lew Wallace came when he was a mere lad to visit his aunt, Mrs. Lewis. No sight-seer in the village was allowed to leave without being taken to see this beautiful rose-covered log house.
Even in the old garrison days there was always a forge or blacksmith - shop. Then came a butcher-shop -- but a sharp knife and a drove and drover would be a better de - scription of the first meat market. At last Peter Kiser set- tled down as village butcher. He had individuality enough to make him a marked character, and he is remembered today for brusque speech and a famous scrapbook. Later his general store was kept in the most erratic manner, but he somehow managed to have a little more cash each year when he went to Cincinnati to buy goods.
We soonhear of Wilcox, Peltier, Tower, Miller, Fink, and Griebel making beds, chairs, tables, desks, and all the furniture needed in the village households. Not that the first settlers always waited for home manufactures. When Chief
14
Richardville finished his house near Huntington, he sent to Paris for the furniture. Though dressers were more com- mon than sideboards, yet the beautiful sideboard of Mrs. Zenas Henderson is remarkable even today for its beauty and elegance. When Judge Cooper finished his house on East Berry Street in 1836, he sent to New York for the fur- nishings. The bills for the pier glass, carpets, curtains, and paper show that elegance was sought as well as comfort. In the Hanna homestead there are exquisite mahogany pieces that once were in the log house built as the first home of Judge Hanna. These early craftsmen veneered long mahog- any couches and covered them with horsehair. They copied the pattern pieces brought via far waterways; and soon loo tables, candlestick stands, sideboards, and console tables began to take the places of the makeshift furniture.
Enterprising pioneers had brickyards, tanneries, dis- tilleries, breweries, and a pottery. In 1840, a great project for the manufacture of silk was introduced. Copies of the JOURNAL of the American Silk Society in old attics attest the scientific interest taken inthe silkworm business. Mul - berry trees were planted and silkworms imported, but the trees did not thrive, and worms and project died together.
Side by side with a social life of marked cordiality and simplicity was a French society, alien in its tastes and ideas. When the Honorable Hugh McCulloch came here in 1833, he found the little village very fortunate in the char- acter of its inhabitants. Settlers from overseas and colo- nists from Maryland, Virginia, or the eastern states gave character to the town.
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.