USA > Indiana > Allen County > Fort Wayne > Daily life in early Fort Wayne > Part 2
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When home catering was a necessity and unexpected visitors a certainty, something could always be managed. One famous housekeeper explained: "In the meat house hung plenty of hams; in the cellar were tubs of eggs; we always had potatoes and flour; and so something could be done. " Here as everywhere, quick wit and willing hands made the most of opportunities. It takes more than food and fire to produce a meal, and so the clever cooks deserve the honors. At the time of the canal celebration certain families enter - tained several hundred guests. In those early days there
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was always a profusion of eatables on the tables of well-bred people. A modern dinner table with its peppers and salts, butter, nuts, flowers, and bonbons would have caused dis - may to the hearty trenchermen of 1830 and 1840. A fine cake was sure to be a pyramid, and after a grand affair the question would be, "How did the pyramid look ?"
The record is one of the few balls and parties before 1840. But among the old treasures in one attic was found a printed invitation to a ball on Christmas Eve, 1833. All that the local printing office could produce for ornament -- a screaming American eagle, stereotyped tavern cuts, ro- settes, scrolls, and borders -- were used to add to the dig- nity of the occasion. The text reads: Christmas Temperance Ball for 1833. Tuesday, December 24. The Managers of the Christian Temperance Ball tender their respects to and solicit the company of Mr. Henry Coo- per and Lady at a Ball to be given at the house of Z. Hender- son, in the town of Fort Wayne, on the evening of the twenty- fourth of this month.
Respectfully, ISAAC SPENCER JOSEPH SWINNEY W. RANKIN THOMAS JOHNSON R. J. DAWSON
And here is another invitation, printed just two years later:
NEW YEAR'S BALL
The company of Mr. Samuel Sowers and Lady is solicited at the Washington Hall on Thursday evening, the thirty-first of this month, at five o'clock.
W. G. EWING HUGH McCULLOCH
O. W. JEFFERDS FRANCIS AVELINE JOHN SPENCER JOSEPH SINCLEAR
R. J. DAWSON R. BRACKENRIDGE, JR.
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a Christmas Ball in 1833
If we could look into these frontier ballrooms, we would see fashions and styles of that year of grace, for that was the picturesque era when they were crystalizing the fashions of 1830. It was also a time when much formal and conventional conversation was used. The letters of Judge Cooper are so serious as to seem almost stilted to light- minded folk. When this clever lawyer, famous for his wit and repartee, writes tender, loving letters to his young wife, there is no touch of flippancy, none of the modern familiarity that seems the pleasant privilege of man and wife. Whether he bemoans his absence from her, begs her to get plenty of household help, advises her to buy molded and not dipped candles, reminds her to keep Edward off the street so he won't play so much with the Indians, or begs her to go to comfort a bereaved neighbor -- it is all in state - ly, old-fashioned phrases.
Nothing was ever quite so wonderful as the great canal celebration on July 4, 1843. Invitations were sent to Gen- eral Lewis Cass, John Quincy Adams, Henry Clay, Daniel Webster, Colonel R. M. Johnson, President Martin Van Buren, General Winfield Scott, and many others. There were boats of every description, horseback riders, wagon- loads of people, half the population of northern Indiana jos- tling one another in Fort Wayne, the great canal town. The canalboats extended in a double line from the upper to the lower basin. These boats, decorated with flags and every variety of bunting, gave to the wharf a very gay appearance. Then came the grand procession in the following order: martial music; Revolutionary soldiers and soldiers of the late war; orator, General Lewis Cass; reader, Hugh Mc- Culloch; chaplain, the Reverend Mr. Boyd; president, Ethan A. Brown; then the thirty vice-presidents, followed by la- dies, the Defiance band, invited guests, committees, Mar- ion band, engineering corps, German band, citizens of Ohio and other states, Miami warriors, Kekionga band, and cit- izens of Indiana. The local newspaper tells us that the ora- tion of General Cass "was a masterly production, somewhat lengthy. " In it he traced the growth and development of this new country and described an imaginary voyage in an abo-
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riginal skiff up the Maumee, over the tableland, and down Little River. All the households in the town entertained guests. Judge Hanna's house had a candle in every window, and the illumination could be seen for miles.
At the opening of the Hedekin House in 1846, there was a grand military ball. The Silver Grays, of Detroit, came to give a foreign tone to the affair. Their martial manners and military trappings must have made sad havoc among the belles of the day. Later the dances at the Rock- hill House were famous for the display of wealth and beauti- ful gowns.
In his CHARCOAL SKETCHES, John W. Dawson says. that the first marriage in Fort Wayne was that of Dr. Ed- wards to Miss Hunt. The bride, who was related to General Lewis Cass, was a daughter of Colonel Thomas Hunt, who served under General Wayne at the storming of Stony Point. Colonel Hunt brought his family to Fort Wayne from Boston in 1797. Later he was stationed at Detroit, and in 1803 Colonel Hunt was ordered west with his regiment. Captain Whipple, the commanding officer, and Dr. Edwards, the surgeon's mate, stood at the landing at Fort Wayne watching the regiment coming up the Maumee. There were fifty Ca- nadian bateaux, and it must have been an imposing sight. But the surgeon's mate overlooked the parade and remarked to his companion on the beauty of Miss Hunt. And Miss Hunt had observed and noted the fine-looking young officer. The result was a fort wedding in two weeks and a bridal trip to Bellefontaine, Missouri. Marriages were often difficult to arrange. The county seat was distant and transportation sometimes uncertain. But romance and affection laughed at difficulties and far-distant marriage licenses. There were fierce rivalries, not a little artificial gallantry, and more than one duel. This seeking of satisfaction was one of the legacies from fort days. For such affairs of honor Colonel William Suttenfield was usually the master of cere- monies. His daring ride during garrison days and his con- tinual interest in military affairs made him a sort of hero to all the small boys of the place. They would hang around his tavern listening to his never-failing fund of adventures.
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Even when the stories stopped, the boys would sit still or lean over the banisters as though fascinated. Finally Colo- nel Suttenfield would go to the fireplace where his sword al- ways hung and buckle it on. With martial stride he would begin moving around and growling, "I just feel like eating a boy for dinner, " or perhaps, "I want a boy boiled today; I'm pretty hungry. " No further hint was necessary; every boy went and stopped not on the order of his going. His wife, Mrs. Laura Suttenfield, was one day delighted to welcome her sister, Miss Taylor, of Dayton, Ohio. She came for this visit in a sleigh and, the snow disappearing unexpect- edly, was compelled to make a long stay while awaiting a convenient opportunity to return. But propinquity or fate interfered, and in 1820 Miss Taylor was married to young Samuel Hanna by the Reverend Isaac McCoy. In spite of the great distances, wedding finery was got together. Besides the white silk wedding gown, usage prescribed a "second day gown. " Mrs. Hanna's was a blue Canton crepe, trimmed with blue ribbons. Her white satin wedding slippers were afterward lent for more than one village wedding, for this was the reign of the neighbor. All the characteristic gather - ings of the early settlers favored that neighborliness which was surely the most conspicuous feature of pioneer days; hospitality and neighborliness were warp and woof of the daily life.
It would be a curious sight if we could see sucha wed- ding as Miss Tilley had. She was a sister of Mrs. Marshall Wines and was married in the old First Presbyterian Church. In front of the church and around the corner, the saddled horses of the wedding party and of the wedding guests were hitched. One horse had two small trunks adjusted to his back; this was the packhorse that carried the baggage. When the bridal couple came out, saddles were adjusted and girths tightened. With packhorse and luggage, they started on a wedding trip to Logansport. Such a wedding journey was not unusual. Mr. and Mrs. Robert Fleming were mar- ried at Buffalo, and after following the devious waterways by boat over the lake and the canal to Defiance, they rode on horseback to Fort Wayne. Mrs. Fleming's riding skirt
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Love
I just feel like eating a boy for dinner
C.
they started on a wedding trip
was muddy to her waist when she dismounted. Once a gay party went to Vermilyea's with Mr. and Mrs. Royal Taylor. After being served a banquet, the guests returned, leaving the bride and groom there. William B. Walter has left an account of a wedding he attended in 1845 at the house of Francis Comparet. Father Benoit united in marriage Mr. Reno (Renaud), a young fur trader, and Miss Lacroix. For the wedding feast there was wild turkey and venison and a large stone jug of wine. It would certainly have been con- sidered niggardly to have a wedding without wine. Among the guests were Miss Cynthia Bearss, Miss Edsall, Miss Forsythe, and Miss Rockhill. All were friends of the pretty French bride, Angeline Lacroix.
The friendly teas of a group of neighbors or friends seem close to us as we read the old, timeworn invitations: "Mr. and Mrs. McCulloch present their compliments to Mr. and Mrs. Cooper and request the pleasure of their com- pany at their house on Tuesday evening at six-thirty o'clock. " Or again, "Mr. and Mrs. Rockhill request the honor of your company this evening at tea at half-past five o'clock. " The same names recur again and again. Mr. and Mrs. Jesse L. Williams, Mr. and Mrs. Allen Hamilton, Mr. and Mrs. D. H. Colerick, Mr. and Mrs. Marshall Wines, Mr. and Mrs. William Ewing, Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Hanna, Mr. and Mrs. Hugh McCulloch -- all were names found on old in- vitations. Some of these read, "Come to tea at half-past five, " or "half-past six, " or now and then there was a little party to meet "by early candlelight. "
When Mr. Henry Rudisill imported a Leipzig piano it was destined to give pleasure to many outside his own house- hold. Farmers for miles around looked forward to the stop at Rudisill's to hear the two older daughters play the piano while Mr. Rudisill and his son Henry played the flute. It is amusing to know that Mr. Rudisill sent a rocking chair to Leipzig which created fully as much of a sensation there as the new piano did in the little frontier village. The chair was examined and tried, and it became known far and near as a New World curiosity, an "American rocking chair. "
At the two great crises of life -- birth and death -- the
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JIFU.
to hear the two daughters play the piano
neighbors in this frontier locality were verylargely depend- ent upon each other. As trained nurses were unknown, the kindly heart and the skilled hand brought grateful relief to tired watchers where there was protracted illness. Some people seemed to have the touch and the knowledge; they were always in demand. Such service was, of course, gra- tuitous, and many years have not served to blot out the mem- ory of old kindnesses done. Again and again the stories were told of the goodness and the unselfishness of Mrs. Lewis G. Thompson (Dr. Thompson's wife), of Mrs. Mar- shall Wines and Miss Eliza Hamilton, and of many other old friends and neighbors.
The boon most appreciated was the gristmill that would turn out good flour. A sawmill with a corncracker attach- ment was a wonderful improvement over the hand mill for grinding corn. Wooden mortars -- some made to use indoors, others made by hewing out a stump in the dooryard -- were a necessity for every family. As all cooking was done at open fires, the Dutch oven and a large kettle or pot were in constant use. The Dutch oven was not unlike a gas or gaso- line oven with short legs. It had one side open next to the fire and could stand among the coals. Many pioneer men and women bear grateful testimony to the delicious flavor of corn pone baked in a kettle among the coals. It stood all one night and the next day, often turned and slowly baked. A johnnycake paddle hung in view in every tavern, and it was in constant use. Among the inconveniences of early days was the short-lived splint broom. There was never a corn broom in the old fort. There were expensive brushes and then, for everyday use, the Indian broom made from a
hickory sapling. Wire screening, now so commonly used as to seem a necessity, was unknown in early days. As the family ate, some younger member or a servant would stand patiently waving a fly brush over the heads of the eaters. This fly brush might be a stick with a common newspaper slit and tacked on one end. Or it might be a peacock's tail made into a round brush; the handle, interwoven with narrow ribbons, would be hard as ivory. The steady swishing back and forth could not stop for a moment or a horde of persist-
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ent flies would descend on dinner and diners.
All we read or hear of the absence of stoves does not bring the facts so sharply to our attention as the editorial notice of an advertisement for stoves in a local newspaper of 1845. "If, " the editor says to the subscriber, "you have never tried one, you have no idea of its convenience and utility. " A fireplace was the necessity of the poorest, a stove the luxury of the well to do. In those days there were candles, sealing wax, small panes of glass, bare rafters, hand sewing, and horseback riding. Our grandparents would have been grateful for a dinner table lighted by electric lights, for gummed envelopes, for the timesaving sewing machine, for the convenience of plate glass, and for the wonderful motorcar. Now we think that having their old- time necessities is an indication of refined taste. The warm- ing pans and nightcaps of our great-grandparents were not for fashion, but for comfort. The valance or curtain of the high four-poster was to keep out the stiff breeze that some stray chink might let blow in too freshly. The beds were ample, high, wide, and corded. And if they were comfort- able, they were sure to have that oriental luxury -- a feather bed!
With new immigration, the agricultural population came, and plowing with oxen and the planting of orchards began. The old orchards of Johnny Appleseed were greatly appreciated by the early settlers. From both gratitude and pity, he was allowed to lie on many a kitchen floor by the fireplace. Even in this fertile soil the necessary labor was pitiless in its exactions. Agricultural implements were so imperfect that planting and harvesting meant patient and severe toil. The first settlers had sheared, carded, spun, hackled, fulled, dyed, and woven; they realized the value of their material when their textiles were ready to wear. Such activity was a lesson in practical economics, and it made each one ready and anxious to cut his garment according to his cloth.
Among the diversions of the women were such co- operative industries as quilting bees, apple butter parings, and candle dippings. Add to this the busy spring days of
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soapmaking and the fall carnage of hog -killing, and one sees that there must have been many strenuous seasons and many tired muscles. Through it all for the pioneer mother there was the regular business of cradle-rocking, one task that with its work and worry carried its own balm and blessing.
Young ladies were sent east to finishing schools and had such studies as were thought suited to the female mind. They engaged in such mild athletics as battledore and shut- tlecock. They studied music and learned to play on a piano resembling the spinet with its thin metallic trills. Of this same tinkling trill Mrs. Earle writes: "There is no sound in the nineteenth century that at all resembles it. Like log- gerheads in the coals and lug poles in the chimney, like church lotteries and tithingmen, the spinet -- even its very voice -- is extinct. "
New elegancies began to invade the social life of the place. Not long after Mrs. P. P. Bailey left the first call- ing cards for the ladies on her visiting list, another delight- ful shock came -- a party was to be given, and "P. P. C. " was in one corner of the invitations.
Up in the attic I found them, locked in the cedar chest, Where the flowered gowns lie folded, which once were brave as the best;
And, like the queer old jackets and the waistcoats gay with stripes,
They tell of a worn-out fashion -- these old daguerre- otypes.
Quaint little folding case, fastened with tiny hook, Seemingly made to tempt one to lift up the latch and look,
Linings of purple velvet, odd little frames of gold, Circling the faded faces brought from the days of old.
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Queer oil paintings, miniatures, water colors, and other examples of the art of the day hang on the walls of old homesteads. Sometimes, alas, these searched-for pictures lie in dusty attics; sometimes they have gone through a rum- mage sale to a more appreciative owner; and not infrequent- ly they are ashes -- by accident or design. Sometimes an eastern or southernlimner lefta canvas of real beauty which secured its place among the family treasures because of its art rather than sentiment. But whether it is a crudely done "family group, " or a silhouette, or a Rembrandt Peale, nothing can give at a glance so much information about old customs and fashions as an old picture. Sometimes the name of the artist is forgotten by a careless generation, but of a certainty Mr. Rockwell, Mr. Freeman, B. G. Cosgrove, J. Hegler, and A. B. Craft painted here before 1850. On February 3, 1844, A. B. Craft published the following ad- vertisement:
"The subscriber informs the public that he is now ready to take in a superior style the likenesses of all who will favor him with their custom. All likenesses are war- ranted correct and satisfactory or no charge made. Ladies - and gentlemen are respectfully asked to call and examine specimens. "
Then, in 1845, J. Hegler announces himselfas a "por- trait painter, " but he will also paint "landscape window shades, fire screens, etc. " Daguerre's process of using the sun for an artist was beginning to make its way to this growing and thriving town. In 1840 Dr. Draper had suc- ceeded in making daguerreotype portraits in New York. At first the "sun process" was supposed to be suitable only for still life. But very lovely and flattering were the portraits made by these "Daguerrean artists, " as the advertisements called them. Early in the fifties exquisite pictures and fine cases came from the gallery of Mr. McDonald. Ten years later we find Mr. Benham at his Premium Gallery at the corner of Calhoun and Columbia streets ready to make pho- tographs "in the highest degree of perfection known to the art. " And then came the charming ambrotypes with both detail and softness to recommend them. The very cases
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have an old-time charm. Some were inlaid with gold or silver lines or mother-of-pearl. Sometimes whole cases were of mother-of-pearl or of the precious metals. The larger ones were made in imitation of books; and with their gilt titles, "Token" or "Souvenir, " they could have stood among a row of prayer or gift books. One exquisite case is covered with green velvet outside and inside and has gold corners. Another has a beautiful ivory cameo set in the mother-of-pearl. But all these were soon superseded by the commercially profitable ferrotype, tintype, and photograph.
Although the editorials and the news columns of the early papers are reticent as to the daily life of their sub- scribers, the advertisements are frankly confidential. Al- most every line marks the difference between yesterday and today. For example, in 1845, A. B. Miller makes special note of the fact that he has for sale potash kettles and grind- stones and that he will pay the highest prices for one hun- dred tons of black salts and ten thousand bushels of ashes. Today potash kettles have fallen into innocuous desuetude, and the term "black salts" is given in neither dictionary nor book of chemistry. About the same time Dr. Beecher, who, like most early physicians, had a "doctor shop, " desired to exchange drugs, medicines, paints, or dyestuffs for bees - wax, ginseng, and senega snakeroot. Then Robinson and Paige advertised "Men's heavy waxed boots, heavy fisher- man's or hunter's long boots, also woman's and girl's bro- gans, fine for the country. " We cannot but wonder if those brogans did service inpicking cranberries in the great cran- berry bog west of town. £ When an advertisement lays spe- cial stress on "city-made slippers and gaiters" we know the day has gone by when young Francis Aveline could make moccasins or shoepacks for the whole village. Again, the meaning of an advertisement may be absolutely unintelligible without local and intimate knowledge of the affairs of the day. For example, Hamilton and Williams offer for sale a mysterious commodity, "White Dog and scrip. " This is merely a line from the sad financial tale of the Wabash and Erie Canal. Blue Dog and its fractional currency, Blue Pup, belonged to the same litter as the wildcat money of
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Michigan. In an early paper Peter P. Bailey, at the Sign of the Padlock, calls attention to his large and well-selected stock of hardware and miscellaneous goods. Very attractive it is to read of his spectacles and snuffboxes, of his tobacco boxes, cigar cases, hearth brushes, lard and oil lamps, britannia candlesticks, brass and iron firedogs, powder horns, and nails. A little later at the Sign of the Padlock there are a hundred stoves for sale! Besides the Arcola Company's new and splendid hot-air parlor stoves, there are Premium cooking stoves and a jewel of a stove called Atwood's Hot Air Empire Cooking Stove. The alluring ad- vertisement says, "For this stove two sticks of wood will last all day. " With a fine vagueness as to quantities, Sinclair and Chittenden announce, "We want a right smart chance of butter and a pretty considerable lot of eggs, for which we will pay either cash or goods. " The names of the materials kept at the Mammoth Cave (S. Hanna and Sons) have an old- time sound. There are Carolina plaids, organdies, delaines, lusters, ginghams, alpacas, brocaded silks, and satinettes.
Mrs. Paul, milliner on Berry Street opposite the Presbyterian Church, with pardonable pride boasts of her "Patent Bonnet Press, the only one west of the mountains. " She can at any time turn, clean, and alter straw and leghorn hats. Mrs. Paul's competitors were the Misses Wells, whose fine needlework is yet well remembered. Bits of their handiwork may still be seen in delicate old lace caps and Quaker bonnets. They did much sewing for the gentry of the day. One famous order was for a long broadcloth coat for "Queen Godfrey. " As wealthincreased, the dandies had an opportunity to try to outshine one another. At the Fashionable Emporium of James M. Blossom could be found figured satin, silk, and merino stocks, cravats, and scarves; silk and linen purses; half hose; silk and common suspend- ers; ivory dressing combs and combs of buffalo horn. At the old rifle shop owned by Moses Yering, there was a fine supply of guns, rifles, and pistols. His earliest advertise - ments do not mention revolvers; probably at that time Sam- uel Colt's invention was not commonly used here.
Soon a taste for imported goods developed. Royal W.
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3
5
Las
Rip it out and do it over!
Taylor advertises children's French coats and Egyptian dresses, also honeycomb shawls. Anyone who had furs, coonskins, deerskins or bearskins, beeswax, flaxseed, or, better than all else, black salts could buy many wonderful things. The cabinetmakers were busy, for a new and rapid- ly growing population needed newfurniture. Joseph Johnson announces that he has on Barr Street, north of the market house, an assortment of those new and fashionable articles, Venetian window blinds. Special advertisements offer for sale buffalo robes, sperm and mold candles, candle wick- ing, fine riding whips, bedcords, sugar kettles, and one curious offer of a "smut mill cheap. " All this is before 1850. The advertisements change with customs and fash- ions, for later the purchaser is begged to call to see Bal- moral skirts, hair nets, nubias, and new styles in hoop skirts.
One personage was known as "Auntie Vance" to the whole village, but her name is written, Sallie C. Vance, among the charter members of the First Presbyterian Church. Her age was a mystery about which she allowed - no levity and no discussion, for she was a maiden lady of - the old school. She was also the self-appointed censor of the Presbyterian Sewing Society. This society met every other week at the homes of members to sew for home mis- sionaries. Before the sewing day, a large clothesbasket holding the work would be taken to the house of the enter- taining member. The cutting, basting, and sewing would continue all afternoon. Just before time for refreshments, all completed articles had to pass muster beneath Auntie Vance's sharp black eyes. And woe betide the hapless nee- dlewoman who did careless work or put long stitches in the pantalets or pea jacket for the mission child. She would take a garment and look it over, searching each minute part. If satisfactory, it had passed muster. But if unac- customed or indifferent hands had held the needle, she would cry out scornfully, "Look at that!" The culprit whose work was held up for all the sewing society to see had no appeal from the decision, "Rip it out and do it over!"
She used the Christian name of every friend and ac-
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quaintance. One day a gracious and lovely hostess said to her, "Auntie Vance, isn't your tea right ? I remembered you liked it strong, and I put in an extra quantity. " Auntie Vance looked severely down the table and said, "Susan, when one puts extra tea in the pot, one is bound to taste it in the cup. " Her minister asked how she liked his last Sunday's dis- course. She answered, "Jonathan, I like that sermon every time you preach it. " She was a church regulator of undoubted influence. When someone suggested an increase in the num - ber of church elders, Auntie Vance replied with cutting sar- casm, "Yes, the church needs elders! But where do we see proper timber for elders?" The timberless congrega- tion had no reply ready.
C. E. Slocum and R. S. Robertson, HISTORY OF THE MAUMEE RIVER BASIN (Indianapolis: Bowen & Slocum, 1905), Vol. II, pp. 60-81.
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