USA > Wisconsin > Washington County > Washington County, Wisconsin : past and present > Part 6
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On the place where the wonderful cure was effected, François built a chapel of rough boards, and during the day and the night, often twice and three times, he wended his way up to pray. In the course of time a well-trodden path formed under his feet, at the side of which at certain distances he erected crosses before which he knelt on his way to the top and back. To do extreme penance he often made the way on his bare knees. The people of the vicinity, who had heard of his miraculous cure soon came to seek relief for their ailments at the shrine of the hermit.
For seven years François lived in his dugout which had a kind of vestibule built of rough boards and extending from the cleft. One day he had disappeared as mysteriously as he had come. A rumor claimed that he has afterwards been seen in Chicago. Imaginative minds also claimed that they occasionally saw his figure in the dusk, kneeling before one of the crosses at the foot path, or melting into the chapel where the relics of the former shrine were preserved.
CHAPTER XI
THE YANKEE ELEMENT
Immediately after the Indians had ceded their land to the govern- ment, the white race began to settle on it. The vanguard of the new- comers consisted mostly of Yankees from the eastern states, especially New York. As the east was overcrowded, the most hardy and daring ones looked for on outlet. It was the first time that the call of the West was heard and heeded. Wisconsin was a part of the vast Northwestern Territory that was very attractive to the colonists, al- though hardly anyone knew much of the country in which he was to cast his lines. One reason why Wisconsin appealed so much to them was the comparative ease with which it could be reached. They could go aboard some vessel in their home state, packed with provisions and necessaries for a few weeks, and sail over the Great Lakes, through the Strait of Mackinaw, and land in Milwaukee. The voyage was perilous, but they took it in the bargain; they were no milksops anyway. Some of them could trace their ancestors to the early English colonists, maybe to the pilgrims on the "Mayflower;" others were of a mixture of Dutch and English blood. Some brought swords or guns along which their forefathers had carried in the Revolutionary war, or papers of dismissal from the army, signed by George Washington himself-old mementos of the family history, which were carefully preserved. It may go without saying that they did not leave behind the ancestral pride of the New Englanders. The newly broken virgin soil of Washington county gave promise of rich harvests, while on the worn-out, meagre soil of their eastern farms they could barely eke out a living. They were not disappointed.
Being Americans by birth, and well versed in the language and government of the country, and being in the majority in almost every township, they naturally had to play the first fiddle in the local ad- ministration and politics. In American civics they were the instructors of their German fellow citizens. Long after their numbers had dwindled away, they were a powerful factor in public life, and very
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respected. Their influence can be traced to this very day. Many rubs between the nationalities occurred in those early years, it is true, but they did not seriously disturb the development of the county. They were only like the sputterings of the metal in the melting pot before the amalgam is finished.
When the great tide of German immigration set in, most of the Yankees sold their land to the Germans and went farther west. The main reason for this lay in the Yankee's eye for a profit. The Germans offered him fivefold what he had paid for his land. He took the profit and bought cheap wild land in another section. Then the Yankee used more brain in farming and was constantly bent upon inventing devices that make toil lighter, while the German used more brawn, making the soil respond to his doggedly hard labor and what knowl- edge of better farming he brought over from the fatherland. Both could have learned from each other, but the Yankee decided not to enter into competition, or in a compromise. The time had not yet come.
In the annual meeting of the Washington County Old Settlers' Club, on February 22, 1907, a letter of Mrs. Elisabeth Maxon was read which deals with the life and the experiences of those earliest settlers. The most interesting passages follow :
"I was born in the village of Katskill on the Hudson river, New York state, Feb. 22, 1828. My father, Peter Turck, and his family, consisting of his wife and seven children, landed at Milwaukee bay in August, 1837. * *
"No pier, not even a plank, projected from the shore to receive pas- sengers. The boat anchored in the bay, and we were lowered into a yawl-boat, the men carrying the women and children from the yawl-boat to dry land. At that time Milwaukee had two dry-goods stores, one of which I remember was run by Mr. Hollister. There were only two small hotels, the Leland and the Belleview, and one small school house.
"My father took his family to Mequon, about sixteen miles north of Milwaukee, the latter place being our nearest post-office. We had no neighbors nearer than two miles, and communication by mail was expensive, the postage rate being twenty-five cents in cash paid on delivery of letter accompanied by a way bill.
"My father built the first sawmill in the vicinity of his new home in 1837, and there was a great demand for lumber. The following year the country settled very rapidly. There was no gristmill at this time within reach and flour was made from corn and wheat pounded
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fine in a mortar by the men in the evenings. The first flour mill which bolted the flour was built, accessible to this new territory, about the year 1841, and this was at Prairieville, now the city of Waukesha.
"Our first school teacher was my sister Mary, aged seventeen. The term opened in the summer of 1839, and the school was the attic chamber of my father's log house. The pupils numbered four in addition to my brothers and sisters. The first schoolhouse was built in 1843 in Washington county. * *
"In 1846 I was married to Densmore W. Maxon and moved with an ox-team to Cedar creek, Washington county, which place I still hold my residence although living elsewhere part of the time with my sons and daughters. * * In two years' time what was the forest wilderness of Cedar creek and vicinity was as thickly colon- ized as at the present time. The territory between that point and Mil- waukee was practically all entered from the government.
"For the first few years of our pioneer life we were bountifully supplied by the Indians with such game as venison, fish, wild turkey, geese, ducks, quails, partridges and pigeons, who gladly exchanged them for farm products. The prices of meat in those days, as com- pared with the present prices, were very low. Pork in the retail at Milwaukee markets sold at 21/2 cents, and beef at 4 cents per pound.
"While pioneer life had its drawbacks and privations, it had many advantages over the strenuous life of modern competition. If modern conveniences could go hand in hand with the ease, freedom and health of pioneer life, there could be no more ideal existence."
The intellectual life of those Yankees was another noteworthy thing. They had some very good writers in their ranks, and also several poets and poetesses whose talent was above mediocrity. One of the most brilliant examples was Josiah T. Farrar, the editor of the old "Washington County Democrat," the first paper printed in the county. He flourished in the last few years before the outbreak of the Civil war. There is but one volume of the paper in existence, edited by him, but it is enough to prove his mastery of the pen, and his buoyant, indomitable Yankee humor. His locals which breathe the spirit of pioneer times up to this day have not lost their tingling quality, prob- ably because his is almost a lost art. (There is a little volume of his writings in the West Bend Public Library, and also in the State His- torical Library at Madison, collected by the author of the present work under the title of "The Wag in the Editor's Chair." Selec- Vol. I-5
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tions from the book have been compiled for one of the succeeding chapters.) He was befriended with the best journalistic talent of his time in the state, and his paper ranked among the best in the state. It was for years also the only one published in the county, and the literary talent among the settlers found its vent through its columns. Here is a specimen of native poetry, full of lofty thoughts, albeit wanting of rythm, written by Nell Osborn and published in the "Democrat" of January 16, 1860:
LIFE
Oh! I have loved, when the fair light of Early morn tipped each hillside's leafy Crest with fairy light, to revel in the Wondrous beauties which a Father's hand has Scattered on every side, above, below; Beauties that in their perfectness are fit Models for man's high ambitions, and meet Emblems of what his mind should be. And thus I've mused upon this life we live, thought Of its graceful swells of purity which Time can never crumble neath his wizard Wand, and all its depths of woe and darkness, Where decay is traced on every brow That heaven's free sunlight kisses. The rose, In fullest bloom, is as beautiful a Thing as the Creative Hand has shaped. Yet, when the luscious richness of its hue Is gone, and its leaves crisply nestle to The ground, there is no power on earth save God's, that again can gather up those Scattered leaves, and cluster them in beauty; And moving back their faded brightness Breathe o'er them that sweet fragrance, sweet as the Breath of summer eve. Thus 'tis with man! He Lives and moves, seemingly because 'tis so. He wills; his mind each day unaided seems To grasp new truths and drink new pleasures, So fresh and pure as dewdrops nestled in The lily's paleness are to wild birds. And as he each day climbs to some prouder,
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Higher realm of light, some steeper height of Science, and, looking down o'er the path worn By his footsteps, thinks 'tis so because he Willed it so to be; and he forgets In "the littleness of his greatness" the Giver of those powers which he so leaned Upon, as an aged pilgrim leans upon His staff, when 'tis all he has to rest his Weariness through all his toilsome way. But when low spirit voices whisper of Failing strength, exhausted powers and slow But silent decay, is there aught of earth that Can bring the glow of youth back to his mind Again, or give the even flow of young Life to the crimson tide that ebbs into His heart? And, when some gentle eve, or Darksome midnight, or lovely morn, upward His spirit flutters; can any power of Earth stay it on its airy way? Or grasp it? See it? And when all that's left is dust Of the dust, and earth of the earth, can aught save Power divine make it flesh again? Or Cause his heart to be a throbbing heart ? His hand a pulsful hand?
In every human heart there are some Chords which, swept with skillful hand, sent forth the Same sweet sounds, fraught with some cherished joy, And hardened with rich hopes. In every Human heart-however deep its depths of Sin may be, however black the darkness It has wrought, there is some good; some quiet Shaded sanctuary where good resolves Are born and ofttimes buried. Few there are whose lives seem born of heaven! That pure as a star-beam seem breathing A happier, holier breath than earth Can give. But I have known such! Sin and Temptations passed them unheeded by, Because they had no power to tempt or Lead astray. And if hastening some, happy Were they still; for looking beyond them, they
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Grasped the hand that sent them, and that was Their support. They sought "the wisdom that Cometh from above," lived near to God! Saw Him in the rustling, faded leaf, as Well as in the opening bud; in the Falling snow-flake, the pattering rain-drop, As in the summer sun; in the breath of spring And ripening fruit; in pain and suffering, As in joy and pleasure.
Who e'er has sought to fill the immortal Soul with peace and purity except through God, Sought mellow grapes beneath the icy pole; Sought blooming roses on the cheek of death; Sought substance in a world of fleeting shade! * * * * *
There is another English-speaking element in the county, which shall be mentioned in connection with the foregoing chapter, for want of a better place. It is the Irish population. They came simultane- ously with the Yankees, and are thinly sprinkled over the county with the exception of Town Erin where they constitute almost the entire population. Although they picked out what would seem to an ordi- nary farmer's eyes the most undesirable part of the county-the town being very hilly-they found it to their advantage as compared with the poverty-stricken, oppressed life on their beloved Emerald Isle. They make a comfortable living with farming, and especially with sheep raising, and live free and happy. While the old Irish settlers were steeped in the customs and traditions of Ireland, modified by their new surroundings, their children are thoroughly Americanized, and are a valuable and esteemed part of the population.
CHAPTER XII
EPISODES
The Lost Realty Records
From the gloom of county history-fifty odd years suffice in fast- living America to shroud historical events with the shadows of cen- turies-an episode looms up. It happened in 1853. A part of Wash- ington county had been lopped off by the Legislature. It was a rather painful operation that gave birth to a new county. And the records were yet in Port Washington and had to be brought over to West Bend, the seat of the reduced county. To do this proved to be no easy sledding.
The newly-elected county board ordered the removal of the county offices, but the only officer who complied with the order was the register of deeds, Adam Schanz of Addison. But while engaged in packing his curule chair and pigskin tomes on a wagon, an injunction was served to him. The game of bluff, however, did not work with the inhabitants of West Bend. They got up a petition to set aside the injunction and entrusted Messrs. L. F. Frisby and Paul A. Weil, two lawyers and prominences in local history, with its delivery into the hands of Judge Larrabee. At the time the judge held court in Marquette, at the outermost periphery of his large circuit, and it took the messengers a whole week to reach him. They returned with the desired writ pocketed.
On the following day, four plenipotentiaries went to Port Wash- ington to clean up the office of the register of deeds. But the sheriff at the Port had "smelled a rat" and taken to precaution to prevent the removal of the books. Besides, he knew nothing of the revoked in- junction. After sundown-darkness was considered a helpmate in the undertaking-the expedition from West Bend, provided with bags, entered the office. They were eagerly occupied, the volumes rapidly disappearing in the gaps of the bags, when the executor of the law put his hand on the door latch. The keen eyes of the sheriff
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had noticed a light in the room, and an inspection through the key hole had revealed the whole thing. He seemed to have discovered a dreadful conspiracy. The riot bell was rung, the militia called out, and the office was soon surrounded by an excited crowd of people. The West Benders were seized and shoved on the street; the sacks with the books were taken away from them and brought to a safe hiding place. The morning sun of the following day shone upon empty, bleak book shelves. In a morose mood the expedition returned to West Bend and reported that the records had been stolen.
For some months all attempts to find the books were futile. It was only after the supreme court had declared the division of the county to be constitutional that they began to bob up. One day Mr. Frisby received a letter from Mr. R. A. Bird, the editor of the "Washington County Times," in which he was informed that a part of the volumes had been found. Again, under the cover of darkness, two men went to the house of the hero of the quill, situated a short stretch west of the Sauk creek. They arrived at about one o'clock in the morning and received the books; to them also was given a clue where the others could be found. Early in the morning they reached West Bend with their precious load of books, and with their bandanas tied to sticks and floating in the fresh breeze, they triumphantly entered the newly- created county seat.
Soon afterwards the other volumes with the exception of volume M were found hidden between the plaster and the brick wall of the Ar- cade building in Port Washington. Volume M was discovered in an obscure hiding place while remodeling a business place.
Thus Washington county at last got its record books together, long after the minds of the people had been appeased over the division of the county.
A Phlegmatic Settler
The old county of Washington that before the division was washed on its eastern boundary by the waves of Lake Michigan had among its pioneers a character that reminded somewhat of Rip Van Winkle, the hero of one of Washington Irving's famous sketches. How a man of such a temper could stray into a life that with every step demanded battle and work and privation, is not easy to understand. But one day he bobbed up in the midst of it and called himself Timothy Wooden. He lived in the vicinity of Grafton. If somebody asked him where he came from, he would answer that he did not come at all, but had grown up with the country. Because he got along toler-
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ably well, although he hardly ever was seen working-Tim never denied that he was lazy-it was believed that he had connection with spirits of the woods, wights, elfs, hobgoblins, or the like, who would admit him to their treasures in hidden caves, and allow him to help himself.
One time some Menomonee Indians who knew of his foible and wanted to test it to the breaking point, persuaded him to go with them to Milwaukee Falls (the present village of Grafton). Upon arriving there they told him that they wanted his scalp. They tied him to a tree, piled wood around him, and acted like real savages who with dev- ilish cruelty were about to burn their victim alive.
When all preparations were finished, and the flame could have licked the pyre any moment, the Indian chief stepped up to Tim and whisp- ered in his ear that the white men had upon one time pardoned him, and that from sheer gratitude he would do the same to Tim and spare his life if he would but walk to Milwaukee, and not tell any- body what had happened to him.
"Twenty miles I should foot?" exclaimed Tim whom the stake had not robbed of his composure. "If you give me one of your horses, I'll do it."
Whereupon the Indians let him go. He had stood the test.
Many other stories about Tim and his sluggishness were afloat among the old settlers, but some of them were believed to be pure invention, while others were exaggerated. But the truth of this one seems to be vouched :
One day Tim was taken sick with cholera. When his end ap- proached, one of his friends stepped to his bedside and said: "Tim, I believe you are dying."
"Well, I ain't doing anything else," came his answer back. A few hours later he breathed his last.
In spite of his phlegm, Tim died a well-to-do man. After his death, his widow moved to Chicago and lived comfortably off the income of his estate.
The First of the Solons
The first one to represent Washington county in the State Legisla- ture at Madison was-nomen et omen-Solon Johnson. He took his seat on June 5, 1848, a short time after Wisconsin had risen to the level of a state. From the life of this gentleman two anecdotes have
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come upon us, which throw spot lights on his character as well as on life in general in those days.
I
Solon Johnson was gaunt, and measured six feet five in his socks. In his ways he was somewhat eccentric, but that did not hinder him from being kind and noble-minded. In his extenuated body he car- ried a kind of penned-up gayety which occasionally broke loose in the most waggish way. After he had been elected-his abode was in Port Washington, the former county seat-he went to Milwaukee and bought himself a new suit in which he intended to make his debut in the halls of Legislature. He had always been rather negligent in his dress, and his fellow citizens would have craned their necks to see him in a dress-suit and with a silk hat. Solon presumed the like, and carefully packed his suit away. He intended to don it on the day of his departure for Madison. Until then, the purchase should stay a secret.
But somehow, as it is often the case, the secret leaked out. Some one was put on to Solon's purchase, and soon the whole town knew about it. A meeting was called and a scheme devised how Solon could be made to show and "wet" his new garb. "General" Wooster Har- rison, a jocose Yankee, known in those days all over the eastern part of Wisconsin, was entrusted with the execution. The ruse worked to perfection.
Harrison went to Solon and found him in his room where the fol- lowing dialogue occurred :
"Good morning, Your Honor."
"Good morning."
"I have called on you," began Harrison with measured and im- pressive voice, "to pay-to pay-well, you know, Solon-pardon me for addressing you by your given name-but, believe me, my motives are prompted by the purest of friendship."
"I can assure you," replied Solon, "that no apology is necessary."
"My object in calling," continued Harrison, "is to compliment you on your success in attaining to the very high and honorable position of representing our new state in the maiden Legislature. The re- sponsibilities are great, as the laws formed at this session will serve as precedents for all coming generations, and we feel confident as to your ability to represent judiciously the interests of Washington county."
"You do me a great honor," replied Solon, touched with the hom-
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age of his friend. "I know not how to express my gratitude towards my friends for this manifestation of their loyalty and their good wishes, and I shall try and prove myself worthy of the great con- fidence they have imposed in me."
"And now," continued Harrison, "that my humble mission is at the end, I have one request to make. I know you will think me foolish, but then you will pardon the whim. What I wish, my friend, is to see you dressed up in your new togs. I have heard that they are worthy of the high office you are to represent, and have a great anxiety to see how you look in them."
"Well, I have a new suit," admitted Solon, somewhat flattered, "and although it is not as grand as you may have imagined, I will comply with your request."
With that he began to invest himself with his new "toggery," while his visitor prodigiously complimented him as every piece was fitted to its respective place. When he had everything on, his toilet finished, and his friend standing before him in simulated ecstacy over his appearance, heavy knocks fell on the door below. Then followed a commotion in the hallway, and some one shouted up with excited voice :
"Where is Mister Johnson? I must see him at once."
Meanwhile Solon had opened the door of his room, and a mes- senger, panting and livid, rushed toward him.
"Are you Solon Johnson?" he gasped.
"I am; what can I do for you?"
"A friend of yours has been seriously hurt, and desires to see you at the hotel at once."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know. I couldn't catch his name; they told me to get you with all possible speed."
"You had better go at once," suggested Harrison, feigning inno- cence.
There was no need for a second bidding. Solon took his hat, and in his new clothes accompanied the two men to the hotel. He found a large crowd gathered there, asked to be led to his friend, and in- quired as to the seriousness of his injuries. In response, a roaring laughter rose from the crowd, followed by three cheers.
Solon grasped the situation. "Harrison, you old rogue," he ex- claimed, "this is another of your diabolical tricks."
Another roar from the crowd confirmed his apprehension. "Well,
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boys," he added, "you have earned your treat. Landlord, they all drink at my expense."
Three more cheers were given to the representative of Washington county. He had been made to show and "wet" his new suit.
II.
Soon after the Legislature had convened, Solon Johnson introduced an important bill on which he wanted to speak. Before, he had given a sumptuous dinner, at which considerable wine was drank, and he had paid more homage to Bacchus than was good for him. He hardly had entered the hall, when he began addressing the Assembly. This being out of order, the speaker reminded him of the parliamentary rules.
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