USA > Ohio > Montgomery County > Dayton > The story of Dayton > Part 11
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night was in desperate earnest. In vain Mayor Gillespie called out the fire department and an extra police force; in vain he bravely mounted the steps, faced the mob, and ordered them to disperse. Some hands cut the fire hose, others passed a torch, and in a few moments the building was ablaze from roof to foundation. Then the rioters went home, and the next day Dayton found herself under martial law.
Worse came later. The editor of the Democratic paper, on returning from market on Second Street in the early morning, was shot down by a bullet from the gun of a heated partisan, who was immediately jailed. The mob spirit uppermost always drew an excited crowd to the spot. demanding that the assailant be given up to them, for what purpose could be easily guessed. Again Mayor Gillespie stood before the mob, and declared that only across his own body could that prisoner be taken. He was not taken. The mob dispersed. Not only on the field of battle were all the heroes of the Civil War. Such an act as this brought not only the war spirit, but its bloodshed to our very doors.
You will not wonder at these scenes of violence if you read the daily newspapers during the war. They found the people bitter and they made them worse. The "Empire" de- clared editorially that if we did not have so weak, futile, and cowardly a President as Abraham Lincoln at Washington, individual liberty would not be abused, whereupon it was al- luded to by its rival as the "Daily Vampire." Public opin- ion had so shifted its position on the slavery question that the anti-abolitionists who had mobbed Doctor Jewett's house in 1848, now, in 1863, found they were themselves threatened with violence. Professional men of good stand- ing were called "vile traitors," "beasts," and their homes alluded to as "hell-holes." Their wives could not go on the street without having mud thrown upon them. Multiply these instances by hundreds, consider the "Journal" mobbing as perhaps only the beginning of more of the same, and you
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What the Civil War Meant to Dayton
will see what a pleasant place Dayton must have been to live in, in the Sixties.
Worse even than fires and mobs was the excitement over the threatened raid of Jolin Morgan. It was rumored that with twenty-five hundred free-booters he was coming straight to Dayton. He was indeed within the borders of Ohio, riding like mad, confiscating horses, and taking pris- oners. Word was shouted over country roads and pub-
Northwest corner Fourth and Main in 1860. A recruiting center during the Civil War
lished in city "extras." People hid their valuables and pre- pared to defend their homes. In response to an imperative telegram, the bank at Eaton loaded its funds into a two- horse wagon, like so much corn, and sent it to Dayton, where it was added to the gold in our banks, and in charge of armed clerks, sent in a freight car to Toledo. During these thrilling occurrences, the boys of the town were di- vided in their minds as to whether to run and hide, or stay out and see the most famous cavalry leader of the Southern
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army. It made no difference which they did, for Morgan never got as far as Dayton. He merely crossed the line of Butler County and then turned and rode in another direc- tion. Our horses and teaspoons were safe!
The last call for troops was answered mainly by boys in the high school. They were destined for garrison duty at Washington, and were called the "Hundred Days Men." The fair grounds was selected for a provisional camp, and thence the young recruits went, and were met by the hard- ships of war before they got their first buttons. No quar- ters had been provided except the horse stalls, no tents, not even cots and blankets. The boys kept up their spirits with jokes and songs, called each other "General" and their quar- ters the "Burnet House," which in those days stood for the acme of luxury.
Toward midnight, however, it was no longer so funny. The cold bit in and they longed for a bed. Then, four of the more enterprising boys wrenched a board from the fence on the Main Street side and crawled out. Up the road they went to the gate of the Patterson farm, where they meant to find in the hay mow the comfort that the "Burnett House" lacked. But Mrs. Patterson heard of it, and brought them to the house where, in her good feather beds, they slept until morning. It was deserting, of course, but they didn't know it, and the United States Government never found it out. At daybreak the party returned, crawled through the hole in the fence, and once more answered their country's call.
In the limited space of a single chapter it will be impos- sible to give the names of those Dayton men who either "fought or paid." Gallant work was done in the field and generous giving at home. The roll of both is in existence and can be consulted. Here, we may only note the sweep of events as they affected Dayton.
On the ninth of April, 1865, citizens were wakened from their sleep about two o'clock in the morning by a violent ringing of their door-bells. Putting their heads out of
The Regimental Band at the Courthouse, 1864.
--
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upper windows they heard the shout, "Lee has surrendered !" Down First and Second streets went the messengers, from door to door, until every man of voting age, and some younger, had come out. One ran to the Engine House, and soon the bells were calling out, "Lee has surrendered !" The church bells joined in; cannon boomed from the landing, men laughed and nearly cried as they repeated to each other, "Lee has surrendered!" It seemed too good to be true that the war was over and that life could go on quietly once more.
The fourteenth was appointed by the governor as a day of thanksgiving. It was celebrated by church services with full congregations, a salute of guns, and much private re- joicing. Led by the veterans of the First and the Ninety- third, the two regiments in which most of the Dayton men had served, passed in review down Main Street carrying their tattered flags which, four years before, had gone out so clean and new. Following came the wounded and infirm soldiers in carriages, not old men and bent, as we know them now, but in the prime of life. Wild cheers went up as they passed-the real heroes of the Civil War!
In the evening, what the papers called a "brilliant illumi- nation" took place, and our memory says it was all of that, in spite of the fact that it consisted merely of candles and kerosene lamps behind colored tissue paper on the window panes. Can you see it all? The lights and cheers and flags, and the Third Regiment band ringing forth "Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord."
Little did they guess how a short twenty-four hours was to change the cheers to tears. The fifteenth of April was a "day off" for everybody. No papers had come out the night before, and none the next morning. Printers and telegraph operators were resting. Suddenly and ominously the wires spoke and the one man left in charge of the office listened.
"President Lincoln assassinated" is what the message said. Mr. Richard Lane took the message from the wire, and since, of course, there was no telephone, he ran the
BROWN &IRWIN. STOVES.
PHILLIPS HOUSE.
Main Street in the Sixties looking south.
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block between the telegraph office and the "Journal," holding high above his head the fatal message. The "Journal" office was empty, so down to the end of Second Street went Mr. Lane to Major Bickham's residence, and in an hour an extra was issued and people knew the whole, dreadful tragedy.
Can you imagine the contrast which twenty-four hours wrought in the soul of a city? The streets just as full as the day before, but with what an altered emphasis! The feeling was one of acute, personal loss, for by this time Lin- coln had made himself President of all the people. Business was suspended, the bells rang again, one solemn stroke to a minute. Down came the tissue paper lanterns and streamers of red, white, and blue, and in their place hung drapings of dead black. Again the bands played-no longer in quick- step time, but with a dull roll of drums and the horns in a minor key.
You heard it all. You saw your father's face graver than ever before. You felt that now, neighbors could be friends once more, for "The Union forever" was no longer a battle-cry or a street song, but a part of the life of Day- ton and your own.
For the first time you felt what it was to be an American !
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block between the telegraph office and the "Journal," holding high above his head the fatal message. The "Journal" office was empty, so down to the end of Second Street went Mr. Lane to Major Bickham's residence, and in an hour an extra was issued and people knew the whole, dreadful tragedy.
Can you imagine the contrast which twenty-four hours wrought in the soul of a city? The streets just as full as the day before, but with what an altered emphasis! The feeling was one of acute, personal loss, for by this time Lin- coln had made himself President of all the people. Business was suspended, the bells rang again, one solemn stroke to a minute. Down came the tissue paper lanterns and streamers of red, white, and blue, and in their place hung drapings of dead black. Again the bands played-no longer in quick- step time, but with a dull roll of drums and the horns in a minor key.
You heard it all. You saw your father's face graver than ever before. You felt that now, neighbors could be friends once more, for "The Union forever" was no longer a battle-cry or a street song, but a part of the life of Day- ton and your own.
For the first time you felt what it was to be an American !
Panoramic View National Military Home. Dayton Ohle
CHAPTER XVI. 1865-1896.
Our Hundredth Anniversary.
After the war. Reconstruction and reconciliation. Keeping memories alive. "On the virtues of its citizens." Dayton reaches her centenary. Newcom's Tavern finds a new site. Work of the Historical Society.
Our Dayton, while we ponder on thy past And laud the virtues of our sires gone,
Prophetic vision onward, too, we cast As the new century's birth we gaze upon.
May all the sturdy spirit of thy sons Whose names to-night we garland with our praise,
Descend upon us that there may be done
Such noble work as theirs, in coming days!
May all our pride in thee bear fruit in deeds, In action for our city's highest good ;
May we but seek to meet thy future needs In service as one common brotherhood.
In 1865, the war at an end, Dayton entered upon an era of reconstruction and reconciliation. Years passed, it is true, before the feelings engendered by the tragic issues of the Sixties died out, but there was much good work done by quiet personal influence, to bridge the chasm. The sol- dier boys had come home, business was improving.
One of the first duties was to care for the men who had sacrificed their health in the service of the nation. To this end, the Forty-third Congress passed a bill establishing three National Homes for Disabled Volunteer Soldiers. The idea of bringing the Central Branch to Dayton origi-
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nated with Lewis B. Gunckel, then our Representative from this district, supported by the Dayton "Journal," under W. D. Bickham, both of whom used personal influence and indefatigable industry to bring it to pass. When we walk among the winding avenues or over the broad, greensward of the Soldiers' Home, it will not be amiss to remember our debt for the acquisition of such a beautiful, dignified, and patriotic resort. As resident manager, Mr. Gunckel
Main Street Bridge in the Flood of 1866 McPhersontown (now Riverdale) in the distance.
took a personal pride in directing the improvements in grounds and buildings and in arranging for the comfort and recreation of the men. The Soldiers' Home is his monu- ment in the same sense as Woodland Cemetery is John Van Cleve's. Both bear constant witness to the foresight and efficient public service of their founders. The Soldiers Home cared for the living soldiers ; who was to keep green the memory of those who had gone? It was General
Entrance to the Grotto at the Soldiers' Home. From an etching by Hurley.
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Schenck who first suggested the idea of a Soldiers' Monu- ment to be erected, not at Woodland, where few would see it, but right in the midst of our city life and traffic. There was as yet neither money nor legal authority for the plan, nevertheless some enthusiasts went to work to get both. A bill was passed legalizing a county tax for this purpose, and which was endorsed by both political parties at the next election. Finally assistance was given by the Old Guard Association, organized for this purpose, of men who had served in the war. Local talent presented a play called "The Drummer Boy of Shiloh," at Turner's Opera House, in which all the thrilling events of the war were set forth. Only two hundred dollars resulted from this enterprise, but it was a beginning, and more came slowly in. During the twenty years between the first suggestion and the dedication of the monument, many citizens gave it their warm support; among them, Doctor Thomas, Governor Charles Anderson, Edward W. Davies, John G. Lowe, Valentine Winters, E. A. Parrott, Samuel Craighead, L. B. Gunckel, E. M. Wood, J. H. Pierce.
In 1874 bids for the monument were called for and the contract awarded. Granite for the pedestal was brought from the quarries in Maine; George Fair posed for the statue of the soldier, which was made in Carrara, Italy. It was landed in New York, June 20, 1884, and the ceremonies surrounding its dedication comprised one of the notable events in Dayton history. It was made the occasion of a national reunion of all the participants in the war. Invi- tations were sent broadcast, and royally were they honored. Not since the Harrison Rally of 1840 was Dayton so full of humanity or so moved by a common impulse. Stripped of all the pageantry of this stirring occasion, the thought back of it was the one engraved on the east side of the granite base, which it is hoped, no boy who stood on the outskirts of that crowd would ever forget.
"THE REPUBLIC RESTS UPON THE VIRTUE, INTELLIGENCE, AND PATRIOTISM OF ITS" -
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Our Hundredth Anniversary
what? Its rulers? Its leaders? Its representatives? No! Of its "CITIZENS."
In the winter of 1895-96 we were reminded that on April first, a century before, a band of settlers had come up the river, landed from their pirogue at the head of Main Street, and founded Dayton. So important an occasion as this could not be overlooked. The idea took hold of pop- ular imagination. Many had a hand in the enterprise, but
The Newcom Cabin in its disguise of clapboards, as it stood for 100 years on the corner of Main and Monument Avenue.
all will grant that the primary suggestion came from a sick-room.
Mary Davies Steele, daughter of Robert W. Steele, was what might be called an "applied reader." She put what she read into practice. The idea of arousing local loyalty by having a civic birthday party appealed to her, and she in turn appealed to the community. Eastern cities, she de-
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clared, kept anniversaries, put up tablets, and saved relics. Why should not Dayton? By word of mouth to visitors at her bedside and through the columns of the daily papers, Miss Steele pleaded for a centennial celebration. Slow at first in growing, the idea was helped by the threatened de- struction of the old Newcom Tavern, which for one hun- dred years had been masquerading under a coat of clap- boards as "Shafor's Grocery." We were reminded by her
The Newcom Cabin on its modern site, showing the mouth of Mad River. of the history which had gone on within those log walls when Dayton was but a handful of the same kind of dwell- ings and Montgomery County a wilderness. One after an- other public-spirited citizen responded with contributions to preserve the cabin. It was purchased, stripped of its boards, moved to the river bank above the bridge, and there en- sconced, an object lesson in pioneer history and an illumi- nating contrast to the fine, new high school.
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Our Hundredth Anniversary
Our school authorities saw in the proposed celebration, an occasion to stimulate interest in local history. Under the direction of Miss Steele, who knew Dayton families by heart and was determined that every interest in our midst should have representation, committees were appointed. Business and professional men, club women and mothers of families, old and young, black and white, in school or out, Protestant, Catholic, Jew-all united on that never-to-be- forgotten occasion, to act or sing their thankfulness in being Daytonians.
The celebration began on April first, with salvos of guns and ringing of bells. Every school in the city held exercises during which the story of the settlement of Dayton was told and retold. A boy pupil at the Central District School re- cited the following poem, entitled,
MR. THOMPSON'S COW .*
Just one hundred years ago, so the story's told,
Up the winding river came a band of spirits bold Through the forest dark and dense, seeking for a spot
Where each gallant pioneer might own a corner lot.
When they reached the Main Street Bridge, Samuel Thompson cries,
"Here is Early Dayton," in tones of glad surprise.
Then they tied their clumsy craft close against the shore
Just below the Gas Works which they'd never seen before.
Joined them soon another brave and hardy band Which from Cincinnati tramped, sixty miles by land,
Looking out for Injuns, catamount and bear,
Dodging toll gates, too, because they had no change to spare; Full of grit and courage, free from doubts and fears,
Bound for Early Dayton were these pioneers.
Time has dimmed their names, yet one of them, I trow,
Will deserve our gratitude-Mr. Thompson's cow.
In the page of history, never word is said Whether Mr. Thompson's cow brindled was or red, Whether Alderney by birth or of Jersey blood, Tracing back her ancestry far as Noah's flood. We but know she came along, patient and serene,
Wondering what the journey meant, in her thoughts bovine. Not the least important one, we must all allow In that pilgrim party, was the Thompson cow.
*Written by Frank Conover.
1
IS&SHOES
BEIBOLD.
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Main Street in 1885, showing the old City Building and Market House.
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Our Hundredth Anniversary
Through the weary journey, when the children cried, Thompson's cow most gladly all their wants supplied; Filled their stomachs full of milk and their hearts of joy, Friend in need to every hungry girl or boy. Early in the morning and again at night,
When they gathered 'round her, 'twas a pleasant sight As the picture came to us we imagine how All those baby pioneers loved the Thompson cow.
When at last the journey o'er, I have heard it said, That those grateful pioneers built the cow a shed, And she dwelt in peace with them, 'neath the lofty trees, While they looked to her for milk, buttermilk, and cheese. But they could not take it all, for at least half Had to go to nourish Thompson's cow's young calf. In our dairies we can find her descendants now, And we owe our morning cream to the Thompson cow.
When we build a monument to those settlers brave, When upon a marble shaft their names we shall engrave, When the roll of honor's called, surely must appear Just a word regarding that humble pioneer.
When we write McClure and Thompson, Newcom, Goss, Van Cleve,
Underneath these precious names a little space we'll leave There to tell posterity, in simple language, how
Much our Early Dayton owes to Samuel Thompson's cow.
The afternoon of the first of April and the whole of the second were given up to the most genuine family party Dayton ever enjoyed. Never before had there been an anni- versary that seemed to belong equally to parents and chil- dren. The boys and girls having said their say in the school- rooms, the parents took possession of the Victoria Theatre, and to a full house expressed their debt to the past and their hopes for the future.
The civic authorities arranged a great procession which started at the cabin and came back to it, and included every activity and interest in the city from school children, ten thousand of them, to fire engines. While this was in prog- ress, a row of locomotive bells on the south side of the courthouse kept up an inspiring but deafening racket. Can- non and giant crackers, whistles and drums added their share. Such an effervescence of civic pride did us all good.
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Not a boy in knee trousers but was proud of having been born in Dayton.
At the exercises at the Victoria Theatre on the evening of April second, one speaker voiced the emotions of those who had initiated this celebration in these words :
"We can do nothing better to stimulate the best sentiments of patriotism and public spirit in our children, than to open to them the study of the history of our own city. Its records are filled with the names of good men, good citizens, men of brain and character and high purpose. The roll is a proud one. There are lessons not for the children alone, but for their fathers, too, in the unselfishness and devotion to public good, integrity, broad vision, and courageous living of those men of early Dayton. If the citizens who meet to celebrate the second centennial of this city find reason to speak of us and of our sons and daughters as we can truly speak to-night of the pio- neers of the century just closed, we shall not have lived in vain."
To keep alive this newly-born spirit of home loyalty, the Dayton Historical Society was presently organized. Re- quests for pioneer data and relics, to be kept at the New- com Tavern and to form a museum of the early years, re- sulted in a general search, and many unsuspected treasures were brought to light. A chair, the property of Benjamin Van Cleve, was replaced, after one hundred years, in the room where he sat to teach his pupils. The first postoffice, an ancient cupboard, unearthed by some old resident who could vouch for its history, was restored to its former local- ity if not to its original functions. Four-post bedsteads, spinning-wheels, low-hooded cradles, candlesticks, candle- molds, dutch-ovens, and settles were contributed by people inspired with a desire to bring the interesting pioneer days back to our modern consciousness.
There is nothing elsewhere, we believe, just like the Newcom Cabin. Under those age-blackened rafters which sheltered the first makers of our life as a community, there may still be found witnesses of their personal existence. By the side of that fireplace, you may re-create in im- agination the interests and activities of our Dayton fore- fathers ; vigorous, arduous, yet glorious, as all plain things
Steele High School. Built 1898. Named in honor of Robert W. Steele.
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are if done with conscience. Even the hand corn-cracker preaches its sermon. The chairs, the cooking utensils, the iron crane in the chimney jamb, all tell a story of an histor- ical epoch, past and completed. We have no ruins of castles in Dayton, no cathedrals to represent medieval as- pirations, but we have a log cabin, just as eloquent of spiritual interest and human worth. The flood spared it. Tearing out, stone by stone, the massive masonry of the high-school tower just opposite, the relentless Miami, in its unbridled career during March, 1913, left the old cabin standing in its own place, where we hope it will still be found, when Dayton celebrates her bi-centenary, on April first, nineteen hundred and ninety-six.
View in the National Military Home.
CHAPTER XVII. 1896-1915.
The Home of Aviation.
A boy's workshop. A kite on the seashore. A shed on Huff- man's Prairie. "On wings like eagles." Dayton incredulous. "Hail to the Chiefs!"
Two brothers in a little shop on West Third Street, some length of wire, several pieces of wood and metal, a wheel or two-these were the small beginnings of great things to Dayton and to the world. The affair was started in the first place by a toy brought home by a father to his sons, when they were still school-boys. This plaything, when thrown into the air, did not immediately fall to the ground, but fluttered and balanced for some seconds before touching the floor.
Being clever with tools the boys (whom you know as the Wrights) made one like it; then a bigger one which also flew ; then a still bigger one which did not go at all. In increasing the size of the toy they had lost the necessary proportion between power and weight. In doubling the size of their machine they should have quadrupled the power, a principle they had not yet discovered. The mystery of it started questions and experiments. Kite flying was a favorite sport with the brothers, and this new diversion was, so far, but a branch of it. The toy (the first one) stayed in the air; the kite flew under wind pressure; why could not a machine be constructed which would do both? A kite lifted its own weight ; why not, if made larger and stronger, that of a man?
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