USA > Indiana > Madison County > Historical Sketches and Reminiscences of Madison County, Indiana: A Detailed History of the. > Part 33
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Booco became enraged at last, yelping out at the top of his voice, "Boys, boys, be still. Don't you know that a coon is a h-l of a sly thing?" He yelled out so loud that if a coon had been within a mile of him, it would have scared him to death. The boys laughed so heartily that it made Booco raging mad and the hunting party was broken up.
SAD DEATH OF A ONCE PROMINENT DRUGGIST.
Garrett W. Brown was, at the time of his death, one of the best known and most highly respected citizens of Madi- son county. He was born in this county on the 19th day of June, 1889. For many years he lived upon a farm south of Anderson, in Fall Creek township. He was married about 1865 to the daughter of Jacob DeMott, a prominent farmer, who lived near the city of Anderson, after which Mr. Brown removed to the city of Anderson and engaged in the drug business with the brother of his wife, Mr. Frank DeMott,
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under the firm name of Brown & DeMott, which firm con- tinued doing business in the room which was, until recently, occupied by Blank's Clothing Store, on the south side of the public square. DeMott remained in the firm for some time, and then sold out to Brown. Mr. Brown then removed the business into the room occupied by Buck, Brickley & Co., on the corner of Ninth and Main streets, and here he continued until the time of his death, on Sunday, September 19, 1886. The facts of this accident were about as follows : Mr. Brown had been in the habit of taking extract of dandelion occasion- ally, for some disorder of the stomach, and on the Sunday mentioned, at about 11 o'clock he went to his store, and took from a shelf what he supposed to be a bottle of dandelion, and took about a teaspoonful of it. As soon at he had swal- lowed the drug it dawned upon his mind that he had made a mistake and had taken belladonna instead. It seems from his actions immediately after taking the fatal dose, that after all he was uncertain as to whether he had, or had not, made a mistake. He got some mustard, an antidote for such poisons, and started home, going past the residence of Dr. John C. Cullen, on South Main street. Here he stopped and informed the doctor of what he had done, who advised him to go straight home and take the mustard at once. After Mr. Brown had left Dr. Cullen's house, the doctor became uneasy and followed him. He found upon arriving at Mr. Brown's house, that he had taken the mustard and was vomiting freely, but the doctor saw from the symptoms that the case was a very serious one, and immediately summoned other physicians to his assistance. It was noised around in a short time what had happened to Mr. Brown, who, being on very good terms with the physicians of the city, it was only a short time until many of bis medical friends came to hiw aid. They worked with the unfortunate man all through the night and until 9 o'clock the next morning, when he died from the effects of the poison, after every relief known to medical science had been administered.
The wife to whom Mr. Brown was married in 1865, lived but a short time, and he was again married to Miss Catherine L. Grove, of Warsaw, Indiana. This lady survived him, and afterwards became the wife of Dr. George F. Chittenden, now residing in the city. Besides his wife Mr. Brown left three children, the eldest a son, Cheater, and two daughters, Olga and Hazel, who are all living with their mother.
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Garrett W. Brown was the personification of honesty, and in all his dealings was fair with his fellow-men, believing in the doctrine of living and let live. He was liberal to his family, and charitable to the poor. And yet, while he was charitable in his disposition, he was also economical in his business habits, and amassed a nice fortune which he left to his bereaved family. The closer the relationship one had with Mr. Brown the more dearly he was beloved. He was a mem- ber of the Methodist Episcopal church, and was prominent in that organization for a number of years. His remains were interred at Anderson cemetery, followed by a large concourse of people. His funeral sermon was preached by Rev. Mr. Kemp, pastor of the Methodist church, who was assisted by Rev. Dr. Ziegler, of the Presbyterian congregation.
BENJAMIN SEBRELL, AN EX-SHERIFF.
Benjamin Sebrell was one of Madison county's old-timers, who cut quite a figure in the county's history both as a citizen and a politician. He came from Virginia at an early day and settled in Boone township, when all that part of the country was a wilderness, a part of the township then being in the " Indian Reserve." He was a large, stout man, just the kind for a pioneer. He cut out of the dense forest a fine farm for himself, living there until 1862, when he was elected sheriff of Madison county, which office he held for four years, and a better or more popular sheriff never filled that place. He was one of those large, warm-hearted fellows that draw men to them, and he counted his friends by the score. His most esti- mable wife was his equal in generosity and benevolence and was universally beloved by all who knew her. No one ever came to her door hungry and was turned away. After retiring from the sheriff's office, the Sebrells kept the Ross house tor many years, at the corner of Tenth and Main streets, and were favorites among the traveling people, the host and hostess be- ing always on the alert to see that their guests were properly fed and cared for ; Mr. Sebrell being jolly in his nature, made it a pleasure for the drummer to " Sunday over " with him.
He was a devoted friend and admirer of Colonel Stilwell, they having spent many happy days together. Colonel Stil- well had just returned from a week's visiting and hunting on the Sebrell farm on the fatal evening when he met his death ; he and a party of friends having gone out there for a few days' recreation and sport, when on the evening of his return
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he met his rival which resulted so fatally to him. Mr. Sebrell took the Colonel's death bitterly to heart and never got over it. Ben Sebrell was an uneducated man, but had a giant intellect, and had it been properly cultivated in his younger days, he would have been one of the foremost men of the times.
His head was full of old-fashioned " horse sense." He was a man that seldom lost his temper and always had a way of gaining his points by good humor and persuasive argument. His frame was made of iron and could stand any kind of hard- ships. One time he was a witness to a street row and went in to quiet it by his usual good-natured way, by talking the participants out of their anger. Someone standing in the crowd threw a bowlder, hitting Sebrell in the breast, but it never staggered him or gave him any seeming discomfiture. He saw the fellow who threw it, and cooly collared him with one hand and threw him over in the court house yard, re- marking, " You fool, you'll hurt someone, throwing them stones around here."
Mr. Sebrell died in 1878 at his home in Boone township, shortly after the death of his wife. She was the balance- wheel of his life, and after she was gone he was like an engine running without a governor. He was lost to all the world, and never saw another happy day. His family left this county shortly afterwards, and now live in California.
HOW WELCH MADE MUSTARD THROW OFF THE COSTS.
Daniel Franklin Mustard has contributed his share to the history of Anderson. The " Major," as he is called by his friends, came to Anderson, when, as George Harris once said, " White river was a howling wilderness." He grew to man- hood in this community, always respected by the people, as a boy, and honored by high places of trust, when mature man- hood had arrived. By trade he i's a shoe-maker, which occu- pation he followed until about 1868, when he was made dep- uty auditor, from which time he reached the top round of local political distinction and financial success. In 1876, he was elected treasurer of Madison county, and re-elected in 1878. He made a record for closely collecting all of the delin- quent taxes. During his candidacy for his second term, he was placed in a very close position by one of his constituents. John Welch, an Irishman, walked into the office one morning not many moons before the election, and tackled the Major thus : "Well, Dan, I see you have got that danged, little
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Bill Frampton collecting taxes for you, and he's got me tow levied on."
" Yes, John, you know my duty, under the law, is to collect the taxes, and I am under bonds to faithfully perform all services required of me."
" Well, Dan, I want to settle it. How much is it?"
Dan took his pen and commenced-+"taxes, so much ; inter- est, so much ; costs, so much."
" Hould on," said Welch. " Be aisy wid your pin, Dan, touch the costs lightly, for by Jasus, I'll have the ' pin' in my hand on the day of the election."
The Major very politely threw off the costs, and Welch settled, feeling very good towards Dan. He gallantly sup- ported him at the polls and was his friend as long as he lived.
Mr. Mustard, after retiring from four years of honorable service as treasurer of Madison county, entered into partner- ship with the late Neal C. Mccullough, in the banking busi- ness, and has had a long and successful career as a banker. He is looked upon as being one of the leading financiers of the city of Anderson, and holds an enviable position among his fellow-townsmen.
THE OLD-TIME FIDDLERS.
The old Billy Myers hotel was a great institution at one time in the history of Anderson. Many men, who afterwards became solid business men and raised families in the city, spent their happy, young days at the Myers hostelry, among whom were J. M. Dickson, Joseph Howard, Alex. Clark, St. Clair Dyson, and the Athertons. In early times every first- class young man could fiddle more or less. In fact, if he couldn't fiddle he was "not in it." There was a fiddle al- ways kept in the bar-room at the hotel for practice, and for the amusement of the guests. An eastern gentleman came out to Hoosierdom on a commercial tour, and stopped at the Myers hotel. He was. eastern bred and eastern in all his make-up. He was wholly unaccustomed to western styles and Indiana customs. He was alone in the bar-room, reading a paper, when Alex. Clark came in, picked up the fiddle, gave a few rakes of the " Arkansas Traveler," and laid it down. The stranger merely looked up from his paper, then proceeded to peruse the news. In a few minutes Gus Williams strolled in, took up the fiddle, rattled off a few strains of the " Money Musk," and laid it down. The stranger paused a moment,
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looked at the fiddle and went on reading. In a short time Joseph Howard came in, took it up and gave a strain or two of the " Devil's Dream," laid it down and took a seat. The stranger looked up again, but still said nothing. St. Clair Dyson came slipping in, took up the fiddle and ripped off about twenty minutes of that old, familiar tune that was all the go in this neck of the woods at that time, " Hell on the Wabash." This brought the stranger to his feet. He looked at his companions, who were all sitting in a row around the wall on an old-fashioned settee. " What is the name of this town?" asked the stranger. Some one replied, " Anderson- town." " Well, that is what I understood when I first came here, but I think it is very badly named. I think 'Fiddlers' Green' would be nearer the thing, and I'll bet my old hat that that famous resort is not more than a mile distant from here." Before any one else had a chance at the fiddle he hied himself away to his room and remained there until time to leave on the out-going stage.
THE 'BUS DRIVERS AND THE BABY.
One of the funniest things that ever occurred in Ander- son was when the trains coming in on the different roads all stopped at the crossing near Irondale. There was no down town depot on the Bee Line road then, and the passengers had to go out to "The Crossing " to board the trains. The omni- bus business was then at its best. Stock in the Anderson 'Bus Line was away up; it was one of the best lines of business in the town. The government paid liberally for the transpor- tation of the mails through the town. It was about the year 1868.
John Alderman and Lew Titherington were running the 'bus, making money hand over fist, and spending it with lav- ish hands. Nothing was too good for them, in fact, hardly good enough. Alfred Makepeace had an old 'bus he used to run when he kept the old United States Hotel. He saw Al- derman and Titherington prospering so well he concluded there was room for two lines ; so he hauled out his 'bus, painted it up and started in opposition to them. Now set in the fun from the first jump. Each line had its runners at the depot. As soon as a passenger landed, both would " collar " him and then it was fun to see who would get him. Sometimes they would nearly strip the clothes off people in their scramble for customers.
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One morning the train rolled in from Crestline. Among the passengers was a handsome woman with a baby in her arms. Joe Dickey, who was one of Makepeace's runners, got hold of her, and Johnny Alderman, of the opposite line, got the baby. The woman did not know the position she was being placed in until after all the passengers were in and a start was made for town, when she noticed her baby in the other 'bus. Then business set in. She screamed, clawed her hair, and raved like a tigress.
Makepeace said, "What's the matter, woman ; what's the matter?"
"Oh, my baby ; my baby! They've got my baby."
" Golly damn it, woman, be still; be still! Your baby is all right. Them boys won't hurt a hair on its head ; they will leave it at the hotel. It's only opposition in business. Your baby is all right."
The woman, however, refused to be comforted until she reached the hotel, where she found Johnny Alderman hug- ging and caressing the baby and it was cooing at him and as happy as a lamb. She walked when she went to the depot going out of town.
JOHN YOUNG AND HIS TRAINED DOGS.
Among the many odd characters who have lived in An- derson, none was more eccentric than John Young, a saddler and harness-maker, who lived here thirty years ago. John worked at his trade many years for Alex. Clark and Howard Baker, in a little frame shop that stood in the rear of the Phoenix block, fronting on Main street. He was an old bachelor, having " no one to love and none to caress."
He spent all his leisure time training a kennel of dogs. He had all kinds and sizes, from the pusillanimous "yaller- legged " hound to the finest species of first-class, high-bred animals. There was one thing about John's family of dogs- no matter what its station in life might be, or what position it held in the dog family, it had to mind John. To disobey his command meant a terrible thumping ; they watched every move he made, and each one tried to see how good he could be when John was around. It was no unusual sight at four o'clock in the morning, to see John out in the rear of the shop going through the drill with his dogs, some of them standing on their heads, some hanging up on the limbs of an old peach tree that grew in the rear of the shop, some stretched
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out at full length on another limb, each afraid of his life. To have slipped and fallen would have been nearly death to them. He boarded with Captain Ethan Allen, who then kept the Ross House. Once in awhile Young got on a " bender." At such times he always had his dogs on dress parade. He would start to his meals, coming along past the public square; when he got to the north-east corner he would give a signal. Here the entire family of canines would come, single file, the largest in front, dwindling down in size until the rear was brought up by the very smallest one in the kennel.
As soon as they reached the corner of the square, each dog in his turn, mounted the court house fence. They had to per- form the task of walking entirely around the square, on the fence, by the time their master reached his boarding house. If one of them by chance fell off he would scream for life until he was back at his place. He was afraid of being "licked" within an inch of his life. When they reached the Ross House, each dog took his place on the curbstone in front of the hotel, with his tail sticking out behind him over the gutter, and sit there until Young ate his meal, when the lineof march was taken up for home, going through the same performance of walking around the court house fence on their return.
He trained and sold to A. B. Kline, the famous dog, "Tip," that became one of Anderson's pets. Every man, woman and child in Anderson knew "Tip Kline." While Al. was per- forming his daily duties in the bank, "Tip" always sat in the "pay out" in the west end of the bank, looking out on the street and sniffing the breezes as they gently passed by. As long as "Tip" lived, he was Al. Kline's constant companion and best earthly friend. "Tip" knew and could perform many tricks which he delighted in doing at Kline's command.
John Young was a man of good, hard sense, but seldom said anything to display his ability. Ile was fond of good liquor, but never molested any one when drinking. When he wanted to "fill up" he went to a saloon and tipped from five to six glasses down as fast as he could swallow them, until he would get " biling" over before he left the counter. He left here several years ago and is now dead. John Young and his trained dogs are a part of Anderson's history.
HENRY WHITMORE, THE OLDEST CLOCK PEDDLER.
It is the purpose of the writers to, as much as possible, avoid the writing of biographies in this volume, but there are 25
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a few people in the county, who represent certain stages of the history of the community, and particular industries and lines of business, that without a brief statement of the lives and achievements of these individuals the story would be in- complete.
Again it is but proper to plant here and there a monu- ment or a mile-stone to commemorate the old-timers' memory, and to hand down to the coming generation the fact that these honored and worthy people once lived and were the central figures of civilization as well as the propellers of the wheels of trade ; that the places they filled in the commercial
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HENRY WHITMORE.
world were as high and honorable as those of the magnates of traffic of the present day. Although there were no Goulds or Vanderbilts then, there were men who wielded a mighty in- fluence in the world of business, and had their days of thrift and progress in the same proportion with their limited means at hand as do the giants of to-day.
One of the once noted and highly lucrative businesses of a generation past and gone, was that of clock peddling. Some of the most wealthy and highly respected men on the American continent were once clock peddlers. No less a personage than P. T. Barnum, the great showman, was once a thriving ped- dler of clocks, and laid the foundation of his princely fortune in this occupation.
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In Madison county now lives the oldest clock peddler in the United States. And it is with great pleasure that we present him to our readers in the person of Mr. Henry Whitmore, of Anderson.
He is undoubtedly the oldest. He was born in Rocky Hill, Connecticut, on the 25th of May, 1807, and is now eighty-nine years old, although much younger in appearance. One to see him skipping along the streets would never suspect him to be over sixty.
He came to Indiana in 1846, and settled in Richmond, where he engaged in selling clocks, and continued in the bus- iness for six years. In his territory was included the States of Indiana, Ohio and Kentucky, over which he traversed with a wagon through rain and storm. The corduroy roads of those days were in some seasons of the year impassable, and it was no uncommon thing for him to be tied up in some locality for a week or more, waiting for the mud to dry up so he could move on.
A clock peddler in those days was, in the words of one of later times, " a bigger man than old Grant." The hardships of the road were to a certain extent over-balanced by the many good times the peddler had on his trips through the country. They were looked up to, and at the hotel or roadside inn, the best was none to good for them. The fatted calf was always slain when this distinguished visitor came, and he was the guest of honor while he remained, as he always had a batch of new stories to tell.
Mr. Whitmore came to Anderson in 1856, and engaged in the dry goods trade, having for his partner the late Joseph Howard. He continued in this and other branches of trade for a long time, at one period having been proprietor of an Anderson hotel.
Mr. Whitmore was, in 1857, married to the widow of Dr. McClanahan, with whom he lived until her death, since which time he has made his home with his daughter, Mrs. Mary O'Meara, of Anderson.
In 1867 Mr. Whitmore was elected Justice of the Peace for Anderson township, which place he filled with credit to himself and satisfaction of the public. In his old age none is more respected in Anderson, and none enjoys the good wishes of the people more universally than he.
About the time Mr. Whitmore was engaged in the sale of clocks the once famous distiller of Cambridge City, Ind., Ab-
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ner Bond, was also in the same traffic, and a little later on Ralph Clark, Esq., of Anderson, an old time dry goods mer- chant, known to all of the older residents of the county, was peddling through the country.
These associates of Mr. Whitmore have all been gathered into the granaries with the sheaves mown by the sickle of the reaper-Death, and he is left as a solitary and only living rep- resentative of that industry in this county, and as the oldest in the United States.
Since the foregoing was written Mr. Whitmore died, on the 25th of June, 1896.
ENOS B. WRIGHT, A PIONEER.
Enos B. Wright, one of the first merchants of Anderson, died on the 1st day of March, 1889, at the age of 85 years. He was born in Stafford county, Va., the 13th of March, 1804. Enos B. Wright for many years conducted a store in the large two-story frame building that stood on the corner of Ninth and Main streets, on the ground where the present Doxey House is situated. The old building is yet in existence, having been removed to another part of the city to give way to the erection of the Stilwell House, now known as the Doxey Hotel, in 1870. Mr. Wright came to Madison county in 1830 and first settled in Adams township. In a short time he removed to Huntsville, in Fall Creek township, at which place he engaged in the dry goods business as a clerk in the store of Enos Adamson. In the year 1837 he removed to Richmond, Ind., and clerked in a store for Mr. Bazil Bright- well, a merchant of that city, and remained there until the year 1842. He then returned to Huntsville and remained there a short time, after which he removed to Anderson and accepted a clerkship with Mr. James Gray, with whom he remained many years as clerk and afterwards as a business partner up to the time of Mr. Gray's death, at which time he purchased the stock and became the sole proprietor. He continued in this business until the year 1870, when he re- tired from active business life. He was also at one time proprietor of a retail grocery store, which was located in the room now owned by S. M. Bachmann, on the south side of the public square. Mr. Wright did a large business in those days and many farmers who had extra money for which they had no immediate use made his store a depository, as there were no banks then in the county. It was headquarters for
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the farmers of the county; it was a kind of rendezvous for them. There was no man who ever lived in Madison county who enjoyed a greater popularity than did Enos B. Wright during those early days. At one time he boasted of knowing the name and place of abode of every inhabitant of the county. He was of a very happy disposition and had the name of every person who entered his store on his tongue's end, always hailing them with their given name, which gave him great prestige over his competitors in business, as his social qualities were a great advertisement with his customers.
He was married to Miss Nancy Taylor, of Ohio, in the year 1827, who died about nine years before Mr. Wright's decease. In the year 1865 Mrs. Wright was stricken with paralysis and was a confirmed invalid for fifteen years prior to her death. Mr. Wright was always considered an honest man and was a devoted Christian, being a member of the Christian church. He was confined to his room for several weeks prior to his death and seemed to understand from the time of his first sickness that his end was near at hand, and signified a willingness to succumb to the inevitable. His funeral took place from the Christian church on the following Sunday after his death, and was one of the largest that ever occurred in Anderson. Some reminiscences in relation to Mr. Wright will be found in another portion of this book.
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