USA > Michigan > Ionia County > Memorials of the Grand River Valley > Part 21
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The early history of Paris is so closely interwoven with that of the Grand Rapids settlement, that really they are one. Grand Rapids spread out and covered the towns of Walker and Paris. Time brought about division, and established in- dependent towns. Yet the filial relation is still kept up- there is no real independence.
PLAINFIELD.
Plainfield was one of the towns that were early organized;
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at first with the territory of two townships. The settlers at that time were " squatters," mostly near where is the old vil- lage of Plainfield. The organization was at a log hut, used as a school-nouse, the first Monday in April, 1838, when were elected :
Zenas G. Winsor, Supervisor; Ethiel Whitney, Clerk; Dan- iel North, Samuel Baker, Z. G. Winsor, Geo. Miller, Justices.
On the records of that date appear the names of the follow- ing, in addition:
Andrew Watson, A. D. W. Stout, Warner Dexter, Cornelius Friant, Damas Francisco, Henry Godwin, Jacob Francisco. Jacob Friant, James Francisco, and Ezra Whitney, who were honored by being elected to office. Some of these were not residents of what is now Plainfield.
The one to whom the credit is given of being the pioneer, is our now venerable friend, George Miller, Esq., whom all have had self-respect enough to honor, and whose presence still dig- nifies his early home. He, with his family, pushed out from Grand Rapids to Plainfield, in 1837. The same year, James Clark, Thomas Friant and Warner Dexter became his neigh- bors. They had Indians for neighbors, and soon found Indian friends. By the work of their hands, by the aid of Indians, and by what they could canoe up the river, they weathered the first season; when a few others were added to their number --- Cornelius Friant, Zerra Whitney and Daniel North. They were obliged to live nearly Indian fashion; pound their grain, or grind it in a coffee mill; hunt for their meat, or pay a price beyond their slender finances. After all, there is a good deal in thinking. A good, pious widow, who could be thankful for little, had nurtured her little boy in the same spirit. Having an insufficiency of bed-clothes, she had arranged the bed of her son so as to cover it with an old door. One night, as she was about leaving him to his rest, and had carefully placed the door over him, he said to her: "How do those poor people get along who have not got any door to cover them these cold nights?" He was warm, and could be happy. So, give a fam- ily a log cabin, a big roaring fire, a haunch of venison and a kettle of hulled corn; and give them loving hearts and the
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spirit of thankfulness, they are not to be pitied. Some one has said, " man lives not by bread alone." It is no shame to begin small; if it were, we should all be obliged to hide our heads in shame; for we all began very small. But who wishes to be a baby forever? The baby is only the beginning of a man. We don't pity the baby at all. No, bless its little heart, we love it. But let us call on him ten years later, and see him not developed, we turn in disgust from the fool. Just so we look on the squatter in the woods. There is beauty in their primitive simplicity of life, and their smiling, cheerful con- tent. Let us pass their abode twenty years afterwards; find there the same primitive, undeveloped house and lands; the same content with little or nothing; and we say, "shiftless!" and turn away in disgust. One may wisely be contented with little at present; but he is one of Nature's abortions if he does not strive for more.
Soon a cluster of houses was at Plainfield, which assumed the dignity of a village, noted on the Grand River for its shingle trade. For a time it had rather a hard name. Some bad characters centered there, which made it more of a merit to be respectable. The village is where it cannot thrive. When it was the last village at the North, it was a smart little place. Its death blow was given it when the railroad passed it by, giving all its business to Rockford. It seemed natural that a village should grow up at the mouth of the Rogue River. But that river at present furnishes but little business, and what little it does furnish is growing beautifully less. Buy out that old saw-mill; put up a manufactory there; or, "Fuit Ilium," will be written where the village of Plainfield now is. " Fuit Ilium " is said to be Latin for " gone up."
The history of Plainfield is mostly of its lumber operations; its saw-mills and lumber trade. But that business has long since culminated; the pine of the town has been ent off, mills have gone down, or keep up existence by doing business on a smaller scale, and the town is thrown upon her agricultural resources. Some of the best land in the Valley is here; and the town has many good farms.
The town has not distinguished itself in the way of churches. It has but one, and that " don't go."
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In Indian times, Plainfield was an Indian place. Several of the most noted Indians had their residence there: Long Nose, whose tragic death is elsewhere spoken of; Wabesis. another victim of Indian hate, and Canote, the "beautiful." were among them. Their burial mounds are on the plain. but otherwise the Indians are a memory. The people, in speaking of Canote generally say he was the most graceful man they ever saw-a perfect Apollo, besides being very much of a gentleman; who at the table of the white man, could charm the whole by his superior grace.
The first birth and death in the town of Plainfield were in the family of George Miller-twin children-born but to die, in 183S.
Settlers could not secure their claims until the great land sale in 1839. They had before " squatted " pre-empted, and organized a town. Indians and white men were living to- gether; each amicably acknowledging the other's rights. After the sale, the Indians disappeared. Their burial monnds are the memento left behind. But these are not respected. The plow goes over them, and they are desecrated by the shovel of the curious.
Is it sad, or is it not, that the red man is disappearing? It is a law of Nature, and therefore a law of God, that the weaker must give way to the stronger; that the savage must give up the earth to civilized man. The Indian in America must adopt the habits of civilization, or perish. There is no use in our being sentimental about it-they know their destiny and we know it. We never shall admit the claim of the hnn- ter to keep out the ax and the plow. The Indians' rights are respected by the Government. We pay them for their hunter's claim, and give them the chances of citizens. If they will not then become citizens, let them submit to their destiny-perish. When a section of land can support an hundred civilized people, we shall not leare, from motives of delicacy, that section for the miserable sustenance of one savage.
The land is the world's. A man may gain an occupancy, but the ultimate title is in the State. The State gives no man
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a right to say the land is his own. A man passes away, but the land is eternal-a perpetual chance for men to live. "Tis wrong in principle to allow a man, or any set of men, to keep the soil from culture; the power of water from being used, or the mines from being developed. To a limited degree our laws give that power. When we realize that no "universal good " can be accomplished without " partial evil," there is no propriety in being restrained by that partial evil. The Indian has the same chance as the rest of us; that is, in the classical language of Horace Greeley, " Root hog, or die." Mankind, as a whole, are a great institution; but an individ- mal, whether white, red or black, is a small concern. The world lived without you or me, and can and will do it again. But it cannot live without the land. Think of that, when you say the Indians once owned this State. They never owned it: neither do you or I own the land we occupy. We only own certain rights to it, the State, representing mankind, present and future, having the paramount right.
We welcome the Indians to the ranks of civilization. Let them come forward and be men; or America will soon leave no place for them; and it is right. There are a good many hard things for individuals to bear in this " mundane, terres- tial earth;" but after all, you had better believe that the All- seeing Eye sees nothing but harmony, and that eternal pur- poses are the best judgment of Infinite Wisdom. Many think they see clearly how things ought to have been, and tell God so in their prayers. The writer must confess that he has had this conceit of his own wisdom; but he is now very well satisfied that he could not manage the world much better than God does.
Organized 1838, the townships 8 north, ranges 10 and 11 west, except what lies south of the Grand River.
1846, township 9 north, range 11 west, detached from Court- land and added to Plainfield; also, 1847, what of township 8 north, lies south of Grand River.
1848, free bridge built partly by the State.
The first settlers were Thomas Friant, who came in Novem- ber, 1836, who was in the employ of James Clark. His em-
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ployment was to take care of Clark's cattle. He and his fam- ily spent the winter with no white neighbors. To get across the river they took their wagon apart and carried it, piecemeal, in a canoe. In the spring some others came and squatted on lands: James Clark, Andrew Watson and George Miller were in before June, '37. Many persons pre-empted lands this year, who stayed on them a little while, sold out and went off. They merit no special mention. Of those who this year came on to stay, we are able to mention, Gideon H. Gordon, who built the first saw-mill on Rogne River, one-half mile from its month; Jonathan and Abner Misner, Cornelius Friant, Ethan Whit- ney, Daniel North, John Page, Aaron Eager, Z. G. Winsor, - Baker (7 feet high). These all lived within a mile or so of the river.
Of these pioneers, at the present writing (1875), Geo. Mil- ler and Cornelius Friant are still living in Plainfield. Jonathan Misner at Grand Rapids; Ethan Whitney, in Solon; Z. G. Winsor at Grand Haven; Abner Misner killed himself about '68; Gideon Gordon died early-'41; James Clark, died; An- drew Watson, '68; Geo. Gordon died about '55; Daniel North about '66; Mr. Page left many years ago, and went to Missouri.
Thomas Cranson was among the comers of 1838. He came in May from Tompkins Co., N. Y. His recollection is that he found here when he came, the persons whose names are above given. At that time Wm. Withey was building a mill on Mill Creek, one mile from the month.
About twenty-five families of Indians were resident; their chief Neog'gemaw. Their former chief, Kenoti'mischco. Kenoti is described as a very beautiful man. In fact his name was given him as indicative of his personal beanty.
In the scraps of Indian history, the tragical end of Long Nose is given. The Indian who killed him was tried by the clan, and afterwards lived a kind of ontcast.
The Indians were disposed to be very kind and to keep quiet, but they would have awful drunken frolics.
The first school was in the winter of 1837-8, in a log school honse near Friant's. It was taught by Jonathan Whitney. The next summer the school was kept by Miss Mary Fran- cisco. The school-house was this year burned and rebuilt.
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The first marriage was that of Wm. Livingston and a daughter of Esq. Miller, in 1838. This Livingston put up the first frame barn the same year.
SOLON.
Solon, formerly North Algoma, was organized as a town in 1857. The first town meeting at the house of Walter Rowe.
Edward Jewell, Supervisor; John E. Roys, Clerk; John D. Watkins, Treasurer; Andrew Fluent, Munson Robinson, Obadiah Smith, Justices.
Gladly would we give Solon a history, but she scarcely can be said to have one to write. Little can be said of the town without repeating the remarks on the other towns in the north- ern tier.
Perhaps the most picturesque town in the Valley, with places of surpassing loveliness, its history is of lumber camps, saw-mills, and blackberry excursions. It is slowly filling up, and will be a beautiful town; its lake scenery is unsurpassed; its land as good as any pine town; and its vicinity to railroads is such that its inhabitants are in free communication with the onter world. So far, it has only made openings, and begun improvements. Its reality is in the future. The beauty of its scenery will attract people of taste; and it will not long be a place for blackberry parties to range, but will assume the position of a place to go to for pleasure, and to enjoy beautiful scenery. We mean, when we get rich, to locate our " chateau " between the "Sand Lakes;" for, to our eyes, a lovelier spot does not exist in Michigan. If some other person gets the start of us, and secures that location, we will be content to build our country-seat on the shore of Long Lake. We have already picked blackberries there, and have, in fancy's dreams, seen our house, park and pleasure-grounds along that shore-our boat on its waters, and our fields and vineyards by its side. What has been our dream of fancy, some other sinner, who has a soul for beauty, will realize.
To make a show of history for Solon, we might go on and tell that certain persons were the first settlers. But what of that? They were all too late to make it a merit, or a distinc-
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tion. A person must have settled in Kent county long before 1850, to be entitled to mention as a " settler." A man must have some other merit to entitle him to historical notice. The town was reached, not by adventurous men, who left all be- hind and pushed far into the wilds, but by the progress of settlement-going just beyond the others. We have been strongly tempted to manufacture a " bear story," or to locate a gang of " bogus makers " there. Bnt from the last, we were deterred by the fact that we did not wish that the history of the town where our " chateau " is yet to rise, should present a blotted page. We then sought for a " horrid murder," but they have not had the enterprise to furnish us one. Well, what could we do? We could only look at the town and ad- mire, leaving its "history " to a future writer.
Solon may claim a part of Cedar Springs which has a brief history. She may divide that with Nelson.
But now, you slighted denizens of Solon, though you have done nothing for the historian's pen to relate, mark well his prediction (he has, in another place, given the reason why he may claim to be prophetic): A steamboat will, ere twenty years have sped, be plying on Long Lake. The shores of that and the Sand Lakes will be the resort of pleasure parties. Your town will be the popular resort for picnics and excursions. Fine houses will go up in your romantic spots; and you will put on airs. Make a good road from Cedar Springs to the " Lake Region," and you will then see the dawn of that day. From that day it will be a safe investment to put up a hotel there. Call me " romancer " if you please; but there's a big city not far from you, and a city must have its pleasure grounds. If this does not come to pass as predicted, as you pass the grave of the visionary writer, call him " fool."
SPARTA.
Sparta was not settled until civilization had taken deep root in the Grand River Valley, and had no instance of startling pioneer adventure, or of special pioneer hardship. The fact is, there were in the Valley more than 10,000 civilized white people before one of them, pushing into the next township,
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located himself in Sparta. So we shall not give any great credit to the one who cut down the first tree, or put up the first shanty, but shall lump together those who first came, and commence with the organization of the town.
It had been an appended territory to Walker until 1846. when at a meeting, held at the house of Clark Brown, it was organized as a town by itself, April 6th. At this meeting 23 persons were present and voted; and the following persons bore off the town honors:
Lewis W. Purdy, Supervisor; John M. Balcom, Clerk; Myron II. Balcom, Treasurer; Wm. Rodgers, Charles B. Hatch, Edward II. Wylie, Elihu Rice, Justices.
The following is a list of voters then in the town (which included Tyrone), with some who are known to have come in the next year:
Caleb Amadan, Benj. Blackall, Clark Brown, John M. Bal- com, Wm. Blackall, Myron H. Balcom, Wyman M. Bartlett, Newel Barker, Myron HI. Bird, Jacob A. Bradford, Anthony Chapman, Joel French, James Huff, Charles B. Hatch, Jacob Hiles, Minor Letts, David B. Martindale, Benj. Myers, Jno. E. Nash, Parsly Otis, Berry D. Pearl, Lewis W. Purdy, Elihu Rice, Wm. Rodgers, John A. Simmons, Jacob Spangenburg, James V. Simmons, Geo. Spangenburg, Philip Slaght, Lyman Smith, Luther Van Horn, Harvey Van Horn, Edward H. Wylie.
In 1848, 39 voters were present and voted.
In 1849, the poll list was 100, indicating a rapid settlement.
The historical gleanings are: In 1844, Lyman Smith (now of Grand Traverse), settled on section 25. The same year Norman and Edwin Cummings put up shanties on Sec. 34, where Norman now lives. Soon came Lewis Purdy, who, more aristocratic, put up a log house-the first in the town. IIis wife was the first white woman in the town. The same year, in the fall, Hiram H. Myers located east of Rogue River, and in the winter was followed by his father and his family. They took up a good deal of land, and were extensively engaged in building.
In January, 1845, the town received quite an acquisition, in
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the person of Joseph English, who came direct from England. Mr. English is a character, and the historic pen may well pause and give the romantic story of his life. He is now, in a green old age, enjoying his wealth and dignity in an unpre- tentious home, with his good old lady, of whom he is very proud, by his side; his family all settled around him, with nothing to do but take care of his hens and cabbages. Get the right side of him, and he will tell you the most romantic story of how he " wooed and won his bride"-the ancient lady who smilingly looks on, while the beaming eyes of the old lover fairly glisten with triumph. It is in substance this:
Twenty-one years found him in England, an illiterate, grace- less youth, unable to read or write, and with only a poor, Eng- lish mechanic's prospects in life. One day, passing a house, a vision of angelic loveliness presented itself before him. It was no other than of a lass of sweet sixteen, feeding the chick- ens. With eyes and mouth open, he gazed at her for a mo- ment, mustered his courage, approached the fence and said: " I am going to have you for my wife." "Get along with you, you vagabond!" was her answer. Nothing daunted, he said to
hier, "You may say as much as you please, but I'll have you." " If you don't clear out," said she, "I'll set the dog on you, you miserable, putty-faced ragamuffin!" "Good-bye, Miss; but I'll see you again soon, and I'm going to have you for my wife." "Out with you!" said she, hurling a slop-bneket at his head, which he dodged, winking with his left eye, and say- ing, "I'll call again and see you to-morrow, and you'll be my wife, sartin." True to his word, he called at the house the next day, and inquired for that girl that was going to be his wife. Mamma, aunt and girl, all pitched at him, drove him out of doors, and, with a commingled chorus of screaming voices, bade him make himself scarce. Cocking his head on one side, when out of the reach of their missiles, he said: " Say what you've a mind to, I'll have her." Next day-the next- the next, and the next, he presented himself at the door, to be greeted with slop pails emptied on his head, and with the shrieking, " Get out, you vagabond!" Here the old gentleman stops the narration; but with a triumphant snapping of his
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eyes, he says, " I got her!" The modus operandi he does not tell. But be it what it may, it illustrates the doctrine of " perseverance." "He that perseveres until the end," etc., etc.
"Fortune favors the brave;" or as was written for us as a copy by a schoolmaster who had read the " Liber Primus" in Latin, and wished to display his learning, " Fortis fortuna juvat." We always remembered that, and made use of it in turn when we kept a school. English illustrates that. By per- severance and braving dish cloths, slop pails and maledictions. he won his bride. By perseverance and bravery he rose to be a master mechanic, and to be the honest possessor of $15,000. With this, in 1843, he came to America, and went to specula- ting at Grand Rapids and thereabouts. The result illustrates another principle embodied in the old proverb: "Let the cob- bler stick to his last." Mr. E. ought to have known that it was hazardons for an English master builder to turn his prop- erty into cash, put himself in competition with Michigan cus- sedness, and go to speculating in lumber. But so he did; and in two and a half years found his pretty little pile of dollars in other people's pockets; while his own pocket was like a cuckoo's nest in March. Did English commit suicide? . Did he go boo-hooing like a whipped urchin? Or did he sit down on a stump, and write a poem on the uncertainty of earthly hopes? Not he. Having speculated out of fortune, he deter- mined to speculate in. He bought land on credit. He made shingles, which he sold for $1 per thousand; working from four in the morning until nine at night, and shaving five thousand per day. Working and speculating, 1855 found him able to build a steam mill in Alpine. The next year this was burned. Again his capital was his brains and his pluck: With these he went to lumbering on Rogne River; did well; built mills; bought land; got rich; divided his property among his chil- dren; with a cheerful heart resigned business, and, with the wife of his youth, is happily biding his time. Born in 1803, he still works; not from necessity, but because if he did not he could not live. He has his four sons settled around him. He always was a happy dog, that never would howl, though
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his bark was sharp, and expressive of grit. Long life to you, " Uncle Jo."
In the spring of 1845, Cummings-the father of the good- looking and well-known Norman, Edwin and Nelson-came on where his boys had begun. In June of the same year, Elihu Rice, John Symes and Anthony Chapman came on together. They had to cut their road; and with one hundred feet of boards, which they brought along, made a shelter. The writer was lately in the beautiful cottage of Symes, and was looking at a photograph of the house which hung in the parlor. The old lady said: "You should see by the side of this the first house we lived in here-one hundred feet of boards resting on two poles; brush piled at the sides to break the wind; a log heap in front to cook by; only one chair, and other things in proportion." We asked her if they were not as happy in that as in this. "Yes," said she, "a great deal more so.' Were- flected on human nature, and for once mentally extemporized poetry :
Contented with little, why grasping for more.
We believe that is original, if not with us, it was with somebody else more than 100 years ago.
David B. Martindale was an 1845-man. He spent his days in the town, dying in 1872. Also the same year came Myron and John Balcom. Myron removed to Missouri; John has always stayed, and the genial countenance of the deacon welcomes the traveler to the hotel at Nashville.
Clark Brown, at whose house the town was organized, and who then with dignity presided over the assembled multi- tude, is still where he erected his humble shed in 1845. Now he looks up in the world. A roomy mansion is the home of his well-fed and well-rounded person. He looks the digni- fied alderman, and he enjoys his beautiful home, unruffled by anything but the villainous 'cloth-peddler. At the sight of one of them his bosom swells with ire. A good-looking patriarch, we hope his shadow will long be seen in the streets of Sparta.
In 1846, from Greenfield, Massachusetts, came Jonathan E.
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Nash, the son of Elihu, who was the son of Theophilus. who was the son of Jehoniah, who was the son of Epaphroditus, who was the son of Zoroaster, who was the son of the original Eliakim Nash. (See the " Nash Genealogy.") From the aforesaid " Genealogy." we learn that the name was originally written "Gnash." But why, is not mentioned. Some dim allusions to "gnashing of teeth." are connected with the family traditions. Beyond this Eliakim Nash, no record or tradition is preserved, and he is looked to as the source of the race and name. But for our purpose it matters little. Jona- than E. is a present reality. Eliakim is now but a name. per- haps a myth. This Jonathan E. has always been a mighty hunter; the terror of bees and deer; a provident and thoughtful hunter, who always before starting for the forest with dog and gun, kills a sheep, to be sure his family may have meat on his return. He sometimes brings home a deer. but whether he brings meat or no, he always brings a genial countenance, and greets the one who would joke at his expense, with a laugh that is contagious. He has also been death on all candidates for office, who were nominated in opposition to him. So much is this the case. that now when Jonathan is nominated, the opposing candidate, of his own accord, " comes down and gives up his fur." Jonathan has laid out a village which bears his name, and there he lives,- not " Esq. Nash," nor " Mr. Nash," but "Jonathan"-about as happy a specimen of humanity as ever bade defiance to the blues, or lived to diffuse happiness.
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