Sunday Morning Observer, September 15, 1918
My purpose was in this article to record all the facts which I could gather in the territory embraced in the last wolf hunt, included in which were a number of townships of this county, lying west of the Muskingum river, but I was thwarted in this purpose by encountering so many matters of interest to myself, of long ago occurrences , that I did not get beyond the limits of Harmar, and therefore, to a future day the incidents of the wolf hunt must be postponed, while hurriedly and disconnectedly I wrote of other things.
Among the early things that memory brought to the surface was the old ferry-boat conducted across the river by the overhanging extended rope and borne forward by the current of the river. Upon the gunwale of that flat, in my boyhood days, I was shown a notch said to have been cut by the Rev. Parsons Robbins, of whom a story was then told, that on a late occasion, desiring to pay his fare, in opening his purse he dropped a quarter of a dollar into the river, immediately after which he drew out his pocket-knife and made the mark upon the gunwale. When asked why he did so, he spoke of his loss and continued by saying that he made his mark so that he might recover his money when the river fell.
Clambering up the bank in front of the landing, one comes to the stone dwelling house of David Putnam, Esq. Under the roof of this same dwelling house was transacted the business of the first bank in this section of Ohio. The affairs of this bank were well and skillfully managed by Mr. Putnam. I trust that the day is not far distant when an able pen will truthfully speak of this man and his descendants. I will only here say that he was endowed with a strong mind, had received a good education, was the benefactor of his race, never a seeker of office, his opinions and advice were sought for, and had much to do in moulding the history of the Northwest.
The next building below was the dwelling of Col. Augustus Stone, and near by was the store-house and ware-house of Col. Stone, who was the largest dealer in merchandise and produce, in those years, in Washington county. To him, more than to any other business firm, were the tillers of the soil in the west end of the county indebted. He would purchase anything raised or manufactured. If at the end of the year the accumulation thus bought exceeded the home demand, he would load a flat-boat with corn, beans, pork, lard, potatoes, onions, ox-yokes, baskets, tubs, barrels, staves, spinning wheels, and such like, and under charge of a super-cargo, send out and sell them along the shores of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. During these years of busy Mercantile life, he lent his aid to the building of ships and steamboats. Of the many who once lived and were his customers and friends, but few live to read and endorse this true tribute to his memory.
Following down the stream the next buildings were the store-house and dwelling of James Whitney, Esq., the early shipbuilder and, in early years, the conductor of a large steamboat yard, and noted for his integrity, uprightness and his Christian character. For many long years he was acknowledged to be the most prominent and widely known Methodist of this portion of Ohio.
The next inhabitation was the abode of Col. Levi Barber, who came to Harmar in its early history, where by study, industry and integrity, and a good heart, he soon won his way to the affections of the people whose attachment and confidence in him was shown by sending him twice to the Congress of the United States.
Around the corner from where he dwelt in those days there stood a school house in which the children of Harmar were taught their early lessons. One of the first teachers there was Benjamin F. Stone, Esq. One of the most curious contracts the writer remembers to have seen was the one between the above instructor and the parents of that day. I am sorry I am not able to give you the contract in full, but one of the conditions well remembered was that during the term, if any scholar had the itch, the teacher could send him home without calling the school directors together. This contract was signed by Mr. Stone, as teacher, and by Paul Fearing, Benjamin Ives Gilman, David Putnam, James Whitney and others to the number of fifteen parents.
In this same school house once was witnessed a very startling scene. By appointment a number of the early abolitionists had assembled in this building to consult and advise about future action. The number gathered was not very considerable, but some of the youngsters of the two towns, who might have been better employed, gathered at the landing and, with Jew’s harps and corn fiddles, marched in the direction of the school house. Perhaps I here should say that it had been whispered the day before that the meeting was to be interrupted, as in those days abolitionism was very unpopular, and advocacy of its doctrines very distasteful to the people. At this moment a young man by the name of Hall, from Marietta College, had the floor and was declaiming vociferously. The crowd of interlopers, just as he uttered the sentiment, “Give me liberty or give me death,” opened the door and the speaker made his exit from the nearest window, and the next morning the clothes he wore the night before were hanging out to dry, as he, in making his escape, had swam the Muskingum river.
Hoping your readers will not consider me given over to jocularity, I will relate one more amusing scene. In the next building above the school house, on a bright holiday, there had assembled a large, enthusiastic crowd of our citizens to listen to an appropriate address for the occasion. At the proper moment for the exercises to commence the chairman briefly stated the object of the meeting and announced that _____ would now address them. The speaker arose with his manuscript before him and commenced his oration by saying, “The rising glory of this western hemisphere has already been announced.” The audience, ready for a frolic, cheered, stamped, and clapped their hands. The speaker, thus interrupted and supposing his first utterance not understood, repeated his first sentence, “The rising glory of this western hemisphere has already been announced.” Upon this declaration of the speaker the audience became uproarious and their cheering had no bounds. After a while all became quiet and the speaker continued his address, which, in the main, was excellent. Ever afterwards the speaker was known as the “rising glory of this western hemisphere.”
Immediately across the Fort grounds on the bank of the Ohio river there stood a large frame house, then owned and occupied by William Skinner, Esq., the father of the wife of the late Nahum Ward, David C. Skinner, William P. Skinner, and Charles Skinner. Mr. Skinner was a man of great energy and kindliness of heart, very popular with the people, receiving at their hands various offices.
Further down the river, in the early days of the northwest, in a frame dwelling that is now a ruin, there lived the Hon. Paul Fearing, who, in the writer’s opinion, was one of the foremost men of his day. Educated in the east and a lawyer by profession, he became very useful as a citizen. Inclined to other pursuits, as well as the practice of law, he became for those days an extensive agriculturist, stock raiser, and fruit-grower. He lived an exceedingly useful life and died in the year 1824. The funeral exercises of himself and wife were conducted at the same hour on the same day.
The mention of his wife brings to mind that she was a Rouse, one of three sisters who married prominent men, Paul Fearing, Levi Barber, and Richard Green. The mention of the name Rouse brings to mind a striking event which occurred as the Rouse family journeyed, in 1788, from New England to the West. While the travelers in Mr. Rouse’s wagon were generally kindly treated, one of the party, who was excitable and head-strong, on one occasion met with rather rough usage from the hands of the old innkeeper, with whom they had put up. This man had been a great bruiser in his days at fisticuffs, a thing not at all uncommon amongst the early boarders. He was naturally a rough man, and the loss of his eye did add still more to his ferocious appearance. It seems that the old man had placed the rounds of his rack in his stable so close together that it was next to impossible for the horses to pull any hay through, so that, although there was plenty before them, they were none the better for it. Isaac could not stand quietly by and say nothing when his hard-working horses needed their food so much, and then to pay for that which they did not eat, besides. He remonstrated with the landlord on the matter, but received only abuse for his pains.
After paying him back in a little of the same coin, he fell to work and broke out every other round. The old fellow then fell upon Isaac and determined to give him a sound beating, but in this he was sadly mistaken and got very roughly handled himself. The horses, however, got plenty of hay, and Isaac told he would be back again in the Spring and if he found the slats replaced, he would give him another and sounder threshing.
But to our work. Leaving the river bank we pass up what is now called Gilman street, and on the left of that street stands two well preserved frame buildings; these were once the homes of the two Gilmans. Of one of these only shall I write, namely, Benjamin Ives Gilman. A chapter could well be devoted in speaking of the excellencies of this patriotic and useful citizen. But I must pass him by only saying that he was an accomplished business man and in every thing thoroughly equipped for life’s duties.
Here for many years lived Capt. William Knox, his reputation as a builder of steamboats extending from Pittsburgh to New Orleans. He was a valuable, unostentatious citizen, never singing his own praises, but honored of all men for his stern integrity and uprightness. But I must hasten to the end passing for the present many much esteemed and honored citizens of long ago, and close this article by saying something of the man of all others who, in the middle period of Harmar history, was one of the most esteemed, useful and beloved of her citizens; I refer to John Crawford. He was a tanner by trade and as such brought no discredit upon that useful calling. He was a local preacher connected with the Methodist church. It is probable that he performed more marriage services, prayed often at the bedside of the sick, gave greater encouragement to the suffering and attended more funerals than any other man of his day. His official relations with the church brought him in contact with the membership and adherents of that society.
He was beloved not only by preachers and people of his own denomination but by everyone. As an exhorter and leader in prayer, he had no equal hereabouts, but I can best tell your readers in short of this truly useful and devoted Christian by relating an occurrence which the writer witnessed. I will try to be brief.
For many years there lived in Marietta, a man by the name of John Cunningham, a tailor by trade, pretty generally known in town and country. He was greatly devoted to the Whig cause. He almost memorized every number of the National Intelligencer. In short to denote his devotion to party, he named one of his two sons, John Quincy Adams and the other Henry Clay. I have no doubt he would have named his girls Daniel Webster and Thomas Ewing if it had been allowable. He had a great memory, and the women dreaded him because he could tell the day and year of their births. Uncle John, as he was called, was a good tailor and an honest man.
In moving about the world as a journeyman, he had contracted a fondness for drink, and this fondness remained with him into his middle life. During some religious revival, he became a member of the Marietta Methodist church. It is presumable that he abandoned for a time his cups, but his fondness for drink in after years, at times, would crop out. This was known by all men, and yet not one, good or bad, in the church or out of it, wanted Uncle John to lose the good influences that surrounded him. His wife was a consistent and valued member of the Baptist church, and they all were ready to extend a bolstering hand. The church was not blamed by the outside world for retaining him. In conversation the members of the official board would talk of and lament his course in this respect, but with general consent his retention in the church was winked at.
In the Summer of 18__, the Ohio Conference sent a new preacher. He being posted as to the habit of Brother Cunningham, felt it his duty to take the disciplinary course. Accordingly he was visited by the leader and preacher, and his trial was determined upon, as he made no confession or promises of amendment.
The trouble was next to get a committee to try him, as nearly all the membership felt like letting him alone.
No committee could be procured, and the preacher resolved upon this unusual course, to have his case heard before the official board, composed in those days of James Whitney, John McCoy, Abram Daniels, John Crawford, Joseph Kelly, Juniah Jennings, Samuel Geren, Daniel Protsman and others, in all numbering over twelve. Before this tribunal, Cunningham appeared on the evening before Christmas. He said he did not want any counsel. The charge was read, he neither plead guilty or not guilty. The evidence was conclusive. Not one of all present but must have been satisfied that the charge was sustained, but on one wanted to vote. At length the ballot system was concluded upon, and the hat was passed around. Some papers were reluctantly put in, and all was silence. The prosecutor was uneasy, at length suggesting that the hat be emptied.
Just then John Crawford arose, and said brethren, before we go further, let us have a word of prayer. The Holy Ghost gave him utterance, and with that fervor for which his prayers were always noted, he gave thanks to Heaven for a forgiving father, always ready and willing to receive the returning prodigal, each one of us now bowed before the throne are monuments of the forgiving mercy of our great Redeemer, and are only as brands saved from the burning. And thus he prayed and at the close, when all were still bowed, he said, Brother Cunningham, now you pray. Oh, that pause. I never shall forget it, but to the joy of every heart, his voice was soon heard. “Oh, Lord, I have done very, very wrong, and ask you to forgive and help me, Oh Lord, not to do so any more.”
His prayer was very short, but when ended, such a rush as there was for the hat. Everyone wanted his ballot, and then to Brother Cunningham. Brother Crawford detached himself for a moment or two and then took Brother C. by the hand, and after saying, “God bless you my brother,” he continued by saying: “Just before coming over, I married a couple, and the man gave me two dollars, now here is one of the two. This is Christmas Eve. Go to your home and tell the boys and girls to hang up their stockings by the fireside. Yes, and have Sister C. hang hers up too and put a quarter in each of the children’s stockings and after reading over this written line, sign your name to it and put it in your wife’s stocking.”
You may be sure there was a happy family the next morning, especially when father’s note was read. “God helping me I never will drink again. John Cunningham.”
John Crawford’s life was filled with such acts as this.
George M. Woodbridge
My purpose was in this article to record all the facts which I could gather in the territory embraced in the last wolf hunt, included in which were a number of townships of this county, lying west of the Muskingum river, but I was thwarted in this purpose by encountering so many matters of interest to myself, of long ago occurrences , that I did not get beyond the limits of Harmar, and therefore, to a future day the incidents of the wolf hunt must be postponed, while hurriedly and disconnectedly I wrote of other things.
Among the early things that memory brought to the surface was the old ferry-boat conducted across the river by the overhanging extended rope and borne forward by the current of the river. Upon the gunwale of that flat, in my boyhood days, I was shown a notch said to have been cut by the Rev. Parsons Robbins, of whom a story was then told, that on a late occasion, desiring to pay his fare, in opening his purse he dropped a quarter of a dollar into the river, immediately after which he drew out his pocket-knife and made the mark upon the gunwale. When asked why he did so, he spoke of his loss and continued by saying that he made his mark so that he might recover his money when the river fell.
Clambering up the bank in front of the landing, one comes to the stone dwelling house of David Putnam, Esq. Under the roof of this same dwelling house was transacted the business of the first bank in this section of Ohio. The affairs of this bank were well and skillfully managed by Mr. Putnam. I trust that the day is not far distant when an able pen will truthfully speak of this man and his descendants. I will only here say that he was endowed with a strong mind, had received a good education, was the benefactor of his race, never a seeker of office, his opinions and advice were sought for, and had much to do in moulding the history of the Northwest.
The next building below was the dwelling of Col. Augustus Stone, and near by was the store-house and ware-house of Col. Stone, who was the largest dealer in merchandise and produce, in those years, in Washington county. To him, more than to any other business firm, were the tillers of the soil in the west end of the county indebted. He would purchase anything raised or manufactured. If at the end of the year the accumulation thus bought exceeded the home demand, he would load a flat-boat with corn, beans, pork, lard, potatoes, onions, ox-yokes, baskets, tubs, barrels, staves, spinning wheels, and such like, and under charge of a super-cargo, send out and sell them along the shores of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers. During these years of busy Mercantile life, he lent his aid to the building of ships and steamboats. Of the many who once lived and were his customers and friends, but few live to read and endorse this true tribute to his memory.
Following down the stream the next buildings were the store-house and dwelling of James Whitney, Esq., the early shipbuilder and, in early years, the conductor of a large steamboat yard, and noted for his integrity, uprightness and his Christian character. For many long years he was acknowledged to be the most prominent and widely known Methodist of this portion of Ohio.
The next inhabitation was the abode of Col. Levi Barber, who came to Harmar in its early history, where by study, industry and integrity, and a good heart, he soon won his way to the affections of the people whose attachment and confidence in him was shown by sending him twice to the Congress of the United States.
Around the corner from where he dwelt in those days there stood a school house in which the children of Harmar were taught their early lessons. One of the first teachers there was Benjamin F. Stone, Esq. One of the most curious contracts the writer remembers to have seen was the one between the above instructor and the parents of that day. I am sorry I am not able to give you the contract in full, but one of the conditions well remembered was that during the term, if any scholar had the itch, the teacher could send him home without calling the school directors together. This contract was signed by Mr. Stone, as teacher, and by Paul Fearing, Benjamin Ives Gilman, David Putnam, James Whitney and others to the number of fifteen parents.
In this same school house once was witnessed a very startling scene. By appointment a number of the early abolitionists had assembled in this building to consult and advise about future action. The number gathered was not very considerable, but some of the youngsters of the two towns, who might have been better employed, gathered at the landing and, with Jew’s harps and corn fiddles, marched in the direction of the school house. Perhaps I here should say that it had been whispered the day before that the meeting was to be interrupted, as in those days abolitionism was very unpopular, and advocacy of its doctrines very distasteful to the people. At this moment a young man by the name of Hall, from Marietta College, had the floor and was declaiming vociferously. The crowd of interlopers, just as he uttered the sentiment, “Give me liberty or give me death,” opened the door and the speaker made his exit from the nearest window, and the next morning the clothes he wore the night before were hanging out to dry, as he, in making his escape, had swam the Muskingum river.
Hoping your readers will not consider me given over to jocularity, I will relate one more amusing scene. In the next building above the school house, on a bright holiday, there had assembled a large, enthusiastic crowd of our citizens to listen to an appropriate address for the occasion. At the proper moment for the exercises to commence the chairman briefly stated the object of the meeting and announced that _____ would now address them. The speaker arose with his manuscript before him and commenced his oration by saying, “The rising glory of this western hemisphere has already been announced.” The audience, ready for a frolic, cheered, stamped, and clapped their hands. The speaker, thus interrupted and supposing his first utterance not understood, repeated his first sentence, “The rising glory of this western hemisphere has already been announced.” Upon this declaration of the speaker the audience became uproarious and their cheering had no bounds. After a while all became quiet and the speaker continued his address, which, in the main, was excellent. Ever afterwards the speaker was known as the “rising glory of this western hemisphere.”
Immediately across the Fort grounds on the bank of the Ohio river there stood a large frame house, then owned and occupied by William Skinner, Esq., the father of the wife of the late Nahum Ward, David C. Skinner, William P. Skinner, and Charles Skinner. Mr. Skinner was a man of great energy and kindliness of heart, very popular with the people, receiving at their hands various offices.
Further down the river, in the early days of the northwest, in a frame dwelling that is now a ruin, there lived the Hon. Paul Fearing, who, in the writer’s opinion, was one of the foremost men of his day. Educated in the east and a lawyer by profession, he became very useful as a citizen. Inclined to other pursuits, as well as the practice of law, he became for those days an extensive agriculturist, stock raiser, and fruit-grower. He lived an exceedingly useful life and died in the year 1824. The funeral exercises of himself and wife were conducted at the same hour on the same day.
The mention of his wife brings to mind that she was a Rouse, one of three sisters who married prominent men, Paul Fearing, Levi Barber, and Richard Green. The mention of the name Rouse brings to mind a striking event which occurred as the Rouse family journeyed, in 1788, from New England to the West. While the travelers in Mr. Rouse’s wagon were generally kindly treated, one of the party, who was excitable and head-strong, on one occasion met with rather rough usage from the hands of the old innkeeper, with whom they had put up. This man had been a great bruiser in his days at fisticuffs, a thing not at all uncommon amongst the early boarders. He was naturally a rough man, and the loss of his eye did add still more to his ferocious appearance. It seems that the old man had placed the rounds of his rack in his stable so close together that it was next to impossible for the horses to pull any hay through, so that, although there was plenty before them, they were none the better for it. Isaac could not stand quietly by and say nothing when his hard-working horses needed their food so much, and then to pay for that which they did not eat, besides. He remonstrated with the landlord on the matter, but received only abuse for his pains.
After paying him back in a little of the same coin, he fell to work and broke out every other round. The old fellow then fell upon Isaac and determined to give him a sound beating, but in this he was sadly mistaken and got very roughly handled himself. The horses, however, got plenty of hay, and Isaac told he would be back again in the Spring and if he found the slats replaced, he would give him another and sounder threshing.
But to our work. Leaving the river bank we pass up what is now called Gilman street, and on the left of that street stands two well preserved frame buildings; these were once the homes of the two Gilmans. Of one of these only shall I write, namely, Benjamin Ives Gilman. A chapter could well be devoted in speaking of the excellencies of this patriotic and useful citizen. But I must pass him by only saying that he was an accomplished business man and in every thing thoroughly equipped for life’s duties.
Here for many years lived Capt. William Knox, his reputation as a builder of steamboats extending from Pittsburgh to New Orleans. He was a valuable, unostentatious citizen, never singing his own praises, but honored of all men for his stern integrity and uprightness. But I must hasten to the end passing for the present many much esteemed and honored citizens of long ago, and close this article by saying something of the man of all others who, in the middle period of Harmar history, was one of the most esteemed, useful and beloved of her citizens; I refer to John Crawford. He was a tanner by trade and as such brought no discredit upon that useful calling. He was a local preacher connected with the Methodist church. It is probable that he performed more marriage services, prayed often at the bedside of the sick, gave greater encouragement to the suffering and attended more funerals than any other man of his day. His official relations with the church brought him in contact with the membership and adherents of that society.
He was beloved not only by preachers and people of his own denomination but by everyone. As an exhorter and leader in prayer, he had no equal hereabouts, but I can best tell your readers in short of this truly useful and devoted Christian by relating an occurrence which the writer witnessed. I will try to be brief.
For many years there lived in Marietta, a man by the name of John Cunningham, a tailor by trade, pretty generally known in town and country. He was greatly devoted to the Whig cause. He almost memorized every number of the National Intelligencer. In short to denote his devotion to party, he named one of his two sons, John Quincy Adams and the other Henry Clay. I have no doubt he would have named his girls Daniel Webster and Thomas Ewing if it had been allowable. He had a great memory, and the women dreaded him because he could tell the day and year of their births. Uncle John, as he was called, was a good tailor and an honest man.
In moving about the world as a journeyman, he had contracted a fondness for drink, and this fondness remained with him into his middle life. During some religious revival, he became a member of the Marietta Methodist church. It is presumable that he abandoned for a time his cups, but his fondness for drink in after years, at times, would crop out. This was known by all men, and yet not one, good or bad, in the church or out of it, wanted Uncle John to lose the good influences that surrounded him. His wife was a consistent and valued member of the Baptist church, and they all were ready to extend a bolstering hand. The church was not blamed by the outside world for retaining him. In conversation the members of the official board would talk of and lament his course in this respect, but with general consent his retention in the church was winked at.
In the Summer of 18__, the Ohio Conference sent a new preacher. He being posted as to the habit of Brother Cunningham, felt it his duty to take the disciplinary course. Accordingly he was visited by the leader and preacher, and his trial was determined upon, as he made no confession or promises of amendment.
The trouble was next to get a committee to try him, as nearly all the membership felt like letting him alone.
No committee could be procured, and the preacher resolved upon this unusual course, to have his case heard before the official board, composed in those days of James Whitney, John McCoy, Abram Daniels, John Crawford, Joseph Kelly, Juniah Jennings, Samuel Geren, Daniel Protsman and others, in all numbering over twelve. Before this tribunal, Cunningham appeared on the evening before Christmas. He said he did not want any counsel. The charge was read, he neither plead guilty or not guilty. The evidence was conclusive. Not one of all present but must have been satisfied that the charge was sustained, but on one wanted to vote. At length the ballot system was concluded upon, and the hat was passed around. Some papers were reluctantly put in, and all was silence. The prosecutor was uneasy, at length suggesting that the hat be emptied.
Just then John Crawford arose, and said brethren, before we go further, let us have a word of prayer. The Holy Ghost gave him utterance, and with that fervor for which his prayers were always noted, he gave thanks to Heaven for a forgiving father, always ready and willing to receive the returning prodigal, each one of us now bowed before the throne are monuments of the forgiving mercy of our great Redeemer, and are only as brands saved from the burning. And thus he prayed and at the close, when all were still bowed, he said, Brother Cunningham, now you pray. Oh, that pause. I never shall forget it, but to the joy of every heart, his voice was soon heard. “Oh, Lord, I have done very, very wrong, and ask you to forgive and help me, Oh Lord, not to do so any more.”
His prayer was very short, but when ended, such a rush as there was for the hat. Everyone wanted his ballot, and then to Brother Cunningham. Brother Crawford detached himself for a moment or two and then took Brother C. by the hand, and after saying, “God bless you my brother,” he continued by saying: “Just before coming over, I married a couple, and the man gave me two dollars, now here is one of the two. This is Christmas Eve. Go to your home and tell the boys and girls to hang up their stockings by the fireside. Yes, and have Sister C. hang hers up too and put a quarter in each of the children’s stockings and after reading over this written line, sign your name to it and put it in your wife’s stocking.”
You may be sure there was a happy family the next morning, especially when father’s note was read. “God helping me I never will drink again. John Cunningham.”
John Crawford’s life was filled with such acts as this.
George M. Woodbridge
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