History of Dane County, Wisconsin, Part 104

Author: Butterfield, Consul Willshire, 1824-1899; Western Historical Co., Chicago, pub
Publication date: 1880
Publisher: Chicago : Western Historical Company
Number of Pages: 1304

USA > Wisconsin > Dane County > History of Dane County, Wisconsin > Part 104

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Some of those people of 1838 have gone to other lands, helped to found other towns, cities and States. Not a few have passed away, like the tenements which covered them from the storms of winter. Only here and there a wanderer remains, like Noah, connecting the former with the present world of Madison. Simeon Mills, A. A. Bird, Darwin Clark, Geo. P. Delaplaine, E. M. Williamson, George Hyer and John Stoner, the common men of those days, have made such tracks on society as similar men always make, and I must content myself with this allusion to them.

But one, a very worthy and very valuable man in any place, then and still a character, deserves a longer notice. "Chief Justice " of the Peace Seymour was here, and his pipe was as much a part of the man as is the cigar of Lieut. Gen. Grant. With that in his mouth, he was clerk in the Commissioner's store, kept books, dealt out silks and dry goods, tea and powder; was Surveyor of the town plat, only he read the degrees and minutes at the wrong end of the needle; tried causes, civil and criminal, and administered justice mingled largely with equity and common sense, though some slanderously stated that at times his brain became muddled with the tobacco smoke. Some spoke hardly of him, as all good men are evilly spoken against. All knew he was the Gazette, and always of the very latest edition ; and he had at that early time under his special care all the affairs of town, State and church. But a few years ago a dreadful sickness came to him, one we all regret, and none more than myself, and Seymour lost his pipe, and the city its best guardian.

I have been looking about for the old landmarks, those old houses that made the Madison of 1838, then as now, the gem in silver setting. The hand of man guided by want and civili- zation, time gnawing out the hearts of oaks, and the red tongue of fire, have swept them out of existence. The old steam-mill on the bank of the lake is gone to its foundations. The log house on the marsh, where Stoner reared his household, has left no mark behind. The site of the first frame house built in Madison, at the southwest corner of Wilson and Pinckney streets, for J. S. Schermerhorn, is now occupied by a large two-story brick dwelling-house-that where a man died "by touch ethereal slain," can only be traced by the crab trees planted by Pros- per B. Bird; and even the coarse gray sandstone which marked Warren's grave on Univer- sity Hill is buried beneath academician soil, to be at some remote period brought to light, per- haps hy a people who shall speak another tongue.

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The demands of improvement have removed, demolished or added to other places, until it is difficult to trace the originals ; and, like the jack-knife with twelve new blades and six new handles, to those who have seen their transformations, they are the same old knives still. To all others they are new ones.

The old capitol, like its companions of 1838, has fallen before the demands of improve- ment. It was first attacked on both sides and resisted long and well, but when it was at last flanked at both ends it surrendered and fell on the spot where it stood. May the beauties and just proportions of the new capitol be emblematical of the reconstructed Union; and then even we who have a love for old things may cherish the one as we love the other.

In 1838, the munificent gift of the General Government, the nucleus of the State Library, was kept in a little four-roofed, one-storied wooden building, fifteen feet square, standing on King street.

As the houses have changed, so the people have changed, some giving way to new-comers; others have found rest in the tomb. Rest, did I say ? Three times have sites been fixed within the limits of the city, and as often have they been removed and the dead transferred ! Are they safe yet from the march of civilization ? Here and there we find almost among strangers one of those old sojourners of 1838. But how few they are! One may tell them on their fin- gers' ends, enumerate them as their works at that day can be told. The rains and snows, sun- shine and storms, the heat and cold, of almost thirty years, have beaten upon them, faded the sparkling eyes, and blanched the glossy locks. The very thought makes the limbs tremble, the body stoop, the step shorten, the voice creak, and the blood flow sluggishly through the veins. It makes one feel more of the old man, as it sets him back on the dial of time.

Those were the oldest times in Madison, and but little time remains to speak of later days and things-none of the private buildings, streets, charters, and city growth. Then the capitol stood out unfenced ; even the corners of the square were unmarked by post or stake. However, Madison was the capital of a growing Territory, and the work of improvement went on.

IV .- BY ROBERT L. REAM.

In the latter part of April, in the year 1838, I first visited Madison. I traveled there in company with Mr. Wells, who, with a two-horse team, was supplying the people of Madison with produce from his farm in Green County. Madison then consisted of not more than a dozen houses, built and in process of erection, counting every cabin and shanty within three miles of the capitol, and was the only market for Green County farmers.

Mr. Wells and I left Monroe, then called New Mexico, in the morning, and reached Grand Springs, near Sugar River, late in the afternoon, and camped there for the night. This was before the land there was entered by Mr. McFadden, and the springs had not yet been named. We built a large log fire (to keep off the wolves, as Mr. Wells said), and fried our bacon and boiled our coffee. The aroma of our dainty dishes must soon have filled the atmosphere, for the prediction of Mr. Wells was verified in an incredibly short space of time, by the surrounding of our camp with prairie wolves in droves. Then commenced such a snarling, fighting, barking and howling as I never heard before or since. They made the "night hideous," and kept up the music with a thousand and one variations until morning's dawn. During the night we chopped down more trees, cut them into logs, and kept up a rousing fire, the roar and crackle of which made a splendid accompaniment to our opposition concert in camp, which consisted of negro melodies and camp-meeting songs, which we had learned from the Hoosier prairie-breakers in Greene, where it had been my good fortune to serve an apprenticeship at prairie-breaking. Thus we spent a sleepless night (my first night in Dane County). We struck camp early next morning, without bidding our recently made acquaintances a very formal adieu.

We found the then traveled road very crooked and winding, and running at almost all points of the compass, and when within five or six miles of Stoner's Prairie, we halted and took observations. After determining the proper course to take in the direction of Madison, I went

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ahead with an ax, blazing trees. Mr. Wells followed with his team. We struck the prairie where George Vroman's farm was afterward located. The road which I then blazed was after- ward adopted by the public, and traveled for many years. After passing through the prairie, we followed the old trail to Madison, where we arrived the second day.

Having business at Fort Winnebago, and there being no travel in that direction, I was compelled to make the journey alone, so I negotiated with Mr. Ubledine for a roan-colored, bob-tailed Canadian pony, with cropped mane, large ears and white belly. Mr. Ubledine kept the only livery stable, and this was the only horse to be hired in Madison. On this imposing steed I seated myself next day, and started for the fort, forty miles distant, by the trail. There was no wagon road from Madison in that direction, and the only two houses between there and the fort were those of William Lawrence, near Token Creek, and Wallace Rowan's hotel, on the military road, some thirty miles distant from Madison. At this hotel I put up for the night, and, being not much used to that particular kind of locomotion, was very tired. Rowan's wife served me bountifully with hoe-cake and bacon. I then went to sleep and slept soundly until toward morning, when I was aroused by several cocks crowing simultaneously, in close prox- imity to my bed. I did not discover until daylight that the foot-rail of my bedstead was the roost of Mr. Rowan's chickens.

I remained the next night at Fort Winnebago, and picketed my pony on a grass plot near the hotel, giving him about thirty feet of rope. The hotel was the only house where travelers could be entertained outside the garrison. Mr. Henry Merrell and his family lived in it. I found the accommodations excellent. An amusing incident occurred there that night, which I cannot help mentioning. In the room in which I slept were four beds, one in each corner, and all curtained. I occupied one of these beds, and it appears that the other three were occupied by gentlemen and their wives. In the night we were all aroused by a cry of robbers, thieves, Indians, etc. All started up at the alarm, the ladies shrieking with fright. The room was dark, and in the confusion we ran against each other very amusingly. When a light was struck, the scene was extremely ludicrous-ladies, in their night-clothes, looking like affrighted ghosts, some of them clinging to the wrong man ; men without any night clothes, and very little of any other kind, making frantic exertions to find out the cause of the disturbance. The supposition was that some soldiers had been on a carousal, and had mistaken the hotel for the garrison ; but, under the charge of Capt. Gideon Lowe, such a breach of the regulations would never have been allowed; and the cause of the alarm was not satisfactorily explained.

I found my pony safe in the morning. The gallinippers had worried him badly, and kept him in motion most of the night. The blood was still oozing through his perforated skin. Then, and not until then, did I realize the true force of the expression " thicker than mosqui- toes. The atmosphere was literally filled with them. In those days, persons in the habit of traveling much were obliged to protect their faces and heads with gauze or mosquito-bar veils, so very great was the annoyance of these insects.

I will here digress, and relate some of the incidents told me at that time about the frontier soldier's life :

It often happens that the Government troops in these Western outposts become badly demoralized and mutinous. When watched so closely that they cannot safely carry bottles or jugs of liquor into quarters, they resort to every imaginable means of smuggling it in. They have been known to saturate their blankets, overcoats and other garments with whisky obtained of the sutler, then pass the guards unsuspected, and, after reaching quarters, wring out the whisky and drink it.

Shortly previous to my visit to the fort, a mutiny was threatened there. Capt. Lowe was in command. The sentinels at the gate refused to obey orders, which was reported to the Cap- tain. He made his appearance in due time, and demanded an explanation. As the sentinel whom he suspected for disloyalty was performing some extra evolutions which the Captain did not care to exactly understand, he suddenly raised his right foot and dexterously brought it with full force against the head of the sentinel, and brought him sprawling at his feet. This impro-

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vised tactic (not in the manual) was so demonstrative that the mutineers quailed before him and at once subsided into submission, and no further attempt at mutiny was made during his com- mand at the fort.

Returning to Madison, I spent the next night at Mr. Rowan's, slept in the same bed, and, as before, was awakened at cock-crowing. At the dawn of day, I discovered what I thought was a small flock of sheep scattered around on the floor, but, on closer observation, I found they were Indians. They had come in during the night from some trading-post, where they had obtained new white blankets, and had taken possession of the floor without ever disturbing my slumber.

From Madison back to Monroe there was no mode of conveyance, and I made this journey on foot in one day. It was then fully forty miles by the meanderings of the road. There were no bridges, and I was obliged to wade Sugar River and its tributaries, as well as several large marshes, in some of which the track lay knee-deep under water, and I suffered severely with the rheumatism in consequence thereof.

Aside from the promising prospect of Madison as the seat of government of a great State not far in the future, I became so infatuated with the natural beauties of the place, that I soon determined to make it my home. Like an emerald gleaming among pearls, it nestled amid the clear placid waters of the Four Lakes, and the view from the undulating surface of the country around was a setting well fitted for the unsurpassed jewels, not unworthy of comparison with the famous views from the shores of Lakes Como and Maggiore, or the Bay of Naples, in the old world.

In the latter part of May of the same year [1838.], I made another trip to Madison, when I negotiated with Mr. Peck for the Madison House, and in the month of June removed my family there, and took possession as the landlord. This was the first house in Madison, now passed from our view into chaos, the shadow only remaining-it has been photographed-was not an isolated cabin, but comprised two log cabins built of oak logs, each cabin twenty feet square, one and a half stories high, the inside hewed slightly with an ax to straighten the walls, the cracks between the logs chinked and danbed with mortar. These cabins were set about twenty-four feet apart, the space between them boarded up, roofed with oak plank, battened with slabs, and floored with punchcons, as was also the balance of the house. There were plenty of doors and windows. The grand hall between the cabins made a spacious dining-room, answered well for a ball-room, and was often used for holding caucuses and secret councils under lock and key. On the north side there was also a cabin built of logs, shed shape, called a lean-to; this building made a large kitchen and room for servants. I take that back-there were no servants but the mistress of the house. The hired help occupied it when we had any. To this we built an additional room of framework, boarded with shakes and roofed with shingles, for a family room.

The pioneers of a new country, before the era of railroads, telegraph or mail facilities, can only realize the domestic trials, troubles and turmoils incident to a backwoods life. Fortunately there were few lady travelers, on account of the great inconvenience in modes of travel and accom- modations on the road.

There were a number of Indian wigwams around us, some in sight of our doors. At first, Mrs. Ream lived in great fear and dread of them, and attributed her peace and the success with which she gained their good graces to a large bunch of peacock feathers which she had brought with her, and dealt out to them one by one. They seemed to have a talismanic effect. We made repeated efforts to civilize them, and teach them to be of service to us, but their utter dis- regard to cleanliness and innate laziness baffled all our efforts. Hired girls were out of the question, and the stronger sex were consequently often to be seen bending gracefully over the cook-stove or wash-tub, as well as cleaning and scrubbing. On one occasion we were happily relieved for some weeks by the assistance of two young ladies, the Misses Pierce, of Green County. Their help was invaluable to us, but it seemed so also to others, for they both soon returned to be married to worthy men of their own county. One became Mrs. Rust, the other Mrs. Rattan, both well-to-do farmers' wives. Next there came along a Teutonian, named

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Schwartze, with a kit of cabinet-maker's tools upon his back, which he had packed all the way from Milwaukee to Galena, expecting to find work there, but failed ; then returning by way of Mineral Point, reached Madison broken down, discouraged and disheartened, and without a penny. I think it was on the 4th of July, 1838, when he arrived-at any rate, the people of Madison were holding a jubilee of some kind, and a ball was coming off at the Madison House. Our newly arrived guest desired to engage in the festivities, provided he could borrow some clean clothes suitable to the occasion. These were soon forthcoming from our wardrobe, and when properly arrayed lie became the grand attraction of the occasion, and exhibited his accomplish- ments by waltzing a long time with a tumbler filled with water on his head. He was nearly sixty years of age, but as agile and as active as a boy of ten. As we could converse with him in his native tongue, he was loath to leave, and, more from sympathy than anything else, we engaged him to make some articles of furniture, such as could be wrought from oak or basswood lumber, as we had no other kind. Among other useful articles that he constructed was a wheelbarrow. When he had finished his mechanical labors, we employed him as head cook, at the rate of $75 per month, and he was also to keep the household furniture in repair. He was exceedingly kind and clever, all the time looking out for our interests. He remained with us several months.

I remember one strong, blustering day in the fall, Judge Doty and Col. Morrison arrived with their ladies. They had traveled all the way from Mineral Point without rest or refresh- ment, and reported themselves, tired, cold and hungry. With orders to get the best supper the house could afford, Schwartze was soon in the dough up to his elbows, and some one else was directed to build a fire in a large Franklin stove standing in the best room, which had been placed at the service of our distinguished guests. There had been no fire in the stove during the past season, and it was not discovered until the smoke gave warning that there was a large crack or fissure in the back of the stove. The fact was soon made known to Mr. Schwartze, who felt bound to see everything about the house in good repair, ran with an unbaked loaf of bread in his hands, clapped it on the crack in the stove and filled it up, thus stopping the smoke for the time being. He returned to the kitchen congratulating himself upon his ingenuity in improvis- ing so readily this cement. As soon as the stove became heated, the dough baked and burned, thus causing a denser smoke than before, and the ladies were obliged to leave the room. Mrs Ream, who was somewhat more practical in an emergency than the German cook, soon mixed another cement of salt, ashes and vinegar, which answered the purpose well, and the weary trav- elers were soon quite comfortable in their room.

Not long after this, our Teutonic friend, having earned enough money to make a payment on his lot in Milwaukee, disposed of his kit of tools, left for his home in Milwaukee, and we worked our own way as usual. Our customers and patrons were not at all fastidious. They were satisfied with clean beds, good board and genteel treatment, and this we always provided to the fullest extent of our ability. There was by this time a large amount of travel through Mad- ison, and some sixty or seventy men at work on the capitol. We boarded a large number of them, and our house was often crowded, so that floor room could not always be had at "two-pence per square foot," and the difference between the bare puncheons and shakedown was, "you pays your money and takes your choice."

We found it necessary to make many improvements to get along. The first of importance was sinking a well on the premises. When the shaft was excavated, there could be no one found to build the wall, and I was obliged to do it myself. I used cobble stone, and made a good job of it. Having met with success as a well-maker, I turned oven-builder, and built an out-door bake-oven of clay mixed with straw, which required the same kind of labor and material that caused the children of Israel to rebel against their taskmasters. The oven was a success also, and answered us and our neighbors until Frank Shaw came from Mineral Point and started a bake-shop across the street. Shaw was a genial Frenchman, and full of fun. The building he occupied was about eighteen feet square, two-stories high. The upper story was used as a lodg- ing-room, and the lower story as a bakery and grocery. We kept a temperance house, and Than's grocery profited largely by it, as both bread and whisky could be had there on reasonable terms.

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" Than " unabbreviated, means Nathaniel T. Parkinson, who was afterward elected Sheriff of the county, and held the Sheriff's office in this bake-shop grocery. There was as yet no prison in the county, and when the Sheriff made arrests or brought in prisoners, they were at once pre- sented at the bar, treated, and placed in the care of Shaw as jailer, with orders to feed and treat them well ; they were then put upon their parole, with orders to report themselves at the bar at least three times a day. It is but just to say that these prisoners rarely forfeited their parole, the kind and liberal treatment they received at the hands of the Sheriff as well as their custodian, Shaw, endeared them to these officers ; and there was no grumbling or cutting down, or disput- ing Sheriff's accounts in these primeval days.

Covalle and Pelkie furnished us with daily supplies of fish from the lakes, until we were sufficiently skilled in fishing to procure our own supplies. Shooting pickerel in the Catfish River soon came to be one of the grand sports of the time. When the fish " run up," they are shot in shoal water in large quantities, which is done by simply discharging your loaded piece at the fish ; neither ball nor buckshot will penetrate the water over an inch or so, but the fish are stunned by the report and concussion of the water, and, in a twinkling, are on their backs and easily captured. Spearing fish was the next best sport, and many nights have I spent at the outlet of Fourth Lake when the channel was narrow, and a single log which was used for a foot- bridge spanned the stream, in spearing fish of almost every kind. The water was very clear, and with a good brush fire on both sides of the stream, sufficient light was furnished to see all the fish as they swam by. From the foot-bridge you could spear all you wanted. It was not an unusual thing for Ed George and myself to return with our boat loaded to the water's edge with fish of many different kinds as the reward of one night's labor. Fishing with a spoon-hook was also a favorite sport, and, when winter came, we fished with scoop nets through holes cut in the ice. In those days we always fished for fish-never for fun.

On the south side of Lake Monona, there is a small estuary or inlet from a spring. In approaching that inlet, one time, I espied a red fox near the water, on the lookout for game; being curious to know what he was after, I kept some distance where I could watch him unob- served. Suddenly he sprang into the water and hauled out a large pickerel, longer than him- himself, and commenced tearing it to pieces. On my approach, he disappeared with a part of the fish in his mouth, which he had torn from his prey, leaving the back bone plainly exposed half its length, and the fish still alive, although high and dry out of water. That fox must have been hungry, for I had not gone far from the place, when I saw him stealthily retracing his steps to finish his meal.

During the summer of 1838, we had some very violent thunder-storms in Madison. An Englishman named Warren, employed in building the capitol, was killed by lightning near our house. Another serious accident of that summer was the falling from a scaffold on the capitol of a man named Gallard, who broke his leg. These men were boarding with us, and dependent upon us for nursing and attention as well as burial. Another boarder, named Simons, was prostrated a long time with typhoid fever. In those times, the duties of surgeons, physicians, nurses and undertakers were only a few of the extra duties which devolved upon the proprietors of public houses. * * * * *

Impelled by purely philanthropic principles, we once undertook to civilize, Christianize and domesticate a wild Winnebago Indian squaw, who answered to the euphoneous name of Lenape. This young squaw was about thirteen years old when brought to us in the usual filthy Indian costume. After the ablution process had been performed and the vermin extri- cated from her head, she was dressed in citizen's attire and really made an attractive figure. She was expected to assist in some domestic duties, and at first evinced quite a desire to learn, but the charm lasted but a few days, when she suddenly disappeared, and when next seen she had donned her native costume and returned to her wild, roving, indolent habits.

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History of Dane County, Wisconsin, Part 104

Author: Butterfield, Consul Willshire, 1824-1899; Western Historical Co., Chicago, pub Publication date: 1880 Publisher: Chicago : Western Historical Company Number of Pages: 1304

Author: Butterfield, Consul Willshire, 1824-1899; Western Historical Co., Chicago, pub
Publication date: 1880
Publisher: Chicago : Western Historical Company
Number of Pages: 1304