USA > Ohio > Wyandot County > The History of Wyandot County, Ohio, containing a history of the county, its townships, towns general and local statistics, military record, portraits of early settlers and prominent men etc > Part 56
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Time, however, has almost effaced the recollection of these occurrences, but the two stones still remain; and we never pass the jail but we see them, and they seem to play hide and seek with the memory of the good old man who placed them there, to exalt his profession and beautify the world.
If our good people ever build a new jail, we want to see these two stones preserved in some prominent position and marked "McCurdy's." It will not be out of character, for he was a Presbyterian, the father of a large family. and no relation to Elliot Long.
The other incidents in the career of the old architect, together with his trials and tribulations over a mischevious grandson by the name of Elisha, full of amusing situations, will be given at another time.
J. McCurdy, architect, was a remarkable man for his age, with sufficient culture and ability to make himself promient in all circles of society. He was ready at an impromptu speech, and as a matter of course, was put for- ward on public occasions. He made the speech at the laying of the corner stone of our present court house, and did it handsomely. He welcomed the volunteers back from Mexico, at a public dinner given by our citizens, under the artistic cuisine of Bishop Tuttle. The dinner was spread under a canopy of green boughs on a vacant piece of ground opposite the "Blue Ball Hotel," known in after years as the Saltsman lots. And how well we remember the fact that, just about the time the white head of J. McCurdy bowed over the inviting feast to supplicate Divine favor, a terrible wind storm, accompanied by a dashing rain, played havoc with that part of the entertainment. The rain came down in torrents for about 20 minutes, and every last son of a patriot was forced to the indecorous extremity of grab- bing an armful and seeking shelter where best he could. But after that the sun came out beautifully, permitting the remaining part of the pro- gramme to be faithfully and pleasantly fulfilled.
McCurdy was a devout Presbyterian of the old school, and a regular attendant at Charley Thayer's Church. He would doze through the sermon with evident delight, but always wakened up in time to start the hymn. Now, this starting-the-hymn business had a good many competitors. It was in the days when choirs were considered iniquities, and organs an abom- ination not to be tolerated. There was McCurdy, Jackson, Taggart and Wilson, who all wanted to start the hymns in Mr. Thayer's Church, and the 7.3 ?! mercised by these men to get the start of one another, when Charley got through reading the sacred stanza, created considerable amusement in the Christian mind, for we were all Christians in those days except Capt. Ayres, who was a Universalist; and Charley Thayer always gave his congregation to understand that no Universalist need apply. So the Cap- tain on a Sunday morning told Charley if he wouldn't, he would, and in the neatest little announcement the Captain gave out: "That the Rev. Mr. Sky Insurer would preach at the court house in the afternoon, on the im- mortality of everybody going to heaven, or words to that effect, and ex- is ded a cordial invitation to all." Of course, we all went to hear the Rev. Sky Insurer in the afternoon, and, in the most pleasing eloquence, he soon settled the brimstone business.
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We digress-but then we intend to-just as much as we please in writ- ing these sketches, because the digressions are the best part of them.
Well, one Sabbath, when Charley Thayer was reading, to be manipu- lated by the human voice, a new poem, entitled, "When I can read my title clear," McCurdy, Jackson, Taggart and Wilson squared themselves for the start, each eyeing the preacher with breathless anxiety to get the advantage. By anticipating the minister's announcement to sing, Father Taggart started up with, "When I can read"-a full neck a head, but McCurdy wasn't to be fooled with that kind of previousness, so he pitched a few notes higher with "title clear," compelling Jackson and Wilson to chime in or go it alone. In those days Presbyterians didn't play a "single hand." Now, they can "order it up," "play it alone," or bring about a "flush," and at the same time march on to the New Jerusalem as happy as clams at high tide-so excellent are the improvements in Christianity.
This proceeding was more than Father Taggart could stand. He had studied vocal music for forty years, and particularly the art of starting hymns in several different languages, and to be deprived of this chosen desire of his life by an old architect, was the hair that broke the camel's back; so he gathered up his hymn-book and tuning-fork and bid good-by to foreordination. He sought refuge in another church where he had full sway in pitching the tune, much to his own delight and pleasure of the con- gregation; for Taggart was a good singer, much better than McCurdy, but lacked the dash and rapidity of the old architect. The only thing the architect lacked was a few dozen teeth which gave to his baritone something like a cross between the dinner horn and a bass drum.
In politics, Mr. McCurdy was an old Whig, and if there was anything he more desired to talk about than the two stones in the jail building, it was the principles of the Whig party and his ideal of statesmanship in the per- son of Henry Clay. He would rattle it off by the yard, with a wonderful memory of events, never failing to interlard his remarks with well-pointed thrusts at his opponents.
The Presbyterian prayer meeting was very frequently held at McCurdy's house, and in those days it was quite common for boys to attend. It is a custom now quite obsolete; but never mind, some day when you get into difficulty and are forty miles from water, you'll wish you had attended a few prayer meetings in your youth. We never failed to turn up at these meetings. Charley Thayer was always there; the old architect was always there; so was his grandson Elisha. And it is very possible that if Elisha hadn't been there, that the divine influence would not have had such an impelling force over the natures of some other boy attendants. Elisha was a mild-eyed boy " who never did anything," but his grandfather never prayed without keeping an eye open for Elisha. Elisha, however, managed to get on the blind side of the old man, and while the supplication was be- coming enthusiastic, would crawl around among the audience, tie a string to the old man's slipper, and when "amen " was said, off would jump the slipper, with considerable rattle, into the middle of the floor. The old architect would clinch his fist, but relax it immediately to raise a familiar hymn. The next morning, the old architect would take Elisha into a wood. shed and practice on him with a hoop-pole, and Elisha would cross his breast, and "hope lightning might strike him dead if he did," but the old man was deaf to these eloquent appeals.
Elisha also applied his artistic skill in unceremoniously removing bon- nets and shawls, and in putting hickorynut shells under chairs for the wor.
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shipers to kneel down upon." Elisha's tricks had become so much a matter of remark that he was credited with all the innocent depredations that oc- curred in town, and the result was that the old man was frequently seen chasing Elisha with a war club ; and yet there was nothing mean or mali- cious about the boy. It was simply to appease his passion for fun that he indulged in these capers, willing to take the punishment they brought rather than abandon them.
While Elisha was a great tribulation to the old architect, vet he was his d'ead daughter's only child, and grandfatherlike, he loved the boy. For- getful of his anger over aggravations, he would sometimes extol his virtues and predict a bright future for the youth-" who would tone down in time" -- "and after all, Elisha doesn't mean any harm in these playful tricks." Wonderful, mysterious nature! The ties which thrill the heart can never be quieted, but must throb on through the smiles of to-day and the tears of the morrow, full of the exquisite touch which lends a charm to humanity. So, while Elisha was a brick, he was still the old man's grandson. In him he could see traces of his buried darling; her infant prattle lingered through the lapse of years, appealing to a heart still aching for the loved and lost; the angels whispered, and a white hand beckoned him toward her child. No wonder then that the old man would stroke Elisha's bangs, and call him " good boy."
Failing to secure a contract to build the court house, and feeling that his occupation here was gone, the old architect took Elisha under his wing, wrapped the drapery of his tent about him, and quietly dropped out of sight.
BIVENS, SHOEMAKER AND MAYOR.
In 1848, the town of Upper Sandusky was incorporated, There was no little controversy in regard to this movement, and a good deal of ill feeling engendered. At that time, Upper Sandusky had about 500 inhabitants, and at least 250, including Alex. Little, held up their hands in holy horror at this semblance of oppression in the way of about $10 additional tax to secure the ringing of the court house bell every evening at 9 o'clock, so our good citizens would know when to go to bed. By the way, we had no bell at that time, but historians are allowed a good deal of "filling in" for suitable embellishments. There are only about six persons in town who could have any show in contradicting the writer of these sketches, and as their memory is not to be depended upon, we feel confident of going on undisturbed in our work of glory. We say glory, because these sketches, like Converse's letters from the pyramids, will be published in book form, with a steel en- graving of the author, and sold only to particular friends at the small sum of $10.
The first election for corporation officers took place in 1848. W. W. Balss was elected Mayor, and Jacob Juvinall Recorder. Jake was one of our best-looking fellows in those days, and was faultless in his dress and manners. Besides he was as popular as he was good looking. He was the only one elected on the Whig ticket, defeating Henry Miller, then fresh from the Mexican war, and another handsome fellow. We don't recollect who were elected to the Council, nor does anybody else. This city govern- ment, during its regime, spent $45.62, and the people just rose in their majesty and smashed things. The Mayor and Recorder maintained their dignity and the confidence of the people. They had nothing to do with this extraordinary expenditure of money, The Council did it. It had the audacity to pay Bill Giles $1 for publishing a column ordinance "to protect
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live fences." Maj. Sears was then interested in a live fence enterprise, and it was thought that he inspired this reckless expenditure of a hundred cents. The other $44.62 was expended for the good of the public in quarters and fifty-cent pieces, $3.72 going into a mud-hole in front of the McIlvane House, now Van Marter's old stand.
This was the state of affairs when another election was called. The Whigs tenacious to maintain discipline and their party organization, put a full ticket in the field, with - - for Mayor. We suppress his name, be- cause he is one of the survivors and has a whole battery of artillery at home, including a shot-gun unerring in its aim, and we are not in circumstances at present to contemplate a probable first-class funeral.
The Locofocos to a large extent shared the distress of the people in con- templating the horrors of incorporation, and when it was proposed to elect a Stoga ticket, with Bivens as Mayor, all thought of reviving the hero of New Orleans against the " Mill Boy of the Slashes " was abandoned, and the opposition found satisfaction and a good deal of amusement in rallying to the support of the Stoga ticket.
As Bivens could scarcely read, and had very little idea of life beyond the trade which afforded him a living, he was thought by many a very proper person to entrust the interests of the city. He was to be fortified with a council, selected especially for their skill and ingenuity in making their marks (x) one day and denying them the next. As none of them ever paid a cent of tax in their lives, they were terribly down on taxation, and they promised their constituents, if elected, to serve the town without charge and give every citizen a chromo.
On a beautiful spring morning the contending parties met. The Whigs in full war paint-the opposition with their hands full of tickets upon which were printed the picture of a stoga boot. When the smoke of battle cleared away, it was found the Stoga ticket was elected with the exception of one councilman who was defeated a few votes by Dr. Ferris. Did Dr. Ferris serve ? Well, you can just smile that he did'nt. He walked up and paid his two dollars for the privilege of resigning.
We have witnessed the enthusiasm of many campaigns in Upper San- dusky, but none has yet approached the wild tumult of joy over this triumph. Bivens was serenaded with the only bass drum then existing in town, and he made a speech in such high-sounding English that it had to be interpreted into French before it could be appreciated or fully understood. It was in this speech, however, that he got off the immortal words, "That under Providence and our star-bangled Constitution, every man was liable to office." Each of the successful Councilmen was saluted with a tin horn and each assured his delighted fellow-citizens that they would preserve the in- tegrity and enterprise of the noble red man who had left the imprint of his genius upon our beautiful plains.
Bivens, overcome with joy at so sudden a freak of good fortune, with its privileges and attending honor, stalked into his shoe shop, and from thence next door into his parlor, and catching a glimpse of his graceful better half, struck an attitude: " Barbara, behold your Bivens! Look into my eyes darling, and tell me, if in the fondest dream of your life, you ever expected to sleep with a 'mare;' " for that was the way he always persisted in spelling it. The good wife melted to tears and assured Bivens that she always thought some grand fortune would overtake them, but this distinc- tion and honor overwhelmed her. "Don't let us be proud William, but let us continue to speak to common folks as usual. Let us set an example to
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other great people of the town; but William, I must have a grand wardrobe, to reflect in part, the dazzling splendor of your white vest, on state occa- sions."
Very soon Bivens was surrounded with official authority, but he pegged away all the same. His first official act was to draw up a deed for himself, conveying his little property, with the expectation of enlarging his sur- roundings. He came to the clause where it stipulates that the wife must be examined separate and apart from her husband, before she attaches her name to the instrument. Did this puzzle the Mayor? Not much. Did it stagger the Bivens in his contemplation of legal discrimination? Well, scarcely. His mind rose to that grandeur which overcomes the frivolous technicalties of law. He told Barbara to go into the other room. He inti- mated to Barbara that she must sit near the keyhole. That she must gaze pleas- antly on some hopeful object and think only of her " mare;" as it was now his privilege as well as his duty to examine her separate and apart from her husband through the keyhole. All of which the Mayor did with that pleas- ing triumph which throws a spell of enchantment over greatness, and he reveled in the beatitude of these graceful feelings, until he took his deed to the then Recorder, John A. Morrison, who told Bivens he was " a d-n fool, and that his deed wasn't worth a cent."
Here was consternation mingled with injured authority and great expec- tations. To be called a d-n fool by a common man was bad; to have the glory of his first official act met with derision was still worse, but he would have his revenge. Pop-Eye* should be arrested for contempt of court at the very first opportunity.
The Mayor drifted from one situation to another, until one day he saw a prominent attorneyt shoot off his gun within the limits of the corporation. That settled it. He immediately scattered for the shoe shop, and told Bar- bara that the peace and dignity of the city now, Atlas-like, rested upon his shoulders. He would make an example of the Major. He would fine him for contempt of court, and then compel him to surrender his gun to a pub- lic procession, headed by the City Council. He drew up a warrant which read : " Whereas, I, William Bivens, Mayor of Upper Sandusky, ss., saw John Dudley Sears, did shoot; Resolved, that said John Dudley be arrested without benefit of clergy," and this warrant was placed in the hands of the Marshal for collection.
The prisoner " was collected " and taken to the shoe shop, where he de- manded a trial. The Mayor winked pleasantly, and said there would be no trial-not if the court knew itself. He saw the shooting with his own lit- tle eye, and that was sufficient. "Fine-$1 and costs -- cash! Marshal, take charge of the funds." But the prisoner at the bar, or rather at the shoe bench, wasn't to be treated in that summary manner. He demanded hie rights as an American citizen of. Crawford County descent, and that
while the Mayor saw him " did shoot," he was there ready for trial with an array of home talent who would swear that they didn't see him shoot, and that the burden of proof was in his favor." Furthermore, he had McKelly to defend him, and you all know in those days McKelly had a voice, and a combination of æsthetic adjectives at which the angels would spread their wings and fly away; but Bivens wasn't an angel, and he couldn't spread; he had to stay on earth and struggle through the volley. At last crouching under the panoply of his office, he ordered Mack under arrest for contempt
*John A. Morrison was called Pop-Eye on account of his large, protruding eyes. +Maj. John D. Sears.
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of court. As there was no officer in the shoe shop big enough to tackle Mack, the case rested until court, when Bivens shouldered his docket, walked in where the blind girl was dangling her scales, spread his case be- fore the Judge, and made an appeal for suffering humanity; but as Judge Bowen was not of the kind who cared for suffering humanity, unless it took the form and shape of a lovely woman, Bivens was ordered to get out, and make room for Blunderbus vs. Hurricane-a noted case that involved the value of a $2-pig.
From that day the star of Bivens was on the decline, and he pegged and blundered through the remainder of his administration, the sport of the time and for many years thereafter. "Since the days of Bivens " has become an epoch in our history to crown a ludicrous expression or bring to memory some event of pleasing notoriety.
Bivens couldn't exist in Upper Sandusky after his power to arrest for contempt of court had fled, so he gathered up his effects and the wreck of his greatness, and left for other and greener fields.
TABLER, THE REVIVALIST.
In the early days of Upper Sandusky, the principal church building was the Stone Mission, now almost a ruin in the northeastern part of the town. It was built for the Indians, and for a long time the red man wor- shiped there his belief in the Great Spirit.
We shall not recount the origin and growth of the Mission Church, be- cause it is not within our recollection. This church, its founders and wor- shipers have passed into history and is well known to the general reader.
Perhaps the best posted man in town in regard to the many incidents connected with the Mission Church, is our esteemed fellow citizen, John Owens, whose father built the church in 1832. We believe it was in 1832, but ten or a dozen years out of range is not much of a mistake for histo- rians to make. There are discrepancies of several thousand years in the legends of old writers, yet nobody gets up on his ear over the fact. True, a fellow by the name of Bob Ingersoll has had the audacity to question the integrity of the Bible because the ark was a few feet too narrow, and as many feet too short, to have carried safely over the flood, the caravan of the living, and the provender to sustain it, but then nobody pays any attention to this meddlesome, seven-by-eight Republican.
Every Sunday the old Mission Church was crowded. Although there was not a sidewalk in the town, and the road to the Mission Church, in ugly weather, was little less than a swamp, people would go at the risk of health and shoe-leather; and during a revival, which usually lasted all winter, the attendants were as anxious to get seats as dead heads at a concert. Women wore boots and men rubber diving-suits to protect them from the mud and slush, but they got there all the same.
One winter, particularly, the excitement was intense, and people would frequently do without their suppers to be in time at the church before the orchestra chairs were all taken. It was during this memorable revival that the subject of our sketch, the Rev. Jeremiah Tabler, made his appearance. It may be possible that we are slightly mistaken in the christian name of this divine, but saddest of all, it might have been.
Tabler was a peculiar man; tall, spare, somewhat cadaverous in appear- anco, with hair black as coal, and a pair of eyes so full of expression that they seem to talk and tell you how wicked you were. With these qualities he had a wonderful voice, plastic and yet so thrilling, that it was no trick at
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all for him to yank a " hallelujah "from any one inclined to give way to religious emotions. While perhaps he was the most illiterate man that ever swung from a pulpit, there was something so pleasingly fascinating and magnetic about him that he had only to open bis mouth to become eloquent. With a sublime fervor he would thrill you with the utterance of words that in themselves were meaningless. His blunders, sometimes, would choke you with sympathy, until you could sufficiently recover to enjoy a smile. If he had said the moon was made of green cheese, you would instantly have wept for the poor moon, so wonderful was this man in the gift of expressing thought without regard to language. It seemed that he could plume any word to express the sympathy of his soul, and throw the same effect into the feelings of his audience. All his sentences ended in " ah," and fre- quently many of his words; but these "ahs " shook you up and held you suspended by the hair; and it was only when you lost sight of Tabler that you could unstring your nerves and see the ridiculousness of your situation.
In preaching his introductory sermon, Tabler, in a flight of eloquence, told his hearers " that he graduated at the foot of Jesus and got his diploma from heaven. That he was no scholar or college graduate, but simply an instrument under the influence of heaven to stir the people up to the magni- tude of their wickedness, and that every man must work with the tools he has. The carpenter worked with his tools, ah; the blacksmith with his tools, ah; and thank God he worked with the tools that God gave him. He com- pared the native and educated ministry with the progress of the carpenter trade. He said before the educated smoothing-plane could be used on the wicked scantling the rough had to be taken off with a jack-plane, and it was called "- Here the minister coughed, and asked Sister B. if her soul was still rising. He appeared a little confused, but grasping at the rings of Saturn exclaimed, "that he was one of heaven's jack-planes, and always got it off in that way." This remark was made with a suspicious look at an old bachelor who had succeeded in getting a front seat, and who would have en- joyed better health if he'd got married at the right time.
Tabler was one of the Winebrennarian order of disciples, and after a suc- cessful revival which loomed up into encouraging numbers, he established a church here, and for several years included this place in his circuit. He was always greeted with a full house. You never could tell what he said after you left the church, unless to laugh over some blunder or ridiculous expression, yet he drew and interested you to such an extent, that to miss one of his sermons was considered a misfortune.
One night, when the house was jammed, the rain coming down in tor- rents, and the lightning and thunder stirring every one within with feel- ings of alarm, Tabler took occasion to mingle the fury of the elements with an appeal to the wicked in a manner so electrifying that such a rush was made for the altar that a placard had to be put up declaring to other sin- ners that there was " standing room only." He called up the dead Indians from their graves with that weird and fervent assurance, that each flash of lightning as it glared and glimmered through the windows, seemed to dis- close the spectral forms of the past, marching with measured steps at his call. The old missionaries who had undergone trials and tribulations in the cause, frequently meeting death to reclaim the savage, stalked in at the open door; and even Johnathan Pointer could be seen gathering the tithes for a new collection of hymns. Such was the power of this illiterate man to thrill and enthuse an audience. He would mingle with a rattle of words the pleasing ripple of running water, budding its course with roses and the
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