|
Source:
REMINISCENCES of
PIONEER DAYS in WOOD COUNTY
and the
MAUMEE VALLEY
Gathered from the papers and manuscripts of the late C. W. Evers
A PIONEER SCRAP BOOK
1909
[Pg. 76]
MILTON TOWNSHIP
-----
The Struggles of the First Settlers - Their
Privations - At Work on the Hand Mill.
-----
IN the
Sentinel of April 21, 1881, a pioneer says:
About the year 1834-35, began the first white
settlement, in what is now known as Milton township, in Wood county,
Ohio. Prior to this time it was a howling wilderness; the foot
of a white man had scarcely trod on its territory. The wild
Indian or red man of the forest, the bear, the wolf, the panther and
wild cat, held full sway, unmolested by the approach of
civilization. About this time there began to be a movement
made in some of the eastern counties of Ohio, to go west. The
Maumee valley had its attractions, and the traveler in search of a
home had his attention drawn to Wood county by its rich and inexhaustable
soil. Landing at Perrysburg, they would wend their wax up the
Maumee and striking the mouth of Beaver Creek (then Gilead), they
would ascend the creek to explore the rich country before them.
The earlier settlers began to locate along the creek in Henry county
and soon they began to spread out over more territory.
To tell the story of pioneer life in the wilds of
Milton and adjoining townships it may seem strange to some why I
should connect Henry county and Liberty township and associate the
names of those at such remote distances.
In those days we understood and appreciated that word
neighbor. It was not used then in that narrow, contracted
sense in which it is used now, but it was born of that higher and
prouder philanthropy, as taught in Bible lessons, where a man fell
among robbers; so we in the earlier days of our pioneer life in the
wilds of Milton and adjoining townships were all neighbors, for
miles and miles, and when we met, there was a happy greeting, a
cordial and hearty shaking of hands, as though it really meant
something.
We had no roads either, we just went zig-zag through
the woods, around trees, over and around fallen timber, through the
water, fighting the mosquitoes, to a neighbor's with a sack of corn
on our backs to grind it on a hand mill, to get corn meal to make
johnny cake for the family (it was johnny cake, coon and possum
fat), and glad to get that. We had no water mills nearer than
Perrysburg, and not much to get ground when we got there. And
it took us from four to five days to go and come; the only
conveyance was by ox teams and a cart.
Old Billy Hill (as he was familiarly known) had
a hand mill, and it was kept going from morning until midnight,
people coming from miles and miles around. Dozens of men and
women have been there at one time waiting their turn to get their
opportunity to turn the mill, and some times, when so thronged, some
would have their corn and go home to their hungry families, and come
again to take their places at the mill. Of course this mill
was a rude structure; four upright posts framed together and the
stones set in them, and the propelling power was applied by an
upright shaft, with an iron spout placed in a thimble in the upper
burr, and the top held by passing through a hole in a board, and
then two men taking hold of this upright shaft and turning the burr.
It was a slow process, but it was the only alternative we had.
This was afterward changed, so as to make it more convenient; it was
arranged, so four men could take hold of cranks like a grind stone
and made to grind much faster. Then we all thought that we had
found a paradise.
[Pg. 77]
GOING TO MILL
-----
How Wood County Pioneers Took Their Grist to
Mills on the River Raisin.
-----
A PIONEER
writes to the Sentinel in 1881, the following graphic description of
"going to mill":
The nearest grist mills for the settlers along the
Maumee were located at the mouth of the river Raisin in Michigan,
where the city of Monroe now is, and at Cold Creek in what was then
Huron county - now Erie County, Ohio, near where the village of
Castalia now is. The distance in either case being not far
from seventy miles, and with the easy going ox teams and the
horrible roads, going to mill was a vast undertaking, the journey
often taking ten days or two weeks to perform even if the hungry
pioneer did not have to camp out, or hunt work in the neighborhood
of the mill, and wait for sufficient water to accumulate in the
crazy old dams, to enable the miller to turn out their grist.
Alexander Brown, once worked, logging, at Cold
Creek, and then had to turn in and help grind his own grist on
Sunday, and even then did not finish before the water gave out, and
he was forced to leave a portion of this grist at the mill, the
miller promising to grind it and send it to Perrysburg by the first
chance. Mr. Brown got his grist in a little over two
months all right.
When an expedition was fitted out to go to mill either
to the mouth of Raisin river or to Cold Creek, it usually became a
neighborhood affair, and was considered a bigger undertaking than a
trans-continental journey would now. A "team," consisting of
two or three yokes of oxen, would be rigged to a wagon, and the
grists of the whole neighborhood be loaded in, with feed for the
cattle and a sack of potatoes, coffee pot and frying pan, and other
needed camp equipage, and amidst much excitement and great shoutings
of "good byes," the expedition would gaily flounder away on their
trip of a week or two to mill. For the meat supply of such
expeditions, the settlers depended upon the chance of game supply
along the route, and usually some noted hunter accompanied the
caravan as chief forager, whose unerring rifle would easily, every
day, from the woods, supply the meager larder with juicy venison
steaks, or a young bear roast.
Sometimes, when the country was flooded, and the rude
trails through the forests back to the older settlements were
impassable even to a man on horseback, the bread material of our
hardy pioneers was prepared as was that of the ancient Hebrews,
every family doing its own grinding, in their handmills, or as their
Indian neighbors did theirs, in a sort of rude mortar attached to a
spring pole, always remembering that among the Indians the ladies
manipulated the hominy mill.
Uncle John Gingery has in his possessions today,
a coffee mill that he purchased in Wayne county, Ohio, in 1826.
The old mill is still hale and hearty, and has good
teeth yet for a pioneer of 57 years old. Bushelsof buckwheat
and corn have met the crushing influence of that old mill, and
bolted through a fine meal sieve have furnished "Snap Jack" material
that fried in "bar" fat, went far toward nourishing the sinewy arm
of the old pioneers when they reason of the impassable condition of
roads or the inclement weather, they were prevented from going to
mill.
---------------
It is a matter of fact that
in the Maumee Valley a greater number of battles have been fought,
and with greater results than in any similar extent of territory in
the Union.
[Pg. 78]
ATTACKS BY WOLVES.
---------------
Mahlon Meeker's Struggle at Night With a
Pack of These Animals.
---------------
ONE night as Mr.
Meeker was going home followed by one of his dogs he suddenly
heard the howl of a wolf near the trail he was following. This
was instantly answered by another wolf and presently a wolf appeared
in front of him. The dog slunk close to him. He had no
means of defense and so knew it was just as safe to go ahead as to
turn back. So he walked boldly up to the one in the trail
until almost within reach of it when it sprang to one side and
joined with two others in the rear, when they all broke out in a
deafening, startling chorus of howls. after going a mile or so
he came to where a tree had been blown down and ran into the top to
get a stick. While here, four more
[Pg. 79]
[Pg. 80]
[Pg. 81]
[Pg. 82]
[Pg. 83]
[Pg. 84]
[Pg. 85]
[Pg. 86]
[Pg. 87]
[Pg. 88]
[Pg. 89]
[Pg. 90]
disposed to do so celebrated the occasion by indulging in a little
tangle-foot, after which they divided the bear, which weighed about
250 pounds. Wash. took the hide, and the meat was divided
among the others, after which all went home, tired and worn out, but
well pleased with the day's adventure.
This is the story of the last "bag game" ever brought
down, or which probably ever will be brought down in Wood county.
TURKEY FOOT ROCK
-----
A Boulder Monument Commemorative of
Wayne's Great Victory
-----
THE large
boulder called "Turkey Foot Rock" which lays on the north bank of
the Maumee denotes the point on the river where Gen. Wayne
gained a decisive victory over the combined Indian tribes of the
Northwest, on Aug. 20, 1794. The Indians were principally
directed and commanded by Blue Jacket and
Little Turtle, and the
tribes engaged included the Shawnees, Miamis, Wyandotts,
Pottawattomies, Delawares, Chippewas, Ottawas and a few Senecas and
other remnants of tribes. The Wyandotts, a once powerful tribe
lost all their chiefs, nine in number, at that battle, and tradition
says that one of the bravest of their clan, called "Turkey Foot,"
was slain by Wayne's infuriated followers near this rock and
that after Wayne, whom the Indians called the "Whirlwind" was gone,
the few scattering members of the Wyandott nation repaired to the
spot where their beloved chief had fallen and carved the
representation of a huge turkey's foot on the rough boulder with
their hatchets. This roughly chiseled turkey's foot is still
to be seen, although the rock has been sadly defaced by sacrilegious
and disrespectful hands.
The armies of Harmer and St. Clair had been butchered
and destroyed, and the savages, encouraged by the British agents,
were exultant and blood thirsty. But an avenging Nemesis was
after them at last. The highest tribute paid to Wayne's
generalship, was by Little Turtle in a council speech the
night previous to the battle, which he was not in favor of.
Said he, "the Americans are now led by a chief who never sleeps.
The night and the day are alike to him. During all the time he
has been marching on our villages we have been unable to surprise
him. Think well of it." But the counsel of Blue
Jacket who was more bloody and precipitate prevailed. The
Indians were overpowered, out generaled, driven into the river and
almost annihilated, and the glad tidings were heralded across the Alleghanies in shouts of triumph. That boulder is a mute
reminder of the battle of Fallen Timber.
A Piece of Fiction.
In a
communication to the Sentinel, the late C. W. Evers thus
disposed of the prevalent theory that Turkey Foot was an
Indian chief:
I notice in your daily of June 15 that Dr. Dwight
Canfield in his review of the battle of Fallen Timber has fallen
into the usual mistake of people who write about Turkey Foot rock.
There is such a rock as we all known, but that there was a "noted
Indian chief" named Turkey Foot, as he stated and as many others
have done, I deny. I know I am going in the face of a long
standing legend - breaking an idol as it were; but it is best, that
we get our history of the long ago correct before it is too late.
If any one interested, will take the trouble to consult
a book written per-
< CLICK HERE TO
RETURN TO TABLE OF CONTENTS >
|
