Unidentified Marietta newspaper, January 14, 1897
I am only half Yankee born and yet my curiosity has been wonderfully exercised since reading the article published in your paper of the 2nd inst.
Who is this Charles Matthews who forwarded that list of names of former residents of Marietta? For what purpose was it compiled? Commencing at the confluence of the two rivers, he goes northward and eastward and then southward and westward, until he gets the names of most of those then resident here, that the purpose of this article is not alone to express amazement but to locate and say something of some of the persons named, avoiding, as far as possible, spending time in speaking of those, many of whom have been heretofore written of.
There is nothing in the study of the history of our early settlers that has more impressed me than their singularities, and I may be pardoned for dwelling briefly upon them in this article occasionally, as I name, and, as far as possible, locate them.
The first name found was that of Wm. Holyoke; his home was on the spot where now stands the Nye foundry. He was a wagon maker; his shop stood on the now vacant lot immediately south of the foundry. he was an intelligent christian man, and as I believe, at one time superintendent of the Sunday School of the Congregational Society. He was a real Sabbatarian, always ceasing work before midnight, Saturday night, and never commencing work until after 12 o'clock, Sunday night.
Jane Brigadier (colored) was the oldest child of a family of three. One of those must have been Dan Brigadier, who used to claim he could whip his weight in wild cats.
The next to be named is Jabez True. His home was on the corner of Monroe and Post streets. The store building of Bosworth, Wells & Co. covers part of what was his grounds. He was a most benevolent and useful citizen; whilst his own life was almost blameless, he was indulgent to the faults of others, one instance will only here be given. In his garden, which extended out to front street, he had various fruit trees, and as the fence was low and the fruit inviting, trespassers oftimes intruded. On one moonlight night, hearing a noise in his garden, he went out and found a youngster in a pear tree. He walked to the foot of the tree, saw who it was, and said, "Jim, haven't you gone up the wrong tree? The pears on the other are ripe and much better than those green things. Hadn't you better come down and get some better fruit?" Jim came down, and after supplying him with the best fruit the tree afforded, he said, "Jim, the next time you want anything come in daylight and I will cheerfully aid you in getting the ripest and best fruit we have." He never afterwards intruded on the old doctor's premises.
Griffin Green lived on the Ohio bank in what has in these later years been known as the Marshall House. He was once postmaster, and probably the father of Griffin Green, Jr., an old bachelor who boarded about town within the memory of some who now live. He was for many years a constable, and very diligent in the attention to the Universalist library of that early day, and was an honest and worthy citizen. He used to board around, and an amusing thing was told of him. He bargained with Levi Cole to board him for so much a week; should he take a meal out, he was to allow him twenty-five cents credit for each meal; upon their settling up at the close of the first quarter, he brought Mr. Cole in debt to him. the meals taken out at a quarter of a dollar came to more than the board bill.
Count De Bonney lived at the corner of Main and Washington streets, a blacksmith by trade and a far-famed ax maker. He was an enthusiastic believer in the Universalist doctrine and very fond of disputation. On one occasion, after having a very heated controversy with one of a different faith, one who happened to be a by-stander was asked for his views after hearing the arguments on either side. His reply, innocently made, was: "I believe it would be safest to adopt the opinions and join the church of which Mr. Bonney's competitor belongs." With some temper and a good deal of ferocity, Bonney replied to him, "You darned hypocrite, you'll go to hell anyhow."
On that list is the name of one that I will not mention. He, for many years, was a resident of this town and his business made it necessary that he should have to do with various people. His especial peculiarity was that he never paid his debts except at the end of an execution. In explanation of which course he said that he was not much of a book-keeper and he would like to have record evidence of what became of his money.
I speak next of some of whom I have before written, but whose singularities are such as not to allow me to pass them by. John Cunningham and Joseph Willard, the former of whom at the date spoken of lived on Main street, on the upper corner of Foundry alley, and the latter in the frame house now called the Biszantz house.
Isaac Williams in his last sickness, a short time before his death, sent for the Rev. Mr. Willard, of Marietta, an Episcopal clergyman, to converse with him on the subject of religion. Mr. Willard asked him if he was prepared for death, and what were his hopes for acceptance with God in another world. He answered that he had been brought up on the frontier without any chance of learning to read or write, that he was ignorant and did not know. He had endeavored to live an honest life and done many good deeds to his fellow creatures and few that were wicked, and he thought when the balance was struck it would be in his favor. He felt willing to submit his case to the mercy of God. He requested Mr. Willard to set a day when he would come and preach a funeral sermon. This was rather a novel affair to Mr. Willard to preach a funeral discourse when the subject was yet living; but the old man insisted upon it, saying it would do him no good when he was dead and he wanted the benefit of it, while he was alive. Mr. Willard came over and preached the sermon, to which Mr. Williams listened with much interest, and requested him to deliver the same discourse again at his funeral, which must take place soon. This was also done, but he said it was the most trying affair he ever met with in all his public speaking to deliver the funeral sermon while the subject was yet living.
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 also 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 allowed. He had a great memory and some girls 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, and he made no confession or promises of amendment and manifested unusual obstinacy.
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 twelve.
Before this tribunal Cunningham appeared on the evening before Xmas. 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 no 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, but to the joy of every heart his voice was soon heard, "Oh Lord, I have done 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.
Before closing this article, already too long I fear, I must not fail to speak of Commodore Abraham Whipple, not on the list to be sure, but of all the old residents of Marietta the most striking in his eccentric sayings. In his latter years the Commodore lived near White's Mill on Duck Creek. On one Sabbath morning noticing the people assembling on the shore of the creek, he took his staff and joined the crowd.
There was to be an immersion. the subject was a young woman. After a short pause on the bank, the old gentleman went to the water's edge and with his staff tested the depth of the water down the stream, and noticing that the minister was fearful that the depth of the water where he was about to enter the creek was shallow, he called out to him: "Shipmate, bring her down here, if she don't draw more than two and a half feet water on an even keel, she will float here."
G. M. W.
I am only half Yankee born and yet my curiosity has been wonderfully exercised since reading the article published in your paper of the 2nd inst.
Who is this Charles Matthews who forwarded that list of names of former residents of Marietta? For what purpose was it compiled? Commencing at the confluence of the two rivers, he goes northward and eastward and then southward and westward, until he gets the names of most of those then resident here, that the purpose of this article is not alone to express amazement but to locate and say something of some of the persons named, avoiding, as far as possible, spending time in speaking of those, many of whom have been heretofore written of.
There is nothing in the study of the history of our early settlers that has more impressed me than their singularities, and I may be pardoned for dwelling briefly upon them in this article occasionally, as I name, and, as far as possible, locate them.
The first name found was that of Wm. Holyoke; his home was on the spot where now stands the Nye foundry. He was a wagon maker; his shop stood on the now vacant lot immediately south of the foundry. he was an intelligent christian man, and as I believe, at one time superintendent of the Sunday School of the Congregational Society. He was a real Sabbatarian, always ceasing work before midnight, Saturday night, and never commencing work until after 12 o'clock, Sunday night.
Jane Brigadier (colored) was the oldest child of a family of three. One of those must have been Dan Brigadier, who used to claim he could whip his weight in wild cats.
The next to be named is Jabez True. His home was on the corner of Monroe and Post streets. The store building of Bosworth, Wells & Co. covers part of what was his grounds. He was a most benevolent and useful citizen; whilst his own life was almost blameless, he was indulgent to the faults of others, one instance will only here be given. In his garden, which extended out to front street, he had various fruit trees, and as the fence was low and the fruit inviting, trespassers oftimes intruded. On one moonlight night, hearing a noise in his garden, he went out and found a youngster in a pear tree. He walked to the foot of the tree, saw who it was, and said, "Jim, haven't you gone up the wrong tree? The pears on the other are ripe and much better than those green things. Hadn't you better come down and get some better fruit?" Jim came down, and after supplying him with the best fruit the tree afforded, he said, "Jim, the next time you want anything come in daylight and I will cheerfully aid you in getting the ripest and best fruit we have." He never afterwards intruded on the old doctor's premises.
Griffin Green lived on the Ohio bank in what has in these later years been known as the Marshall House. He was once postmaster, and probably the father of Griffin Green, Jr., an old bachelor who boarded about town within the memory of some who now live. He was for many years a constable, and very diligent in the attention to the Universalist library of that early day, and was an honest and worthy citizen. He used to board around, and an amusing thing was told of him. He bargained with Levi Cole to board him for so much a week; should he take a meal out, he was to allow him twenty-five cents credit for each meal; upon their settling up at the close of the first quarter, he brought Mr. Cole in debt to him. the meals taken out at a quarter of a dollar came to more than the board bill.
Count De Bonney lived at the corner of Main and Washington streets, a blacksmith by trade and a far-famed ax maker. He was an enthusiastic believer in the Universalist doctrine and very fond of disputation. On one occasion, after having a very heated controversy with one of a different faith, one who happened to be a by-stander was asked for his views after hearing the arguments on either side. His reply, innocently made, was: "I believe it would be safest to adopt the opinions and join the church of which Mr. Bonney's competitor belongs." With some temper and a good deal of ferocity, Bonney replied to him, "You darned hypocrite, you'll go to hell anyhow."
On that list is the name of one that I will not mention. He, for many years, was a resident of this town and his business made it necessary that he should have to do with various people. His especial peculiarity was that he never paid his debts except at the end of an execution. In explanation of which course he said that he was not much of a book-keeper and he would like to have record evidence of what became of his money.
I speak next of some of whom I have before written, but whose singularities are such as not to allow me to pass them by. John Cunningham and Joseph Willard, the former of whom at the date spoken of lived on Main street, on the upper corner of Foundry alley, and the latter in the frame house now called the Biszantz house.
Isaac Williams in his last sickness, a short time before his death, sent for the Rev. Mr. Willard, of Marietta, an Episcopal clergyman, to converse with him on the subject of religion. Mr. Willard asked him if he was prepared for death, and what were his hopes for acceptance with God in another world. He answered that he had been brought up on the frontier without any chance of learning to read or write, that he was ignorant and did not know. He had endeavored to live an honest life and done many good deeds to his fellow creatures and few that were wicked, and he thought when the balance was struck it would be in his favor. He felt willing to submit his case to the mercy of God. He requested Mr. Willard to set a day when he would come and preach a funeral sermon. This was rather a novel affair to Mr. Willard to preach a funeral discourse when the subject was yet living; but the old man insisted upon it, saying it would do him no good when he was dead and he wanted the benefit of it, while he was alive. Mr. Willard came over and preached the sermon, to which Mr. Williams listened with much interest, and requested him to deliver the same discourse again at his funeral, which must take place soon. This was also done, but he said it was the most trying affair he ever met with in all his public speaking to deliver the funeral sermon while the subject was yet living.
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 also 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 allowed. He had a great memory and some girls 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, and he made no confession or promises of amendment and manifested unusual obstinacy.
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 twelve.
Before this tribunal Cunningham appeared on the evening before Xmas. 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 no 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, but to the joy of every heart his voice was soon heard, "Oh Lord, I have done 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.
Before closing this article, already too long I fear, I must not fail to speak of Commodore Abraham Whipple, not on the list to be sure, but of all the old residents of Marietta the most striking in his eccentric sayings. In his latter years the Commodore lived near White's Mill on Duck Creek. On one Sabbath morning noticing the people assembling on the shore of the creek, he took his staff and joined the crowd.
There was to be an immersion. the subject was a young woman. After a short pause on the bank, the old gentleman went to the water's edge and with his staff tested the depth of the water down the stream, and noticing that the minister was fearful that the depth of the water where he was about to enter the creek was shallow, he called out to him: "Shipmate, bring her down here, if she don't draw more than two and a half feet water on an even keel, she will float here."
G. M. W.
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