USA > Indiana > Grant County > Fairmount > The making of a township, being an account of the early settlement and subsequent development of Fairmount Township, Grant County, Indiana, 1829 to 1917, based upon data secured by personal interviews, from numerous communications > Part 38
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Not far from the Shockey home is the O. M. Bish bungalow.
Further back we had passed the Mount Olive Church and school house and, after passing the Roseburg neighborhood, we came to the West Branch Church and school house Number 10. In this neighborhood we saw the beautiful homes of Con Shugart, . Nelia Ratliff, Harvey Ratliff, Bert Malott and others.
After we passed the E. Harris farm we turned east again and crossed the Liberty pike and turned south once more, passing the Bethel or District No. I school house. To the west we recognized Bethel Church.
Near the bridge which spans Deer Creek on this road stands the ruins of an old-time residence. In the twilight it looked gaunt and gloomy and a fit place for ghosts.
On the way we passed the C. H. Jay, the A. Ferree, the E. Goodykoontz, the F. E. Haisley, the Samuel Hipes, the Louisa Haisley and the Ves Benbow farms and reached Oak Ridge school house just about dark. Samuel Hipes owns the farm which once belonged to the late Elwood Haisley.
We had met Mrs. Mary Gibson, her son and his family in an automobile on the road before we reached Bethel school house. To her question of how far we had walked we answered, "We are almost afraid to tell you for fear you'll not believe us."
Not far from Oak Ridge Glenn Collett passed in a buggy. His kind invitation to ride into town was declined. It must be ad- mitted, however, that the invitation was a great temptation and the declining thereof was the result of a grim determination to make the walk the record-breaking one of the series.
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The Making of a Township.
Amusing incidents always occur on a trip like that of Sunday. While we were traversing the road which runs cat-a-cornered from Jalapa to Marion, at one of the Renbarger homes, a woman told 1is that she thought we'd better hire someone to take us into Fair- mount and that we would change our minds about walking the entire distance long before we reached our destination.
Once when we stopped to rest, the Better Half stretched him- self on a pile of rails with his feet elevated towards the road. A horse driven by a young lady in a buggy, became so frightened at the sight that it ran away, the incident almost ending in a tragedy.
Just before Oak Ridge was reached we sat down on a bridge to rest. Some young fellow, paraphrasing Longfellow's "The Bridge" velled out. "We sat on the bridge at midnight." He evidently thought we were a couple of sweethearts, making love in the twilight.
After leaving Oak Ridge the remaining four miles back home were traveled in the darkness. The first glimpse of Fairmount's street lights was a truly welcome sight. M. B. May 13. 1915.
P-r-o-s-p-e-r-i-t-y is written all over Fairmount and Liberty Townships. You can see it in the rich soil, in the big gray and white and red barns, in the spacious homes, in the well-improved roads, in the rushing automobiles, in the sleek, fat, blooded stock and in the happy faces of the hospitable people who inhabit this garden-spot of Indiana.
The objective point of the hike on Sunday, March 14, was the country home of B. F. Dickey, five miles west and one mile south of Fairmount, with Little Ridge Church as an interesting and profitable stopping-place on the way.
Leaving The News office and going west on Washington Street the first thing to attract our attention was Andy Horine, in a big apron, assisting in the morning housework at his home, for which we gave him due praise.
L. E. Nolder's chickens, alfalfa patch, fat pig and pretty home were next noted and then we glanced northward to the former homes of Jesse and Nathan Wilson. Of the pioneer homes, stand- ing almost in one straight line, north and south, redeemed from the wilderness by Iredell Rush, Jesse Wilson, Nathan Wilson and
.
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Rambles Over the Township.
Daniel Thomas, only one, Rush Hill, is owned and occupied by descendants of the original owners of the respective farms.
Continuing the journey we passed the E. J. Seale bungalow, off to the north, the Perry Seale home to the west and the Joshua Hollingsworth residence, the latter notable for its fine view of Fairmount.
Near the Perry Seale residence there once stood a little school house in the woods where M. B., her sister, Mary Wilson and Hannah Wilson, learned their first reading lesson under the tutor- ing of Myra Dillon Charles. The three whose names are mentioned long ago ceased to learn lessons in earthly lore and for them no longer do the leaves rustle nor the birds sing as they did on those spring mornings in the forest where the school house stood.
A little stop was made at the Daniel Thomas farm now owned by W. A. Beasley. Not far from the home once stood one of the school houses of the early pioneer period where our forefathers learned their A, B, C's. About the old brick residence on the farm linger many memories of stories full of the element of human interest.
The sun shone brightly and the robins, song sparrows and meadow larks filled the air with their music as we continued west- ward past the William G. Moon place, the James Bell, the Milton T. Cox and the John Cox farms. In the grove on the latter farm several buckets were catching the precious sugar water for maple syrup. John, Milton and Vollie Cox, three brothers, live in the same neighborhood in a sort of clan fellowship which we noted several times during the day in other communities among other relationships.
Where the road juts a little to the south there stands a log house and there is also one on the Mort Buller farm, the histories of which we did not learn.
Mort Buller not only has a splendid home on his farm but he has prepared an unusually good cottage and barn for his tenant. Mr. Buller's farm, "Oakwood," formerly owned by "Jozie" Rich. is a good one, and he has added improvement after improvement to the house and barn until there isn't much lacking now.
Turning south after leaving the Buller farm we passed the "Doc" Buller home and the tile mill. The little cluster of houses around the mill reminded us of settlements in the mining districts of Pennsylvania.
At the corner, where we turned to the west, is the Little Ridge
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The Making of a Township.
school house, with the John Gambriel farm to the south. Before reaching Little Ridge Church we passed the beautiful homes of Joseph Whitely and Ancil E. Ratliff. With all the modern con- veniences in the way of heat, light, baths, sleeping porches, tele- phones and hard wood floors, city residences have little that these homes do not possess.
Little Ridge Church stands in a pretty grove with a little grave- yard nearby. As at Deer Creek and Back Creek we found graves of relatives, this time a great-grandfather who was buried in this quiet spot in 1859-a man who braved the hardships of pioneer life in the forests and swamps of Liberty Township. Wright and Harvey are the names most frequently repeated on the stones of this little graveyard and a tangle of myrtle covers the mounds under the old cedar trees.
Mart Trader met the pedestrians near the cemetery gate at the close of Sunday school and his cordial welcome was seconded by a number of others as we entered the door of the church. The Little Ridge people form one big family ; they have never had a neighborhood feud and they are thoroughly democratic. These features were all in evidence at the Sunday services when many of the members of the congregation had a voice in the proceedings. No more hospitable a people can be found anywhere and the cheery greetings, urgent dinner invitations and the spirit of friend- liness shown us sent a glow to our hearts.
After the services, continuing our course westward, we passed the homes of Clayton Wright, Arthur Brewer and Denny Winslow. while off to the left we saw the farms of Will Harvey, Hiram Harvey and Mrs. Etta Doherty. The latter lives on the farm once owned by her great-grandfather, Azel Rush, through the edge of which ran the eastern boundary line of the old Miami Indian reservation.
Walter Corwin lives on the Gaunt farm. The Gaunt family was once a factor in the neighborhood and, later, in the county, but the members have now all moved away.
The same is true of the Wells family, for whom the Wells school house. situated just south of the Gaunt farm, was named. Only John Caldwell's family represents the Wells' in the community at the present time.
"This is surely where Ben Dickey lives." we said, as we reached a farm where the golden corn was fairly bursting its bins, where the Duroc shoats were so fat and sleek they glistened in the sun-
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Rambles Over the Township.
shine and where the backs of the high-grade cattle were as straight as boards. And such it proved to be. Set far back from the road, in a beautiful grove, the house has an ideal location. Here we met with a warm welcome. Surrounded by his family, Mr. Dickey was quietly celebrating his seventy-fourth birthday anniversary on the farm which has been his home for forty-four years. Besides the home place he has two or three other farms.
Continuing westward for a quarter of a mile we came to the road leading north toward Hackleman. Off to the south we could see the Chris Behymer home as we made the turn.
We then reached one of the most picturesque homes in Grant county-the John Dickey farm, now the property of Will Lindsey. Set back from the road, in a grove of wonderful trees, adjoining a bit of the forest primeval, the place reminded us of pictures we had seen of old English estates. The large brick house is ap- proached by a graveled driveway, and around the orchard to the south is set a little row of cedar trees, the whole making as beau- tiful a picture as anyone would care to see.
As we approached Hackleman we could see the modern resi- dences on the Sam Leer and the William Miller farms, the one on the latter occupied by O. E. Curless and family. The store at Hackleman is owned by Ol Banister, a brother of George Banister, of this city.
Alfred Kemmer's new home, built in bungalow style, with everything strictly up-to-date and of the best, is located a short distance east of Hackleman. It was near this point that an auto- mobile passed us and a voice, which we recognized as that of Nick Brookshire, called out, "It's a long, long way from Tipperary." Several kind invitations to ride were extended during the trip but all were declined.
Just before reaching Center school house and church, which are admirably located, we arrived at the comfortable home of J. N. Gibson and family. A half-hour was pleasantly spent here in conversation and in listening to music furnished by Misses Alma and Pauline Gibson.
A stretch of tarvia begins at Center and continues east to the Range Line road. Tarvia roads are fine for automobiles, but when it comes to hiking give us the good, old country roads every time. We passed the homes of George Yale and Ralph Rybolt. the latter having recently moved to the Noble farm. The brick house, which is the home of Robert Moon and family, is nicely located and Jack
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The Making of a Township.
McCombs has a fine home a little farther down the road. The homes of Elmer Comer, Charles Collins, who lives on the Seale farm, and the farm of Allie Rich were also passed. George Jones owns a good farm, known to the older residents as the Elwood Arnett place. His mother, Mrs. Mariah Jones, lives on the farm farther to the east which she has owned for many years.
Alva Johnson is the owner of more than two hundred acres of the finest kind of Liberty Township land. The home of Mrs. Susannah Scott is in this neighborhood. We came to a little Whybrew settlement when we passed the Mort Whybrew and the Mrs. Will Whybrew farms.
Where the Hackleman road intersects the Range Line road there once stood a school house. In this school house one of the hikers learned early lessons in his boyhood. The roof of this old building. scarred and crumpled by the passing of the years, is still in existence and is used as a covering for a shed.
By the way, this road which leads past the Academy and on west through Ilackleman, follows a direct line into Lafayette.
In this cursory write-up of a day's journey many adjectives are used, but it is almost impossible to describe anything in Fairmount and Liberty Townships without the use of superlatives. M. B.
March 18. 1915.
The country east of Fairmount in the early days was known as "the prairie country cast of town." To our childish imagination it was a land of enchantment, for there were cranberry marshes. hazel thickets, the lake and the river, all of them objective points for many merry picnic parties. Barren Creek-"Barn" Creek, we used to say-meandered through the prairie, too. Our last "hike" took us through this enchanted land, but how changed it is from the old days! Never a cranberry is found now, and the marshes where they grew were drained long ago. In the old days a person could stand on the edge of the boggy marsh, jump up and down and shake the ground for yards around.
The tangle of hazel bushes where we once found delicious hazel unts can be seen no more, and as for the prairie it looks much like the rest of the country now ; but in the pioneer days the wonderful big trees did not cover the ground there as they did in west of town and Liberty Township. The lake, too, has been drained and is only about half its original size, and the ground is not so boggy
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Rambles Over the Township.
as it once was. Ugh! how we used to shiver with the fear of going down in that mud and never getting out again !. Only the river is left as in the old days, and even it is changed-the water is not as clear as in pioneer days. There are too many factories along its course.
The objective point of Sunday's walk was Matthews, with Fowlerton as a good stopping point for church services and for dinner.
Leaving home at 7:20 in the morning we went north on Main street. The first thing that particularly attracted our attention was the new garage Charlie Thomas is building at his home. We turned east on Eighth, going past the pile of melted glass and brick which marks the site of the old Wilson and Mccullough glass factory. We saw four or five such heaps at different places during the day-silent reminders of the old boom days.
We passed the Angelina Pearson home, the little thirty-acre patch of ground owned by Charles T. Parker, where Frank Parker lives and the Horace Reeve home. It was early morning and Mr. Reeve was doing his chores about the barn, as was also John Pea- cock at his farm a little farther east. Mr. Peacock had just hitched his horse to the carriage for Sunday school. The animal had gone through the same performance so many years that she knew every turn to be made, so that driving was unnecessary, only a word now and then being required. Joseph Ratliff raised his family of boys on the next farm, where his step-son, Nathan Thomas, now lives.
John Heavilin lives on the old Daniel Whybrew farm of one hundred acres which he owns. Nearby is the pretty cottage of his son Wayne, who is associated with him. They raise much stock. hogs and cattle especially. The original log cabin of the Whybrew family is back of the barn, being now used as an out-building.
Milt Nicholson lives on the Charles Child place, which is situ- ated at the cross roads. The road here, running north and south. was once the worst old corduroy imaginable.
A little stop was made at the Thomas Winslow home, south of the road. With Mr. Winslow's assistance we were able to locate the beautiful homes of Thomas Duling. J. B. Compton and Henry Morrish on our left. Proceeding eastward we came to a rolling stretch of country and passed the homes of Will Monahan and Burr Leach. Off to the north on a little hill we saw the home of Fred Briggs, the "onion" man. In the bottom land, which once
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The Making of a Township.
was so swampy that it was considered worthless, Mr. Briggs raises the finest kind of onions for the Snider people. The ground is fine for tomatoes, too, and corn as well.
Crossing Barren Creek and coming to an ideal location for a residence, we recognized the old Edmund Duling place, the present home of Solomon Duling. Stopping for a little chat we were informed by Mr. Duling that he was born sixty-four years ago in a log cabin which stood to the south of the present building. Ile also told us that the old cranberry marshes used to be north and a little to the east of the Duling farm, on the Major Norton farm and near Lake Galatia.
Mr. Duling lives in a regular Duling settlement, Chap. Virgil. Thomas, William and others living in the neighborhood. Milton Rich has a fine home in this neighborhood. to the north of the road.
Turning south, a walk of a few minutes brought us to Fowlerton. First we went in the Methodist Protestant Church, where a large and interesting Sunday school was in progress. John W. Himelick is superintendent of the school and seems to have affairs well in hand. The church, which has been nicely remodeled, holds a per- sonal interest for the pedestrians, for on a June morning several years ago, a certain fair-haired boy here received his diploma from the township schools.
It was Rev. Heitz's day at Grant and there were no services at the Fowlerton Church, so we wended our way over to the Wes- leyan Church, where Mrs. Emma Payne is pastor. Here we found the same situation, as Mrs. Payne was preaching in Summitville that day, so we went to the only other church in town-the United Brethren.
On the way we stopped at the store of Solomon D. Key for a few minutes. Mr. Key has his own religious ideas. While not a Seventh Day Adventist, nor a member of any other church, he be- lieves in observing the seventh day as a day of rest, so he keeps his store closed on Saturdays and open on Sundays. During our half- hour's stay, Mr. Key made several sales, amounting in all to as much as $5 or $6.
Rev. Carter is pastor of the U. B. Church. It was quarterly conference day, however, and the presiding elder of the district was in charge. The church had just experienced a revival and a fervent testimony service formed a part of the morning's worship. with plenty of "Amens" interspersed at intervals.
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Rambles Over the Township.
Following the services we had dinner at a little eating place kept by Mr. and Mrs. Schmidt, natives of France, who came to Grant County in the boom days. Mrs. Schmidt speaks broken Eng- lish, but her husband understands very little of the language. An interesting hour was spent with them. The reason their name is of German origin lies in the fact that Mr. Schmidt came from Alsace, the much disputed country of northeast France or south- west Germany, as the case may be.
The road from Fowlerton to Matthews lies for the most part through a gently rolling country, which becomes especially pic- turesque as the river is approached. After leaving Fowlerton we passed the Frank Kirkwood farm, where Walter Kirkwood lives, the Willard Dickerson and the John Dye homes.
Then we saw a large, handsome house, recently improved, with big porches and an out-doors sleeping room and we wondered , whose it could be until we discovered the name, Ellis Wright, on the mail box. We passed a pleasant half-hour with Mr. Wright and his family. Talk about your beautiful country homes ! Here is one that is not surpassed in miles and miles around. We were especially interested in the beautiful tinted walls, as the interior decorating was done entirely by Miss Myrl Wright, the work equaling that of any professional and the stenciling, the patterns for which she made herself, far excelling most professional work. Each room is different and each has a character all its own.
To the northwest we could see, from the porch of the Wright residence, the house on the Milton Wright farm, which is being prepared for the home of Ovid Reeder and Miss Myrl Wright, who are soon to be married. From the Wright home we could also see the homes on the Wilson Simons and the Levi Simons farms. Harry Winans lives on the next farm east of the Ellis Wright place.
Near where the road makes a little jut is a bit of forest where many of the giant trees lie or lean from their stumps just as they were twisted in a cyclone which struck the neighborhood a few years ago.
A home that attracted our attention, because of its neatness and evidence of prosperity proved to be the home of Adrial Simons and family. Then we soon came to the John Sanders farm, another pretty home. Just before reaching Matthews we passed the farm of one hundred and thirty-five acres owned by T. J. Lucas, of Fairmount.
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The Making of a Township.
New Harmony Primitive Baptist Church is beautifully located near Matthews, close to a well kept cemetery overlooking a deep ravine. On the headstones we found the names of many well known families. Richards, Dunn, Couch, Cory, Hayden, Kibbey, Leach and others.
Leaving the cemetery we entered Matthews by a winding road which skirts a ravine and the river. We passed the homes of T. Richards and J. Richards and then came to one of the most pic- turesque places of all, the residence of John Slater, with its pretty lawn and driveways and its outlook on the river. Mr. Slater's family is especially well known in Fairmount, his children, Mrs. Margaret Newberger, Miss Minda Slater and Joe Slater all having graduated at the Academy.
Matthews has cement walks and brick streets and is a good looking little town.
After we boarded the Pennsylvania evening train for home we passed the site of Palmer Winslow's glass factory, a pile of melted glass and brick showing its former location. We also saw the little brick office which he once used, now fast going to ruin, and the house that was the former home of David A. Baldwin and his family.
We had a little chat with A. E. Wilson, the genial conductor on the train. Mr. Wilson married Miss Mattie Wheeler, a former Fairmount girl. They now live in Converse.
The hike was one long to be remembered. M. B. March 25, 1915.
"Over the hills to the poor house we wended our weary way" last Sunday. If our readers could have seen us as we climbed the last hill before we reached the main entrance to the grounds where the unfortunates of the county are kept they would wonder why we ever were permitted to leave after we once got inside, for. as warm and dusty as we were we certainly looked like fit subjects for permanent residence.
After finding an attendant we were escorted up the broad steps to the main entrance of the building. On the portico above us. as we mounted the steps, stood a feeble minded man who yelled out. "Oh, you lazy bones !" We are still wondering whether the appel- lation was meant for us or for the attendant.
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Rambles Over the Township.
Sunday is not visitors' day any more. So many people formed the habit of going on Sunday to visit the institution that the super- intendent and his family could get no rest, so an edict was posted that there would be no more Sunday visitors.
However, we met Superintendent Bowles and Dr. Ross, of Gas City, the Infirmary physician. The latter told us that there are always several sick and many infirm people in the institution. We were also told by the superintendent that at least one-third of the inmates are feeble minded and irresponsible.
The farm and the grounds are beautiful. The building is in excellent condition and everything is kept very clean. However, our hearts went out in sympathy for all connected with the place, including those in authority.
As we turned from the gateway, in a backward glance, we saw, in an upper window, the white head of an old, old man buried in his arms as they rested upon the sill. He may have been asleep or he may have been only resting, but so pathetic was the attitude that to us the figure of the man seemed to embody the spirit of the place. Forsaken by relatives and friends he must pass the re- maining days of his life as a ward of the county. The picture remained with us all day and will continue to do so for many, many days to come.
Another vivid incident preceded this one only a short time. Near the Infirmary flows Walnut Creek, which is spanned by a pretty bridge. As we sat near the creek resting by the roadside, an auto- mobile filled with men rushed by and came to a sudden halt in the middle of the bridge. Evidently a visit had been made to Gas City, for beer bottles were drawn thick and fast from the bottom of the automobile and, after being drained of their contents, were hurled over the bridge into the creek, striking the water with a great splash.
The men evidently thought we were thirsty, too, for they of- fered the "better half" a bottle, but did not seem to be offended at the refusal to accept. In commenting upon the incident later in the day, the "better half" said, "Those young fellows are paving the way to the County Infirmary or some such institution unless they mend their ways." Worst of all, they had a child-a little boy-with them.
April 29, 1915.
APPENDIX
How Public Lands Were Surveyed.
(From Niles' Register, April 12, 1817.)
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