USA > Minnesota > Jackson County > An illustrated history of Jackson County, Minnesota > Part 44
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A WIFE AS A JAILOR.
The primitive condition of Jackson county under its first organization led to many a queer official proceeding, viewed in the light of present conditions. The story is told that in 1861 Joseph Muck, who with his large family had come to Jackson county and settled near the pres- ent site of Jackson in 1858, had a row with a traveling minister and struck hin with a club. Muck was promptly arrested and taken before Judge Simon Olson, then a justice of the peace, who fined the prisoner ten dollars or ten days in jail.
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Muck chose the latter. It is stated that at the time the nearest jail was at St. Paul, and that Israel F. Eddy, who was the county sheriff, was too busy catching muskrats to think of making such a trip; so he appointed Mrs. Muck deputy sher- iff and made her her husband's jailor. Mrs. Muck, so the story runs, worked her prisoner in the garden ten days and then put in a bill for ten days' board, which was allowed by the county commissioners.
A partial verification of this story is found among the few county records of the first organization which have been pre- served. In a little book containing a rec- ord of county warrants issued, I find that warrants numbered 58 to 62, inclusive, were drawn in favor of Joseph Muck, all under date of October 4, 1861. These were for a total of $14-the first four for three dollars each, the last one for two dollars. The form of the entries is as follows :
No. 58. Oct. 4, 1861. Joseph Muck, for wife's services as jailor and prisoner's board, $3.00.
Muck had had the satisfaction of beat- ing the minister, had settled his ten dol- lar fine, had received fourteen dollars from the county and had got his garden hoed; and the court was ready for the next case.
"A CLODHOPPER." (By Tom Mather.)
We still have a vague recollection of our first communication for the Republic over the non de plume of "A Clodhopper," protesting against accepting aid from the state and advertising to the world our- selves as "grasshopper sufferers." The very first article stirred up a veritable hornet's nest, and a shower of indigna- tion from half a score of correspondents, among whom were John Davies, Jareb Palmer and "Bluejoint" [John A. Spaf- ford.] All hurled hot shot at us through
the Republic with a vindictiveness that required lively imagination on the part of "A Clodhopper" to prepare the next week's article of defense.
We were down on father's old home- stead in Petersburg in those days, a bare- footed boy who prided himself on being an expert driver of the meanest yoke of oxen that ever heard "Gee, Buck." The only time we could devote to the news- paper controversy was out in the field, and we penciled our notes on the plow beam a few minutes at a time while Buck and Bright panted at the end of the fur- row. Of course it was impossible to keep the manuscript clean, but good-natured Editor Chamberlin said, "no matter so long as my devil can read it."
Arthur Dunn was the "devil" alluded to. He had been an apprentice in the Re- public office for about six months and was then able to put on the customary village boy airs, wear cowhide shoes, "store-made" overalls, a calico shirt, a pair of suspenders made of blue denim and a ten cent chip hat that certainly looked more swell, if not as durable, than the ones mother used to braid from wheat straw. His sun-burned countenance was bleaching out, several of the largest of his numerous freckles had disappearcd, and he was quite a stylish looking fellow and the envy of us neighbor boys. Arthur had not forgotten how a few months be- fore he, too, was out on a farm punching his father's steers around a forty acre field like every other farmer boy in those days, working from daylight to dark, shoeless, and with feet so calloused as to be impervious to thorns and thistles. He encouraged us by saying, "Your article was all right. Tom; hit 'em again," and we did.
We don't remember much as to the gen- eral character of our boyish contributions, but it is a wonder they ever got into
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print. We long since learned that news- paper correspondence was not our long suit, and we rarely attempt it.
A POLITICAL DEAL. (By George C. Chamberlin.)1
I cannot refrain from commencing by supplying a sort of addenda to Mr. Strong's mention of early county officers, alluded to in his last letter. It was the first time he (Mr. Strong) was elected county auditor and in the campaign of 1869. The county convention was held comparatively early and a full ticket was placed in nomination, which apparently gave satisfaction. No one seemed partie- ularly displeased, and no grumblings of eliques were apparent on the corners. Cer- tainly, for onee, the campaign indicated a monotonous and one-sided affair. Elec- tion day came, and in this town [Des Moines] polls were opened at the old school house, thien standing near the bayou, at the southern terminus of Fourth street. Regular tickets were supplied, and not a single opposition ticket was visible to the naked eye. I remember meeting Mr. Joseph Thomas returning from the polls, who took occasion to speak of the quiet and peaceful election, saying: "I tell you, George, they have got to put you and me on the ticket in order to have any fun-they have, sure's you'm here."
The hour of five o'clock was announced. The box was turned and canvassing com- meneed, when utter astonishment was de- pieted on numerous countenances as the canvassers were confronted with neatly printed opposition ballots, following the regulars in nearly equal proportion. The result was announced, and I remember that indignation and joy were both choked down on that occasion.
The opposition tickets displayed the names of M. A. Strong for county andi- 'Published in the Jackson Republic January 27, 1888.
tor, J. W. Hunter for treasurer, Anders Roe for sheriff, and other names I do not recall. There were then but five organized townships in the county, and no opposi- tion tickets were distributed in either Wisconsin or Minneota. Belmont at that time included the entire north half of the county. and early the day after elec- tion Ole E. Olson brought the result to Jackson, announcing the vote of that town solidly for the opposition, which demon- strated a majority in the county of about thirty for Hunter and Roe, but Strong lacked two of being elected. Soon George Stone appeared on the scene with the vote of Petersburg, which also developed a ma- jority for the dark lanterns, thus electing Strong by a majority of two or three.
Stone rather let the eat out of the bag when he remarked in the presence of two or three of the regular candidates: "By Jock, we shouldn't have known anything about it if Tom White hadn't brought down those, tickets just before the polls were opened."
The regular ticket may have been a good one, but opposition seemed the life of elections in those days .. At the same time I must say with all due deference to the good officers we had before and have had since, none has been truer or more faithful and honest than those elected on the occasion mentioned.
JOIIN DAVIES AND THE CRANE. (By John Davies.)
Being ignorant at first as to the con- tingeneies and casualties attendant upon pioneer life, of the very many ludicrous serapes I encountered I will relate just two. - Observing a large erane with a broken wing lingering on the west side of my farm one day and having never seen one at close quarters, I proposed to eap- ture him alive to serve as a pet for diver- sion around my cot on the prairie lea. I
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started in the chase afoot in great glee ; but when about half way to Muir's, im- agine my horror at the hideous picture. taller than myself, with eyes like two red buttons, and a beak like a pointed mill- pick. wheel around and lungo at me with the vigor of a fiend. Horrified at the idea of being murdered right there in cold blood. 1 instinctively grabbed its long neck with a death grip, and. happily. when I recovered consciousness. I found that I was the victor, but I carried a big bunch on the top of my head from the ruthless swing of its titanic beak for weeks after.
At another time, while mowing hay with a seythe near the upper end of Stony brook, a litter of polecats, a little bigger than full grown mice, came scattering around my feet. From a sense of pity for the poor creatures in so desolate a coun- try, and thinking them too young to make a disturbance. I tenderly picked one up by the tail to show it to my son. who stood in the distance. when "Hwcheo!" the lit- tle villain let me have one smack in the face, and while I was hopping up and down like a scalded fiend. yelling for a pitchfork. Ed lay limp and helpless on the ground from laughter.
EARLY DAY MAIL FACILITIES.
All mail to Jackson county in the early days was carried by pony express and by stages. Not until 1822 did a railroad penetrate the county, and it was not un- til 1828 that the people of the county seat village had their mail brought to them by railway. As the county had re- ceived considerable settlement prior to these dates. the stage and mail lines be- came important institutions. The Jack- son Republic of April 29. 1821. told of the mail facilities of that time and com- pared them with those in days gone by :
"The three or four hacks that we see
almost daily come and go to and from the postoffice in Jackson have Jel is to ret- respect of late. Less than four years ago all the mail that reached us was that by the way of Emmet, Iowa, carried once a week by Frank Bailey on horseback. Each recurring Thursday did a largo commun- ity assemble at Joseph Thomas' old log hotel for a week's supply of letters and papers, St. Paul papers being nearly two weeks old when they reached us. The dozen or two letters were poured out of the little canvass sack upon the counter, and nearly the entire number passed out to the several owners, while a few were laid quietly back on a small shelf to be called for by their owners. The salary of the postmaster then aggregated the enor- mous sum of $36 annually.
"Things are somewhat changed now. At the present time Postmaster Strong makes up and distributes twenty-two mails per week, and instead of one circuit- ous route, six different mail routes center here. The little canvass horseback sack has given place to a dozen or so mani- moth leather ones, and instead of Frank coming in on his galloping horse. we see. on the five new routes that have been es- tablished since that time, hacks loaded down with passengers and express mat- ter."
Although during the carly seventies mail routes were in operation from several different points, during the winter and spring months mail facilities were not al- ways the best, being often put out of commission because of storms and poor roads. Said the Republic of February 1. 1813:
"Although most of our stages on the different routes have made frequent, and. in many instances, regular trips, yet their mail sacks are brought in devoid of any mail matter, and the once welcome stages now lose their attraction. St. Paul pa-
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pers have not reached us since those of two weeks ago, and all other mail is de- linquent accordingly. Of the stage routes, the Spencer stage has been most regular of any of the tri-weekly routes, and has lost but few trips. The Blue Earth City stage comes next in order, and has made nearly the required number of trips. The Windom stage makes frequent trips, but seldom brings us even a stray letter. The Winnebago stage occasionally comes in with a few papers that have been from two to three weeks on their way from the offices of publication to their destination ; that route which we once felt safe to bet on has now become the most provoking and dilatory, though perhaps the ma- neuvers of the Southern Minnesota rail- road are mainly to blame for this imposi- tion on our community. The St. James stage makes a trip semi-occasionally, and sometimes brings in a copy of the Madelia Times. The Estherville stage makes its regular weekly trips, but of course has no mail to carry.
"We have exhausted our last year's stock of almanacs in getting copy for our compositors, and, unless we get a mail, shall make a raid on our scrap book and dictionary next week. We should feel disconsolate did we not have evidence that other places were less favored than our- selves."
For some time after the editor thus be- wailed the fate of the mail-deprived com- munity conditions did not improve. But on February 15, the newspaper reported the end of the blockade:
"The Winnebago City stage came in Monday evening and brought a regular old-fashioned mail. Four large sacks were filled, the whole weighing 156 pounds. We [the Republic] received just 153 pack- ages by actual count. We were, of course, glad to get it, but would prefer to take it more frequently and in smaller doses."
INDIAN SCARES.
From the time of the Belmont mas- sacre in 1862 down to 1876 there was an occasional Indian seare in Jackson coun- ty. although none of them originated with Indians. But the settlers, living in a sparsely settled country and having the details of the two terrible attacks that had been made, were apprehensive when the occasional rumors of Indian outbreak were circulated. Que such scare, of a local nature, came in August, 1866. The story is told by F. E. Marshall, an early settler, who wrote on December 29, 1894:
"We saw the Des Moines river for the first time about the middle of May, 1866, and camped in the grove a few rods south- west of Mr. Thomas' house. There we re- mained a couple of weeks, until a bark and puncheon shanty could be erected on the southeast quarter of section 12. We enjoyed life as only new settlers can, un- til about the middle of August, when an incident occurred, which I shall try to re- late.
"All being tranquil, about the middle of August the men went back to the eastern part of the state to work through harvest and bring back the winter's supplies, leaving their families in quiet possession of their bark shantics. The weather was fine, and all went well until that day in the middle of August. On the afternoon of that day a family who had a claim in section 8, Wisconsin township, made a visit at the bark shanty, stayed to tea, and about sundown started for their home. The favorite driving team of this man from section 8 was a yoke of three-year- old stags, which he was wont to call his 'bull-pouts'; the carriage was the running gear of a lumber wagon, with a board from one bolster to the other for a seat. The man had a defeet of eyesight that made it impossible for him to distinguish objects after sundown.
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"The visitors had been gone half an hour or so when an unusual racket, com- ing from the cast, brought the occupants of the shanty to the outside. The first glance showed our lately departed visitors returning in great haste. The tongues of the 'bull-pouts' nearly reached the ground. and the man from section 8 was applying the 'persuader' as only a frightened man could. At the sight a panie struck those at the shanty, and. thinking their late visitors had met with some terrible acci- dent, rushed to meet them. all asking at once, 'What has happened? It was ser- eral seconds before they could get breath sufficient to gasp out.
"'Indians?' was the ineredulous in- quiry.
"'Yes, six of them. They are hiding in the grass by the slough on section 7.' "'Are you sure? It can't be possible!'
" 'Oh, I saw them as plain as day. They have on gray blankets, and all have guns.'
"This was the blood-eurdling story of the lady from section 8. A couneil was hurriedly held, and it was decided that we could not defend the shanty. Flight was our only hope. But where to go? Some one suggested Mr. Baldwin's; he bad a log house. The suggestion was in- stantly adopled. Should we take a team ? No: it would make too much noise. llas- tily gathering up the firearms that were left in the defense of the shanty, consist- ing of an old rifle that couldn't be fired and a Colt's revolver that had a disagree- able habit-if you fired one chamber the rest would follow suit-we stole out into the now dark night. Your correspond- ent, leading and carrying the weapons, and Mr. Man from section 8, carrying their little kid, and carefully led by Mrs. Lady from section 8. bringing up the rear, swiftly and silently took the track across the peaceful prairie to Mr. Bald-
win's. Arriving there. we knocked at the door, at first gently, then louder; but there was no response. They were gone. They had been warned and had fled. What should we do next? Try Monson's? They, too, had a log house.
"Again we were tramping through the dew-wet grass, this time in the direction of Monson's. We were soon there, and found them peacefully sleeping the sleep of the fired. Arousing them. we quickly tell the story of our danger. The boys, who are sleeping in out-buildings, are has- tily summoned. the log shanty quickly put in condition for defense, the old rusty guns and revolvers loaded in a way that means trouble for the man who shall fire them off. An hour or so passes, and. no Indians showing up, our fright subsides; we eamp down on the floor to try to get a little sleep. while one of the Monson boys stands guard.
"The night passed at last. and. al- though we were not attacked by ludians. we had to fight an army of little red bugs. At the first break of day one of the Mon- son boys went out on a scout, and meet- ing no Indians, went over to Mr. Thomas' place and gave the alarm. Five or six men quickly mounted horses and armed themselves, and. led by Jim Palmer, rode out to the slough on section 7.
"A careful search revealed not the least trace of an Indian. But they did find six gray sand-hill eranes. So ended our first and last Indian searc."
In August. 1822, there was another scare which had less exeuse for its origin than even a flock of cranes. The scare is said to have originated with three Win- dom men, who on the night of August 10 went from Jackson to their homes, scat- tering the news along the way that half the people of the community had been killed by Indians. They reported having
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seen one or two of the bodies of the mur- dered men a few miles north of Jackson. To add to the alarm and give more show of fact, the men frequently fired their guns along the road as they proceeded. Some of the settlers of Belmont, through which township the men took their way, had gone through the Indian attack of ten years before, and they were quiek to take fright.
Messengers were hastily started out to notify the settlers, and in consequence there was a general stampede from some sections for safety. Quite a number from the northern part of the county went to Windom ; others congregated at Independ- ence lake to make preparations for de- fense. As a result of the false alarm many people were badly frightened. As an instance of the result of the scare the following letter, written by one of the set- tlers to George C. Chamberlin. is given :
Editor Jackson Republic: Tuesday night, between twelve and one o'eloek. I was awak- ened by some one ealling me to the door. I arose and looked out and saw four men on horses, each having a gun. I asked them what they wanted and they told me they wanted to see me. I know it did not look very pleasant to see those men there at that time of night; I did not know but that they were Ku-klux or Greeley men; but I knew there were but few Greeley men around. I went to the door, and they asked if I were not exeited. I informed them } was not. They said the Indians were coming; that they had killed three or four families east of Jackson, and that the people there were all packing up and leaving for Windom: that you (George C. Chamberlin) had telegraphed to St. Paul for troops. They got the report about sundown Tuesday and were very much excited; the women and children were so frightened that they would not go to the door, and they were waiting for their men to return, to leave or try to defend themselves. As I had been in Jackson all the afternoon, I told them it could not be so, and after a long time they returned to Heron Lake, but they were very much ex- cited. Please say through your paper that there has been no one killed by Indians, that the people are all quiet on that seore, and oblige your friend,
J. H. WILLING,
The last Indian scare occurred in 1876
and affected the northwestern part of the county only. It was during the month of July, when the country was full of the news of the terrible Custer massacre on the Little Big Horn in Montana, that the news was spread that the Sioux were again on the warpath, determined to wipe out the settlements in southwestern Min- nesota. Needless to say, there were no Indians within a long distance of Jackson county and no hostiles within several hundred miles.
The scare originated with a boy named Hemphill, in the southern part of Murray county. He had been sent out to rake hay, but. not being of a very enterprising nature, he conceived a plan to escape the work. He rushed to the house, crying that the Indians had attacked him. A man named Hampton, who was preparing to leave the country, spread the alarm, and within a very short time a full fledg- ed Indian scare was under way. In southern Murray county and northern Nobles county whole townships were de- serted, the people fleeing to the railroad towns for protection. Worthington was full of refugees, and a few deserted their farms and hastened to Heron Lake for protection.
Scouting parties were sent out from Worthington and from Heron Lake. No Indians were found, but the scouts soon located the origin of the scare. When it was learned that there were no Indians in the country, the refugees returned to their homes.
A JOKE ON KIMBALL. (By Thomas A. White.)2
During the summer of 1867 bands of horses and cattle had gathered around my place nights, until it had the appearance of being headquarters for all the loose
"Thomas A. White erected the first building and started the first store in Jackson. This ar- ticle was written by him in 1888.
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stock in the county. These animals brought swarms of mosquitoes with them ; in fact that was our mosquito yard, and we were sure to have it full every night. The ani- mals would stamp. hook. paw and fight mosquitoes all night long: they fairly made the night hideous, and sleep was almost out of the question. We had thought that when Kimball's building was up that he would at least divide the stock with us, but nary a hoof would leave. At first we could not understand why all stayed and Kimball had none.
One day Mr. Chamberlin came in and said he had solved the mystery. "It is your infernal salt barrels you are throw- ing out that holds the stock here. Kim- hall has none and, of course, no stock." A day or two later I came out of the cel- lar with two pails of brine, which I in- tended to throw out. Mr. Chamberlin's quick eye caught sight of the brine, and. learning my intentions, asked me to set it aside until night, saying he had use for it. That night. after Kimball'> folks were all snug in bed, he carried the brine over and poured it out around Kimball's place, where it would do the most good. It had the desired effect. and Kimball took care of the stock after that.
One day Kimball came in after his mail. looking care-worn and disgusted. He spoke of the stock and said: "I have tak- en my cow thirty rods away to salt her and have been particularly careful that there should be no salt scattered about my place, and yet the cattle are eating the ground to a depth of four inches." Of course I could offer no explanation, other than that the stock had undoubtedly he- come tired of my place and had decided to try him for a while.
VEAR-CAPTURE OF THE YOUNGERS. ( By Thomas E. Mather.)
There was one exciting incident which has probably been forgotten. That was
the attempt on the part of Jacksonites to capture the Northfield bank robbers. Everybody in the west is familiar with the dashing raid made by the Fords and Youngers on the bank at Northfield in the fall of 18;6, when they shot the cash- ier and several citizens, who made it ex- voedingly hot for them, dropping two of the robbers and following the others un- til the trail was lost in the woods. The bandits course was southwest, and it was believed they crossed the Des Moines riv- er in the vicinity of Jackson. The Ford brothers, the only two robbers escaping capture. forded the river a few miles above town. The other desperadoes were shot or captured within thirty miles of Jack-
To sty that the citizens of the village slept on their arms doesn't half express it. They didn't sleep at all from the first intimation of the outlaws' approach until they were captured. but guarded every ford, bridge and cross-road in the locality.
Toward midnight. one night during this exciting period. as 1 mounted my horse to ride to my home down in Peters- hung. the boys jokingly remarked. "Look om for the robbers, Tom." 1 galloped up Main street to the bridge, and there my horse suddenly halted as several dark figures retreated beneath the bridge. over which passage was impossible, owing to the numerous ropes and wires strung across the same. I had heard nothing of there being a guard stationed anywhere to prevent the passage of the robbers, and I supposed some of the boys were putting up a job on me. I remarked : "1 am onto you kids, hiding under the bridge." All was still as death for a moment, then a trembling voice demanded: "Who is it?" "It's me." I replied, boy fashion. "Who in h-'s 'e'? Give the counter- sign." I did not know it; but I gave my name, after which about twenty of
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