USA > Ohio > Clark County > Springfield > The centennial celebration of Springfield, Ohio, held August 4th to 10th, 1901 > Part 13
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in the name, we will appropriate it to ourselves and let the fellow that is dead kick about it if he wants to. We, the old people that are living, are the connecting link between the old pioneers and the younger generations that come after us. We are here today to tell what we know about early days.
The pioneer left us very little written history. What we get is mostly what has been handed down by word of mouth from one , generation to another, something like in Bible times, when they had no books. There has been more real history of Clark County gathered together and written in the last three or four years than for fifty years before that time. You ask, is that so, and why is it so? This has been brought about by the organization of the Clark County Historical Society, which was organized in the fall of 1897. I quote here a few lines from the circular written by Professor B. F. Prince, President of the Society :
At that time it (Clark County Historical Society) declared its purpose to be "the collection and preservation of information relating to the history of Clark County and the State of Ohio. and the securing of relics illustrating life among the pioneers, se- curing collections of art and articles of historical value, with such books, papers and documents as may relate thereto. It included. also, such history and mementoes of the Civil War as might be found in possession of the old soldiers now residing in our midst. and which. if gathered together, would not only be objects of in- terest, but would become a valuable source of education in patri- otism to the generations that are to follow."
The society has kept its purpose steadily in view, and now, if you should visit the rooms, 34 Bushnell Building, you will say : "Wonderful! How did you collect so much in so short a time?" I will not stop to give the names of the many citizens who have assisted in making this historical collection, and now, before I go any further, allow me to urge all to become members and help the good work along. One thing more before I go further : this coun- try owes much to the old soldier of the Civil War, and this is another feather in his cap. It was the Grand Army of the Repub- lic that called the first meeting for the purpose of organizing the Historical Society.
Now, what do I know about early days? I will be as brief as
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I can. There are older gentlemen present than I, and some who can go farther back in pioneer history than I can.
I was born in this city in 1832, and my earliest recollection is that my father, William M. Harris, was running a sawmill about four miles south of Springfield, on Mill Creek, about a half-mile west of where Emory Church now stands. The family lived in a log house that stood on the hill about half-way between the church and sawmill. My recollection about that old mill is that its style was most primitive, the machinery was very crudely made, the saw frame had direct connection by pitman to the flutter wheel ; the motion was so slow that the sawyer could eat his dinner while the saw would cut through a sixteen-foot log ; after a cut had been made, the log had to be worked back by foot power, the sawyer walking on the large ratchet wheel with wooden pins to step on. That mill was torn down and a new one built in its place with a large over-shot wheel, which in turn rotted down and disap- peared many years ago ; even the stream that furnished the power is almost dried up. The land for several miles up the stream was boggy and springy, and used to furnish water the year round, but it has been ditched and dried up until now there is hardly enough water to run a grindstone.
In January, 1839, my father died. I went to live with my grandfather, Adam Mayne, who came to this county from George- town, D. C., in 1825, and during the thirties kept a tavern on the old stage road running from Cincinnati to Springfield. This tav- ern, called "Travelers' Rest," by A. Mayne, four and one-half · miles from Springfield, was run until the pike was built from Cin- cinnati via Dayton to Springfield, when the stage coaches and travel mostly left the mud road. Did I say "mud road?" Well, that word hardly fills the bill, for much of the year it was more like a river of mud without any bottom, even after the corduroy roads were built. They were too narrow for two teams to pass in opposite directions, and woe to the team or teamster that had to turn out into the ditch. It was never done without a great, big kick, and sometimes blows : and when the stage coach with the United States mail came along. the other fellow had to give the road. When the stage driver would meet any other team, he would call out : "United States mail! Turn out!" And turn out
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he did, without a second invitation, for any person delaying the United States mail was liable to arrest. Neil & Vorhees was the name of the old stage line, and they had their troubles with these new mud roads. for they drove all night, no matter how dark or how hard it stormed. I saw one stage lying on its side near Mill Creek, another astride a stump with the tongue broken, near where Beattytown now is.
This tavern I spoke of was not only for people who had their own conveyance, but the passengers on the stage coach often took their meals there, and the stage company kept a few extra horses in the barn. There was scarcely a day that some of the horses were not disabled. No doubt some of the young people wonder how the women did the work those days, and how they did the cooking without stoves. Well, they did it, and did it well. The bread and pies were mostly baked in a large brick oven out of doors. I have often gone out to hunt for some old, dry and broken fence rails to make bake-oven wood. Then the old kitchen fireplace would take in four-foot wood, and the large crane would hold quite a number of kettles at once. They had the large tin reflector, the large waffle irons, with handles nearly four feet long, and, last but not least, the Dutch oven. But the people had to be careful and not let the fire go out, for that was before the day of matches. I recollect when the neighbors came to our house to bor- row fire. I don't think they ever returned it.
There was a boy, a near neighbor of ours, and about my age, and he and I were nearly always together. This boy was after- ward Major Philip Kershner, of the Sixteenth Ohio Regiment. The militia used to muster on Jacob Kershner's ( Philip's father's) farm. That was what they called little muster. William Kershner was the captain. He was afterward brigadier general of the Clark County militia. Once a year all the militia in the county had to turn out ; that was called the general, or big, muster. My uncle. Benjamin F. Mayne, was an officer on the staff of the brigadier general. At the little muster the people ate dinner in Kershner's barn. Some of the men took so much of something to keep them cool that they got hot for a fight, and they had the fight in the barn.
About 1838 I went with Philip out to the harvest field to see
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the men reap. There were about twenty-five men cutting grain with sickles. Philip took me to the shady side of a shock of wheat. He put his hand between the sheaves and took something out. I said: "What is that?" He said: "That is whisky." I said : "What is it for?" "To drink," said he. "What do they drink it for?" I asked. He said: "To keep the men cool ; they could not harvest without whisky to keep them cool." I thought that was all right. He and I both tasted it. I thought it was real good, but that is not all the story. That winter my father died, and as I said. I went to live with my mother's people. Early in the spring my uncle, Benjamin Mayne, was sowing oats broadcast, and the neighbor's chickens would pick them up before they could be har- rowed under, so my uncle came to the house for me to keep the chickens out: but in a few hours the sun got very hot and I started home. My uncle saw me going, and called : "Hey, there! Where are you going?" I said: "Going home." He said : "What are you going home for?" "Oh, it's too hot out here." Uncle laughed and said: "What will you do when harvest comes?" "Oh," I said. "we will have whisky then." My uncle, while he lived, took great pleasure in telling that story.
I recollect when the farmers went to wash their sheep in the river, they took something to keep themselves from getting cold. and I could never tell the difference between what they drank to keep themselves cool when it was hot, and what they drank to keep themselves warm when it was cold. It looked alike and tasted alike, but I very soon learned that neither of them was good for the purpose it was used.
This road by the tavern was a great thoroughfare for driving fat hogs to market from the northern part of the State to Cincin- nati. It made a good home market for corn, for the farmers that lived on the road. Our people sold nearly all their corn to the drovers. Not only hogs, but some of the early settlers tell of large droves of turkeys that were driven through to Cincinnati.
I think I could give the names from memory of nearly all the people who lived on or near the road from Springfield to Yellow Springs-that is. from 1836 to 1850: but will only mention a few of them in addition to those already spoken of. In the first farm house south of town lived William Huntington ; about three miles
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out lived an old Revolutionary soldier, who was known by every- body as Grand-daddy Lane. About three and one-half miles out was Mr. Reif. He was an all- round mechanic ; he made nearly all the grain cradles used in that part of the country ; that is, after grain cradles came into fashion. I have already spoken of Jacob Kershner. He was a soldier of the War of 1812. In early days he ran a blacksmith shop, just a short distance north of where Emory Church now stands. That was in the days when only char- coal was used: no other kind could be had in this part of the country. In the thirties a log schoolhouse stood in almost the same place where Emory Church now stands. It was in the midst of a thick wood: it had two doors, one on each side; a large fireplace at each end. and a puncheon floor. Reuben Miller, for- merly of this city, taught school there, also Immanuel Mayne, the oldest son of Adam Mayne, taught school there. Near by, a little southeast, stood a log house in which lived "Granny" Layman, the widow of a Revolutionary soldier. Six miles out there was an- other tavern and stage house, kept by Moses Mills, the father of Jacob Mills, of this city.
Of one thing more I wish to speak; that is, how the people went to mill. market, and meeting. To church, if not too far away, they walked ; if it was three to five miles, they went on horse- back, sometimes the wife sitting on the horse behind the husband. carrying the baby in her arms. Later on the farmer would take his whole family to church in the farm wagon. To market, they went mostly on horseback, carrying the basket of butter and eggs on the arm. Later they used the farm wagon for that, too.
Many times I went to the mill with corn in a bag, half in each end of the sack-that is, if it happened to be divided just right. but sometimes there would be about five pecks in one end of the sack and three pecks in the other ; then the bag would slip off, and I would have to ride a long way to get some one to lift it on again.
My grandfather owned and used the only light vehicle in our neighborhood for many years. It was called a carryall. It had wooden springs, not leather thoroughbraces like the stage coach or the large family carriages used in the city in those days. My uncle, Gideon Mayne, had the first buggy with steel springs in our neighborhood. That was about the year of 1844. It had a square
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panel body and no top. There is an old gentleman here in this city who borrowed that buggy in 1845 to go to a wedding.
Others who spoke were O. S. Kelly, J. C. Williams, of New Carlisle; Perry Stewart, Mrs. George H. Frankenberg, H. W. Huffman and John H. Blose, of Tremont, who devoted his time to giving reminiscences of German Township. Mrs. Frankenberg ' spoke as follows :
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MRS. GEORGE H. FRANKENBERG.
I did not know Springfield one hundred years ago; but it was a village only twenty-four years old when I was born here seventy- seven years ago. My parents came here in 1812. My father bought land which lay between the Burnett farm and Main street. and bounded on the east by Burnett lane. on the west by the Brain land. With his Yankee thrift he turned this wild land into one of the most beautiful farms in this county. He soon became able to build a nice house on the farm, and good barns. The house is still standing, owned and occupied by Miss Houston. In this same house I was born seventy-seven years ago. There I was reared and there married fifty-six years ago, never having any other home until my wedding day. Our large barn stood just where Oakland Chapel now stands, on East High street. Some years later my father owned the land now Greenmount Cemetery; also the lot west. now belonging to Mr. Crowell. After my father's
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death this land was sold by my brothers, a part for the cemetery. How short-sighted that they could not see the prices of land now !
I do not remember that the streets were named in those early days, for High street was known as the Chillicothe road and be- fore the turnpike ( National road) was made, the old Columbus road turned into this High street some place about Burnett's' lane, but Main street was oftener spoken of as "the Columbus road." Columbia street was called "the lower road." Limestone "the Ur- bana road." Travel was then on horseback, in wagons, and the old stage coaches were among the finest things-in our opinion. And how these red and yellow painted coaches did get their beauty marred by dragging through the mud roads! I can remember seeing the stage coaches stuck in the mud so deep that the passen- gers were obliged to get out and, with rails, assist in prying the coach out of the mud. And this on what is now our fine East High street. Little did any one think then that they should live to see the electric cars running at almost lightning speed over this same road : and yet, here we are-a few old pioneers-proud to tell the tale, and wondering what Springfield will be in another hundred years.
Our merchants often went on horseback to Philadelphia to purchase their goods. Mr. Spinning. Mr. Cavileer and Mr. Wal- lace were dry goods merchants here as far back as 1826, and in the thirties they made trips on horseback to lay in their stock ; and these goods were brought here in large covered wagons, drawn by six horses, with bells resting in a bow shape over the horses' necks. These were called "bell teams." About the time new goods were expected we listened for the bells and said: "Now I hope I can get a pretty new dress." The country folks would begin to count how far their butter and eggs would go toward a new frock. There were no grocery stores (every sort of merchandise was in each store). nor shoe stores, and the "milliner shop" was the place to have the old leghorn bonnets bleached and pressed over to look like the new ones in the dry goods store-those new tuscan and gimp bonnets. Mrs. Watson (mother of our Mrs. Teegarden ) was our most famous milliner, and could make a beautiful silk calash-a kind of bonnet then in fashion. I wish some of these young folks could see a calash. A few of the girls here of my age
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remember the calash of seventy years ago. And I see here some of the girls and boys who were my schoolmates seventy years ago, and they, too, remember the little old frame schoolhouse on East High street a little east of Governor Bushnell's present resi- dence. That was then in the country. How we trudged through the mud in our coarse shoes, or sometimes barefoot, if the shoe- maker could not get our shoes finished. Say, old boys, don't you remember the love letters you used to write? These letters always ended :
The rose is red, the violet's blue, Sugar's sweet, and so are you.
Sometimes the girl's answer would be :
Grass is green, and so are you ; Vinegar sour, and so are you.
As we advanced and were able to write letters in the most approved style, we began: "I take my pen in hand to inform you that I am well, and trust these few lines will find you enjoying God's same blessing." These boys were the Stewarts, the Rices, Neil Baker, and the Huffmans, and Mr. William Barnett, who remember those days.
School books were not exchanged for new editions as often as now. You see, books cost more then. I was the youngest in my father's family of fourteen children, and I used the same old British Reader handed on down from my eldest brother. Witk what dramatic force we read :
"Pity the sorrows of a poor old man. Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your door ; Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span ; Oh, give relief, and heaven will bless your store."
And another, in which you old boys showed off-"I am mon- arch of all I survey."
Another schoolhouse of which I must make mention was also an old frame, and stood where Mr. Charles Ludlow now resides, on the corner of East High and Foster streets. Here a girls' school was taught by Miss Strong, sister of Mrs. Judge Clark. All the buildings in that neighborhood were small. Mr. David
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Compton lived in a small house opposite the schoolhouse. Mrs. Compton raised a tomato vine for ornament in her front yard. We school girls used to stand by the fence and admire the small red tomatoes. Finally Mrs. Compton gave me one, with the injunc- tion : "Don't eat it, for it is poison." These were the first tomatoes raised in Springfield, and Mrs. Compton called them "Jerusalem apples." The first postoffice I remember was in the Rodgers home, corner of Limestone and North streets. Mr. Mattox Fisher was postmaster. He built that house. I remember he always spelled my father's name "Allover" (Oliver) Armstrong. We knew nothing of envelopes then. and the letters were sealed with sealing wax and wafers. Matches had not been invented. It was no un- common thing to go to a neighbor's to borrow a firebrand to kindle in case the back-log had burned out. Tallow candles were the only lights used in Springfield seventy-five or eighty years ago. The old graveyard on West Columbia street was our only park. We were Sabbath-keeping people then, and if Sunday walks were indulged in, it was considered most proper to walk to the grave- yard. But we had little need of improved parks, for this beautiful Springfield was laid out in one of nature's loveliest parks-springs, rocks, cliffs. water-falls, wild flowers at almost every turn.
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VI MILITARY DAY.
Wednesday, August 7. was Military Day, and was especially noted for the fine parade, for the large number of people in at- tendance, and because of the presence of Hon. George K. Nash. Governor of the State and candidate for a second term ; of Colonel James Kilbourne, Democratic candidate for the same office, and Attorney-General Sheets. In addition to the carriages carrying the distinguished visitors. speaker of the day, members of the various committees and others, Mitchell Post, and John Brown Post, of the Grand Army of the Republic, the H. H. Stevens Com- pany of Union Veterans' Union ; Colored Spanish War Veterans. Keifer Guards. Sons of Veterans. and five companies of the Ohio National Guard, with bands and drum corps, made up the proces- sion, which was under the direction of Colonel David King, as- sisted by a large number of aides. General J. Warren Keifer was both chairman and speaker of the day. For more than an hour le held the undivided attention of the audience with his paper on "Campfires and Military Maneuvers." He then in turn introduced Governor Nash. Colonel Kilbourne, and Governor Asa S. Bush- nell, whose impromptu addresses were well received and the speakers given generous applause.
On Wednesday afternoon a campfire was held, at which Dr. George H. Fullerton presided. Among those who spoke were Governor Nash. Colonel Kilbourne, William Moores, Captain John Foster, Captain A. McConkey, Dr. H. H. Seys and E. T. Ride- nour. The veterans lived over the war again, and as incident after incident was related the heart of each was moved with enthusiasm that burned as in days long since passed. The time was all too · short for all who wished to speak, and an adjourned meeting was held to give them the opportunity.
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GENERAL J. WARREN KEIFER.
MILITARY HISTORY
Of Springfield and Clark County, Ohio, Covering the Nineteenth Century. Read August 7, 1901, at the First Centennial of Springfield, Ohio,
BY GENERAL J. WARREN KEIFER .*
(In this paper Clark County will be referred to as though it had an organized existence from the earliest times. although its territory was a part of Hamilton County prior to 1800; then of Greene until 1805; then of Champaign until 1817, when it was organized.)
My Friends and Neighbors :
The duty of summarizing the military history of Clark County has led me to study the annals of her people-a people springing, originally. from all nationalities and tongues, with varied race characteristics, but, who, in time, became so composite. in blood and character, as to be able, if occasion required, to deny any national or race origin, or to boast that the blood of all nation- alities run in the veins of its citizens.
[*The author of this paper was a soldier in the Civil and Spanish Wars. He en- listed as a private in April. 1961: became Major of the Third Ohio Infantry the same month; Lieutenant-Colonel of the same regiment February 12, 1802; Colonel 110th Ohio Infantry, September 30, 1862; Brevet Brigadier-General of Volunteers ( 1864.) and Brevet Major-General of Volunteers (1865) by appointment of the President for gal- lantry and distinguished services in battle- and campaigns. He was, by the President, appointed ( 1998) a Major-General of Volunteers, and held high command in Florida, Georgia and Cuba during the Spanish War. ]
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How impressive is the history of her people They early came here with exalted hopes and high ambition : they, within the limits of their aspirations, succeeded in the main, then passed to the great beyond, leaving to us a heritage of example and valor. Our blood-kindred and earliest friends were of these. What sad reflections might we summon; but this is not the time nor the occasion. The privations, struggles and sufferings of the early settlers were largely forgotten by their descendants, they being al- most selfishly willing to enjoy the fruits of what they accom- plished for education, civilization and Christianity, without award- ing to them full credit.
But this is not a day for sad reminiscences and serious re- flections, but for cheerfulness and hopefulness, for rejoicing- even for boasting.
The task assigned me is an inspiring and a pleasant one, be- cause of the splendid history Clark County has made in all the wars in which our country was engaged in the nineteenth cen- tury. Her people, willingly and loyally, responded to all calls of danger and duty, and went forth to uphold constitutional liberty and the natural rights of man. Her sons fought and died on every important campaign and in every great battle in the last one hun- dred years in which our country was engaged.
The blood of her sons has crimsoned the soil of, and their bones have bleached on, the great battlefields of the Republic. They have heroically borne on high the starry flag of Washington, the purest and proudest emblem of human liberty, both on land and sea ; only lately participating in carrying its protecting folds to the relief of endangered and imprisoned Christians in far-off im- perial China's walled capital. Wherever glory in the cause of humanity has been won through deeds of valor and by bloody sacrifice, Clark County's soldiers and sailors must justly be awarded a share, and so as to this nation's standing in first place among the greatest powers of the world.
This day marks the end of a century in the existence of our city, covering the most eventful epoch in the history of the world, having reference to the advancement of science and the fine arts, to material and moral progress, and wealth ; to the liberation of man and the elevation of woman, and the best growth of a purer civil-
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ization. All these things seem. in the providence of God, to have required human sacrifice. As a purer atmosphere succeeds violent electrical storms. so purer liberty succeeds overthrown oppression.
In the nineteenth century (substantially the period of Spring- field's existence ) the map of the world has often changed, and our new nation, inspired by liberty for man, has developed in useful- ness and taken its place among the controlling powers of the earth. That which was protected by law and by public sentiment, sometimes claimed to be maintained by Divine sanction-the slave trade, since Springfield was settled, became piracy ( 1820) and the whole institution of slavery, upheld by Christian nations through the centuries, has passed away, in large part. throughout the civ -. ilized world. A war for humanity has been declared and success- fully terminated. A list of controlling events is too long for pro- duction here.
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