History of Bay County, Michigan, with illustrations and biographical sketches of some of its prominent men and pioneers, Part 6

Author:
Publication date: 1883
Publisher: Chicago : H. R. Page
Number of Pages: 380

USA > Michigan > Bay County > History of Bay County, Michigan, with illustrations and biographical sketches of some of its prominent men and pioneers > Part 6

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SIX YEARS OF LANGUISHING.

During the interval between 1838 and 1844, all was quiet along the Saginaw. The movements concerning Lower Saginaw and Portsmouth, as towns, are given in the chapter of their history. The two hamlets were emphatically waiting for something to " turn up." There were a few new comers. Dr. D. H. Fitzhugh purchased several parcels of land where West Bay City now stands, about 1840. In 1842, James G. Birney came in pursuit of solitude, and found it.

During the Winter of 1838-39, Gen. Rosseau was engaged with his brother, Capt. Rosseau, and his uncle, Dr. Rosseau, in the per- formance of a surveying contract with the government, their work being the subdivision of townships in this vicinity. Other survey- ing was done by Louis Clawson, who arrived in the Spring, having a contract to survey territory up the shore.

In July, 1839, Stephen Wolverton arrived, commissioned to build a light house at the mouth of the river. He came on a small vessel, commanded by Capt. Stiles, and commenced the work which

HISTORY OF BAY COUNTY.

was afterwards finished by Capt. Levi Johnson, of Cleveland, Ohio. It was during this year that John Hulbert, the Indian paymaster, came to Lower Saginaw to make the last payment to the Indians for the purchase of their reservation. There were 1,700 Indians camped in the vicinity of the Globe Hotel. They remained about two weeks and received $80,000.

TOWNSHIP ORGANIZATION AND ELECTION.

Prior to 1843, this entire region was included in the township of Saginaw. In the Winter of 1843 the township of Hampton was erected, and included the Lower Saginaw region, and territory north as far as Mackinaw. The name "Hampton " was selected by James G. Birney, that being the name of his wife's country seat in New York State. The township was organized in the Spring, and the first election held at the Globe Hotel, April 1. 1843. This was an important meeting,-a supervisor had to be elected. There is no tradition of any caucuses, no stuffing of the ballot box, no intimida- tion at the polls. Party spirit evidently ran high, for the contest was a close one. There were thirteen votes polled, of which S. S. Campbell received seven and James G. Birney six; and Mr. Camp- bell was declared duly elected, to attend meetings of the county board at Saginaw, and paddle his own canoe both ways. The expenses of the township for the first year were about $60.

In 1855 the town of Williams was organized by the Midland Board, and comprised Towns 14, 15, 16, north, Range 3 east, and all of Arenac County.

INDICATIONS OF RETURNING LIFE.

With the beginning of the year 1844 there appeared faint indi- cations of returning life to the Lower Saginaw region. A start in the manufacture of lumber had been made by James McCormick & Son at Portsmouth, and in the Winter of 1844 James Fraser and Cromwell Barney built a mill at Kawkawlin, and other mills fol- lowed as narrated in the chapter of lumber history.

In 1847 an Indian Mission Church was erected on the Kaw- kawlin River. This was the first church built within the present limits of Bay County.

PIONEER LIFE ILLUSTRATED.

In the following biographical reminiscences will be found an interesting and faithful portrayal of pioneer life in the Saginaw Valley.

THE Mc CORMICK FAMILY.

JAMES McCORMICK, one of the very early settlers of the Saginaw Valley, was born near Albany, N. Y., May 25, 1787. His father, Archibald McCormick, was born in Galloway, Scotland, in the year 1757. When he became of age, he left his paternal roof and went to Ayreshire, where he married a Scotch lassie by the name of Mary Cummings, and rented a small farm near the birth-place of the Scottish poet, Robert Burns. He emigrated to America in the year 1778, where the subject of this sketch was born. Here he pur- chased an old Norman patent of 700 acres of land, four miles southwest of the city of Albany, on the Normanskill Creek. Here

. James McCormick received his early training, working on the farm in Summers and going to school Winters. Here he worked, help- ing to clear the farm, until he was twenty-four years old, when he married Miss Ellen Garratt, daughter of Robert Garratt, of Otsego County, N. Y., one of the old pioneers of that county, and founder of Garrattsville. His father had promised to give him a farm out of his 700 acres, when he married, but he recanted and said a her- etic should have none of his property, as James McCormick had previously left the old Scotch Presbyterian Church and joined the

Universalists. This was a sin the old gentleman could never for- give, until a few hours before his death, when the last words he said were, "I cannot die in peace, I have wronged my son James; I have never given him anything, ard he has done more for me than all my boys." James bought a farm adjoining his father's, where he accumulated a handsome fortune for a farmer in those days. In 1830 he went on bonds with some friends to the amount of $16,000, which he had to pay, and had to sell his fine farm to pay his obligations. After settling up he had but $300 left, with a large family to support. In the meantime, two of his brothers had got their father to deed them all his real estate, cutting James off with- out a dollar. This exasperated him so, that he determined to go to the far West, as it was then called.

He left Albany the 1st of May, 1832, with his large family, consisting of Robert, James, Ann, William R., Elizabeth and Sarah. Joseph, the second son, had previously gone with a friend to Ken- tucky. Says William :

"Well do I recollect that memorable journey. My boyish life was full of anticipations of the future. It was the happiest day of my life when we went aboard of the canal boat to go West. But my mother was sad. No doubt she was thinking of the beautiful home she had left, and the misgivings of the future, with her large family to commence anew in a new country. We were seven days in reaching Buffalo, and a pleasant time we children had.

"At Buffalo we were transferred to the steamboat "Superior," and my father bought a steerage passage for his family to Detroit, includ- ing a horse and wagon we had brought with us, for which he paid $50. When the boat left the wharf hundreds of people stood on the shore waving handkerchiefs and bidding their friends adieu. There were but three steamboats carrying passengers on the lakes at this time. We were three days and nights in reaching Detroit, with a fair wind all the way, and as the steamboats carried spars in those days, this increased our speed very much.' It was published in the papers at the time, that it was the quickest time that had been made between Buffalo and Detroit.

"At Detroit my father hired some rooms for his family. This house was situated near the river bank, in an old pear orchard, and in rear of where the Biddle House now stands, and as we had brought no furniture with us we took our meals from the top of a large chest. Detroit at this time contained about 3,300 inhabitants.

"After my father had got his family temporarily settled, he, with brothers Robert and James J., took the horse and wagon we had brought with us, and started in the country to look for a farm. In his walk around the city he had met and formed the acquaintance of the late John R. Williams, who advised him to go to Saginaw.

"They finally started for Saginaw. They went as far as Grand Blanc, where they were obliged to leave the horse and wagon, as there were no roads any further. So they hired pasture of Rufus W. Stevens, an Indian trader, for the horse, and started on foot on the Indian trail for Saginaw. They went as far as Flint River, where they stopped with a man by the name of John Todd. Here they stayed a few days, as they liked the country very much, and decided to locate here.

"The United States Government at this time had commenced building a United States military road from Detroit to Saginaw, as Michigan was a territory and under the control of the General Gov- ernment at this time. A man by the name of Davis had taken the contract of the government to build the bridge across the Flint River. He employed my father and brother Robert to work on the bridge, while brother James J. planted some potatoes. This must have been some time in the month of June, 1832. Soon after this my father purchased of a Mr. Ewing a "half-breed" title to one hundred and twenty-five acres of land on the north side of the river, and on the

HISTORY OF BAY COUNTY.

east side of what is now Saginaw Street, now the First Ward of the city of Flint, but could find no house for his family, as there were but two houses there at this time, one occupied by John Todd, on the south bank of the river, and the other the old Indian log trading house of Jacob Smith, on the north bank, some twenty-five rods below where Lyman Stow, afterwards Judge Stow, of Genesee County, then lived. So my father got a small log building near the Thread River, one and a half miles south of Flint River, for his fam- ily until he could build on the land he had bought. He then sent my brother James J. back on the Indian trail to Grand Blanc to get the horse and wagon, and remove the family from Detroit to Flint. My father got a young man by the name of Miller to go with him, as James J. was then only fifteen years old. This man Miller is now the Hon. Judge Albert Miller, of Bay City, and late president of the State Pioneer Society of the State of Michigan, who, prior to this, had come up from Saginaw to teach a school for the little settlement at Grand Blanc. They arrived in Detroit on the third day, as the roads in those days were almost impassable. We all went to work, packing up our little household goods. My mother hired a man by the name of Mosher with his team to carry a load to Grand Blanc for $25. There was great excitement in our little family to see our new home among the Indians.

"We started from Detroit for Flint River, some riding and some walking, and all walking where the roads were bad. This must have been the fore part of July, for I recollect the celebration of the 4th was a few days before we left, at the old capitol building, which was then away out on the common, having been built in 1825, and was located some little distance northwest of where the soldiers' monument now stands. At any rate, there were no build- ings near it. But to proceed with our journey. The roads were very bad, and we only got across the Swamp to Royal Oak the first day. That part of the country laying between Royal Oak and Detroit was in those days called the Swamp, and of all roads I ever saw I think this was the worst. The next morning we proceeded on our journey. The country become more broken, and the roads better, and that night we reached a little log house on the bank of a pretty lake, where a man by the name of Fuller had settled. This is now Springfield. We started early the next morning and at night reached Grand Blanc, and stayed all night with a man by the name of Rufus W. Stevens, who kept an Indian trading house, or store, for trading with the Indians for furs. Our father and oldest brother had come up from Flint River to meet us, and how glad we were to see them. Here Mr. Mosher, the teamster, left us, as he could go no further, this being the end of all wagon roads. From here to Flint was nothing but a narrow road cut to let sleighs pass through in Winter, but not wide enough in many places for a wagon. We started early with our one horse wagon, my mother and the larger children walking, while my father and elder brother went ahead to clear the road. We worked hard all day, and at night, tired and worn out, we reached the Thread River, six miles from where my father had prepared a temporary abode for his family. Conse- quently, this was the first wagon that had come through to the Flint · River.

"We lived here a short time until my younger brother, Archibald, was born, October 31st, he being the first white male child born between Grand Blanc and Mackinaw. My father soon built a house on the land he had bought, which now comprises the First Ward of the City of Flint, where he soon removed. After getting his family settled he began to look around for provisions for the Winter. There was plenty of venison to be had of the Indians, but there was no pork in the country.

"Finally, he and a man who had moved into the country, by the name of George Oliver, started down the Flint River in a canoe for

Saginaw, to buy pork for their families. On their way down the river they encamped on the old Indian fields about seven miles south of what is now Bridgeport, and about fourteen miles from Saginaw, by the road, and twenty-five by the river.

"My father took a great fancy to this old Indian field, which contained about 150 acres, without a stump or a stone, and all ready for the plow.

"Here he could raise enough to support his family. The Indians had abandoned it years before, because the grub worms ate their corn as it sprouted from the ground, which they attributed to the wrath of the Great Spirit. They left it, and made new corn fields farther up the river. On my father's return home he said to my mother that he would sell his place the first opportunity, and remove down the river on the Indian fields, where he could raise more exten- sive crops, as the soil was much richer. Finally, in 1834, my father sold his place for $600, and thought he was making a great specu- lation, as he had only given $125 for it two years before.

"He then negotiated with Ton-dog-a-ne for a lease of 640 acres, including the Indian fields, for a term of years, for the nominal price of twenty-five bushels of potatoes and twenty-five bushels of corn, per year.

"These Indian fields were within the reservation of the Indian chief, Ton-dog-a-ne, of the Flint River band of Indians, which com- prised over 7,000 acres.

"We then moved down the river to the Indian field spoken of before, and arrived at that place the second day, unloading our canoes after dark. We had no place to stop, but we went to work and built a large fire, and made a tent of blankets for my mother and the children. I recollect a circumstance that night which made me feel very bad, and which I cannot even now recall without a sense of pain. My mother was sitting on a log close by the fire, crying. We asked her what was the matter. She said ' she never thought she would come to this-no roof to cover her and the babes ' -for at this time some of the children were quite small. She had known better times, as they say. My father had been the owner of a handsome estate near Albany, and the house over which my mother presided was as delightful as any which at that time graced the banks of the noble Hudson. It was a fate which a mother's heart could not easily bear, to see that beautiful home sold to satisfy the demands of a New York broker for whom my father had under- signed; to see the toils of a lifetime brought to ruin; to see the hopes of the future all struck down by a rude and cruel blow; and to turn her face and steps toward the wilderness of the great West, there to seek, with such strength as might be left, to partially retrieve the fortune that had been so suddenly wasted to redeem another's name and obligation. Hard, hard indeed, was it for her when the darkness of that memorable night surrounded her in the great forests, and she wept because there was no roof to shelter her babes from the weather.

"The next morning we all went to work, and on the second day we had quite a comfortable shanty to live in. We then began the construction of a log house, which we soon finished, when we took down our shanty and moved into the house, where we lived many years. There was a black walnut flat just above the fields, of beau- tiful timber, which we made into rails, and fenced the 150 acres with black walnut rails ;- a rather expensive timber for rails at the present day. Our first year's crop was excellent. The second year we sold 1,000 bushels of corn to the American Fur Company, to be taken to Lake Superior for the Indians. The only drawback we had was in converting our grain into flour. A grist mill had been built at the Thread, one and a half miles south of Flint. We had to take our grain, in a canoe, up the river some thirty-five miles, and then get it drawn to the mill and back to the river and then

HISTORY OF BAY COUNTY.

come down the river home. It usually took us four days to go to mill and back, camping out every night, and the hardest kind of work at that. This work always fell on my brother James and myself, for though a boy, I could steer the canoe and my brother would tow it over the rapids with a rope. Our feet used to get very sore walking in the water so much. When Winter came on it was impossible to go to mill, as there was no road, so in the Winter evenings we all took turns pounding corn in a mortar-made in the end of a log, sawed about three feet long with a hole in one end to pound corn in, similar to what the Indians used to pound corn in in those days.

"Many of the old settlers of Saginaw will recollect how, in coming down the river, they made their calculations to reach our house to stay all night without camping out, and how happy they were when they got there, for at that time it was the only place between Flint and Saginaw where they could stay over night with- out camping out. There was nothing but a

TRAIL OR BUSH ROAD BETWEEN FLINT AND SAGINAW,

and part of the year it was impassable, especially for ladies; con- sequently most of the travel went up and down the river in canoes and skiffs.

"In 1835 my father went back to Albany, his native place, and was eleven days in reaching his destination. He considered it a quick passage. This was before the age of railroads. When he returned, he brought a mill, something like an old-fashioned coffee mill, but five times as large; the hopper would hold about a peck, and had a handle on each side. This was a great thing in those days, for with it we could grind a bushel of corn in an hour. We now threw away the old mortar and stopped going to mill, as we had a mill of our own.

"This year we had two neighbors, and they used to come in the evenings to grind their corn at our mill, which was worth its weight in gold to that little settlement.

"A circumstance happened at this time that I will give, if you will have the patience to hear me. My father being of a poetical turn of mind, the day after he came from the East, sat down on the bank of the river and composed the following verses, which I have taken from his note book of poems:

"Down the banks of Flint River, This beautiful stream, Where my cottage remains, I've returned home again. And who, in his senses, Can help but believe That this was the garden Of Adam and Eve.

"Here the fields yet remain, With the corn hills in view, And the bones we dig up Which Cain no doubt slew; And the soil is so fertile, We can but believe That this was the garden Of Adam and Eve.

"Some apple trees here yet As relics remain, To show that a gardener Once thrived on this plain. And in those fine days, E'er a snake could deceive, How happy here lived Old Adam and Eve.

"The natives we saw here, Were forced from this plain By a curse, which they say

On it yet does remain ; And in all their looks We can plainly perceive, That these are descendants Of Adam and Eve.

"Here the cherubims stood With their wings widely spread,

Lest Adam should enter, And eat of that bread. Here the wild sporting deer Yet the hunters deceive, That once furnished bacon For Adam and Eve.

"Here the lofty black walnut, With its boughs spreading wide, And the elm and hackberry Grow side by side; And a mound gently rises Whereon we perceive, That once stood the altar Of Adam and Eve.

"But far from this place Have those characters flew, And we bid them a lasting And farewell adieu, In confidence thinking, And still shall I believe That this was the garden Of Adam and Eve."

"In 1836 (this was wild cat times) the country was overrun with persons looking land; in fact, the people had gone land crazy. My father's house was crowded with land speculators. As there were only three rooms in the old log house, it was necessary to make what is called a 'field bed ' before the old-fashioned fire-place, which would hold from ten to fifteen. On one occasion we had got out of flour, so my father started my brother James and myself to Saginaw in a canoe for some. At that time there were three ' drift woods' in the river, one sixty, one thirty-five and one twelve rods long. Around these we had to draw our canoe and carry what we had. At Saginaw we purchased two barrels of flour for $18 per barrel. On our return it commenced raining and rained all day. We paddled till late in the night up the Flint River to find land high enough to per- mit us to build a fire and dry ourselves and lie down; but we did not sleep long, for in the middle of the night the water raised so that our camping ground was under water.

"We had to take to our canoe and sit in it until daylight, so we could see to go ahead. We soon arrived at the drift wood. Here we had another obstacle to contend with. How to get our flour around was a question, as the mud and water were about four inches deep, and carry the barrels we could not. There was no other way but to roll them around in the mud and water. We arrived home that night with our two barrels of flour covered all over with a coat- ing of mud.

" The next Winter my father sold his crop of corn to parties in Saginaw for $1.50 per bushel. As usual, my brother James and myself drew it down on the ice to Saginaw, and got our pay in bills on the Flint Rapids Bank. A few days after our return home my father started for Flint, and found, after his arrival, that the Flint Rapids Bank was a wild-cat concern and had failed a day or two before. Thus was all our

HARD YEAR'S LABOR GONE.

"The next year the Indians were terribly afflicted with small- pox; forty-seven of them died at the Indian village above my father's house, and all through the country they were dying by scores. At Green Point, at the mouth of the Tittabawassee, several were left

HISTORY OF BAY COUNTY.

unburied, and were eaten up by the hogs. To add to the horrors of sickness and death, they were starving, as there were not well ones enough to hunt for the rest.

" My father sent word to the Indian village above him, that they must not starve, but to bring down their canoes to the upper end of the field, above the house, where they would find plenty of potatoes, corn, beans, pumpkins, squashes, etc., piled up on the bank of the river, and when they wanted more, come to the upper end of the field and shout, and they could have all they wanted.

" My father continued to supply them with food until they recov- ered and could provide for themselves. This favor they never forgot, for, said they, ' if it was not for our white brother,'as they used to call my father, 'we should have all starved to death.' Soon after this they called a council of the chief and head men and made a new lease to my father of one section of land, 640 acres, where he then lived, on the lower end of the reservation, for the term of ninety- nine years. This lease was signed by the chiefs and head men of the nation, in presence of Judge Devenport and others, as witnesses.

" This was done in gratitude for what my father had done for them, when they had the small-pox and were starving; which cor- roborates an old saying, and a true one, that an Indian never for- gets a favor, which I have in a great many instances experienced.

" Soon after this Henry R. Schoolcraft, the superintendent of Indian affairs, was sent on by the government to make a treaty with the Indians to cede the several reservations lying on the Flint, Shiawassee, Tittabawassee and Cass Rivers to the United States government.

" The chiefs and head men of the different bands of each reser- vation were notified by Mr. Schoolcraft to meet him in council at Flint, to negotiate for a sale of their reservations. A treaty or sale was made to the government of all the reservations except the Flint River Reservation. Ton-dog-a-ne and his band refused to sell their seven thousand acre reservation on the Flint River, unless they sold subject to a lease they had given to James McCormick, of a section of land, 640 acres, on the lower end of the reserve where he then lived.

"This Mr. Schoolcraft, the government commissioner, refused to do. Then, said the chief, Ton-dog-a-ne, and his head men, ' We will not sell our lands unless our white brother is provided for; we will not sign the treaty.' The treaty was then broken up in regard to the Flint River Reservation. Subsequently, Mr. Schoolcraft, through his interpreter, Capt. Joseph F. Marsac, notified Ton-dog- a-ne and his band that he would purchase their reservation subject to the terms specified. With this understanding the chief, Ton-dog- a-ne, and the head men, signed the treaty, with full confidence that Mr. Schoolcraft had done as he agreed, and that their white brother was provided for. This afterwards proved not to be the fact, as he had left it out of the treaty altogether. The government afterwards sold the land occupied by Mr. McCormick, to which he thought he had a just title by the treaty, and he was ejected therefrom.

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History of Bay County, Michigan, with illustrations and biographical sketches of some of its prominent men and pioneers, Part 6

Author: Publication date: 1883 Publisher: Chicago : H. R. Page Number of Pages: 380

Author:
Publication date: 1883
Publisher: Chicago : H. R. Page
Number of Pages: 380