History of Kalamazoo county, Michigan, Part 23

Author: Durant, Samuel W. comp
Publication date: 1880
Publisher: Philadelphia. Everts & Abbott
Number of Pages: 761

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" It would seem rather odd to see such recreations among the young people in the country about Battle Creek now, because they have so many other sources of amusement which the young folks of that day did not have, and for the lack of something better, enjoyed the best they had. Many of those young people are old gray-headed men and women now, and probably look back upon their recreations with a sigh for those they loved in the days when they went pioneering forty years ago.

" As we have said, the drones stayed East; none but the working bees came to this new country. Hence the class of young men and ladies were first in point of worth and industry. Among them now

OCCUPATION BY THE WHITES.

we have some of the best citizens in this part of the State. Some have died, some have removed to other parts of the country, and some, hav- ing married the girls with whom they 'played the beau' or made 'double-and-twisted lordy-massies,' in these frolics of the olden time, and are now living on the old farm where they first started life in Michigan.

" The following adventure in a party at my father's one evening will be remembered by many. A company of young folks from Go- guac Prairie, with others in the neighborhood, were present at this time. While they were promenading two by two around the room, singing a lively march, and just as they said,

"' Love fare you well, darling fare you well,'

a young couple, who had at that moment stepped on the trap-door be- fore the fireplace, sank down into the cellar, to the astonishment of the whole party. All immediately gathered about the hole and called out to those below, 'Are you hurt?' The response came back, 'No.' The trap-door had worked loose by the repeated tramping of feet over it, and had finally given way with a couple on it. They came up out of the cellar unharmed, and were the hero and heroine of the party the rest of the evening.

" William Michael was the song-singer and delineator of character on these occasions. His bon-mots and witty sayings were always sure to enliven the company. He went to Illinois some years later with the Thomases.

" Old gran'ther Morehouse, father to Aaron and Bradley Morehouse, was sometimes the musician at these parties when the violin was called into requisition. He was a very fine old gentleman of the school of the first half of this century. Tall and dignified in person, yet so affable and genial in manner that all liked him and felt at home in his presence. He was an old man then, his gray locks and wrinkled face indicated the grandfather ; yet when he took the violin there was all the graceful ease and skill in handling the bow for which he was cele- brated in his younger days. He could yet evoke the richest music from his favorite instrument. 'Tis said he purchased his violin at Montreal, in 1800, that its trade-mark was 1600, and that it was made at Innspruck, in the Tyrol, by Jacob Steiner, who learned his trade at Cremona, in Italy. This instrument, I understand, Mr. Neale, of Bat- tle Creek, now owns. We knew nothing of the history of his violin then, but we knew that he could give Zip Coon, Monnie Musk, and the favorite tunes of the day, to the perfect delight of the entire company, on the instrument that he handled. He always admired the dancing of Miss Nancy Orser, one of the young ladies from Goguac, and would occasionally play some tune for her to dance alone. He had played, he said, for many fine dancers, but she could beat them all. She was afterwards Mrs. Enoch Stewart,-since dead.

" Daniel Angell also ' handled the fiddle and bow' at these frolics. The Halladay boys, both ' Mat and Cal,' were also in vogue; these were their palmy days with the fiddle.

" These parties were not only a source of amusement, but offered a good chance for the young people to get acquainted with each other. They were really a kind of social school to the young people in the settlement, as we had no churches, and no preaching, save an occa- sional sermon in a settler's house by some wandering preacher; no newspapers, few books, no public lectures or any public entertain- ment; there was a dearth of social culture and improvement. These parties were the first phase of social recreation. They were for that pioneer period highly enjoyable. All were neighbors and attached friends,-a community of first brotherhood or genuine Adelphians.

"There were no purse-proud families. They all alike lived in log houses, and were bound to each other by many acts of neighborly kindness. Pride of dress was in its healthy, normal state. The ‘ ten- dollar boots' and the 'hundred-dollar bonnets' had not got into the new settlement; neither had ' Mrs. Lofty and her carriage, and dapple grays to draw it.' Neither had Mrs. Grundy pulled the latch-string at the door of a single log cabin in the settlement. She and all her kith and kin were East. Neither had the ' fashions' got in among us. It was fashionable then to live within your means, and the best suit of clothes you could afford to wear was the fashionable one. All classes worked for a living, and thrived. Wealth and leisure were not here to create distinctions. Aristocracy, which is said to be the off- spring of ancient wealth, was not in these regions. Yet every settler was an aristocrat,-one of the true nobility, who had earned his title by useful toil in the high school of labor.

" Raisings, logging-bees, husking-bees, quilting-bees, and the many 12

other occasions in which the word bee was used to indicate the gather- ing of the settlers to render gratuitous aid to some neighbor in need, originated in and were confined to new settlements. It was merely the voluntary union of the individual aid and strength of an entire community to assist a settler in doing what he was unable to accom- plish alone.

"Hence by bees the pioneers raised their houses and barns, did their logging, husked their corn, quilted their bed-coverings, and en- joyed themselves in frolic and song with the girls in the evening.

" It was no slight task in those days when log cabins were few and far between, especially when they were from three to twenty miles apart, to go the rounds through the woods to invite the neighbors to your raising or bee. It was a weary, foot-sore tramp, and often at the lone hour of midnight the latch-string would be pulled and the occu- pant informed that his aid would be needed the next day at a raising. But the cheering response you got at every cabin, 'I'll be there to help you,' sent you on your way rejoicing. Each settler was a minute- man, and was ready at a moment's warning to yoke up his oxen, shoulder his axe, and start to assist his brother-neighbor in need.

"In that early period people who lived twenty miles apart lived nearer together than many people do now who live in sight of each other. There are no distances like the unsocial and unneighborly distances. I think the people of that time carried out the true Scrip- tural idea of 'loving your neighbor as yourself.' A man might have gone from ' Jerusalem to Jericho' in our settlements and not have fallen among thieves; but if he had met with an accident and needed help, no one would have 'passed by on the other side,' but every set- tler would have acted the 'good Samaritan.' Twenty miles to a neighbor? Yes, any one of the human race, any one that needed our help, or to whom we had an opportunity of doing good, was our neigh- bor. That is the neighbor spoken of in the tenth chapter of Luke. There was much more importance attached to the Bible living forty years ago, and less noise made about Bible believing than now.

"Many of the first log houses were roofed with hay or grass. Then came the period of oak shakes for roofs, then of oak shingles, and, finally, the present whitewood and pine shingle roofs. The logs were first laid up by notching in, leaving the rough ends sticking out at the corners, and when raised to the required height they were laid in by degrees until they came to a peak at the top; this was called 'cobbing up,' because it was of the style of a child's cob-house. Shakes were put down in layers over these logs for a roof, and were held in their places by long poles laid across each layer and fastened by a peg or a withe at each end.

"This was the primitive style of log-house architecture. Then fol- lowed the log with square corners and rafters for laying down the roof. The floors were at first small-sized oak logs split in two, the flat side being hewed smooth; the pieces were laid round side down, and, if necessary, pinned at each end with oak pins. These floors were used until saw-mills were erected and lumber could be procured. A stick chimney was laid up, with a mixture of clay and sand for mortar, at one end of the house. This answered until brick could be obtained. The old brick fireplace was in use until the stove super- seded it.

"The log house stood with the side to the road; a door on wooden hinges, and with a wooden latch, was in the centre, with a window of two six-lighted, seven-by-nine sashes close by it, and a window of the same size in the opposite side of the house. Not a nail or parti- cle of iron was in use in any part of the building, nor any sawed lumber. The glass was held in the sash by small wooden pegs.

"The logs had been cut eighteen by twenty-two feet for a common- sized house, and hauled to the spot; a neighbor, too, may have assisted in the hauling. Pottawattomies, the settler's country cousins, may be said to have been the main help in raising the first log houses in this part of the State. I know of an instance where but two white men were present at the raising, the rest being Indians. They lifted cheerfully and lustily in rolling up the logs. They also assisted much at raising in after-years. Only let them know that ' Che-mo-ko-man raise wig- wam, like Indian come help him,' and you could count on their aid. In our settlement we depended on Goguac and Climax Prairies and the intermediate region for aid at raisings.

"The hands being all on the ground and everything ready, the settler superintending his own raising or requesting some one else to do it, in either case the man who commanded the men was called the 'boss.' He was implicitly obeyed. He gave the word and the work began. The two side logs were laid securely in their places, and the two end

HISTORY OF KALAMAZOO COUNTY, MICHIGAN.

logs were fitted to theirs. Four good axe-men-men who knew how 'to carry up the corners'-were then selected, and one placed at each of the four corners of the building to be erected. Their duty was to block off the tenons and fit the end of the log for its place. The logs were rolled up on two long skids by the united strength of the party, who pushed with hands and shoulders as long as they could; and when the log got too high for them to reach, they took stout poles with a crotch in one end, that were called 'mooleys,' and put- ting the crotches against the log they pushed it with many a ' heave-o- heave' to its place on the building. Thus log after log was rolled up, and all the corners carried up true and secure, until the top log was in place, the plates put on, the rafters erected, and the house was raised. Then an adventurous settler climbed to the top of the build- ing, taking a whisky-bottle from his pocket, took a good ' swig,' swung the bottle three times around his head, threw it to the ground, and named the building. Three cheers were given by the party, and the raising was over. The old brown jug of whisky was passed about freely at the raisings and the bees to all who wished to drink. Much care was necessary in regard to offering whisky to the Indians ; they were inclined to drink too much. I saw old ' Sam-o-kay' at a logging- bee drink until he became dead drunk before he stopped.

" Sidney Sweet was the first man in our settlement who attempted to raise a building without the aid of whisky; he had two trials and failed. Some of the jolly settlers had declared he should not raise his barn without whisky. But he gave an extended invitation the third time, and appealed to the lovers of temperance throughout the entire region, including all Climax. It was the largest gathering I ever attended of the kind ; the best men of Climax and the district east of it were there.

" The building went up with a will. Mr. Sweet treated his help each time with hot coffee, biscuit, and doughnuts. This was a victory over the bad habit of having whisky at raisings, and Sidney Sweet deserves praise for this first move in the cause of temperance among the early settlers. It gave encouragement to others, and soon it was as easy to raise a building without whisky as it had been with it.

" What an incalculable amount of valuable timber in this country has been cut down, logged up, and burned to ashes ! There appeared to be no help for it. It must be cleared off and room made for the plow. They could only save for their immediate use what saw-logs, rail-cuts, and fire-wood they wanted; they 'logged up' and burnt the rest. A settler would now and then remark : "Tis a pity to burn up such valuable lumber.' And perhaps he would hear in reply, 'Oh, pshaw! there is timber enough in Calhoun County to last two hun- dred years. Let the people after that look out for themselves.' Many began to do this long ago. Such views were expressed by men who thought there were no other clearings, no other logging-bees, but that one in the country. They did not think they were scattered all over the country then, and the work of burning up the timber was going on in all of them. In the timbered lands were found the largest trees and most of them, and there the hardest blows were given in making a clearing.

"A logging-bee was a good place to study the difference there is in men's knowing how to do work and to drive oxen. There was your man who never hitched to a log that his cattle could not draw, and he hitched to it in such a way that they could draw it to the best advantage; while another was continually hitching to the wrong log or the wrong end of the log. Then there was the man who, whether he drove an old or a young yoke of cattle, always drove a steer team. I saw such an one fail repeatedly to make his cattle start a log, when upon Jonathan Austin's taking the whip in his hand, the cattle sprang at the word 'go,' and fairly ran with the log to the heap. That was a little victory, and Austin got the cheers for it. There were good ox-drivers in those days, and there were those who never could learn to drive them well.

"Rail-splitting was connected with clearing up land, and came in for its share of hand labor. A beetle, iron wedges, gluts, and an axe were the implements used in this work. Rail-splitting was a regular employment for a certain class of men in our early settlements. Pio- neers and Presidents have split rails. The business has no more honor for that. There used to be some merit, though, in the number of rails one could split in a day. To cut and split one hundred rails in a day was a day's work for a common hand; and two hundred for a good hand. The wages were one dollar a hundred and board yourself; one-half dollar and be boarded. The rail was mostly made from oak timber, and was eleven feet long. Conrad Eberstein was accustomed

to say that he and Martin and Ephraim Van Buren had cut and split rails enough in Battle Creek township to fence off Calhoun County. They split, in the winter of 1837, fifteen thousand rails for Noah Crit- tenden, and eight thousand for Edward Smith, who then lived where Henry D. Courts now does. Remnants of some of the old rail fences of that day can yet be seen in some parts of the county, though dilap- idated and fast going to decay.

"'BREAKING UP.'

"Many settlers followed breaking up as a regular vocation, during the season, as thrashers follow theirs now. The turf on the prairies and plains was the toughest, and hence there was the hardest break- ing. That on the oak-openings yielded much more easily to the plow. The thicker the timber the softer the soil. Three yoke of cattle for the openings, and four for the prairies and plains, was the team re- quired in breaking up. Many of the first settlers broke up their lands with two yoke of oxen, because they could get no more. After the underwood grew up in the openings, on account of the annual fires not burning it down, the ' breaking-up' team consisted of six or seven yoke of oxen, according to the size and thickness of the 'grubs' in the land to be plowed. The first plow used by some was the old 'bull plow.' This was all wood, save the shire and coulter. Then came the large ' Livingston County plow,' imported from the East. Five dol- lars an acre was the old price for breaking up. Long distances were traveled over after the day's work was done to carry the share and coulter to the blacksmith's shop and get them sharpened. Many went six, seven, and sometimes ten miles to a blacksmith-shop. The old breaking-up plow was an institution in its day, and required a strong arm ' to hold it.' A man might be able to

"'Govern men and guide the State,'

who would make a ' poor fist of it' in holding a breaking-up plow be- hind seven or eight yoke of oxen, moving on in all their united strength among grubs and stones, and around stumps and trees. The driver had a task to do in managing his team and keeping the leaves, grass, and débris from clogging up before the coulter. He moves backwards and forwards along the whole line of his team, keeping each ox in its place, while with his long beech-whip he touches up the laggard ox, or tips the haunches of the off-wheel ox and the head of the nigh one to 'haw them in' while passing by a stump or tree. Then he cracks his whip over their heads, and the long team straightens out and bend down to their work, while the bows creak in the yokes, the connecting chains tighten with a metallic ring, the gauged wheel rumbles and groans at the end of the plow-beam, the sharp, projecting coulter cuts open the turf the proper depth, the broad share cleaves the bottom, and the furrow thus loosened rises against the smooth, flaring mould-board that turns it over with a whirling, ripping sound. Thus the work goes on.

"'The glittering plowshare cleaves the ground With many a slow decreasing round; With lifted whip and gee-whoa haw, He guides his oxen as they draw.'

" Husking-bees with the pioneers were not of the old 'down-east' kind, where the boys and girls both attended them. The settlers and their sons only attended these. They were occasions of rare enjoy- ment, besides being of value to the parties giving them. Sometimes the heap of corn would be divided into two parts, and parties chosen to husk against each other. This gave occasion to much strife and many a well-contested race. Then again the time would be enlivened by some one singing a song. Those were the days of song-singing and of glorious songs. I am sorry that some of those songs have gone out of vogue. Another source of enjoyment at husking-bees was story-telling ; this was a good occasion for cultivating the faculty of narration, and of imparting pleasure and information to others. As we had few books to read, we related over what we had read, and thus became books to each other.'

"TERRITORIAL BEGINNINGS.

"In 1824 there were but six organized counties in the Territory of Michigan. They were Wayne, Monroe, Macomb, Oakland, Macki- nac, and St. Clair. The old land districts, with their 'land offices,' were as follows : the Detroit district, organized in 1804; the Monroe district, in 1823; the Kalamazoo district, in 1831; and that of Grand Rapids, in 1836. Up to 1824 but sixty-one thousand nine hundred and nineteen acres of land were sold, and this was in the Detroit dis-

OCCUPATION BY THE WHITES.

trict; while in the single year of 1836 one million four hundred and seventy-five thousand seven hundred and twenty-five acres were sold, and in the whole Territory at that date four million acres of land were sold.

"The recognized villages or hamlets in 1825 were Port Lawrence,* on the Maumee, Monroe, Frenchtown, Brownstown, Truax's, near De- troit, Mt. Clemens, Palmer, on the St. Clair, Tecumseh, Pontiac, and Saginac. Orange Risdon, of Ypsilanti, made the first map of the surveyed part of Michigan, in 1825. In addition to the old, six new counties were added on this map. These were Washtenaw and Lena- wee, both organized in 1825; Saginaw and Lapeer, in 1835; Shia- wassee, in 1837; and Sanilac, in 1838. On this map the average vil- lage is indicated by four black dots. Detroit had twenty dots; Ann Arbor ten; Woodruff's Grove eight: Ypsilanti three; Dexter two; while Dixborough, with a name as black and much larger than any of them, had not even a speck. At the same time the possessions of Benjamin Sutton, the pioneer of 1825, covered two sections of land in Washtenaw County.

"The roads at this time, 1824, were the Chicago road, starting from Detroit, with a fork at Ypsilanti to Tecumseh, and one to Ann Arbor ; and a road from Detroit to Pontiac and Saginaw. The most noted of these was the old Chicago road, which was cut through from Detroit to Ypsilanti in 1823. That old pioneer, John Bryan, was the first white emigrant that passed over this road. Soon after it was cut through, he drove an ox-team before a wagon carrying family and household effects from Detroit to Woodruff's Grove, which place he reached on the night of Oct. 23, 1823.

"In 1835, John Farmer mapped out Michigan with its improvements at that date. I find an old map the most valuable and interesting of histories. Just one decade had elapsed in the new pilgrim's progress, between Orange Risdon's map of 1825 and John Farmer's of 1835. During this time civilization had taken up its line of march with its emigrant wagons, or with knapsacks or staff, on the old Chicago road westward from Ypsilanti, and all along its route the sound of the axe was heard breaking 'the sleep of the wilderness ;' while clearings were made, and hamlets sprung up at Saline, Clinton, Jonesville, Coldwater, Sturgis, Mottville, and at other places on towards Chicago. The same busy work of progress was going on from Ann Arbor westward, along the old Territorial road, where log cabins arose and villages appeared as if evoked by magic. For on the map of 1835 we find on this new map, west of Ann Arbor, the names of Lima, Grass Lake, Jackson- burgh,t Sandstone, Marshall, Battle Creek, Comstock, Kalamazoo, and St. Joseph, on the lake.

" Emigration had also pushed out from Detroit, on the Grand River road to Saranac, and on to Grandville. At the same time there were other roads branching out north and south from these main routes, leading to the various improvements in the lower part of the penin- sula, and dotting the map here and there were those heralds of pro- gress,-post-offices, saw-mills, and grist-mills.

" The love of one's native country is strong, and when we leave it we carry its love and its memories with us, as we do those of a dear friend, wherever we go. They go not only with us, but they influ- ence us by suggesting their like when we are selecting new homes in another country. There is a theory like this : 'Tis said the emigrant from New England was sure to get something of his native hills in his Western home; that if he came from the banks of a river, or from the banks of a lake, the water-view would not be forgotten when he sought a home in another place; and that if he was born on a sixty- nine-mile level, he would be delighted with our burr-oak plains or matchless prairies.

"Michigan had a variety of surface and soil, and hence pleased almost all. True, she didn't have the 'hanging rock and airy moun- tain,' yet, from the rugged hills to the level prairies, she had every variety of surface, and, from the dark, rich prairie mould to sandy earth, she had every variety of soil. And the same is true of her woods. From her magnificent forests of heavy timber to her sparsely wooded openings, she had every variety of timber. She had something to suit every one. Her climate was mild, her lakes and streams of pure water, and although she had the watery marsh, the occasional swamp, the slough or swale, yet, where they were useless, they did not seem to discount very much on the country. Taking the State as it was, it went at a premium to the emigrant.

" We hear much about the language of flowers. When this Terri-

* Now Toledo, Ohio.

t Now Jackson.

tory was in its full bloom, in all its natural wealth of tree and flower, ere the white man's axe had resounded in its forest or a plow turned a furrow, I think that Ponce de Leon would have interpreted the lan- guage spoken here, as he did farther south, in Florida, ' the land of flowers.' But there was a language of more utility spoken in her im- mense forests. Here she told of vast fortunes to be made in the lum- ber trade; but heavy blows and hard labor to be given ere the emigrant could get to farming. In her oak openings she said : ' Here are lands almost fitted for the plow; build a house of the wood here, fence into fields, thin out the timber, and, if not in the way, keep the heaviest for woodland, and go to farming.' In her prairies she said : ' Here are your farm-lands ; build your house, fence off into lots, and drive your team a-field.' In her marshes she said : 'Here is your meadow all ready for the scythe; fence it off to keep the cattle from spoiling it, and mow in the proper season.' In her streams she bab- bled of mill-privileges, of grinding wheat and corn, of turning ma- chinery for shops, and of the manufacturing power to build up villages and cities. In her lakes she said : ' Here you have the use- ful and the beautiful; find me out.' And she said in more general terms, ' I have vast stores of wealth concealed in the earth ; find them and they are yours.'

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History of Kalamazoo county, Michigan, Part 23

Author: Durant, Samuel W. comp Publication date: 1880 Publisher: Philadelphia. Everts & Abbott Number of Pages: 761

Author: Durant, Samuel W. comp
Publication date: 1880
Publisher: Philadelphia. Everts & Abbott
Number of Pages: 761