HISTORY OF FAIRFIELD COUNTY

CHAPTER VII.

PIONEER HISTORY.

In April, 1798, Captain Joseph Hunter, arrived from Kentucky, and settled on the Hocking, half a mile west of the present city of Lancaster, and a few rods north of the Zanesville and Maysville Pike. This worthy man did not move into a populous region, but the fact that his nearest neighbor on the east, lived somewhere near Zanesville, and on the west at Chillicothe, did not deter him from making a stand to contest the ground with Dame Nature, who had held the territory undisputed for so long, and who is both a help and an obstacle to advancing civiliza- tion everywhere. Captain Hunter was unquestionably the first white man, who settled in the Hocking Valley, and he of all others is entitled to the honor of having established the county of Fairfield. He died in 1829, and was buried near the spot where his hand had first marked "human progress," in indelible characters. His wife died in 1870, at the residence of her daughter, Mrs. Castle, of Lancaster. The work begun by Captain Hunter, was destined to be helped forward by brave hearts and willing hands, and in May a number of settlers found their way into the territory now included in Fairfield county, among whom were Nathaniel Wilson, Sr., Robert Cooper, Isaac Shaffer, John and Allen Green, John and Joseph McMullen. These all settled about three miles west of where Lancaster now stands, and within the limit of Hocking township.* Thrown upon their own resources, in a fertile, but new and wild region, these adventurers found that their lot would henceforth be one of hardship and inevitable privation, but they faced their self-imposed trials bravely, and after creating a shelter for their families and limited worldly goods, tickled the earth so effectively, that she laughed back with a harvest of corn the same year. This was the beginning. But where the necessity for brave men and true presents, responses are always abundant, and in the spring of 1799 a general tide of immigration made mighty breaches in the forests, which for centuries had stood unscathed by the attempts of the red man for a mere animal subsistence. But mind was now exercising her dominion over matter and these passive grants must bow. One of the first necessities of that period was to get to the most desirable lands to which the trace could not be followed. When the settlers had wagons, the tedious process of cutting a road through the woods with axes was the only resource, and required unlimited patience as well as great muscular exertion. Pack horses could generally be led --------------------------------------------------------------------------  *The names of subsequent settlers, by townships, will be found in the respective town- ship histories. 32

between the trees, where a "blazed" route had already been laid. Roads through the settlements or to the county seat were obtained through the united efforts of the settlers to derive benefit therefrom. A "blaze" was simply a large chip cut from the trees between which the route lay; the "blaze" of course becoming unnecessary when a path had been worn, unless after a fresh fall of snow, when the first one to make the trip required to bring it again into use. Hickory bark torches were employed to follow one of these "blazed" routes at night. For many years there were no bridges, and when the water at the usual fording places was so high as to forbid either wading or swimming, it only remained for the traveler to tarry, till the overflow had been carried off, and the stream fallen to something like its usual channel. Thus the elements often interfered with the best laid plans of the settlers---much oftener than in these days of sublime engineering achievement. The pampered epicure and the enterprising and public spirited citizen of to-day are almost equally ignorant of the true import of the words, "pioneer times;" for the "short and simple annals of the poor" are not the most eagerly sought, though they are generally instructive and pathetic pages in the book of history; and the customs, laws and superstitions of the men and women, who laid the foundation for this broad and lofty plane of civilization have already but the place of a child's fairy tale, in every day life. That the thinking people of to-day fail to accord the full meed of praise to those early struggles is not due to ingratitude, but to an imperfect conception of the debt owed them. That which now seems so full of poetry and romance was to them but the monotony of every-day existence, and that which now seems delightful primitiveness was to the pioneers only a weary, painful, and all but disheartening struggle for a bare subsistence. They had no leisure, if they had a desire, to transmit their simple tale to posterity, for it seemed not that their deeds possessed any degree of heroism or merit, only continued hardships and toil. Thus the customs, laws and super- stitions of the early pioneers of Fairfield county have had a narrow escape from being consigned to the graves of their possessors. The settlement of a family in Fairfield county, for at least two decades of the present century, meant plenty of "elbow room," but it also meant unremitting toil. The rude cabin had to be built, and it was generally necessary to have a crop of corn planted immediately, for, although game was abundant and varied, the beasts of burden, upon which the settler was so dependent, were not carnivorous, and even the family of the pioneer could not subsist entirely upon animal food. The truck patch was the next necessity, and as nature had never been taxed for the maintenance of man, she was lavish in her responses to his petitions for food. The law of reciprocity was rigid, and the pioneer was compelled both to receive and grant assistance in making these wild places habitable. Thus the men felled trees, notched, trimmed and raised the logs to their places in the rude dwelling; rolled logs, split rails, fenced, and cut out roads together; the women spun, wove, quilted, and, ultimately, pared apples, made apple-butter and soap, and picked wool in company. 33

There is little doubt that the "Rock Mill," built by Hezekiah Smith and Joseph Loveland, in the fall of 1799 was the first structure of the kind in the county. It was built of logs, and wedged in between the rocks, so that the grist had to be taken in at the gable, and let down to hopper by a rope. Smith and Loveland were both Yankees, and pos- sessed the full measure of Yankee shrewdness in all that had to do with money-getting; and it was not long after they began to serve the public as millers until they went into the distillery business, and made whisky for Indians and white men. Before Fairfield county was half a dozen years old, its surface was dotted by dozens of still-houses. In those days whisky was regarded as a household necessity much more than now. Everybody drank. It was respectable and fashionable. The bitters were taken in the morning before prayers, and the last thing at night. Doubtless the liquor was as pure as it was possible to make it, or at least contained nothing worse than the strychnine and nicotine compound of to-day; but the same paradoxical ideas regarding its qualities existed then as now, and men drank it in the winter to sustain animal heat, and in the summer to counteract the same; and, despite its purity, pioneer whisky made red noses, and ragged raiment, and empty larders. Whisky was generally passed around at funerals, but just what the meaning of this Custom was, is hard to say---perhaps to drown sorrow. The green glass bottle, with its long neck, was passed around, and to render the fellowship closer, each drank from the same small spout. Not only was assistance given those able to repay in kind and degree, but the helpless were well provided for. The settler who became disabled by sickness or accident had no fear that his pressing work would remain neglected. His crops were tended and gathered; his stock cared for; his firewood cut, and all without expectation or desire for reward; the golden rule being the only incentive. When dangerous or protracted sickness visited the humble home of the pioneer, his neighbor, perhaps half a score of miles distant, held it no less than his bounden duty to minister to his wants. Even the presence of death was made lighter to bear by the ready, practical sympathy sure to be offered. The expense attending a pioneer funeral was light, being limited to the cost of coffin and shroud. The measure of grief was not seen in the nodding plumes, draped bier and long procession of magni- ficient equipages. The body was robed for its dreamless repose by familiar hands; the grave dug, the body placed therein, and the little mound raised by those who had perhaps been associated with the departed one in clearing the very spot where the weary body was destined to find its ultimate rest. The widow's "cruise of oil," or "measure of meal," was not suffered to fail, and her fuel was provided, her grist taken to mill, and all as freely offered as thankfully received. The privations of the, pioneer in the matter of clothing arose not so much from the lack of raw material as from an absence of implements and tools for working it up. After the first two or three years, and when the supplies brought to the frontier ran low, the settler had usually a few sheep to furnish him wool for clothing, and an occasional beef was killed, and this furnished leather for shoes, of which one pair was the yearly allowance. Small tan-yards were established through the 34

county at an early day, and the leather tanned on the halves. If a man had two hides, he was especially fortunate, for he could then possess a side of upper and one of sole leather. The stock was sometimes made up by the head of the family, and sometimes by the itinerant shoe- maker. No thought of going shopping for clothing ever entered the head of the early pioneer. Nearly every house had its spinning-wheel and loom, and if a man had no sheep he bartered for wool sufficient to clothe his family. Fulling mills sprang up through the newly opened country, and hither the rough but serviceable "home spun" was brought to receive final treatment before being made up. Fulling was charged for by the yard. At the fulling mills the cloth was sometimes colored, though the latter work was more often performed where the cloth was woven. Black, brown and drab dyes were most generally employed. The great coats were nearly always drab, and made with "shingled capes:" i. e. from two to four overlapping capes, regularly graduated in size, the smallest or upper one being about six inches deep. The number of capes or shingles was considered a sort of measure to the wearer's title to gentility---or, at least, of his pride. An amusing story is told of the wedding coat of a young man then looked upon as a leader of fashion. The material had been woven and dyed after the most approved mode of the time, and taken to a local seamstress, whose skill was highly lauded. In due time the coat was returned, and so far as appearances went, was perfect. But when the owner tried it on he found that he could not lower his arms to his sides. The sleeves had been sewed in upside down, and the expectant groom was obliged to postpone the ceremony until the error could be remedied. Sheep and cattle were the main dependance for clothing and shoes, and it will be pertinent in this connection to mention the raising of these, as well as other live stock. Many of the emigrants brought one or 35

more milch cows. It was not so difficult to winter cattle, but epidemic diseases were more frequent and more fatal than now, and the pioneer sometimes found himself without a single cow in the winter season, and with small children to whom milk was almost an imperative necessity. murrain was quite frequent, and hollow horn greatly troubled the milch cows. The first sheep brought into the county soon became unhealthy, and many died, and it was several years before they became acclimated. The principal malady was a species of influenza, or catarrh, which, if allowed to become chronic, was fatal. It was unquestionably a form of the disease common to horses, and known as glanders. The disease was at that time deemed contagious, but it is more probable that the remote cause was general. Foot rot was also common, and not being as thoroughly understood as now, generally terminated fatally. Hogs were introduced at an early day, and were far less liable to disease than either horses, cattle or sheep. They bred rapidly, and, with the exception of the kidney worm, were but lightly afflicted in any way. In the wild state of the country many small droves strayed from the plantations, and in a very few years the woods contained large numbers of "wild hogs." The hills south of Lancaster were especially rich in this kind of game, which haunted that locality in search of acorns, upon which food they thrived and generally kept in a good order through the winter. Many families relied entirely on these droves of wild hogs for their winter's supply of pork. Sometimes the settlers managed to keep their ear-mark on a drove of wild hogs, and thus established their ownership. All domestic animals, from the necessities of the case, being allowed more or less liberty, it was a matter of law that each stock owner should possess a peculiar mark, called an ear- mark, because generally made on the ear, although with horses the mark was usually burned into the shoulder. This mark was recorded in a book, kept by the township clerk, and was selected with especial reference to its dissimilarity with the mark of any other man in the township; and when litigations arose over the dispute of ownership of stock, the book was brought into court, and the mark on the disputed animal compared with the record. Speaking of wild hogs, calls to mind a story told by Henry Leonard, of Liberty township. More than sixty years ago Father Gundy,of that township, contracted forty head of fat hogs to Mr. Buckingham, of Zanesville, for one dollar and fifty cents per hundred, net weight, which, according to the custom of the day, was to be found by deducting one-fifth of the gross. Gundy drove his hogs to Zanesville, a distance of forty miles, but Buckingham would not take them, saying that the market price was only one dollar and twenty-five cents Gundy declined to sell his pork at any such figure, and turning away, walked back to his home in Liberty township, leaving the hogs to care for themselves. Within three weeks every hog of the forty was back on the Gundy farm. Almost the entire distance traveled was a wilderness. Gundy afterwards got his price, one dollar and fifty cents, at Chillicothe. The wild turkey was a great favorite with the people of that time, and could be obtained with very little trouble, as vast flocks of this royal game then roamed the whole country. But the white man's rifle, 36

and his ruthless destruction of the favorite haunts of the bird, soon thinned the flocks out, so that it became a question both of strategy and markmanship to bring one down. Even the pioneer's grain field would not tempt this wary and suspicious bird to stay, after the woods became more scanty. Experiments have shown that the wild turkey cannot be domesticated. Eggs brought from their haunts have been hatched under the well domesticated barnyard hen, but when the turkey became half-grown, he seemed to forget any obligation he might be under to his foster-mother and soon disappeared, preferring the life led by his ancestors, who held a place in his affections far above any ties of adop- tion. Fabulous stories are told of the enormous flocks of wild turkeys seen here fifty or sixty years, ago. It is said that a Philadelphia mer- chant, about that time, took a trip through the West, and on his return had business in the neighborhood of Newark. This finished, he hired a man to carry him to Zanesville. Their route lay through Hog Creek valley, which was famous for its groves of beech nuts. The turkey is very fond of beech nuts, and the remembrance of this fact caused the driver to volunteer the statement ,that he had seen, in that locality, over a thousand wild turkeys at one time. The merchant, a very tyro in backwoods lore, seemed inclined to shave the driver's story at least seventy-five per cent, but it was finally concluded to submit the subject to the man with whom they were to take dinner, an old pioneer, and a famous hunter. At the table, the driver boldly plunged into the subject, and a direct interrogatory as to the largest number of turkeys ever seen in the valley, at once caused the man to reflect a moment, and then came the reply, with all the positiveness of one who considers himself indisputable authority: "Wall, I reckon about twenty thousand !" But the wild turkeys and wild hogs were by no means the most troublesome dwellers in the forests. Wolves swarmed over the territory in great numbers during the first years of Fairfield county; and the settlers soon learned that foot rot and influenza were not the only enemies from which they must protect their sheep. The sheep were placed before dark in close pens, built of heavy logs, and from night- fall to daybreak, the wolves would keep up their hungry howls, and woe to any unfortunate strays, who had been overlooked in penning up the flock. Their bones, cleaned and polished by the rough tongues of the marauders, would greet the eyes of the frontiersman, who came down in the morning to liberate his frightened sheep, having heard the din of the rapacious creatures during the night with complacent satis- faction, confident that his property was safe from all possible harm. Wolves rarely attacked a human being, but for this the settlers are entitled to as much credit as the wolves, for the pioneer seldom ventured far from his clearing at night alone. The wolves would howl around the sugar camps at night, but as they share with all beasts of prey a wholesome dread of fire, a live brand from under the boiling saps thrown among them always secured the sugar makers a welcome immunity from their company. Panthers were occasionally seen, but they generally found prey enough in the forests, and when this began to fail them, they had for various reasons about concluded to decamp. The rifle, with its small, 37

patched ball, was, in the hands of the intrepid hunter, a formidable foe, and even had not large numbers of these been destroyed, they, in com- mon with wild turkeys, wolves, and bears, were unwilling to stay and become part of civilized society, if even permission had been granted them. But one instance is related of any fatal attack on the human species by these savage beasts, among the settlers of Fairfield county. A woman, living in what is now Violet township, went into the woods to look after her cows. Her protracted absence alarmed the family, and going in search of her, they found her body lying in the woods partially devoured, and surprised a large panther in the immediate neighborhood. One of the arms was entirely devoured, and the body horribly mutilated. The squirrels, raccoons, blackbirds, and crows were a source of great annoyance and inconvenience to the farmer of the early days The birds gave the most trouble when the corn was first planted, while the stalks were small and tender. They would follow the rows, and make systematic business of destroying the farmer's work, and the crops had frequently to be replanted part or wholly. This was not so hard to bear when the season was forward, but it was as apt to occur when the crops had barely time to mature before frost might reasonably be expected, as at any other time. The squirrels were still more ruthless in their attacks; for they made their appearance in the cornfield in August and September, and when corn is in the milk; that is, when it is just right for the table in the form of "roasting ears," a slight injury by beak of bird, or tooth of squirrel, is sufficient to prevent it from acquiring a good, sound, plump grain; and the squirrels came in such numbers, and were so dainty in their feasting-perhaps eating but a few grains from each ear---that scarcely enough sound corn was left in a large field to supply the table of the rightful owner. The raccoon ate what he wanted whenever he chanced to stop, but he carried on his raids. at night, and was, therefore, almost as hard to combat as the squirrel. Fairfield county was formally declared by Governor St. Clair, during the session of his territorial council, on the 9th of December, 1800, about two years before Ohio was admitted to the Union as a State. The area of Fairfield county was originally four times as great as now, embracing all of the present county of Licking, nearly all of Knox, probably a portion of Richland, portions of Pickaway and Hocking, and extending into Perry some distance east of Somerset. The name of "Fairfield " is suggestive of the broad, beautiful lands lying at the head of the Hocking Valley to-day, and the possibilities open to these hardy pioneers doubtless prompted them to name the district, in accordance with their prophetic views. Just one month before this formal declaration of Fairfield county, Lancaster had been laid out, and lots sold, so by the same authority it was named as the county seat, and dubbed "New Lancaster." The first contraction of the original bounds of the county, was the creation of Licking county, in 1808, and the northern boundary of Fairfield was thus established as it has since remained. Before that, the city of Newark was a part of Fairfield county. On the 12th of January, 1810, Pickaway county was formed, and the western boundary of Fairfield thus established, has been since changed, but slightly. Perry county sprang into existence in 1817, and thus fixed the limits of Fairfield on 38

the east. Hocking county on the south, was formed March 1st, 1818; but this boundary has since been somewhat changed. Nearly all of Auburn and Perry townships were stricken from Fairfield, about thirty years ago, and attached to Hocking county. The townships originally embraced in Fairfield county, were, Hocking, Berne, Clear Creek, Greenfield, Licking, Amanda, Pleasant, Clinton, Thorn, Richland, Reading, Pike, Jackson, Falls, Perry, Auburn and Salt Creek-17. Many of them embraced a large territory, and some were for many years very sparcely settled. The townships of Fairfield county at this writing are: Amanda, Berne, Bloom, Clear Creek, Greenfield, Hocking, Liberty, Madison, Pleasant, Richland, Rush Creek, Violet, Walnut and Lancaster---14. The population of this county in 1820, the first year of the decennial census, was 13,508; in 1830, 24,753; in 1840, 31,858; in 1850, 30,264; in 1860, 30,623; in 1870, 31,149; in 1880, 34,283. The decrease in population between 1840 and 1850, is due to a large emigration to California and the less remote West, during that decade. The position of Fairfield county, both geographically and topo- graphically is an important part of its history, situated at the head of the Hocking valley, Lancaster, its county seat, becomes of necessity the outlet or eye of the valley as far south as Athens, by its canal and railroads. Fairfield, therefore, is within and a part of the Hocking Valley. Fifty years ago the Hocking Valley was little known to any but its immediate residents. Now, by reason of its mineral wealth, no citizen of this Republic, who takes an active interest in her commercial affairs, and especially in mining matters is ignorant of her location and resources. For fifty years the stage running between Maysville and Zanesville, only stopped at Lancaster long enough to take meals and change horses, and the traveler of the day was ignorant of the resources lying just south of the station, which was merely looked upon as a con- venient place to recruit horseflesh and appease the cravings of hunger. Even the citizens of Lancaster, previous to the opening of the canal, knew about as much of the true wealth of the valley, as they did of the geological formations of the South Sea Islands. But this was not to continue; a wise Creator had not prepared fuel scores of centuries before the advent of those for whose convenience it was intended, only that they, despising or neglecting their opportunities, should lack for what lay at their very feet. But these opportunities were not slighted; and soon the people of the Hocking Valley had discovered a greater wealth within their grasp, than could be obtained by the most patient pursuit of pastoral or scholarly or sedentary employments; for coal and salt and iron were discovered, and the canal was dug and operated, and soon found too slow, and was superceded by the swifter, and costlier and noisier steam-giant; and, the attention of engineers and capitalists was engrossed in calculating and developing the resources of this vast region; and a few years have sufficed for raising the Hocking Valley from obscurity to a place among the richest mineral posessions of this populous and wealthy and happy country. Immediately north of this great field of industry and wealth, blocking the outlets of this now famous valley, is Fairfield county; and through it must necessarily pass, in all time to come, the chief products of this vast mining region. 39