Johnson County, Indiana - Chapter 10: Life in the Woods, 1881

Chapter 10: Life in the Woods

Not every man who moved into Johnson County aspiring to become a pioneer, gained the pioneer's meed of praise. There were not a few who came in the early days, with high hopes that they had reached their promised land, but found the conflict too severe, and soon retired vanquished from the field. Those who were made of sterner stufl", or too poor to get away, generally fought the battle with a courage and tenacity of purpose that gave them victory in the end. Save what has been set down of the hindrances that nature laid in the pathway of the pioneers - the woods, the wild beasts, the sickness and so on - and it requires no wearisome length of words to give a hint of the incessant toiling of the period. There were no drones in those days. True, there were some, as there always are upon the frontier, who loved the gun and the woods too well to be slaves to field-work, but even these did not eat at the expense of their neighbors. With but few exceptions, all were toilers - men, women and little children. Farms had to be and were cleared out, and houses and barns built, and all the work of time, stroke upon stroke. And while this work was slowly but surely going on, men, women and children must have food and clothes. There were but few idlers in those days, for men could not afford to be idle. We may catch a glimpse of the lives men led in the log-rolling season - up in the morning and busy among their own burning-heaps by cockcrowing, and off to a distant neighbor's, often four or five miles away, by sun-up, and then with handspike put forth such muscular effort and strength among the green logs, as happily laborers are seldom called upon to give nowadays, and at sunset off for home, where the smoldering heaps must again be stirred together before the wearied man could find rest in sleep. And it was not for one day, or two, or three, but for weeks this wearisome work went on. James Ware testifies to having rolled logs for thirty days in one spring when a young man. Henry Mussulman put in "about thirty days," and "burnt his own brush and logs after night." Peter Vandiver rolled logs "from twenty to twenty-five days every year, and went from one to five miles." Theodore List rolled logs one year twenty-four days for his neighbors, and they in turn helped him to roll the logs on nine acres, and they were four days about it. Melvin Wheat attended twenty-two log-rollings one year, six of which was for one man. Samuel Herriott attended thirty-six log-rollings one spring, but as he was a local politician, he went oftener most likely than he otherwise would have done. But the common lot of all for many years after the first settlements were made was to spend many days in the spring season with the handspike at log-rollings, while at the same time their own heaps, if rolled, were to be burned and the "trash " to be " picked."

Nor was it only the logs in the fields that called forth the combined muscular effort of the community. Cabins and stables must be built, and the former, often of large logs hewn to an even thickness, and all of green timber, were no holiday jobs to raise. All stood in need at one time or other of their neighbors' services, and all freely gave when called upon. Nor was there an enumeration by any of time served. A man's logs must be rolled, no matter how many days it took, and when the last "heaps" in the neighborhood had been made, accounts were considered square all around. And so of other work requiring the strength of many arms.

The log-rollings and the house-raisings must not be considered, however, as unmixed evils. They bred sentiments of generosity and brought a degree of social life that worked for good. Men could not habituate themselves to giving and receiving such necessary and hard services in unequal degrees, without a growth of generous feeling ; and they could not toil together without fostering the social instincts. Still everything was kept subordinate to the business in hand. Individuals could laugh and talk to their hearts' content, but the community frowned upon any practice calculated to delay the work in hand. All quarreling was suppressed, fighting was prohibited and the use of ardent spirits, then so common, was so regulated that the drunkenness of the intemperate could not delay the work in hand. Even the inclemency of the weather sometimes failed to put an end to combined labor. When the neighbors from Franklin and round about had gone out to put up the cabin of Simon Covert near the Big Spring, a steady rain sat in long before noon. Then the housebuilders wavered, but Samuel Herriott cried out, " Men ! this man's house must be raised !" and in spite of the rain, the house was up and half- roofed by sun-down. Nor was it only at the logrollings and house-raisings that the men pursued their labors with diligence. The same scenes marked the conduct of those who cut out and worked the first roads. But few have a thought at this time of the labor incident to that service. " Ten or a dozen "

And let it not be thought that the men alone were servants to toil. The wives and the mothers bore their full share. Many of the older fields in Johnson County, as well as elsewhere in Indiana, the daughters and ofttimes the wives, helped to clear. But if not in the fields, they were in and about their cabins, busy from morning to night, and often far into the night. Green grow the memory of the mothers of Johnson County ! The fathers deserve much, the mothers more. They dyed the wool with the walnut ooze ; they carded it into rolls ; they spun it into yarn ; and wove the web of durable jeans. Often they pulled the flax, not unfrequently scutched it, always hackled, spun and wove it into linen cloth. The entire family would be clothed in garments spun, wove, cut and made by the mothers of these days. And what man or woman now living, who can span in memory a period of fifty years, who does not remember the mother of the house, sitting up making new or patching the frayed clothes of her children long after the other members of the household were sunk in slumber. Blessed be the memory of the dear, old, patient mothers of the land !

Social Life

But, with all the toil and hardships of the times, there was a social life, the memory of which still survives. The labors of the day fostered sociability. Men worked together. They joined forces at corn-planting time, and old and young dropped and covered the grain side by side. At the harvest, reapers, cradlers and binders, marched in phalanx across the fields. And when the winter days came, the evening fires from the huge fire-places sent out a genial, wholesome heat, unknown to the patrons of the modern stove. There were but few books to read in those days, and fewer newspapers and periodicals, and so brothers and sisters, and husbands and wives, as well as neighbors, loved to gather about the firesides and while away the long winter evenings in social converse. The weddings of the time were generally social events of great significance. Nowland, in his "Early Reminiscences of Indianapolis," gives an instance in that town where the dancing was kept up for two days and nights after the wedding, but it is not believed that any party of merry-makers in Johnson County ever went to such an extravagant limit as that. Much, however, was often made of the wedding occasion here. The young friends of both bride and groom were usually invited, and, not unfrequently, many of the older members of the settlement, and there was always much feasting and merry-making. The second or third day after the marriage, it was common for the parents or other friends of the groom to make an "infair," when the festivities would be renewed. In the south settlements, the custom of "running for the bottle," was kept up, on infair occasions, until 1837, when it fell into disuse. As practiced here, the custom was for the groom's father, or some one representing him, to take his place at the yard gate with a bottle of whisky, and await the cavalcade of visitors, who, for the purpose, had rendezvoused at an appointed place. When in sight of the bottle-holder, the young men of the party who cared to ride for the bottle, took their places in front, and at a given signal, away they went, helterskelter, and the fastest rider was entitled to the prize. On receiving it, he drank to the bride and groom, and then rode back in triumph to his friends, treating each in turn who chose to drink from the bottle, and custom made the dram an honorable one. It is remembered that Jesse Young, an Elder in the Presbyterian Church, on the occasion of the marriage of his son John, held the bottle for the rough riders of the party. This custom was in vogue up to 1837, when a young man by the name of Bright Walker was thrown from his horse and killed, and then it dropped into disuse.

The quiltings, the wood-choppings, the rail-makings, the cornhuskings of the early period, all testify to the social spirit that everywhere prevailed.

The Chase

To some the case brought in its season lasting delight, while to all, the game of the woods was a never-failing source of food supply. The Johnson County lands had long been a favorite hunting-ground of the Indians, and, for many years after the white people came, the wToods were stocked with game and the streams with fish. Joab Woodruff is said to have killed three hundred and seventy deer in the fall of 1822, and it is told that George Doty killed three hundred in 1821 and 1822. Nathan Perry says he has frequently seen as many as forty in one herd. William Burkhart found Rock Lick, in Union Township, by pursuing a well-beaten path known as a runway, leading to it from a distance of seven miles. Isaac Collier shot thirteen deer one morning before breakfast at Collier's Lick in the edge of Brown County. In 1834, Henry Mussulman started a herd of deer in the vicinity of Franklin, and followed them nearly to Indianapolis, and then back, where he shot and killed six of them. Judge Hardin counted twenty-five in one herd in a White River bend.

fall and winter seasons for the first few years. William Rutherford knocked a deer in the head Avith an ax as it ran by where he was chopping in the woods. One Sunday morning, Isaac Voris was sitting on the bank of Young's Creek, immediately south of Judge Woollen's present residence. Hearing the bark of a dog up the creek, he saw a deer running in the distance toward him, but on the farther side of the stream. Keeping quiet, the deer came down to a point opposite and plunged in, but the current was strong and bore the animal down against a log, when Voris rushed in and secured it by the ears.

Wild turkeys were more abundant than deer. Wherever there was food for them they were easily found. Their " keouk " was a familiar sound to the inmates of every cabin. In the spring of 1823, it is said that a flock passed over the ground where Franklin has built, and it was large enough to make a beaten trail a hundred yards in width. They often did much mischief, scratching up the newly planted corn, eating it after it was grown, and treading down the smaller grain after it was harvested.

Men, who bring a wilderness, inhabited by wild and savage beasts, to civilization, never lack in romantic incident with which to add flavor to the tales of old age. There are but few, indeed, Avho do not listen to old hunters' yarns with a patience that "spurs to greater effort." But no man ever came to his death in the county by the attack of a wild beast, so far as I know. Lewis Hendricks had his arm disabled for life in an encounter with a wounded bear, but that happened in Shelby County. There was, nevertheless, danger to the hunter. Samuel and Robert Bell were lying in wait for deer at a salt marsh, near the head- waters of Honey Creek. It was about dusk in the evening, and presently Samuel's attention was directed to an object crawling toward his bro titer, who was several yards distant. It proved to be a large panther. Samuel could see the nervous, cat-like motion of its tail, and also that his brother was unconscious of its presence. With a cool head and a steady nerve, he took deliberate aim and shot the beast dead. But there were not many panthers in the woods. The black bear, however, was quite plentiful. Joab Woodruff killed ten in one year, and there were many others who killed this noble game. No man, however, wa? ever brought to a strait by a bear in this county. But the deer hunters sometimes got into trouble. John Smiley once knocked one over, and on going to it, it arose to meet him with " hair turned the wrong way." Smiley sprang behind a bush and the beast made a push at him with lowered antlers. Laying hold of a horn in either hand, Smiley held on for dear life, while the bush kept the beats off. Round and round both went, until wearied with the fruitless contest the buck smoothed his hair, a sign that his fight was over. Then Smiley loosed his hold, and the deer marched off undisturbed. Joseph Young, of Union Township, knocked a buck down one day, and, on touching its throat with his knife, it came to its feet ready for battle. Young got behind a tree, and managed by hook and by crook to keep the tree between himself and the animal, until its rage had abated somewhat, when it gave its antlers a toss and disappeared in the thicket. Henry Mussulman was more severely put to the struggle by a wounded deer on one occasion. He had shot it to death, as he supposed, but with the first touch of the knife the animal floundered, and Mussulman lost the blade. The buck was large and strong, but the hunter had his head to the ground, and, as long as he could keep it there, he was safe, and so he held on. But this was not killing the deer, and it was unsafe to let go, and so in his extremity, Mussulman, with the jagged ends of broken spicewood. put the animal's eyes out, and then let go and run. It was the work of a moment to get his gun and shoot it dead. To inexperienced men there would have been not only danger, but, no doubt, disaster ; but to the pioneers of the country where there was danger, there was rarely disaster. Still the very fact that there was an element of danger, gave a charm to the sport, and there are but few who do not appreciate the main recital of it.

Turbulence

The inquirer after the facts of the past is constantly reminded of the exhibition of lawlessness on the part of some at the beginning, and for many years after the co unty was organized. This arose, in a great measure, from the sentiment of personal independence that burned in every bosom, for there were but few of the pioneer settlers who were not ready on occasion to vindicate their own wrongs. Batteries and affrays furnished the Circuit Courts of the county with a large part of their work for many years. For a period of seven years after the county was organized, the number of cases on the Circuit Court dockets, representing batteries and affrays, stood as two to five against all other causes, criminal and civil.

Religious

But it must not be supposed that the reckless element in society had it all their own way. The courts were actively at work from the beginning, and the church came into the wilderness with the first comers. John P. Barnett, who came to the county in 1821, was a Baptist preacher ; and when he got here he found that Joseph Bishop, who had preceded him, was of the like faith with himself. Others followed, and, in 1823, a Baptist Church was planted in Blue River Township. Early in the history of Ninevah Township, a Baptist Church, under the preaching of Mordecai Cole, was organized at the house of Daniel Mussulman ; and when Richardson Hensley moved into Hensley Township, he carried with him a Baptist faith, and a Baptist Church was soon planted on Indian Creek.

In 1823, the Rev. James Scott, an itinerant Methodist minister, a young man of unbounded zeal, unlearned in the books but clear headed, with horse and saddle-bags, Bible and hymn book, made his way to the settlements on White River and began the work of the ministry. He preached the first sermon ever uttered in White River Township, standing in the doorway of a cabin built near the bluffs, with the females of his congregation seated within, and the males lounging upon the earth or leaning against trees without. For many years he visited this place, and by his hand was planted the parent Methodist Church of the county.

In the fall of 1823, a Presbyterian clergyman, whose name has been lost, came to the house of David McCaslin, near Franklin, and stopped over for the night. Word was sent out to the few settlers' cabins in the vicinity, that he would preach that evening, and when the hour came, a little congregation was there to hear. Seated at the fireside, the stranger preached the first sermon heard in that township. The first settlers of Franklin were generally Presbyterians, and, in November, 1824, the Presbyterian Church of that place was founded, and, in 1831, Hopewell Church was established.

In 1823, the first settlement was made in Pleasant Township, and, soon after, the Rev. Isaac Reed, a Presbyterian, superintended the organization of a Presbyterian Church, the first organized in that township.

The first sermon preached in Union Township, was at the house of Peter Yandiver, in 1827, by Elder William Irving; and in 1831, we find Elder James Ashley preaching at Gwinnie Utterback's, and the following year a Baptist Church was organized in the (Jtterback neighborhood. And no sooner had Serrill Winchester, Jesse and Joseph Young and Jacob Banta put up their cabins in the same township, when they joined together and built a meeting-house of hewed logs, and awaited the arrival of a preacher to organize the Shiloh Presbyterian Church of that place. This was the first church house built in Union,

But the limits of this work forbid the recital of many things, and among others, a brief sketch of the various church organizations of the county. The aim is to show that the pioneers held to the precepts of the Christian religion, and that while laying the foundations of a material prosperity, they failed not to lay the foundations of the Christian Church.

And, besides that, it may be observed that the Baptist societies took a firmer root on the south side than any others; that the Presbyterians colonized a broad belt through the middle region of the county, while the Methodists took possession of the northwest quarter.

Educational

The pioneers of Johnson County were no less zealous in the cause of education than in matters of religion. Themselves, generally, indifferently educated, they nevertheless felt the want of it keenly, and sought by every means in their power to do better for their own offspring than had been done for them. Schoolhouses were accordingly built whenever the number of children within reach was sufficient to support a little school. These houses were of the most primitive style, and all built of logs. Commonly, a cabin of round logs, sixteen by eighteen feet, was erected, with a huge fire-place in one end; while a log, the entire length, cut out of the side or other end, served as a window. Usually, this window was covered with oiled paper. Benches, made of split logs, served as seats, and boards laid upon pins driven into the wall, with an upward slant, were used as writing tables. One schoolhouse, the most primitive of all, stood in the south side of White River Township. The chimney of this cabin rested upon four posts set in the ground, about six feet apart, in the middle of the cabin. The fire was built on the earth in the center, and the smoke arose to the chimney above of breezeless days. The seats were arranged on the four sides of the fire. Primitive as these houses were, they were nevertheless dedicated to learning. Schoolmasters were employed, and the rudiments of knowledge taught to a generation that proved to be not unworthy sons and daughters of worthy fathers and mothers.

It need be no surprise if wealth increased slowly at first. How else could it be with men who began life in humble circumstances, and who had to fight nature for a living. But there was. nevertheless, an increase. Farms were opened out, and, after a time, a surplus of grain and stock was produced. Markets, however, <vere unhandy, and prices low. Wheat was wagoned to Madison or Lawrenceburg, on the Ohio River, and often sold for 37J cents per bushel. And it was not an uncommon thing that two neighbors joined teams, and one wagon, laden with wheat, carried the surplus of both to the distant market. Corn was fed to hogs, and the hogs driven to the river markets. Think of the hogs fat enough at this day to be marketable, setting out on a hundred miles journey on foot. In the fall of 1824 or 1825, Jacob Lowe came to White River, from Ohio, and bought a drove of hogs. The price paid was $1.25 per hundred, gross weight, but no hogs were weighed. The buyer and seller guessed at the weight, and afterward, when men began to weigh, it was learned that the more experienced buyer had bought his hogs at about 75 cents per hundred. The hogs bought by Lowe were penned on the farm of Jacob Whetzel, in the White River bottom, and men were employed to drive them around the field for several days to train them for driving on the road. After being properly trained, they were driven through to Cincinnati.

The price agreed to be paid by Lowe was high for the times. For many years after that, dressed pork often sold in Johnson County as low as $1 per hundred pounds. But $1.50 seems to have been the prevailing price. Good work horses were worth from $25 to $50 each; milch cows from $5 to $10. Joab Woodruff' bought twenty head of one and two year old cattle, when he came to the county, for $50, which was $2.50 each. Chickens sold for 50 cents to 75 cents per dozen. Fat turkeys, tame or wild, from 15 to 25 cents each; butter, 5 to 8 cents per pound: eggs, 3 to 5 cents per dozen ; saddles of venison, from 25 to 50 cents; maple sugar, 6 J to 10 cents per pound; coon skins wTere worth from 20 to 40 cents, depending on quality ; deer skins, 20 to 30 cents, but about 1824 or 1825, Samuel Herriott bought 500 at 6 cents each. Farm labor was worth from $8 to $10 per month, while 25 cents per hundred was the customary price for cutting the timber and making rails. In 1825, Henry Mussulman made rails for a bushel of meal per hundred, and the meal was worth 25 cents per bushel. Corn brought from 10 to 20 cents per bushel ; oats, from 8 to 12| cents, and ginseng 25 cents per pound. This last article was for many years one of the chief art icles of exportation. All ages and sexes hunted for and dug ginseng with great perseverance and industry, sure of a certain sale 'it' all they could find, at a good price for that day.

Foreign stuffs were of high price. Samuel Herriott bought tour pounds of coffee at 50 cents per pound, as he came through, Madison to this county, in 1820, and when George King moved out in 1823, he paid 62^ cents per pound in the same market. On the authority of the late Thomas Williams, it may be stated that Daniel Taylor, the first merchant in Franklin, sold two and a half pounds of coffee for $1, but the quality is not known. From the books kept by Daniel Mussulman, of his mercantile transactions in 1835 and 1836, it appears that prices ruled at that time as follows: Coffee, 20 cents per pound; tea, $1.50; pepper, 25; salt, 2|; sugar, 12^ to 16§; indigo, 16J per ounce; iron, 10; nails, 9J; sugar kettles, 5 cents per pound; book muslin, 75 cents per yard ; calico, 37 J to 40| cents ; flannels, 75 cents, and blue jeans, 37 J; wall paper (for window shades), 12J cents per yard; bed tickings, 30; domestics, 16 -§, and shirtings, 25 cents; tin cups, 6^ each ; almanacs, same price ; meal sieves, 75 cents ; grass scythes, $1; sickles, 62J to 75; wool cards, 37J to 43; paper of pins, 12^ ; paper of tacks, 25 ; foolscap paper, 25 cents per quire; letter paper, 37 h; saddle blankets, $1.50 each; a "Leghorn bonnet," $2.25, and "trimmings for same," $1.43.

The natural result of men's surroundings was to foster a spirit of industry and economy. The scarcity of money and the great difficulty of getting it, made men thoughtful in spending it. Luxurious living was not thought of, and extravagant expenditures were seldom indulged.

And men were careful to look after their just dues. Not a few instances appear in the old records of claims being filed against the county for 12 J cents, 18f cents and 25 cents. It is in memory that a customer at a store was found on settlement indebted to the merchant in the sum of 18f cents, and had not the money wherewith to pay. The merchant wrote a note which the customer signed and afterward paid.

With the habits of industry and economy appertaining to the pioneers of this county, there could be but one result. They improved the county and accumulated wealth, and their wellimproved farms, and the great material wealth of to-day, are the necessary outcome of all this primitive toil and thrift.