USA > Indiana > Marion County > Indianapolis > Early reminiscences of Indianapolis, with short biographical sketches of its early citizens, and a few of the prominent business men of the present day > Part 2
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Robert Wilmot, the second merchant, had a small stock of goods and Indian trinkets, and for a short time carried on a trade with the Indians; but a little circumstance occurred
19
Indian Attempts to Cut a Door Down.
that frightened him, and he soon returned to Georgetown, Kentucky, his former residence.
A Delaware Indian, named Jim Lewis, had pledged some silver hat-bands to Wilmot for goods, and was to return in two moons and redeem them. His word he kept, but when he came back Wilmot had sold them to another Indian, which exasperated Lewis so he threatened W. that if he ever found him going to his corn-field alone he would take his scalp. This frightened him so much that he never would go alone, but often requested and was accompanied by the late Doctor Livingston Dunlap. So fearful was he that Lewis would exe- cute his threat, he sold out, and, as before stated, returned to Kentucky, as it was pretty generally known that Lewis was the murderer of the white man found near the Bluffs on an island of White River. This threat against Wilmot had a tendency to alarm and put on their guard other settlers.
That spring my father made sugar at an old Indian sugar camp (many of the trees are yet standing), at the south-east end of Virginia avenue. He was alone at night boiling the sap. He discovered coming direct to him, and only about thirty steps distant, a man he at once took to be Jim Lewis. He raised his rifle, pointed it at the man, and directed him to stop. The person threw up his hands, and cried out, "Don't shoot, Nowland, it is Harris." It turned out to be an old friend from Kentucky, named Price Harris, who had just ar- rived that evening, and wished to go out to the camp that night. He wore a white hat, which my father took for the silver bands Lewis wore on his hat. After this threat, for some time the settlers did not feel secure, and every little in- cident created alarm.
The supposed murder of George Pogue by the Indians, about this time, increased the alarm, and put the settlers more on their guard than they had ever been. A full account of the disappearance of Mr. Pogue, or all that was ever
20
Early Reminiscences.
known of it, I will give in the next sketch. One writer says he was killed about daylight on a certain morning. How he found that out I am at a loss to understand, as those who lived here at the time never knew he was killed at all, although the circumstances are pretty strong that he came to his death by the hands of the Indians. After reading the next sketch the reader will be enabled to judge for himself.
GEORGE POGUE
Was a large, stout man, very dark complexion, black hair, very broad shoulders, and was, at the time he disappeared, about fifty years of age. His dress was something like that of a " Pennsylvania Dutchman," broad brim, black wool hat, and a drab overcoat, with several capes. To look at the man, you would think he defied all the "Injuns" in the "New Purchase." His cabin was built on the south-east bank of the ercek that took its name from him, at the east end of the Donation, and near where Governor Noble's residence after- wards stood. He was a blacksmith by trade, and the first of that trade to enter the "New Purchase." He, like most all that were here in his day, was directly from "in yonder on White Water."
About the first of April, 1821, a straggling Wyandotte In- dian, known to the settlers, as well as Indians, as "Wyan- dotte John," stopped at the house of Mr. Pogue about twilight one evening, and requested to stay all night. Mr. Pogue did not like to keep him, but thought it best not to refuse him, as he was known to be a very bad and desperate man, having left his own tribe in Ohio for some offense, and was now living among the different Indiana tribes. His principal lodging- place the previous winter was a hollow sycamore log, that lay under the bluff, and just above the cast end of White River bridge. On the upper side of this log he had hooks (made
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George Pogue.
by cutting the forks or limbs of the trees), on which he hung his gun; at the end of the log that lay next to the water he built his fire, which rendered this log about as comfortable as most of the cabins. I well remember it as I have described it. After John had something to eat, Mr. Pogue, knowing him to be traveling from one Indian camp to another, inquired of John if he had seen any white man's horses at any of the camps. He said he had left a camp of Delawares that morn- ing (deseribing their place to be on Buck Creek, about twelve miles east, and near where the Rushville State Road now crosses said creek), and that he had scen horses there with iron hoofs (meaning that were shod), and described the horses so as to lead Mr. Pogue to believe they were his. Although he had described the horses very accurately, Mr. Pogue was afraid that it was a deception to lure him into the woods, and mentioned his suspicions to his family.
When the Indian left his house next morning, he took a direction toward the river, where nearly all the settlement was. Mr. Pogue followed after him some distance, to see whether he would turn his course or not toward the Indian camps, and found that John kept a direct course toward the settlement.
Mr. Pogue returned to his house, took his gun, and with his dog set out for the Delaware camp, and was never seen or heard of after. It is not true that he was seen near the In- dian camp, or that gunshots were heard in that direction, or that his horses and clothing were scen in the possession of the Indians; although there can be but little doubt that the Wyandotte told him true, and that he found his horses in the hands of the Delawares, and in trying to get possession of them got into a difficulty with the Indians, and was killed- at least such was the prevailing opinion here at the time, but any certainty as to his fate was never known, and of course
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Early Reminiscences.
at this late day never will be. The settlers made a thor- ough search through all the Indian camps within thirty or forty miles, but never saw or heard anything of him.
In the summer of 1840, the writer employed John Pogue, son of George, to build a log cabin for the use of the Tippe- canoe Club. While there at work I asked John what his opinion was as to the fate of his father. He said, "he was killed beyond a doubt at the Delaware camp on Buck Creek. The summer after my father left home, I was hunting south . of our residence. I heard the report of a rifle, which was but a few steps from me. Knowing it to be from the gun of an Indian, I directed my steps immediately to it, before he would have time to reload his gun, as I had sworn to kill every Indian I met alone in the woods. A few steps from where I first heard the crack of the rifle, I saw a large, tall Indian reloading his rifle. I took a sure aim, and down came Mr. 'Injun.' I was surprised, when I went up to him, to find he had my father's hat on."
In answer to my question why he never let it be known at the time, he said he was afraid he would be prosecuted for the murder. He said he and his brother Tom went out at night, and brought the Indian to their corn-field and buried him. This story could not have been true, as the Indian would have been missed by his friends, and a disturbance made about it. John Pogue had got to be quite dissipated, and sometimes hardly knew what he said himself.
I do not think there are any of the children of George Pogue now living, at least not in this country. The last of the family, Bennett, removed to some of the Western States, and I understand died soon after.
I have endeavored to give a true account of the mysterious and first incident of note connected with the settlement of this city.
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John Mc Cormick.
JOHN McCORMICK
Was the first white man that settled in this city. He ar- rived here on the twenty-sixth day of February, 1820, and built his cabin on the bank of White River, about ten steps below the east end of the National Road bridge. His two brothers, Samuel and James, helped him to move out and build his cabin. James' family arrived hore on the seventh of March; Samuel did not bring his family until the next fall.
Mr. McCormick kept the first tavern in the place, and en- tertained the commissioners a part of the time when they were here for the purpose of selecting a site for the seat of government. He was very expert with a gig, and could fill a canoe with the most choice fish in a few hours. He frequently gigged the inferior kinds to feed to his hogs.
Mr. McCormick was the first man to leave the fort at Con- nersville, and build a house for a residence, about the year 1813, and there remained until his removal to this place. He died at his residence on the bank of the river in the year 1825. His widow married a man named King, and moved within one mile of the bluffs of White River, where she yet lives, a widow the second time.
Samuel and James McCormick lived in this county many years-Samuel on the farm now owned by Charles Garner, on the west bank of the river, at the crossing of the Craw- fordsville State road. From there he moved to Hendricks County, near Cartersburgh, and there died in June, 1867.
James McCormick died in this county many years since, and left a large family of children, most of whom live in Hendricks County, where their mother also resides.
John McCormick, eldest son of Samuel, yet lives one mile west of the city, on the National Road, and is in the nursery and gardening business.
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Early Reminiscences.
The three elder McCormicks were considered honest and industrious men, and respected in their neighborhood. There has been considerable said and written as to who was the first settler in this place, some claiming that George Pogue was; but I have evidence beyond dispute that Pogue did not come until the latter part of March of that year.
It was Mrs. MeCormick that my father and others saved from falling into the hands of a desperate Indian, that I re- ferred to on another page.
THE HARDING BROTHERS.
The Widow Harding and several sons came to this place in the spring of 1820. Her cabin stood on the bank of the river, on the north side of the ravine, near where the woolen factory of Merritt & Coughlen now stands.
Eleakem, Samuel, Israel, and Laban, were single, and lived with their mother. Robert was married, and lived on the bluff bank, just north of the east end of the National Road bridge. Ede Harding did not come to this place for several years after the rest.
Robert Harding's second son, Mordecai, was the first white child born on the Donation, and is still living four miles west of town, on the National Road.
The elder Hardings are all dead, except Ede and Samuel. Samuel lives at his old homestead, about a mile north-west of the Insane Asylum, on Eagle Creek.
The Hardings were all industrious and energetie farmers, having the opportunity as they did of selecting the best land in the New Purchase, and improved their farms in fine style.
Noah, the eldest and only other son of Robert Harding, lives about three miles west of the city, and is one of our most respectable farmers.
Laban, the son of Ede, owns and lives on one of the best
25
Isaac Wilson.
farms in the county, about six miles from town, north of the Crawfordsville State Road.
It was Samuel Harding who gave the writer his first lesson in horsemanship, allowing him to ride one of his plow- horses to and from the corn-field, morning, noon and even- ing.
Samuel and Israel Harding were brothers-in-law as well as brothers, having married two sisters, daughters of Jeremiah Johnson, and sisters of Jerry , spoken of on another page.
ISAAC WILSON.
This good old Samaritan came to this city in the spring of 1820, and built his double cabin on the northwest corner of the State House Square, the first house of any kind built on the original town plat. He built the first grist mill on Fall Creek, in the years 1821-22; he removed his family to his farm near the mill.
He was one of the most charitable and benevolent men I ever knew, and did as much for the poor during the four or five years he lived after the first settlement of the place as any person here. His house was the place for holding reli- gious meetings and preaching as long as he lived in town, as it was also the stopping place for preachers of all denominations.
Mr. Wilson had been married twice. His first wife's chil- dren lived for many years on White Lick, about ten miles west of town, but those that are yet living have moved further west. He had four children by his last wife-the two boys, Lorenzo Dow and Wesley, are both dead; his two daughters are yet living. Patty is the wife of Samuel J. Patterson, and lives on her father's old farm; Elizabeth is the widow of Isaac Harris, and lives near her sister. They are the oldest settlers living near the town, while the writer claims to be the oldest living within the city limits.
Mr. Wilson was very kind to my father and mother, and 2
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Early Reminiscences.
assisted us a great deal, which will be kindly remembered by the writer as long as he lives. He presented us with a cow and calf, ours having died a few days after my father's death.
SPRING OF 1821.
The spring of 1821 brought out a great many persons from the "settlement," for the purpose of raising a "erap," pre- paratory to moving their families in the fall.
The undergrowth of a large field was cleared in common by almost the entire population. The south side of the field only was fenced (with a brush fence); the north side and cast and west ends were left open, as there was no stock that would be likely to disturb the growing crop. Indeed, the first and second years there were very few cattle and hogs, and they grazed on the south side of the field, where the fence was. The few horses were kept in the plow during the week, and on Sundays were taken to the island just across the river from the old city cemetery to graze. This island abounded with peavine and other fine pasture. The animals were gen- erally "spaneeled, " or hobbled, by tying a rope around the forclegs, between the pastern-joint and hoof; and their own- ers watched them through the day, to prevent them being stolen by the Indians. The poor animals got very little to eat except spice boughs through the week. It was a great treat to them to have the fine pasture of the island on Sunday. I have often heard the settlers remark that their horses would do twice more work on Monday than any other day of the week.
A great many persons that were here for the purpose of raising a crop, were deterred from bringing their families in the fall. in consequence of the sickness of that summer. For a while there was scarcely one person able to hand another a drink of water.
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Spring of 1821.
During the spring and summer there were many valuable and permanent accessions to the population, among which were Alexander W. Russell, Dr. Samuel G. Mitchell, Dr. Liv- ingston Dunlap, Dr. Isaac Coe, our present and venerable fellow-citizen James Blake, Daniel Yandes, Samuel Morrow, of Georgetown, Kentucky (there being two Samuel Morrows,) Calvin Fletcher, Samuel Henderson, Thomas Chinn, Thomas Anderson, John Givan, James Givan, James Paxton, and many others, who proved to be valuable citizens; also the commissioner, Christopher Harrison, and surveyor, Alexan- der Ralston, to commence the survey of the new capital of Indiana.
In February of this year, my father had returned to Ken- tucky, and induced a man named Elisha Herndon to join him in. the purchase of a keel-boat, and load it with flour, bacon, whisky, and such articles as might be necessary during the coming summer, in view of the survey of the town being made. The late Col. A. W. Russell, then a very young man, was prevailed upon to take charge of the boat as supercargo, and bring it from Frankfort, Kentucky, to this place, where he arrived about the first of May. The Kentucky and Ohio Rivers were descended without any difficulty, the rivers being high. The Wabash and White Rivers were ascended by what is called "cord-elling," or tying a rope to a tree some distance above the boat, and then pulling the boat up to the point; and sometimes poling or pushing the boat by means of poles. In this way, they were about six weeks in ascending the Wabash and White Rivers. This was the first boat that ever ascended the river this far; and the first Fourth of July was celebrated (by all who were not too sick) by a trip on this boat to Anderson's Spring, which was about one and a half miles above the settlement, on the west side of the river, near where the Crawfordsville State Road now crosses. The cargo of this boat was sold at a great loss, owing to the
28
Early Reminiscences.
great expense incurred by the hire of hands necessary to bring it up the Wabash and White Rivers.
One or two other keel-boats, also ladened with provisions, arrived; their cargoes were in a damaged condition, the flour damp and musty; indeed, sweet flour was the exception, and damaged flour had to be used, and from this cause some thought the most of the sickness of that year arose.
The hands that were engaged to bring those boats here found ready employment by the surveying party as axe-men, chain-carriers, etc.
As I have said elsewhere, the historical events will be found in the biographical sketches I shall hereafter introduce.
ALEXANDER WILSON RUSSELL
Was born in Franklin County, Kentucky, on Benson Creek, about three miles from Frankfort, the capital of the State. His father, James Russell, was one of the most respectable farmers of that section of country; and was also the father of Captain John Russell (recently deceased), well known as one of the first and most efficient steamboat captains on the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers.
Alexander W. Russell, as stated in another sketch, came to Indianapolis in May, 1821, being the first white man that had ascended White River thus far in a keel-boat. It was not Mr. Russell's intention, for some time after he came here, to make it his permanent place of residence; but he immediately found employment in assisting to lay off the town. After that was completed he returned to Kentucky, and during the next winter concluded to make this place his residence. At that time he was quite young, and with but little experience, but had a very popular manner and way of making every per- son like him. In addition to this, he was a very fine per- former on the " fiddle," which added greatly to his usefulness in a new country, as no log rolling, house- raising or quilting,
29
Alexander Wilson Russell.
could well afford to dispense with the services of Aleck Rus- sell (for he was not yet known as Major or Colonel, as he afterwards was). He was always on hand at Helrey's, on the school section, or old Jim McCoy's, near Broad Ripple; and no "gathering" of any kind would be complete until he had "entered an appearance." The first office, I believe, he was a candidate for and elected to, was that of "Major," which title he was called by for several years; then after the retirement of Mr. Harvey Bates, he was elected second sheriff of the county, which office he held the constitutional limit (two terms), and held the same office several times afterwards. He was elected to the office of Militia Colonel, and continued as such until the office died out for want of military spirit in the people to keep it up.
Colonel Russell was commissioned by Governor Noah Noble, the latter part of May, 1832, to raise three hundred volunteer militia, and proceed without delay to the seat of the Black Hawk or Indian War of that year, which he did; and the very fact that Russell was to be the commander-in-chief in- duced many to join that bloody expedition who otherwise would have remained at home. This expedition, it will be remembered, was composed of the best citizens of this and adjoining counties, who were to arm and equip themselves- horses, rifles and camp equipage-all at their own expense, and report in companies to Colonel Russell as soon as full. This was accomplished in a few days, and all ready for march- ing orders. Their camp or rendezvous was on the high ground just beyond West, and on the right side of Washing- ton street.
Well do I remember the Sunday morning their long train of three hundred mounted men, reaching from their encamp- ment to the corner of Pennsylvania street (where they turned north), wound their way along Washington; the many tears that were shed by loving wives and disconsolate mothers, as
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Early Reminiscences.
they took (as they supposed) a last long look at their friends, who were rushing to meet the "bloody Injuns," and offer their lives as a sacrifice upon the altar of their country. Well do I remember the tin-horn, about six feet in length, out of which was blown the most doleful noise that ever reached the ears of man; the only wonder to me was that the man, instead of blowing such a noise out of the horn, had not blown his own brains out.
Most conspicuous among this self-sacrificing band of pat- riots, if not martyrs, was General James P. Drake, Arthur St. Clair, Stoughton A. Fletcher, Judge Elisha M. Hunting- ton, S. V. B. Noel, General Robert Hanna, John Tracy, Capt. John Wishard, Matthias T. Nowland, Capt. Alexander Wiley, Robert McPherson; and last, though by no means least, was Colonel Russell himself, and his worthy superior officer, Gov. Noble.
This expedition lasted just three weeks, and terminated on the third of July; on the fourth they were tendered and ac- cepted a public dinner given by the citizens at Washington Hall. Out of the thirteen named above there are but five living, and I have no doubt they often recur to the many pleasing and amusing incidents of that campaign of the "bloody three hundred."
Colonel Russell was for many years a successful business man and merchant-was a stockholder in and director of the Branch Bank, also in Washington Hall. He was ap- pointed Postmaster under General Taylor's administration, and died while in that office, in 1852.
There are many anecdotes of the Colonel extant. His clerks used to say of him that he would sell a man a pound of tobacco, and before the man would leave the counter ask him for a chew; such was his habit, he would ask for it when he really did not want it. No man ever lived in Marion
31
Jerry Johnson.
County that enjoyed the confidence of the people more than he did, and none ever died more regretted. He was of a cheerful and hopeful disposition, and his every act showed his kindness of heart and devotion to his friends.
Mr. Russell was an ardent and enthusiastic Whig of the old school-a warm personal friend of the late John J. Crit- tenden, of Kentucky; indeed, as he was of every person to whom he was attached. Like many others, he had one fault- he never learned how to use the word "No," and consequently injured himself by security, although he owned at the time of his death considerable property.
He left several children, all of whom seem to inherit his many good qualities of both head and heart.
As Colonel Russell's name is identified with the history of Indianapolis for the first thirty-two years, I shall have occa- sion to refer to it often.
JERRY JOHNSON.
This singular and eccentric individual came from the White Water country, with his father's family, in the winter of 1820-21. They settled on a piece of land they afterwards bought adjoining the Donation, on the north side, opposite "Camp Morton," the present Fair Ground.
A neighbor of theirs, "Old Billy Reagin," had two beau- tiful daughters (his only children), Miss Rachel, the eldest, and Miss Dovey, the younger. Young Jerry was not slow in discovering that " Miss Rachel was the purtiest critter his two eyes ever seed;" and, said Jerry, "I detarmined from the mo- ment I first seed her, to have her, or die a-trying."
Jerry pressed his suit with all the ardor of his youthful passion, and soon won the heart and promise of the hand of the beautiful Rachel. There were other troubles to be sur- mounted of a more formidable nature-the county was not yet organized, and no person authorized to issue the necessary
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Early Reminiscences.
legal document to make the contract between him and Rachel binding, and consummate his happiness for life. The nearest point where the necessary license could be procured was Connersville, about sixty miles distant, and through an unbroken wilderness. Another circumstance made Mr. John- son's trouble still greater; it was in the spring time of year, and his father could not spare him a horse from the plow. All these difficulties seemed to nerve rather than depress the spirits of Mr. Johnson. He well knew the danger of delay in such affairs, and fearful if he should wait for a horse, some other swain might woo and win the heart of the fair Rachel, which he wished to claim as quick as possible for his own, with a determination worthy of the cause in which he was engaged, he at once set out to "do or die," and started on foot, and barefoot at that, to make the journey alone. He ac- complished his journey, and returned to find other difficulties, which if not so laborious, were equally disheartening, and cal- culated to make him believe that fate was against him. There was no magistrate yet appointed for the county, nor was there a minister authorized to tie the legal knot, and make them Mr. and Mrs. Johnson; so poor Jerry had to wait six long weeks, principally in the month of April, for a preacher to come and make him the happiest man in the New Purchase, and Rachel, as she was (like the goose that hung high), "altogether lovely." So ended the first courtship and wed- ding in or near Indianapolis.
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