USA > Indiana > Gibson County > History of Gibson County, Indiana : her people, industries and institutions > Part 26
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The second epidemic followed in 1845, emanating from the Tartary coast, reaching the United States in 1848 and followed the same course through the country, along the principal high and water ways. Strict quaran- tine enforcement in New York City stopped its spread at that point, but New Orleans, Louisiana, where it was also prevalent, had no such quarantine fa- cilities and the scourge crept slowly up the Mississippi and Ohio river valleys. I11 1849 Louisville, Kentucky, and Cincinnati, Ohio, were visited. At the latter place the death rate was extremely high, one hundred and sixty being recorded in one day.
Cholera lingered throughout Ohio, Indiana and Illinois during the next four or five years and made its first appearance in Gibson county in the sum- mer of 1852. At that time the Wabash and Erie canal was in progress of
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construction about seven miles southeast of Princeton. In this work two or three hundred Irish immigrant workmen were employed. The workmen were housed in temporary camps and little thought was given to cleanliness and sanitation, a condition most favorable for cholera and other diseases. Within a few days after the cholera made its appearance a number of deaths resulted and when it had run its course, in less than three weeks, an estimated total of eighty had succumbed.
Following the first outbreak a majority of the men fled from the vicinity and excitement in the community was at fever heat. Victims of the disease were left lying for days before being given burial and it was almost impossi- ble to secure men to do this work. A few of the Irish workmen stayed with their stricken friends and these few braved danger by burying the bodies in iong trenches near the reservoir. All trace of their last resting place has now disappeared. Some few bodies were taken to Vincennes by friends, for burial in consecrated ground. A number of those who remained behind to care for the sick and dying gave up their lives.
Besides the foreign workmen there were also a few deaths among resi- dents of the community, including one man and his wife who voluntarily ministered to the stricken canal workmen.
Meager accounts are given in the newspapers of that day of attacks of cholera in Princeton and one death, that of a man named Woods, is believed ยท to have resulted from its effects. Little details of the tense excitement which must have prevailed were recorded by the press, but it is known that the peo- ple in general kept away from the infected district for weeks. The epidemic was of short duration and the excitement must have subsided in a short time.
The second visitation of cholera in Gibson county occurred in the sum- mer of 1873, vivid recollections of which still remain in the minds of many older people. A small epidemic had occurred in the Eastern states in 1865, but in 1873 cholera again got a firm foothold in the South and traveled up the Mississippi valley. It became epidemic in Evansville and Mt. Vernon, Indiana, Cairo and Carmi, Illinois, Paducah, Kentucky, and many deaths oc- curred and it is from one of these infected places that it is believed to have spread to Princeton.
Residing at the corner of Spruce and Ford streets in Princeton was Mrs. John Seabrooks, an aged lady, who for a living did washing. It is supposed she became infected with the disease from the clothing of some person for whom she washed, and who had been in some infected territory. Mrs. Sea- brooks lived alone and one morning was found by her daughter lying on the
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floor of her room, in the last stages of what physicians pronounced to be cholera. She died a few hours later.
The news of Mrs. Seabrooks' death spread rapidly and excitement ran high in Princeton. For weeks residents lived in dread, but no other cases developed in the town.
Lack of proper sanitary measures, however, did not prevent infection from this one case. Instead of burning the clothing and bed clothing of Mrs. Seabrooks, they were taken to Indian creek, about three miles northeast of Princeton, where they were washed in the waters of the creek, thus infecting the water.
Near this creek lived the family of Henry Weatherly, consisting of hus- band and wife and five children, and Indian creek was the source of their water supply. How thoroughly the water was infected is shown by the fact that but one child. Margaret, then about two years old, survives. The other members of the family succumbed in the space of a few days.
Though Margaret Weatherly was the sole survivor of the family, yet she was the first to be attacked by the disease and it is the belief that her life was saved by a mistake on the part of her mother. For several weeks the father had been suffering from stomach trouble and had been taking mor- phine to ease the pain. A few days following the pollution of the stream Margaret was suddenly taken ill one morning and the mother, not realizing the deadly effects of morphine, gave the child the same sized dose the father had been accustomed to taking. The child grew worse and a physician was summoned from Princeton. By the time he arrived the mother had also been stricken with cholera and was writhing in its agonies. Margaret was in a stupor from the effects of the morphine, but by persistent efforts on the part of the physician, was kept from passing into the sleep of death, until the cholera attack, which was probably light, passed away and she gradually re- covered. The mother, however, continued to grow worse and died early in the evening. Her death was followed the same night by the death of two other children and before morning Henry Weatherly, the husband, was stricken.
Nearby lived the families of John McDaniel, Robert Boswell, Mrs. Elias Pearson, a sister of Henry Weatherly, and James Carithers, a brother of Mrs. . Weatherly. All these relatives and neighbors put aside their fears and gave aid to the ill-fated family. Henry Weatherly, soon after he was taken sick, together with the now remaining three children, was removed to the home of James Carithers, where Mr. Weatherly died a few hours later.
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No other deaths occurred for three days and in the meantime the vic- tims had been buried. The bodies were cared for by Mrs. John McDaniel, Mrs. Pearson and her daughter, Emma. All these soon sickened and died. Robert Boswell, who buried the bodies of Mrs. Weatherly and her children, also became a victim.
The next deaths to be recorded were those of two of the three remain- ing Weatherly children and four deaths in the family of Jesse Weatherly, a brother of Henry, who lived farther down Indian creek, the wife and three children being taken. All of these deaths occurred in less than ten days fol- lowing the death of Mrs. Seabrooks in Princeton.
Excitement in the Weatherly neighborhood was at fever heat. Farmers stopped work in their fields and stock was allowed to suffer for lack of atten- tion. Every one felt that the deadful plague would not be checked until all were taken and families dumbly waited, watching and dreading to see who would be the first of their loved ones to be stricken. The infected neighbor- hood was shunned by those living outside and farmers drove for miles out of their way to and from Princeton, traveling by other roads than those which passed through the neighborhood. In the prevailing belief that the dis- ease came out of the ground, vegetables and fruits were not eaten and gardens were allowed to go unattended throughout the summer. Not until cool weather arrived did the fear which possessed the people subside to such an ex- tent that they resumed their natural vocations and mode of living.
Physicians took what steps they could to keep the disease from spread- ing and, though they believed at that time that cholera was contagious and not merely infectious, they adopted the right means to stamp out the epidemic. Quantities of lime were sprinkled in all cellars, outhouses and damp places. Drinking water was boiled before being used and people were instructed to keep their doors and windows open and get as much fresh air as possible. More recent knowledge of cholera discloses the fact that the physicians could not have done better service had they known as much concerning cholera as is now known. Their service deserves high commendation, because they were then fighting against greater odds than would obtain at this time.
Fourteen deaths are known to have occurred in the Weatherly neighbor- hood in less than two weeks, and many older people declare that. including the death of Mrs. Seabrooks in Princeton, there were sixteen victims.
Another small epidemic occurred in the vicinity of Wheeling, on the Patoka river, about eight miles northeast of Princeton. Five deaths are known to have resulted in a family named Hartwell and one or two more
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persons, names unknown at this time, are said to have died. The Hartwell home was burned, together with its contents, to check the spread of the dis- ease. These deaths occurred at about the same time that cholera was raging along Indian creek.
The known total of deaths in Gibson county during the cholera epidemic of 1873 is twenty, but it is very probable that there were a few more. It was by far the worst epidemic of any disease which ever visited the county. Smallpox and other contagious and infectious diseases have claimed many more victims in the course of years, but these epidemics were not considered in such a serious manner.
Great credit reflects upon the physicians of Princeton and other towns in the county, for their brave service during the two cholera attacks. Though they had every reason to believe the infested homes were veritable death traps, they did not flinch in their devotion to duty, and fearlessly visited the stricken and did all in their power to ease their sufferings. In the present day a physician would go into a cholera-infected home with the positive assurance that he was running no risk, if proper measures were taken to ward off in- fection, but that knowledge has come since the last visitation of the disease in Gibson county.
In 1852 the practicing physicians of Princeton included Drs. W. W. Blair, J. J. Pennington, V. T. West, Andrew Lewis, Willoughby Walling, Hugh Patten, George B. Graff and W. G. Kidd. It is probable that all of these physicians were active in treating the cases.
The physicians of 1873 included Drs. W. W. Blair, S. E. Munford, John Malone, V. T. West, James C. Patten, Richard Smith and others.
Of all the physicians named in the foregoing lists, Dr. W. W. Blair is the only one surviving at this time (1914). Having passed through both epidemics, Doctor Blair is thoroughly familiar with the conditions which pre- vailed and recalls many startling, as well as some amusing incidents which occurred. In each epidemic he treated a number of cases of cholera.
One of the most tragic incidents of the epidemic of 1852 occurred in a family by the name of Ritzie. When the epidemic was at its height, Mrs. Ritzie was suddenly stricken and other members of the family were also showing indications of having contracted the disease. Mrs. Ritzie died be- fore a physician could be summoned, but a man on horseback was sent for Doctor Blair, and it was after nightfall when the physician arrived at the Ritzie home. The messenger would not go near the plague-stricken house and Doctor Blair approached it alone. There were no lights in the house and
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a knock at the door brought no response. Doctor Blair entered the house and in the light from the dying embers in the fire-place a grewsome sight met his gaze. Upon one bed in the room lay the body of the wife and mother. Upon another, laying crosswise, with the head almost touching the floor, was the body of Mr. Ritzie, death having come but a short time before the arrival of Doctor Blair, and upon the same bed, totally unconscious of the terrible tragedy which had been enacted about her, lay sleeping the little daughter, Margaret Ritzie, about six years old. Rousing the child from her slumber, Doctor Blair carried her from the house, mounted his horse and with the child in his arms rode to a neighboring house where he sought entrance. When the circumstances were learned, admittance was refused and the Doc- tor was almost forced to fight his way into the home so great was the fear of contagion. After much persuasion the family was prevailed upon to care for the little girl until she could be placed under the care of relatives. Margaret passed through the terrible experience without contracting the cholera, and later in life became the wife of Peter Hoffman, of Ft. Branch, where she is living at the present time.
In the epidemic of 1852 much trouble was experienced in procuring burial for the bodies of the unknown victims and in a number of cases bodies were found in isolated "shanties" along the canal, several days after death. In one instance the body of a man was found, so badly decomposed that no attempt at burial was made. The torch was applied to the building and the remains incinerated.
Persons who were known to have been in the infected district were shunned by their friends and neighbors for weeks following, and such fear of them was manifested that in some cases suffering resulted. This was especially true in regard to the Irish workmen who remained in the vicinity. They were not permitted to approach other persons.
An amusing incident has been related, showing that even though the Irish immigrants passed through a terrible experience, it did not dull their fun-loving disposition, if the occasion presented itself. The bodies of the more devoutly religious who died during the scourge were, in some instances, taken to Vincennes for burial and on one occasion several friends started to Vincennes with the body of a comrade. The coffin containing the remains was placed in a one-horse cart, very common at that time. Passing through or near Princeton the members of the funeral party could not resist the temptation to drown their sorrows with a few drinks, and when later they resumed their journey happiness had taken the place of grief. But little at-
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tention was paid to the cart as they walked by its side and all went well until they reached a point a few miles north of Princeton, when the sudden realiza- tion came to one member of the cortege that the cart was empty. The corpse had disappeared. Search was instituted and on a hillside a mile or more back, the coffin was found lying in the road where it had slid from the cart in going up the hill. The unfortunate victim was reloaded and eventually reached his final resting place at Vincennes.
Another amusing occurrence happened in Princeton during the epidemic of 1873. A few days following the death of Mrs. Seabrooks, an itinerant German butcher, who was accustomed to periodical sprees, suddenly fell on the sidewalk on the west side of the public square one morning. The cry was immediately raised that he had been attacked with cholera and for the next few hours the poor fellow was given a wide berth. However, the effects of his "jag" soon passed away and he sobered sufficiently to go home. Such an incident as this, while amusing, serves to illustrate the fear entertained by the public at large.
Henry Blumm, a well known farmer residing south of Princeton on the old state road, is the only remaining member of a family which died from the effects of the cholera epidemic of 1852. His father and two or three brothers and sisters were victims and were buried on the farm which was situated near the old Wabash & Erie canal, south of Francisco. Mr. Blummn was a baby at the time and has no recollection of any member of his family. He was taken and raised by a neighbor.
One death is known to have occured in Owensville during the first epi- demic, it being that of a Mrs. Whiteman, of Princeton, who was visiting at Owensville. She was stricken during the night and lived only a few hours.
C. R. Howe, one of the older residents of Princeton, was living at Owensville at the time of Mrs. Whiteman's death and was sent to Princeton to notify relatives of her death. Mr. Howe declares that Princeton was in a condition of great excitement due to the death of a man named Woods, from the effects of cholera. Mr. Howe came no farther than the end of the Evans- ville & Crawfordsville railroad (Chicago & Eastern Illinois), which was in process of construction. A crowd was gathered waiting for the arrival of a train from Evansville. After looking at the first railroad train he had ever seen, Mr. Howe returned to Owensville, being afraid to stay longer in Prince- ton on account of the cholera.
In 1873 Gibson county was not the only locality to suffer greatly from the disease. At Mt. Vernon and throughout Posey county the epidemic was
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prevalent. Hundreds fled to higher points away from the river. Albion, Illinois, was a refuge for a great number and they remained until the scourge had spent its fury. Other cities along the Ohio river also suffered greatly, including Cairo, Illinois, Paducah and Henderson, Kentucky, and Evansville. At the latter place, however, the death ratio was not large.
For the most part the people of Princeton, fearing the disease, stayed at home and families kept as much to themselves as possible. But little business was transacted.
In the preparation of this article the writer has endeavored to record only well established facts concerning the two epidemics of cholera which visited Gibson county. The incidents related are largely reminiscences of people who passed through them, or have data in support of the authenticity of the incident related. A number of other stories concerning deaths, priva- tions and the excitement which prevailed have not been recorded because they were unsupported by any reliable data. In many cases, names of persons and families mentioned are correct, so far as the memory of some old resident is not at fault. Every effort has been made to guard against errors of this nature. The desire of the writer is to perpetuate only the truth and keep fresh the memory of those upon whom honor and glory reflects. Incidents concerning the conduct of any person or persons which cast any other reflec- tion are best forgotten. No doubt these occurred, but it is just as true that buried in the forgotten history of the past are many stories of heroic bravery and sacrifice, enacted by men and women whose names are forgotten by mortal man, but whose deeds are recorded by Him who "doeth all things well." They have received their reward.
CHAPTER XX.
A NEIGHBORHOOD RETROSPECT.
How dear to my heart are the scenes of my childhood, When fond recollection presents them to view ; The orchard, the meadow. the deep-tangled wildwood. And every loved spot which my infancy knew.
Breathes there a man with soul so dead that these lines from Wood- worth's familiar poem, "The Old Oaken Bucket", has not stirred within him a responsive chord of memory and reflection? A man "whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, as home his footsteps he hath turned?" Pity the man who had no home in childhood to which he might turn in fond reflection in after years. Much more to be pitied and to be despised is the man, who, "though high his titles and proud his name," has no reverence nor regard for the home and friends of his childhood.
The sentiment expressed in the lines of Woodworth was vividly in my mind as I found occasion a short time ago to visit some of the "loved spots which my infancy knew," in a neighborhood about four miles north- east of Princeton. It was "the fond recollection" of scenes and incidents in this neighborhood in the long ago that furnished the inspiration for this sketch, a sketch somewhat historical and largely personal.
With the splendid rock roads and modern conveyance it is a short and easy journey to the late homestead of John M. Stormont, in the neighbor- hood which is to furnish the material for this sketch. In pioneer times this farm was known as the Kell place. Like all the early settlers, the Kells lo- cated their home on the highest hill they could find, avoiding the lowlands and bottoms and the malaria which was supposed to be prevalent there. Here Alexander R. Kell, a son of the first settlers, built him a home, adding several acres to the homestead of his ancestors. Some of these acres are very broken and hilly and a great amount of hard labor was required in getting these lands in shape for cultivation. But there are acres of com- paratively level land on the farm on which good crops are raised. The present owner, who made his home here until a few years ago, had made some modern improvements about his house and barn, among others a
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system of water works. From a large cistern, or reservoir, supplied with water from a driven well, operated by a wind-mill pump, located on a hill near the barn, water is carried by pipes to the house and barn in sufficient supply for stock and domestic purposes.
In our wanderings about this place we finally came to the top of the hill where this reservoir is located, and here we have a view of the country for miles around. Standing on this summit, in the middle of a field now under cultivation, it is not much of a stretch of memory to recall the time when this, and nearly all the country around, was an unbroken forest. Wind- ing through what was then a woods, not far from the place where we are standing, there was a narrow country road, which was the connecting link between the old Kirk's mill and the Dongola roads, as these were known then. This narrow, winding road was much traveled in the days in which my memory is now centered. And I am reminded of one incident that oc- curred on this road, not far from the place where we are now standing, which is still fresh in the memory of the few living participants. It will be of in- terest to these few, and perhaps others, to relate this story.
EARLY TIME WEDDING CEREMONIES.
In early times, in this neighborhood, as in others, it was the custom to make a great to-do about a wedding ceremony. In those times a wedding was strictly a neighborhood affair, and all the neighborhood was interested, and they were nearly all and always there when the ceremony was pulled off. A surprise wedding was practically impossible in those days. There were no secret marriages, and it was not customary, nor considered proper, for young people to seek an affinity outside of the families living in the neighbor- hood. Everybody knew who was going to marry and when the nuptial cere- mony was to take place, and everybody began in ample time to make prepara- tions to attend. No engraved invitation, or any other sort of invitation was necessary. A wedding day was usually a sort of neighborhood holiday. It was the custom to have a procession, composed of the friends of the bride and bridegroom, respectively, who would assemble at the respective homes of the high contracting parties at the appointed hour, on the day of the cere- mony. Then, the bride's party, in buggies and on horseback, would start fron her home and proceed to the home of the groom, where they would meet the procession that was to serve as his escort. Then the combined pro- cession, headed by that of the groom, would return to the home of the bride for the official ceremony. The groom, clothed in the conventional wedding
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garments of those times, always rode in front of the procession. A neces- sary part of the groom's conventional outfit was a plug hat. Whatever else he might lack in worldly goods or wearing apparel, the young man of those times would not think of fixing the date of his wedding until he was sure that somehow he could arrange for a plug hat to wear on that occasion. It might be the first, last and only time he would wear this sort of head gear, but his concern was only for the present requirements and customary pro- prieties.
The combined procession of the bride and groom, with much display of ribbons, banners and blowing of horns, was a spectacle to attract attention as it passed along the way to the home of the expectant bride, where the minister was in waiting and the ceremony was duly performed. But it was not all over yet. The next day was the "infare", when the same sort of a proces- sion escorted the newly-weds to the home of the groom, where dinner was served and a day of hilarity enjoyed by those present. Then, after these two days of hurry and ceremony, the neighborhood settled down to the usual work and quiet.
HOW A WILD STEER CREATED PANIC IN A WEDDING PROCESSION.
The incident I started to relate was connected with a wedding celebra- tion like that described. The procession from the home of the bride passed along the winding road through the woods near the place where we are now standing, on the way to the home of the groom, a half mile distant. Headed by the escort of the groom, the procession passed along this same road on their return to the home of the bride. The procession was marked by much display, in the way of decorated vehicles, banners, ribbons and loud apparel, and the blowing of horns. Everything went as merry as the traditional mar- riage bell until the procession was passing along the road through this woods. Then something happened that was not down on the program.
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