USA > Wisconsin > Rock County > Rock County, Wisconsin; a new history of its cities, villages, towns, citizens and varied interests, from the earliest times, up to date, Vol. I > Part 19
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loit, bright with the record of much higher attainments, great in the fulfilment of hopes thus far unrealized; the story of a city that will have proved mighty in the accomplishment of nobler deeds than any we yet have done for humanity and for God.
William Barstow Strong. The poet, Horace, complimented his wealthy patron, Mecaenas, for being descended from royal ancestors. It is greater cause for congratulations, however, to have had a Puritan and New England ancestry. Such was the privilege of the three Strong brothers, Henry, James and William, whose names have each and all brought honor to Beloit. Their remote ancestor, John Strong, was born in Taunton, Somerset- shire, England, in 1605. Having removed to London, then to Plymouth, he sailed for the new world in the ship "Mary and John," March 20, 1630, and arrived at Nantasket, Mass., after a seventy-day passage, May 30, 1630. June 13, 1663, he was or- dained and installed as an elder of the first church of North- ampton, Mass.
His direct descendant of the next century was Elijah Strong, who with his brother, Asahel, bought from the school fund of the state of Connecticut, the whole township of Brownington, Vermont, 13,400 acres. Elijah was a devotedly religious man and a merchant at Bennington, Vt., whence he moved to Brown- ington, Orleans county, Vermont, in March 1799. He was a jus- tice of the peace, a member of the state legislature and judge of probate.
His son, Elijah Gridley Strong, a farmer and merchant at Brownington, also high sheriff of Orleans county and a member of the Vermont legislature, married on January 4, 1826, Sarah Ashley Partridge, of Norwich, Vt. In 1851 they removed with most of their children to Beloit, Wis., and opened the old Beloit house, southeast corner of Race and State streets, as a temper- ance hotel.
Of their three sons, Henry, James and William, all of Brown- ington, the first and third came with them, and William B., born May 16, 1837, attended school at Beloit for about a year, took a business course at Chicago and then decided for a business life. His father had led Mr. James McAlpin to come with him from Rockford, Ill., and establish in Beloit a candle manufactory, in which Mr. Strong held a partnership and which was located at the west end of Broad street, on the river bank, not far from
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my home. In those early days, "When the candles were lit in the parlor," that manufacture was both necessary and important, and watching Mr. McAlpin make candles was one of the dear delights of my boyhood. Occasionally, after school hours, young William Strong helped in that work.
In 1852, when E. H. Broadhead was president of the Milwau- kee & Mississippi railway, James Strong, its agent and telegraph operator at Beloit, had his younger brother, William, assist in the work, and so started him in the railroad business at the age of fifteen. The two brothers worked together until 1855, when William B. was given the Janesville office temporarily, during the vacation of its regular operator, George Cheney. The unex- pected death of Mr. Cheney kept Mr. Strong in that place until, a few weeks afterwards, President Broadhead made him the com- pany's agent and operator at Milton, Wis., where he served ac- ceptably two years. It is needless to repeat this description of Mr. Strong's service, for it was always acceptable. His next transfer was to Whitewater and later to Monroe, Wis., when a branch road reached that point. After six months there, in 1858, he was made general agent with his office at Janesville, Wis., where he continued about seven years.
April 1, 1865, Mr. Strong was transferred to McGregor, Iowa, as assistant superintendent of the McGregor & Western railroad, and in the fall of 1866 went to Council Bluffs, Iowa, as general western agent of the Chicago & Northwestern Railway Company. Thenceforth he was usually called General Strong. After three years he became assistant general superintendent and general freight agent of the Burlington & Missouri River railroad, a part of the C., B. & Q. system, with his office at Burlington, Iowa, and in the fall of 1872 was moved up to Chicago as assistant general superintendent of the consolidated Burlington lines. In 1874 Mr. Strong accepted the general superintendency of the Michigan Central railroad, but two years later returned to the C., B. & Q. as its general superintendent.
On January 1, 1878, General Strong made his last railroad transfer, becoming vice-president and general manager of the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe Railroad Company, and in 1881 was elected its president, with his office in Boston, Mass.
The story of General Strong's triumph over several rivals in securing the best pass across the Rocky mountains, and indeed
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all the record of his work with roads, reads like a romance. His knowledge of human nature and trained judgment, enabled him to pick the right men for the right places, and his genial nature secured from all subordinates their personal devotion and very best service. Under his eleven years' administration, the Atchi- son, Topeka & Santa Fe line grew from a road of 637 miles to a railroad system comprising about 9,000 miles.
In the year 1889 failing health finally led Mr. Strong to re- tire from all railroad responsibilities. Nine or ten years later, having great faith in the home of his childhood, he invested large amounts in Beloit property, purchasing and building va- rious city blocks and many residences. He also bought the old Bennett farm one mile north on the Milwaukee road, fitted it with all modern improvements as a home for himself and called it, after his mother's maiden name, the Partridge farm. His land northeast of the city, which was platted as "Strong's Addi- tion to Beloit," is already full of new homes. Four of its ave- nues bear the Strong family names of Woodward, Barstow, Part- ride and Ashley, besides one called Strong avenue.
In memory of his noble Christian parents, General Strong built and gave to that new community a neat brick and stone edifice which was duly dedicated August 27, 1899, and is now regularly occupied as the Gridley chapel. The city school, built in that neighborhood and recently much enlarged, is called the Wright school.
While building over the old Manchester block at the south- east corner of State street and East Grand avenue, Mr. Strong enlarged it with a third story, which he fitted up and gave to public use as the H. P. Strong Emergency Hospital. He also ex- tended the area of the Beloit cemetery by joining with his brother's widow, Mrs. Henry P. Strong, in giving the city an adjoining tract of fifteen acres to be used for that purpose, re- serving for himself only one small lot.
So this loyal son of Beloit brought back here that ability, wealth and honorable character which marked him as a leading citizen. Failing health, however, has obliged him of late to seek a milder climate in southern California. In the fall of 1907, President Ripley's private car was sent all the way from Los Angeles to Chicago so that Mr. Strong might be given as com- fortable a journey as the loving care of railway friends could
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offer. The steel engraving presented here is manifestly the pie- ture of his old age. The cut published in the editor's "Past made Present," 1900 (to be found in various publie libraries), shows him at his prime. About thirty years ago, a Beloit citizen, sitting in the lobby of Chicago's principal hotel with a leading city newspaper man, saw coming through the front door a gen- tleman of dignified and commanding presence, having on his arm a small man, who seemed in comparison almost a dwarf. To his companion the newspaper man remarked: "That is William B. Strong, of Beloit, and Jay Gould." The latter was then called the richest man in America, but to the newspaper man, who ap- preciated his royal manhood, William B. Strong was first.
While in Beloit for a few days recently (spring of 1908), Mr. Strong remarked of his brother James (the ex-president of Carle- ton college, Minnesota), "We have never had a word of differ- ence in all our lives."
Date of marriage, October 2, 1859. Place, Beloit, Wis. The bride, Miss Abbie J. Moore, of Beloit. Children-Fred Moore Strong, born Janesville, Wis., May 9, 1861; resident, Beloit, Wis. Ellen Sylvia Strong, born McGregor, Iowa, January 27, 1867; residence, Newton Centre, Mass. William James Henry Strong, born Council Bluffs, Iowa, October 16, 1869; residence, Des Moines, Iowa. Grandchildren-F. M. Strong has three children ; Ellen Strong Burdett has three children; William J. H. Strong has two children.
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VII. REMINISCENCES OF EARLY DAYS. By L. B. Caswell.
I was born in Vermont and left that state with my people in a wagon for the Rock river country in September, 1836. We stopped some months in midwinter at Detroit, then of about 4,000 people, came along the shore of Lake Michigan, March, 1837, fording the rivers and sleeping in log houses, and reached Chi- cago, a small village, on the 20th, where we stopped a few hours to rest our jaded horses. We then struck out, hugging the lake shore, for Milwaukee, reaching Root river, now Racine, on the 23rd, and Milwaukee on the 24th, crossing the river on the ice a short distance above the mouth. We remained in Milwaukee until the 17th of May, when we started through the dense woods and came out into the open country beyond; thence along that beautiful prairie where East Troy now is; thence to Johnstown, Rock river, stopping with Johnson over night, and slept on the floor of his hospitable board shanty. The next day, the 20th, we picked our way over that beautiful broad prairie, mak- ing the woods where William and Joseph Spaulding had just made their claims-four miles east of Janesville where the Mil- ton road now is; from thence through the oak openings to Prairie du Lac; crossing this prairie to the woods near the location of Milton Junction. From there we went direct to the foot of Lake Koshkonong, reaching our log cabin, previously built, the same day. There were no roads or traveled tracks, especially in the last half of our journey, save now and then a wagon track which was sometimes followed as a guide, but roads then were quite unnecessary. The prairies as well as the oak openings were smooth and free from obstacles to the traveler. The woods looked like the Down East orchards. The Indians never failed to burn the grass every year; the undergrowth was consumed
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and the ground kept clean. A trip through these woods with a team or on foot was delightful. In the spring when we came the grass was peeping from the ground and the early flowers adding beauty to the landscape. The prairies fairly smiled with aeres of flowers of all colors presenting a picture more beautiful and artistic than the human hand could possibly paint. A bird or squirrel could be seen at long distance tripping over the ground, and nature alone could furnish its equal. I think I may say that today a country so beautiful, so inviting to a home-seeker, so rich in soil and promising to the agriculturist, does not exist in the whole world.
Lands in Rock county were not then in market, nor were they until 1840. Every acre seemed rich and productive, easy of tillage and a grand sight to the covetous eye born in old Vermont. But the spoilers of this beauty came afterwards. The axe and the plow make sad havoc with nature's landscapes. These lands were too inviting to remain long unclaimed, settlers, or rather claim-hunters, came from all directions, and I dare say every foot of land along the banks of Rock river was claimed in less than two years. We had a "Club Law" for our protec- tion. It was strictly obeyed. A registrar was chosen who made a record of every claim on the payment of twenty-five cents. But certain improvements must be made within specified time or the claim might be "jumped," though settlers with their fam- ilies came slowly. For a long time neighbors were few and far between. For the first year Janes, the founder of Janesville, ten miles away, was our nearest neighbor. In 1838, when eleven years of age, I started alone and made my way to his house. I stayed with him over night in his log but comfortable house His was the only one I saw. There may have been others, but I do not think so. My neck must have been lame from looking over my shoulder while on the road, or rather while in the trail, to see if the Indians were after me, but they were not. There were plenty of them, but they usually kept near the river, while my course was across the country away from the river. Lake Koshkonong was a great resort for Indians. They were often in camp there by the hundreds. Principally Winnebagoes and Pottawatomies. Game existed around this lake in great abun- dance. These Indians were always peaceable, even kind to us. and we dared not be otherwise to them; but on two occasions
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I never was so frightened. At one time my mother and I were in the shanty alone; of a sudden, at least fifty braves (I suppose they were), mounted on ponies, came on a dead run and com- pletely surrounded the cabin so closely that they darkened the window. Their chief dismounted and came in. My mother was as white as a ghost and my heart was in my throat. We sup- posed the end was near. He asked for whiskey; we had none. With a disgusted look, he as suddenly left as he came. In the twinkling of an eye every one in Indian file was disappearing over the hill and out of sight, to our great joy and relief. At another time, when in great fear from rumors that the Indians were about to rise and massacre all the white people of Rock river valley, about 3 in the morning we heard unearthly yells and cries not far from the shanty. We arose and dressed and prepared to die. We sat up until morning waiting for the on- slaught. Scarcely a word was uttered between us; we thought our fate was too plain to admit of discussion. But no Indians came; we then thought, if we did not believe, that possibly all Indians were good Indians. Afterwards we learned we had heard the cry of a pack of prairie wolves, which the pioneers soon learned could not be excelled in hideous noises-not even by. the Indians themselves.
Shall I tell you how hard it was for us to live? We were not hunters, and provisions were very high and hard to be obtained at any price. Flour was ten dollars a barrel and pork forty, if indeed it could be had at all. Milwaukee was the nearest place where these staples could be found, with no means of transporta- tion within the reach of many of us. Very little ground was broken for cultivation the first few years and consequently little was raised. We spaded a garden spot the first year and raised some vegetables, which went a long ways to help us out. The third year we raised an acre of wheat, rcaped it with a sickle and threshed it with a flail. Soon a mill was erected at Beloit and my brother and I took our first grist of wheat to that mill with an ox team. We slept on the floor of the mill through the night and returned the next day to our home, twenty-four miles, in triumph. We felt sure then that this country would be a suc- cess.
Great disappointment was felt, however, among the early settlers when it was discovered that Rock river could not be
St. N. M Tengan
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navigated. The river and country adjacent had become quite renowned in the expectation that steamers at no distant day would run up and down it, furnishing us with ample transporta- tion for our products. Railroads then were scarcely thought of. In our journey from Vermont to Wisconsin with a team, we had not crossed a railroad track in the whole distance. Water navi- gation was our only expectation, and when we found that Rock river was so shallow that it could be easily forded with teams, our brightest visions for the great future of the river valley dis- appeared and we began to wonder why we did not make our claims nearer the lake shore where unoccupied lands could then be found in great abundance. We knew the soil was rich and exceedingly productive and that we could in time raise untold quantities of grain excellent in quality, but just how we were to get it to market was a problem too difficult for us to solve, and for some years we felt that we had made a great mistake. The farmers of Rock county found it no easy task to haul their wheat to the lake shore and sell it perhaps when there for fifty or sixty cents per bushel. Our river navigation was confined to the use of Indian canoes, from which we obtained no small amount of pleasure. Travelers and home-seekers made very common use , of the canoe in their journeys up and down the Rock river valley, almost always stopping at our cabin for a night's rest. How their faces brightened to see a white man's abode, though very humble, and they gladly laid down upon the floor when necessary and would sleep as soundly as if at their own home. The foot of Lake Koshkonong was a fording place for travelers between Milwaukee and Madison, then called "The Four Lakes." In 1838, while the first capitol building was being constructed, I very often forded footmen over the river en route to and from their work, with my canoe. These little crafts had to be handled with great care if not with skill; they were as uncertain as the Indians who constructed them. One moment they were right side up and the next moment bottom side up, and the unfortunate navigator in the soup. It all de- pended upon how the boat was handled. An expert cared little for this if not very partial to dry clothing. I remember one occasion-I think it was in 1839-Daniel Stone had been up the river somewhere in Jefferson county looking for a site in the heavy timber for locating a saw mill or to obtain in some way
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lumber for erecting buildings on the claim which he and his brother Robert had made near the Indian ford. Lake Kosh- konong had the appearance then in the summer time of a large meadow rather than of a lake. The growing wild rice com- pletely covered it and water was scarcely visible. The water was only four or five feet deep quite uniformly. Stone had suc- ceeded in pushing his canoe to within about a mile and a half from the foot of the lake and a mile from the southern shore, when, in some unguarded moment, his little craft was bottom side up. His gun, his camp kettles and all his outfit went to the bottom. Fortunately his feet found the bottom, leaving his head still above the water. He was thankful for this much. It was impossible for him to expel the water from the boat or get into it again if he could. His only chance for life was to wade to the shore, all depending upon the depth of the water and his strength for the task. The bottom of the lake was muddy and the wild rice so thick, his progress was slow. but he made it and pulled through to our cabin looking as though he had risen from the dead. For some years the enterprising settlers of Rock county manufactured large quantities of lumber from Uncle Sam's heavy-timbered lands, as every one felt free to do, up the Bark river and other points in Jefferson county, and floated down the river in rafts and through the lake in the spring before the wild rice had blocked the passage, and com- fortable houses and barns were built with it. In fact this be- came quite an industry and many a fellow made money by it. Not till 1840 could these settlers obtain title to the land, for it was withheld from the market until then. Up to this time im- provements on their claims were very few. All kinds of rumors had been afloat that the lands along the Rock river and for many miles back would be granted to some company for the improve- ment of the river and that the claims of settlers would not be recognized. This greatly retarded actual settlement and im- provement of the land; but when the time came that they could purchase and obtain title to their lands, work began in earnest. In 1841 we organized the first school in the neighborhood where I lived. We took possession of a deserted log cabin; gathered the few books which had by chance been brought into the coun- try by the families, who mustered nearly a dozen scholars, though some came a long distance, and by interchange, we made excel-
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lent progress. Those scholars were as hungry for a school and for an education as the laboring man is for his dinner. We took some risks in ease of sickness. Though deprived of comfortable houses and much exposed, the settlers were generally healthy. There were, however, exceptions, especially when the fever and ague came. Although not regarded as a dangerous disease, every one had to shake, and continued to shake until there was but little left of him to shake. Fortunately we were afflicted with very few other diseases; physicians were few if they could be had at all. Finally one settled at Janesville to our great re- lief. This man was Dr. Luke Stoughton. He was once called to treat scarlet fever in our family ; how well I remember being bolstered up on the couch before the window watching him as he came on foot, winding his way through the woods at a long distance when I first saw him. His trip was successful and we paid him two dollars for his excellent service and journey on foot of ten miles. The Doctor has long since gone. I trust, to a still better land.
Among the early settlers were James, Elias and George Ogden, bachelor cousins of William B. Ogden, the great railroad projector, of Chicago. They occupied a log shanty at the foot of the lake in the fall of 1837, and in 1838 eame Joseph Goodrich at Milton. The Butts brothers, single men, and Levy Crandal settled the same year near Milton Junction, in 1838.
The Indians subsisted on fish, game and wild rice. They uti- lized the eanoes in gathering rice. When ripe, they would take an empty eanoe, push it into the thieket and with a pole, bend the tops over and with a stiek whip the heads until the kernel would drop into the boat. It was then put into sacks made of hides of rushes and stowed away for future use.
But this article is already too long to admit of further de- tails, and I will bring it to a close by adding that while I have not resided in Rock county sinee 1852, I have been a watchful neigh- bor and witnessed with great satisfaction its development, and high attainment in everything that brings comfort and happi- ness to homes, and I have always been proud of being an early settler of Roek county.
(Signed) L. B. Caswell.
Dated January 22, 1906.
VIII.
REMINISCENCES OF I. T. SMITH.
I. T. Smith, born in Ellery, Chautauqua county, New York, on May 30th, 1817.
In the year 1834 I started for what we called West, for Michigan. I took a steamer to Detroit, and a stage to western part of Michigan. I worked there a few months, and then started for Chicago on foot. I came there to get employment at carpenter work. I arrived at Michigan City, Indiana, and from there followed along the beach of Lake Michigan. The first house I came to was eighbteen miles from Michigan City. Four miles further was a hotel kept by Bennett. Ten miles further to the widow Berry's. Ten miles further to Little Calumet, now Pullman. Six miles from there to Colonel King's and six miles from there to the village of Chicago. Those were all of the settlers from Michigan City to Chicago. There was an Indian payment in Chicago at this time, and it was reported that there were 7,000 Indians there.
I spent a few days in Chicago, and then came west onto the Fox river, where Aurora and Batavia and those places now are. As I returned from Ausable Grove to Du Page there were no houses nor timber, and I returned to Chicago and worked a short time there, and from there I returned to Michigan, from where I had first started. The man failed to bring my goods and tools and I returned.
I remained in Michigan the next season until October, 1835. I then started for Wisconsin. I assisted the old Bearsley family to move from Michigan to Racine. We camped over night at Michigan City on the way. There came a great storm and the wind blew so that the tent hung by one corner in the morning.
We pulled out, and got a few miles, and the children had liked to freeze, and we had to return to save the children, and stayed the second night there. The next day we started again with better success, and made about twenty miles. That night
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there came a snow storm; about one foot of snow fell, and we were driving hogs as well as other things, and lost more or less of them, and anybody could fancy what a time we had. We made the best progress we could from day to day, and passed through Chicago. Chicago at that time was all south of the river, except Kinzie, the trader, who was on the north side of the Chicago river. There were no dwelling houses on the north side of the Chicago river.
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