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 4
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Early Reminiscences.
to himself and to the entire satisfaction of the public, and his numerous friends of both political parties.
Dr. Dunlap was a man of very warm feelings and friend- ship, and would go any length to serve a friend; but if his displeasure was once incurred, and he had reason to believe his confidence had been misplaced, he would hardly ever for- get it. Although he was not a revengeful man or bore malice, he would steer clear of those whom he thought had mistreated him.
He died in 1862, leaving a small family in very comfortable circumstances, with some fine city property. Of his three sons but one is now living, Dr. John Dunlap, of this city. James, his eldest son, and a portrait painter, died in 1865.
CONRAD BRUSSELL,
The first baker, was a low, thick, heavy-set Dutchman, nearly as thick as he was long. He was more generally known as "Old Coonrod." He came here in the fall of 1821, and built a small cabin on the north bank of the ravine (known at that time as the River Styx), just opposite where Kingan's pork-house now stands, and about one hundred yards above its junction with the river.
This cabin answered "Coonrod" for a residence as well as a bakery, as he was a bachelor and had no family, but his little dog "Boas." This dog resembled his owner very much iu appearance, short, bow legs, thick, heavy body, and very good- matured, except when an Indian wished to enter the dom- icil. Coonrod said Boas could smell an Indian a mile ; neither had the worthy baker a very exalted opinion of them, and preferred losing their custom to endangering his scalp. His oven was built on the east side of the cabin. Four posts were planted in the ground, about five feet apart, and formed a square. On the posts was made a platform of puncheons ;
47
Conrad Brussell.
on the puncheons was dirt sufficient to prevent them from taking fire. The dirt was plastered to form the bottom of the oven. Then a kind of frame-work was built (the shape and size he wanted the oven), plastered and left a sufficient time to dry ; a fire was kindled on the inside that burnt out the frame-work and left the oven. In this oven was baked the first rusk and ginger-cake in Indianapolis.
He was patronized by nearly all the inhabitants, his best customers being the travelers seeking locations in the New Purchase. Our family sent every time he baked (which was twice a week), to get some of his nice warm rusk; but a little circumstance occurred that lost him one customer. Coonrod was very much afflicted with sores on his arms; indeed, his whole appearance was rather boilious for a baker.
As usual, Saturday evening, I was sent to Coonrod's for the quarter's worth of rusk. I found the old man in rather a despondent mood; I saw in a moment that something was the matter; if Boas had died he could not have looked more wo- ful. When I asked him for the rusk, "Oh, Johnny," said he, "I will have none for Sunday. Last Wednesday, when I baked, mixing the dough hurt me so much I have scarcely been free of pain since. The flour got into the sores on my arms, and I was not able to-day to mix the dough for the
rusk." This simple but truthful tale was sufficient to induce our family to forego the use of his rusks from that time. Other customers found out the same thing, and he closed business for want of patronage. When, like the Moor of Venice, he found his occupation gone, he sought a home in other parts.
How different the first bakery of Indianapolis to those of the present day; how different from the last that has com- menced business in this city-the establishment of G. W.
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Early Reminiscences.
Caldwell & Co., where that beautiful and delicious acrated bread is manufactured, in any quantities the demand may re- quire, from one to ten thousand loaves per day, and without the hand coming in contact with the dry flour or the dough. The flour is taken from the barrel with a shovel, and thrown into a sieve moved by machinery. This sieve will prevent the smallest particle of dirt passing through it. The flour passes into a reservoir or kneader, where it is mixed, and from the kneader passes into the pans for baking, and is never touched by the hand, until handling for delivery to customers. A visit to this establishment would induce the use of this kind of bread ; if for no other reason, for cleanliness alone. You will see the utter impossibility of the smallest house fly pass- ing through the sieve, to say nothing of the filthy cockroach often found in the middle of the loaf of bread manufactured in the ordinary way. I care not how careful and cleanly the baker or housewife may be, there will sometimes dirt or in- sects get mixed with the dough and not be discovered until it is baked.
In this establishment are two kneaders, one of which will mix a barrel, the other one and a half barrels of flour at a time; and in a few minutes from the time the flour is thrown into the sieve it is ready to bake.
In speaking of the above establishment, I do not wish to disparage the other fine bakeries of the city, in many ef which can be found as fine articles as in any similar bakeries in the United States.
In the houses of Nickum & Parrott, the Cincinnati Bakery, and Ball, of Illinois street, will be found every variety of cake; and they are in striking contrast with the first bakeries of Indianapolis.
The crackers of Mrs. Thompson have a reputation unsur- passed, if equaled, anywhere.
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John Shunk.
JOHN SHUNK.
John Shunk was the first man that ever attempted in this place to manufacture a "wild varmint " into something, and call it a "hat."
He built a log cabin on the bank of the river south of the ravine and woolen-mill, and near where Kingan's pork-house is now located.
His cabin was about fifteen by eighteen feet square, which served the energetic proprietor as parlor, kitchen, chamber, hall and shop. The kettle used for boiling or stewing the various kinds of skins into hats was placed on a stone furnace in the middle of the room, or dirt floor.
His bed stood in the northeast corner. The bedstead was made by boring two holes in the third log from the floor of the house, about seven feet apart. In these holes were driven two poles about four feet in length. The other ends of the poles were fastened to other poles about the same length, and, standing upright, thus formed the framework of the bedstead.
On this frame was laid lengthwise other poles, sufficient in number and size to form the bottom. On this structure was a bed-tick (the original color I can't tell) filled with a combi- nation of leaves and straw. The "kivering " consisted of a very dirty horse or saddle-blanket, and a few dilapidated deer and other kinds of skins. On this couch Mr. Shunk could repose his weary limbs, and at the same time watch and feel the increase of his stock of fleas.
In the southwest corner of the cabin was the fireplace, which was made by building a stone wall on each side of the corner, about four feet high, to protect the logs from the fire. It was of a two-angle shape. A hole in the roof of the cabin was left for the escape of smoke. This, of course, was the culinary part of the establishment, where the potatoes
3
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Early Reminiscenses.
were roasted, the venison broiled on the coals, wild tur- keys stewed, fish fried, and spicewood tea boiled. Mr. Shunk (being a widower) was his own cook, and a cook is generally supposed to select such articles of diet and cook them as best suits his own taste.
In the northwest corner of the house was a broad table, about four feet high and six in length. Over this table, and suspended by a rope (fastened to the rib-pole above), hung a thing that looked something in shape like the bow of a base viol, only much larger. On this bow was a large cat gut string, which he would pull in such a way that it would strike and cut to pieces the combination of hair and fur.
The southeast, and last, corner of the cabin was used as a receptacle or depot for miscellaneous articles.
Mr. Shunk required his customers to furnish their own coon. He would receive them in animate or inanimate con- dition, as best suited the convenience of the customer, and was not slow in manufacturing them into something that looked more like the old-fashioned hollow-log bee-gums of that day than they would like one of Mr. Bamberger's fash- ionable hats of the present.
On one occasion Luke Walpole had employed Mr. Shunk to make him a hat. Whether Mr. W. furnished the coon or not I am not aware. However, the hat was finished and taken to the customer. On close examination Mr. W. thought the animal not quite dead, and wished to know of the worthy hatter if he thought there would be any danger of the hat disturbing his chickens.
In closing this description of the first hatter's shop in In- dianapolis, I must say something of the close of the worthy proprietor. He was a large, fleshy man, would weigh over two hundred and twenty-five pounds, was very fond of grog, and often indulged to such an extent as to render him inca- pable of taking care of himself.
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John Shunk.
He was found one morning in front of his furnace, com- pletely baked brown. The skin was cracked open, and the grease or fat was oozing out.
All that could be done to alleviate his suffering (as recov- ery was impossible) was done by his neighbors and the citi- zens, but he was beyond the reach of human aid, and suffered a few days and closed his earthly as well as his hatatorial career. He was a relative of the late Governor Shunk, of Pennsylvania, and, I believe, otherwise highly connected in that State.
I will now pass from the first hatter-shop of Indianapolis, 1821, to that of Herman Bamberger, of 1870. A few days since I called in at Mr. B.'s, and was invited by the gentle- manly and polite proprietor to look through his extensive es- tablishment. Although I had heard and read a great deal about his as well as other establishments of the kind in the city, I was entirely unprepared to see so large and extensive an assortment as he keeps on hand.
Although Mr. Bamberger is not an "old settler" in the strict senses of the word, or in the sense I generally use the term, yet he has been here sufficiently long, and his establish- ment is one of that kind I wish to use to draw a comparison between the first hatter of Indianapolis and those of the pres- ent day.
I can hardly realize that even the forty-eight years that have elapsed since the existence of the shop of which I have been writing could have brought such a change.
In Mr. B.'s store is found every conceivable shape, form, pattern, style and fashion that could be thought of, with per- haps the exception of John Shunk's style.
I am told by many of his patrons he never suffers a eus tomer to leave his establishment dissatisfied in either price or quality.
Indeed, the very appearance of the store indicates success ;
52
Early Reminiscences.
and success means fair dealing. I am told he has the bulk of the German trade, both in this and adjoining counties.
If a large stock, polite and gentlemanly bearing and ac- commodating disposition are requisite in trade, all those qual- ities will be found in Herman Bamberger. But I am digres- sing from my purpose to show the difference between the first hatter-shop of Indianapolis and those of the present. Could it be possible for John Shunk to awake from his forty-eight years' sleep on the banks of White River, and step into one of these fine establishments, he would hardly take it to be a hatter's shop, or that he, while in the flesh, was anything else than a hatter.
MATTHIAS R. NOWLAND
Was a native of Delaware, born at Dover, the capital, in the year 1787. When quite young, with the family of his father, he emigrated to Chillicothe, Ohio, where he remained until he had attained his majority. He then went to Frankfort, Kentucky, and shortly after his arrival there was married to Miss Elizabeth Byrne, in after years as well, if not more gen- erally, known through Indiana than any lady in it. Who that ever visited Indianapolis, from its beginning to 1856, has not heard of Mrs. Nowland?
' In Frankfort he engaged in active business, and was quite successful during his sojourn there, about fourteen years, and until his removal to this place, the "New Purchase," in 1820. He was a quiet, unobtrusive man, content to attend to his own business and let others do the same; was about the only person at the first settlement of this place who was not a candidate for office, although he was appointed by Mr. Bates, the sheriff, judge of the first election in the new county, that took place in 1822, the first and only office he ever held. In February he returned to Kentucky and induced several families to emigrate and help swell the
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Matthias R. Nowland.
population. In the meantime the two young men he had brought here were busy in clearing the common field, and preparing for a crop the coming season.
After his return from Kentucky he engaged in making sugar in an old Indian sugar camp at the southeast end of Virginia avenue. Many of the sugar-trees that he opened are yet standing. He and myself were there mostly alone, especially at night. That was a very fine season for the man- ufacture of sugar, the season lasting until April, which was very unusual, in after years. In the short time he at- tended to this business, he realized over six hundred pounds of beautiful sugar and a considerable quantity of the finest molasses ;
"Which showed he rightly understood The art, and in this Western wood He scooped the primal sugar-trough, And presided at the "stirring off." He knew every labor, every joy, When quite alone with his rustic boy. He looked through winter, when March would bring The sugar-making and the spring."
The events of the summer of 1821 are already recorded in another chapter.
The agent of the State had set apart three outlots, of about three acres each, to sell to such persons as wished to make briek. One of these, situated at what was the then east end of Washington street, between East and Liberty and Washing- ton and Market, he purchased; and here, in 1822, he made the first kiln of brick that was made in the new purchase, the debris of which may be seen at this time. Working very hard, and taking cold at this brickyard, caused the dis- ease that terminated his life, on the 11th of November, 1822.
However much the stroke of death may be expected, it never comes without a violent shock to our feelings. I well remember
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Early Reminiscences.
" His farewell look, with Christian hope Shone as purely, calmly bright. Alas, when it vanished the night came down, And my poor lone heart no more might own A father's guiding light."
Before his death he had selected a warm, sunny knoll for his future resting place, and received the promise that the hand of affection should often render kind offices to his mem- ory, and for thirty-two years was the pledge faithfully kept by the companion of his bosom.
He had purchased a number of lots at the sale, and had paid the first and second payments, which had to be forfeited in consequence of his death.
The expense incurred in the making of brick, and the loss on the keel-boat and produce speculation, had exhausted his means, which left his family in a quite helpless condition. Bnt thanks to the old citizens who so generously aided us in our time of need, among whom were Calvin Fletcher, Jacob Landis, Isaac Wilson, Daniel Yandes, James Blake, and many others.
Although they, too, were poor, their countenance and ad- vice to a family in our situation and without experience was valuable, and was remembered by my mother so long as she lived.
THE WHETZEL FAMILY.
Fifty years ago, I suppose, there was no family so well known throughout the entire west as that of the Whetzel family, consisting of five brothers, Martin, George, Lewis, Jacob and John. They, or most of them, were born in the Shenandoah valley, but with their father, John Whet- zel, emigrated to Ohio County, Virginia, in the year 1769, and settled about twelve miles from Wheeling, and near where the Clay monument, which was erected by their cousin, Moses Shepherd, now stands,. It was here the Whetzels called home (although their home proper was the woods, or on the track of marauding bands of Indians) ; this, at least,
55
The Whetzel Family.
was the residence of their families, and their place of meet- ing and rendezvous, where were planned their expeditions against the hostile savage. The different expeditions of Lewis, the third brother, and Jacob, the fourth, are pretty generally known to the reading world.
It is with Jacob, who settled on White Water River in the year 1811, and his son Cyrus, now living near this city, I shall confine what I have to say. During the time the white inhabitants of that part of Virginia, now known as Ohio County, were living in a fort, near Wheeling, a turkey was heard to call every morning, about daylight, across a ravine, and about two hundred yards from the fort. One of the men went out one morning and never returned, which created a suspicion in the mind of Mr. Whetzel that the turkey might be something else. He knew of a fissure in the rocks near where the sound of the turkey-call proceeded, and the next night informed his comrades that he was going to solve the turkey mystery. Accordingly in the night he secreted him- self in this place, and awaited patiently the coming of day, as well as the call of the turkey. Just about daylight he heard the call, which proceeded from a tree-top just above where he was concealed, and within shooting distance. He patiently awaited the time when it should be sufficiently light for him to make no mistake of the kind of game he was seek- ing. After waiting about half an hour he plainly saw the form of a tall, well-proportioned Indian raise from his seat in the fork of the tree, and watching closely the path that led from the fort. Just at this time Mr. Whetzel took a sure and deadly aim, and down came the turkey in the shape of a large and athletic Indian, which he scalped as quickly as pos- sible, and returned to the fort, lest the crack of his trusty rifle might bring the comrades of said turkey. Although this was not the last turkey in the woods, it had the effect to stop their gobbling for a while.
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Early Reminiscences.
After Ohio County was organized he was elected a magis- trate, and then, in turn, as was the custom and law that the oldest magistrate should be sheriff and collector of the reve- nue, he became sheriff, and, through dishonest deputies and other causes, became involved, and, eventually, quite poor. He resolved, in the year 1808, to emigrate farther west, and settled in Boone County, Kentucky, where he resided until 1811, when he settled near where Laurel, Franklin County, now is, living there until he settled near the Bluffs of White River.
In the year 1818 he visited the old Delaware chief, Ander- son, at his village on White River, where Andersontown, Mad- ison County, now stands, for the purpose of obtaining permis- sion to cut a trace from his residence on White Water to the Bluffs of White River, which was granted. Accordingly he and his son Cyrus, with some hired hands, cut the trace that summer. The next spring, 1819, he and his son came out and raised a crop, moving his family in the fall to the farm his son now lives on. This trace commenced, as I said be- fore, at his residence in Franklin County, crossed Flat Rock about seven miles below Rushville, Blue River about four miles above Shelbyville, and where a village called Marion now stands; and Sugar Creek near Boggstown; thence near where. Greenwood now stands, to the Bluffs. This was the main thoroughfare for some time, to and from the settlement.
On this trace and near where it crossed Flat Rock, an In- dian, named "Big Buffalo," was butchered by his comrades, in the summer of 1819. "Buffalo" had, twelve moons be- fore, killed an Indian called "Old Solomon." The usual time of twelve moons was given him, to either pay one hun- dred dollars, one hundred buckskins, or forfeit his life. The band were encamped at this place when the time expired, and he was accordingly butchered and left lying in the trace, and was buried by some whites who found him.
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The Whetzel Family.
In the fall of 1819 a party of Indians visited Mr. W. at his house, one of whom was a very large and powerful man, named "Nosey," from the fact he had lost a part of his nose. This Indian proposed shooting at a mark with Mr. W.'s son, Cyrus. The young man beat him very bad; but soon discov- ering that the Indian was very angry, and disposed to be quarrelsome about it, young Whetzel proposed to shoot again, letting the Indian beat him as badly as he had previously beaten the Indian, which had the effect of pacifying him, at least for a while. The Indians then left Mr. W.'s cabin, and had gone only about two miles, when "Nosey" killed one of his comrades. It was supposed the anger engendered by being beaten by Mr. W.'s son had not yet cooled. "Nosey" was also given the usual twelve moons to pay the price of life, which he failed to do, and in the fall of 1820 (about the time the writer of this came to Indianapolis, for I re- member that the cruel manner of the butchery was talked about), "Nosey" was killed by the friends of the man he had murdered. At the expiration of the twelve moons he gave himself up. He was taken to a tree, his arms drawn up to a limb, his legs were parted, and ankles fastened to stakes driven in the ground, and then he was stabbed under the arms and in the groin with a butcher-knife, and tortured in other ways until life was extinct.
In the spring of 1820, the body of a man was found about one and a half miles above the Bluffs, and a man by the name of Ladd was suspected of the murder. He was ar- rested by a set of desperate men, who had banded together, styling themselves regulators; but he was soon released, as there was not a shadow of evidence against him. He then sued the men for false imprisonment, and they were taken to Connersville for trial. This was the first case of litigation in the New Purchase, and a very expensive one it proved, as the ease occupied some time, resulting finally in the plaintiff
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Early Reminiscences.
getting nominal damages. This man, no doubt, was mur- dered by a desperate and notorious Delaware, named Hiram Lewis, as the Indian was in possession of his horse, saddle and bridle, pistol, and a red morocco pocket-book, containing some money on the Vincennes Steam-Mill Company.
In the Indianapolis "Journal," of the third of July, 1827, I find the death of Jacob Whetzel announced as taking place on the second instant. The " Journal" says :
"Captain Whetzel emigrated to the western part of Vir- ginia when but a very small boy, and took a very active part in all the Indian wars in the west of Pennsylvania, Virginia, and what is now the State of Ohio, and carried many testi- monials of his bravery, in the numerous wounds he received in the various combats with the savage foc.
" While in the army, under Generals Harrison and St. Clair, and several other commanders, he performed very laborious duties, and rendered signal service as a spy, which duties he preferred, and for which he was most admirably adapted by his former life."
He left a numerous and respectable family to mourn their loss. The writer, although young at the time of Mr. Whet- zel's death, remembers him very distinctly as a square-built, broad-shouldered, muscular and powerful man, five feet eleven inches in height, about two hundred and fifty pounds in weight, without any surplus flesh, but a fair proportion for such a frame. He died at the age of sixty-three.
Of his seven children, five daughters and two sons, but two are living ; his eldest son, Cyrus, and youngest daughter, Emily, now the wife of one of our most respected citizens, William H. Pinny, Esq. Cyrus Whetzel was born on the first day of December, 1800, in Ohio County, Virginia, and is now one of the few living that belonged to the eighteenth century. Before age began to tell on him he was as straight as an arrow, full six feet in height, hair as black as the raven,
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The Whetzel Family.
with an eye equally black and as keen as a hawk. As has been said before, he came to where he now resides (near Wa- verly, in Morgan County) with his father, in the spring of 1819, and has resided there, on his father's old farm, ever since. He has been very prosperous and has accumulated a fortune, not by speculation of any kind, but by industry and economy; in fact he literally dug it out of the ground, and now owns several of the finest cultivated as well as largest farms in the White River Valley.
I visited him a few days since at his farm, as has been my wont to do for near fifty years, and was shown in one pasture about fifty bullocks ready for the butcher's block, the lightest of which would weigh at least twelve hundred pounds; in- decd, I do not think there is a better stocked farm, for its number of acres (about five hundred), in the State of Indi- ana, if in the entire great West.
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