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 3
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There are many anecdotes of Mr. Johnson yet fresh in the minds of our old citizens. He was an ardent Whig, and took great interest in the elections during the existence of that party.
The first returns of a Presidential election received in this place by telegraph was in the year 1848, when Generals Taylor and Cass were the candidates. He remained in the telegraph office until a late hour of the night, to hear the
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Jerry Johnson.
dispatches read as they were severally received. Addressing himself to the writer, "Wall, John, has old Jerry lived to see the day when a streak of lightning can be made run along a clothes line, jist like some 'tarnal wild varmint 'long a worm fence, and carry nuse from one cend of the yearth to the tother? What would old Jim McCoy say if he wor here to see the nuse come in this way? He'd say, "twiant slow for ten stops, boys; let's have something to drink. Landis, bring us some peach and honey. Whar's Russell, with his fiddle ? and we'll have a reg'lar hoe down, so we will.' "
In the fall of 1847, there were several thousand persons assembled at the Madison depot to witness the arrival of. the first locomotive and train of cars that ever came to Indian- apolis. Mr. Johnson was standing on a pile of lumber, ele- vated above the rest of the crowd. As the locomotive hove in sight, he cried out, at the top of his voice, "Look out, boys; here she comes, h-ll on wheels." As the train stop- ped, he approached the locomotive; said he, "Well, well, who ever seed such a tarnal critter? It's wus nor anything I ever hearn on. Good Lord, John, what's this world gwine to come to ?"
Mr. Johnson died about the year J852. His wife survived him but a short time. His only child, a son, has since died. He was an upright, honest man, with many good traits of character. Although a rough, uncouth man in his manners, he possessed a kind and generous heart, ever ready to do a neighbor a kindness or favor. His house was always open to the unfortunate or wayfaring stranger, without money and without price. Such was Jerry Johnson, a fair specimen of the hospitality, generosity and frankness that characterized the early inhabitants of Indianapolis, when our selfish nature and the love of power and place had not assumed the entire control of our actions, and money was not the standard by which our characters were weighed.
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Early Reminiscences.
There are many yet living that will attest the correctness and truthfulness (if not the elegance) of this short sketch of an "old settler."
DANIEL SHAFFER
Was a Pennsylvania Dutchman, and came direct from Cin- cinnati to this place in January, 1821. He brought the first merchandise of any kind to the New Purchase, or at least to this place, and was the first merchant of Indianapolis.
He built (with the assistance of the settlers) a double cabin south of Pogue's Creek, on the high ground, near the south- ern terminus of Meridian street. He was a large, stout man, about forty years of age, dark complexion, very black hair and eyes, and had the appearance of having been a laboring man ; indeed, just such a person as would meet with a hearty welcome by all the settlers. He seemed to take hold of what was necessary to be done for the common good, with a will that showed great energy and industry. He was the first to call on the "new comers," and tender in behalf of the set- tlers such aid and assistance as they could and were able to render; was foremost at house-raisings and log-rollings, and at all times ready to make any sacrifice to help his neighbors.
The last time I remember to have seen him alive was about the tenth of August, at the raising of my father's second cabin. Being a stout man, he was always selected to "carry up a corner," which required great labor and bodily exertion. It was the labor of that day, I am told by Mr. Blake, that brought on the sickness that terminated in his death, about the eighteenth of the month.
There had been no event up to that time that was so dis- heartening to the entire community as the death of Daniel Shaffer. It seemed his loss could not be supplied by the ac- cession of a dozen men or families; independent of his great services, every one looked upon him as a brother.
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Andrew Byrne.
A few days before Shaffer's death, he, with Mr. Blake and my father, selected the site for the grave-yard, and was the first person buried in it. His grave stands immediately on the brow of the hill, near where the road ran until within a few years. A rude "sand-stone" marks the head, with his name and date of death engraved on it. A few days before my father's death, he requested to be laid by the side of Mr. Shaffer, which was done; and there, too, stands a similar stone, marked "Matthias R. Nowland, died November 11th, 1822." Could these two men, -to-day, awake from their sleep of death of forty-eight years, what strange sights would meet their eyes; could they possibly believe this was the place they left?
Soon after Mr. Shaffer's death, his family, a wife and three children (two sons and a daughter), returned to Cincinnati, where I saw some of them but a few years since.
May the march of improvement and enterprise, now so busy in the immediate neighborhood of the sacred ground where rest the bodies of those two old settlers, never dese- crate their graves, or lay unhallowed hands upon them; but may they be permitted there to lay, until that day when the graves shall be called on to give up their dead to appear be- fore the Great Judge of the Universe.
1326932
ANDREW BYRNE,
Or "Uncle Andy," as he was known generally by both old and young, was the first tailor that came to and commenced the business in Indianapolis, in March, 1821, although he was here at the time the commissioners made the selection for the seat of government.
He was born in Frankfort, Kentucky, in the year 1800, and there learned the tailoring business, and was considered a "first rate workman." He was a small, spare-made man, black hair and eyes, and looked sharp enough to split a ffax-
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Early Reminiscences.
seed in two pieces. You would hardly think he would weigh fifteen pounds, apothecaries' weight. He thought (especially if he had taken a little " bayou blue") he would weigh several ton, and felt as big as a two story house.
Unele Andy could make a garment to suit the most fasti- dious dandy of that early day. He had the whole patronage of Indianapolis in that line; if any were disposed to grumble at prices, he would tell them they had better take their work to another shop. He was generally very independent in busi- ness matters, but was a very unobtrusive, quiet man, unless excited or irritated. His shop was about four feet square, in the corner of my father's cabin. Here the fashionable tailor- ing of Indianapolis was first done. One of the coats there manufactured would be worthy of Barnum's attention at this day. They were only equaled by the hats that were gen- erally worn with them, and were manufactured by John Shunk, an account of which will be found in another sketch.
Uncle Andy made several trips to and from Kentucky, be- fore he could make up his mind to make this place his per- manent residence. He would sometimes drink a little too much, which always rendered him very happy as well as rich for the time being; he imagined he owned Indianapolis by the "right of discovery," and all the citizens were his "ten- ants at will."
For several years before his death, which was in April, 1851, his health was so impaired he was unable to follow his business, and made my mother's house his home.
He now lays in the family portion of the second cemetery, by the side of most of his relatives, who had gone before him. There are many who will see this short sketch, both in the city and throughout the State, who will remember "Unele Andy Byrne." "May he rest in peace."
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Matthias T. Nouland.
MATTHIAS T. NOWLAND
Was born in Frankfort, Kentucky, in 1807, and came with the family to this place. He was a fine English scholar, hav- ing enjoyed the benefit of the tutelage of the Hon. Amos Kendall. He possessed a great deal of native talent, and when grown up was a great wag, and enjoyed innocent sport, as will be seen before this sketch closes.
At the death of my father he was the only one of the chil- dren capable of rendering any assistance to my mother in the support of the family.
In the year 1823, he engaged with Messrs. Smith & Bolton, proprietors of the "Indianapolis Gazette," the first and only paper published here at that time, to learn the printing busi- ness, reserving the privilege of boarding at home. At the end of one year he was sufficiently advanced to earn, and did receive, half wages.
After he had obtained a pretty fair knowledge of the busi- ness, he went to Vincennes and took charge of an office, of which the Hon. John Ewing was proprietor and editor, often, in the absence of the editor, doing his duties.
After being in Vincennes one year (as he had engaged), he was persuaded by a printer to accompany him to New Or- leans, which he did. The second day after their arrival there he stood upon his comrade's coffin to keep it under water while the dirt was being thrown on, he having died of yellow fever. This silent but impressive admonition caused him to return home as quick as possible, and he found work with Messrs. Douglass & Maguire, in the office of the " Journal."
About that time there was a kind of "Jack-legged lawyer" (as they were then called) here from Salvysa, Kentucky, named Eccles. This man was thrusting himself before the people on all occasions, for office. He talked so much about
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Early Reminiscences.
his former residence. and how he stood there, Mat gave him the soubriquet of "Salvysa."
Salvysa was a candidate for the Legislature, and Governor Ray a candidate for re-election. Mat, with his quick percep- tion, soon discovered a fine opening for the enjoyment of his peculiar passion, and became a candidate against Salvysa. Knowing him to be a very irritable and passionate man, he set about getting up innocent charges against him. The first was that he thought it an insult to the people for a Kentucky lawyer, who, in his own State, was thought only fit for and did .keep a "fancy horse," to offer himself to the intelligent citi- zens of Indiana, especially to those of the capital of the State, to represent them in the Legislature. This had the desired effect to irritate Salvysa, who, in a very excited man- ner, asked a suspension of opinion until he should have time to disprove " the vile slander." This gave Mat several weeks to enjoy this charge, for it took some time for Salvysa to send to Kentucky to get the necessary certificates; but in due time they came.
Salvysa, with great exultation, displayed a string of certifi- cates three feet long to prove he was never known to be in any such employment while he lived in Kentucky, and that he (Salvysa) hoped that his opponent would publicly apolo- gize for the "vile charge." This Mat did by saying he had been mistaken; it was not a horse, but a "Jackass" that Sal- vysa had kept in Kentucky, and that he defied the honorable Kentuckian, who had so insulted the people of Indiana, to disprove it. This was only the week before the election, and Salvysa knew he could not get a letter to Kentucky and an answer in less than three weeks, which excited him very much, and cansed him to heap all kinds of imprecations upon the head of Mat.
While he had Salvysa going through the mill, he was not neglecting Governor Ray, but kept him busy clearing up
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Matthias T. Nowland.
charges. One charge against his Excellency was that, while traveling on a steamboat, he registered his name as "J. Brown Ray, Governor of the State of Indiana, and Commander-in- Chief of the Army and Navy thereof." Another was that, while on the steamboat, a servant placed a spittoon before him, and that the Governor told the servant if he did not take it away he would spit in it. The third charge was that the Governor, when he pardoned young Bridges at the falls of Fall Creek, for the murder of the Indians, com- manded young Bridges to stand up, and then addressed him in this way: "Sir, do you know in whose presence you stand?" Being answered in the negative, " You are charged by a jury of your countrymen with the murder of several innocent In- dians. There are but two powers known to the laws of your country that can save you from hanging by the neck until you are dead. One is God Almighty, the Great Ruler of the Universe; the other is James B. Ray-the latter stands before you." With these charges he kept his Excellency in hot water all the time of the canvass, and would occasionally fol low him to adjoining counties.
Mat was one of the "bloody three hundred," and many anecdotes are told of him. during that remarkable expedition. One of the company to which he belonged was very chival- rous, always expressing a wish to meet and encounter hostile Indians, and was very free to express the opinion that the most of the company were afraid that they would meet an enemy. When encamped on the Calumet, a false alarm was given that the hostile Indians were advancing upon them, and preparations made for action. Mat took particular pains to hunt this man up, and found him concealed under the bag- gage wagon, and charged it on him, which furnished sport for the entire command during the balance of the campaign.
Mat was the first to learn the "art preservative of all arts"
in Indianapolis, and the first to learn how to make the
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Early Reminiscences.
composition roller, then so little used by printers. He was a fine pressman, a correct and quick compositor; in short, knew the whole routine of a printing office as well as any person of his day. He was a man of great vivacity and humor, ever ready for an innocent joke; very quick to detect and resent an in- tended insult or injury, and just as quick to forgive and for- get it; was liberal and confiding to a fault.
He brought the first tame pigeons to this place, in 1824, which he carried on horseback from Frankfort, Kentucky, and from which sprung, no doubt, the myriads that now swarm and fly around the city.
No man ever cast a line in White River that was more suc- cessful as an angler. This taste he inherited from his father, who was the first to introduce that fascinating amusement here, in June, 1820, and caught about the first bass with hook and line. at the mouth of Fall Creek.
He was a ready writer, a fair speaker, and possessed the faculty of attracting the attention of the people. He had his faults, but they were rather of the head than the heart. lle died suddenly on the fourth of October, 1834, leaving many friends, and, I believe, no enemies.
Thus passed away a generous-hearted young man, that might have been one of Indiana's brightest sons.
FISH, GAME AND SKUNKS.
At the time of which I am now writing (1821), White River abounded with fish of great variety and choice quality. Its waters were as clear as crystal, and the fish could be seen at the bottom in shoals, and a person could almost select from the number and capture any one desired. If a minnow was cast into the stream, a number of bass would dart at it at once. The people from "in yonder on White Water," came out in the fall when the weather began to get cool, with seines; and, provided with salt and barrels, would load their
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Fish, Game and Skunks.
vagons in a short time with the finest-the refuse would be eft upon the bank, or given to the settlers to feed their hogs. The river abounded with a fish called gar, which was unfit or anything but feeding hogs. John McCormick, with a gig r spear, would load a canoe with them in a short time, suffi- ient to keep his hogs several days.
When the river was frozen over, people would supply them- elves with fish, when they would find them up next to the ce, by striking on the ice over them, which would stun them antil a hole could be cut and the fish taken out. After the lay's work was over, my father often, with hook and line, would catch enough to supply our family for several days.
Fish were not the only game taken from White River at that lay. The more substantial and valuable was the fine fat deer with which the forest abounded, and most generally taken at night in the river. The process was called "fire-hunting." In warm weather the deer would wade in the shallow water at night, to get the long grass and cool themselves, and could be approached very near, at least near enough to make sure of one of them. The bow of a canoe would be filled with dirt in such a way as to prevent any damage to the craft by the fire which would be made on it. The motive power would be a person in the stern of the canoe, who understood the busi- ness and the use of the paddle. The hunter would stand just behind the fire and completely hid from the view of the ani- mal, which would be almost blinded by the light. In this way I have known two persons to take several in one night. Just opposite the mouth of Fall Creek was a great resort for deer, and they could be found there at almost any time of the night.
When the squirrels were emigrating, which was nearly every fall, they could be taken in the river without trouble. So the reader will see that White River furnished a bountiful supply of the finest game that was ever set before an epicure.
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Early Reminiscences.
Nor was this all: the woods were filled with turkeys as "slick and fat" as Heury Clay's negroes (see his reply to Mendenhall). Although they were rather harder to capture than the deer in this way, yet they could always be taken by a hunter that understood the business; indeed, I have known the hunter to set behind a log and call them within ten steps, near enough to select the largest and finest of the number.
Among the most successful hunters was Mr. Nathaniel Cox, who never failed to have his larder and that of his friends well stored with the choicest game of the woods.
In the year 1825, and during the session of the Legisla- ture, a fine turkey was shot from the top of Hawkins' Tavern. A flock had been scared in the north part of town, two lit on the house, one of which was killed. It was no uncommon thing, about the years 1846-47, for turkeys to be killed on the northern part of the Donation. About this time a bear was killed near where Camp Morton now is.
In 1837, a panther or catamount, measuring nine feet from the nose to the tip of its tail, was killed by Zachariah Collins on Fall Creek, near Millersville. In earlier years one fre- quented the island opposite the graveyard, and was often heard to halloo at night; that deterred some from pasturing their horses there on Sundays.
Another kind of game was plenty, but of no value to the white man-the porcupine. The quills with which its back was covered were very sharp; and I have often seen the mouths of the dogs that caught them filled full, which gave them great pain, and they had to be drawn out with tweezers or bullet-moulds. These quills the Indians valued highly, as they were useful to them for ornamenting their moccasins and other handiwork of the squaws.
There was another animal that the dogs never failed to let it be known when they met with them in the woods; although they were not so plenty as the others, a few of them would go
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Fish, Game and Skunks.
a great ways, and generally supply the neighborhood with all they required, and when one was killed either by dogs or hunter, there was plenty to go around. This animal was known by the name of skunk, or generally, by the settlers, as pole-cat; and many was the laugh and jest at its expense. In the summer of 1821, a young man from Kentucky, named Mancher, visited his brother-in-law, Robert Wilmot. While in the woods he met one, and thought it a very pretty thing to take to Kentucky with him as a pet. He tried to capture it alive; but the first fire from the formidable battery of the animal convinced him it was useless to attempt to take him to Kentucky, unless he had a larger supply of eau de Cologne on hand than could be purchased in this market. He con- cluded to not cultivate the acquaintance of the pretty crea- ture any further, although his friends well knew when he returned to the house he had made it.
Those persons who had not the time or inclination to hunt could procure game at almost nominal prices from the In- dians. A saddle of venison for twenty-five cents; fine fat turkeys, of the largest kind, for twelve and a half cents, or three for a quarter; indeed, the Indians were not very close traders, and would take almost anything offered them, especi- ally if it was paid in trinkets or brass jewelry of any kind.
Turkeys were often caught by means of pens constructed for the purpose-a small log pen, about eight feet in length and four wide, made of poles, something like a cabin, and covered tight. A trench was dug about fifteen feet long, and leading under the bottom log into the pen. This trench was of sufficient depth to admit the largest sized turkey. Corn or other grain was scattered along the trench and into the pen. The turkey would feed along with his head down until inside before he was aware of it. He would never think of going out the way he came in, but seek egress from the top. I have known five or six found in a pen at one time.
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Early Reminiscenecs.
CHRISTOPHER HARRISON.
The only one of three commissioners appointed by the Legislature to superintend the laying out and survey of the town that appeared and acted. He was from Salem, Washing- ton County ; was a man about fifty years of age, and like the surveyor (Mr. Ralston), a bachelor. He stopped at the house of, and boarded with, my father. He had no more hair on his head than there was in the palm of his hand, and wore a wig. I shall never forget the fright he gave my younger brother, James. The morning after his arrival at our house, he was out at the well, washing, and had his wig off. James happened to discover the want of hair, and ran to my mother and told her "the Indians had scalped the man that came last night." This she did not understand fully until she stepped to the door and saw his bald head.
I think he was a Virginian by birth, but had been a resi- dent of the territory and State for many years. He was a perfect gentleman in his manners and intercourse with his subordinates in this important work, and won their universal confidence and respect. He remained but a short time after his official duties were ended, and returned to his home.
I do not think he ever visited the place but once afterwards; that was during the first session of the Legislature, in 1825. He lived to a good old age, and died as he had lived, a bachelor.
DR. LIVINGSTON DUNLAP
Came to this place in July or August, 1821, a young physi- cian, in search of a location to commence the practice of his profession. He was from Cherry Valley, New York, where I think he was born and raised.
When he first arrived in this place he stopped at the house of Dr. Samuel G. Mitchell, who lived on the southwest corner
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Dr. Livingston Dunlap.
of Washington and Tennessee Streets, where the State offices now stand. The Doctor was not long here when he had the most indubitable evidence that this was a first-rate place for a physician. Not only the whole family with which he stayed were taken down with chills and fever, but himself, so bad he could neither render assistance to them nor they to him. In this situation my father found them one day when he ealled to see what he could do for them; although our own family were nearly all sick, Mr. Blake and himself were still able to wait on them. My father at once proposed to take the Doctor home with him. But how was he going to get him there? queried the Doctor. "Take you on my back," was the answer; which he did, something like the squaws carried their children or pappooses.
The Doctor remained an inmate of our house for some time. After he recovered, he rendered valuable service, not only to our family, but to those that were sick that fall. Physicians did not think their duty done when they merely had pre- scribed and given the necessary medicine (as now-a-days), but to their duties was added that of nurse. . This portion the doctors performed well and cheerfully.
If I were writing only for the eye of those that knew him during his long career of usefulness in after years, it would be unnecessary to say he stood at the head of his profession. He was for many years the leading physician in this place, and there were very few doubtful or dangerous cases in which he was not consulted by his brothers in the profession.
He was councilman of his ward in 1834, and for several years after. He was physician for the Deaf and Dumb Asy- lum for several years; also, one of the commissioners of the Insane Asylum. He was appointed postmaster by President Polk in 1845, and held the office until April, 1849. All the duties of the different offices he held he discharged with credit
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