Fremont City (part 2 of 2)

Very few of the villagers were close Sabbath observers. This is almost universally the rule of pioneer settlements. Those people who have persuaded themselves that the commandment setting apart a day of rest has been downtrodden by constant violation in these latter years, and that the world is daily becoming more Godless, will find in the history of Ohio communities, with but few exceptions, a refutation of their opinions. In Lower Sandusky, sixty years ago, a few of the residents observed the Sabbath, but a weekly day of rest, and ' worship, and thanksgiving was not on the calendar of the business men or an influential proportion of the citizens. Now, as a rule, the Sabbath is observed; disregard is the exception. When Rev. Jacob Bowlus, an ardent Methodist, came here in 1822, he was very unpopular. The account given by his son, at a pioneer meeting a few years ago, is full of interest, for it reflects not only the moral status of the village at that time, but also the impolitic method of the preacher in his hasty zeal to reform the place in which he was a very new resident. People then, as now, became indignant at interference with their private affairs, especially so when interference touched their method of living. Mr. Bowlus, in his address in 1878, said:

I was with father when he came here in 1822. The first Sabbath after our arrival he thought it was his duty as a minister of the Gospel to use his influence to have the Sabbath properly observed. He went around town and told the people what he came here for - to live among them and have them live as Christian people. He went from house to house and from store to store, and induced the people to close their places of business and observe the Sabbath. Previous to that, Sunday had been to them like any other day. They did probably more business on Sunday than on other days. It is true, however, that some permitted smuggling goods through the back doors. Father noticed this, and talked to them about it frequently, but did not succeed in preventing the practice altogether.

Several families were considered pretty rough folks. Among them, some of you remember old Mr. Dew and family. A man lived with this old man Dew named Sanford Maines. Father met him down in the village after Sabbath was over, and said to him: "Is your name Sanford Maines?" He told him it was. "They tell me," said father, "you are a set of horse thieves, and I warn you to take care.'* "What!" exclaimed Maines, apparently surprised. Father repeated the same words and passed on. The next night father's buggy was hauled back of where the court-house now stands, where there was a thicket of hazel bushes. A chip fire was started and the vehicle burned up. Many such instances occurred in those days. It was a wild country indeed.

The forefathers of our city occasionally inflicted summary punishment upon those who trespassed upon the laws of society. One characteristic instance is remembered : A man by the name of Avery, some time during the year 1820, stole an axe. He was arrested, and, there being no jail to confine him in till he could be tried, the citizens decided to take him down to a locust tree about where the Fremont & Indiana railroad engine house now stands, and give him a sound thrashing. They

The practice of stealing fire-wood is shown by the records of the village justice, to be a very old one. An eccentric old man by the name of Hawkins, father of the miller, poet, preacher and actor, spent a portion of the time from 1816 to 1820 in Lower Sandusky. He was interested in the mill with his son, Thomas L. Hawkins, and occasionally missed slabs from the log yard. Being convinced that they went for fire-wood, he prepared some slabs by boring, and then loading them with tremendous charges of powder. The next morning there was such an explosion, in a log-cabin near the mill, as to take the gable end and a part of the end wall out of it, besides frightening and somewhat injuring the inmates. This was considered dangerous, and although the man owned up to stealing the slabs, Hawkins was arrested for an attempt upon his life. The old man, when arraigned before the justice, told all he had done, and, in justification, said his slabs were green, and wouldn't burn without some powder to help them, and he prepared his own slabs just as he pleased, and if they didn't quit stealing, he blow them all to .

Hawkins was a party to another novel lawsuit of the period. He kept a canoe in the mill pond. A Frenchman one day took the canoe to hunt ducks, and after landing it on the other side, left his gun in the canoe, and went after plums. The old man waded the river, and took the canoe, fired off the Frenchman's gun, and paddled for the other shore. Fastening his canoe, he hastened to Esquire Harrington, a justice of the peace, and had the Frenchman summoned, to the tune of fifteen dollars damages for taking one canoe. But the old man found his match.

| Frenchy came, and laid in a counter claim to same amount, in about this style: "Mr. Hawkin owe me for shoot my gun one I time for noting, fifteen dollars." The justice suggested that that was a pretty high charge for one load of powder and I shot. "Sacre," said the Frenchman, "suppose he sharge me ver' high, I sharge him ver' high, too, aha! dat not right, sare."

Whatever may have been the reputation | inflicted upon the town by a coterie of ! rakes, outlaws and swindlers who were not citizens but only transient sojourners, there was much virtue here. People were generally hospitable and generous, honest in dealing with each other, and united 1 heartily in the amenities, and sympathized with each other in the asperities of border life.

Postal Facilities

We are unable to say just when postal facilities were provided for Lower Sandusky, but it is altogether probable that military routes were established in the winter of 1812-13 when the stockade was built. After the war a postoffice was es- | tablished, and according to our best in- | formation Morris A. Newman was commissioned postmaster. Three mail routes I were established - one up the river through Fort Seneca to Delaware, another east to ! Norwalk, and a third west to Fort Meigs, j During the war mail-carriers were in great personal danger. Some of the Indians were hostile, and the mail-bag was a tempting object of plunder. The first mail-carrier of whom we have any personal knowledge, was a man named i Munger, whose route was from here to Fort ! Meigs. One mile from the fort he was attacked by a party of Indians, but made his escape with but slight wounds, leaving the mail-bag and his horse to the red robbers. The thick woods and swamp sheltered him while he travelled four days, as he supposed toward Fort Stephenson.

At the termini of his route he was supposed to be dead, or taken captive, but on the fifth day lie made his appearance at Lower Sandusky, having wandered as far north as Port Clinton on the lake shore.

During the early stages of the war it was sometimes necessary to give the mail- j carriers a military escort. This was the j mission of Colonel Ball's detail when at- i tacked by a party of Indians about one j mile south of Fort Stephenson, in 1813, a full account of which is given elsewhere.

It is difficult to realize the perils and hardships of the early mail-carriers. The most difficult and dangeious route was from here to Perrysburg (Fort Meigs). There was no road, and the carrier was guided by blazes or scars made on the trees. The route was from Lower Sandusky down the river through the Whittaker farm, to where two large white oaks were blazed. These two trees were solid guides pointing to the thick, swampy forest westward. Muskallonge was forded some distance from the mouth, and from there to the site of Elmore was a tortuous path, at places scarcely wide enough for a horse to pass through. From the Portage River at Elmore, a crooked path led to Fort Meigs. After leaving Mrs. Whittaker's, there was not an inhabitant on the whole route. After Munger had been robbed, it was difficult to get any one to travel this route. In spring or winter time, when the ice was breaking, the journey could be performed only on foot. Isaac Knapp, a young man of distinguished bravery, who had located here in 1814, undertook the perilous contract. He associated with himself his lion-hearted brother Walter, who carried it some of the time, Walter being selected chiefly on account of his lightness of body, and consequent ability to walk lightlyover their ice or frozen crust, which would b/eak through with a heavy man or horse, and make ' progress extremely difficult. It needed the Knapp sort of spirit to travel this lonely path during that dangerous period. One day, just before leaving Fort Meigs, Isaac Knapp saw from the fort two men who had just started out, waylaid and murdered by a party of Indians. With this terrible scene fresh on his mind, he, a few hours afterward, shouldered the mailbag, and set off into the forest- By a devious route he evaded the watching redskins, and safely performed the journey.

The Knapps had hearts for any fate. Is?.ac became a highly esteemed citizen of the town, and an associate judge of the county. Walter also located here in later years, where he raised a family and died. These two brothers were the heroes of a romantic adventure which illustrates their character, and proves their fitness for the public service performed during times which tried men's souls:

Shortly after the War of 1812 closed, Walter Knapp, for speaking disrespectfully of the British Government, was arrested and imprisoned in Sandwich, Upper Canada, a town opposite Detroit. The crime charged to him was punishable by fine, and his brothers James and Isaac prepared to pay the fine, and went to Detroit to await the trial of Walter, pay his fine for him and bring him away. The court sat at Sandwich at this lime, but, contrary to usage, the trial of Walter was not brought on, and the court adjourned leaving him in jail where he might stay another year. The brothers, James and Isaac, therefore resolved on rescuing him, for he was badly treated, and might die before trial day. They found friends enough in Detroit who were willing to go over and assist in the enterprise, but upon consultation it was thought best for only two to go over, as that number would not excite suspicion. At about io o'clock at night Isaac applied to the ferryman for the use of his canoe for three hours to go to Spring Wells, a place on the American side, but the suspicious Frenchman refused to let him have it until he promised three dollars for its use, and left ninety dollars as a pledge for its safe return inside of three hours. It was a good-sized pine canoe, light, and easily propelled.

At a little after io o'clock that night Isaac Knapp left the American shore at Detroit. Thev selected a landing place on the Canada side under a high bank near a church, whose steeple towered up visible in the gloomy sky. After landing and securing their canoe the brothers proceeded a mile through the streets to the jail, which they intended to enter, with the aid of saws, through a window. All was dark and quiet. The work at the window was commenced but a littie while when the saw broke. They then tried the front door of the jail, and found it locked and immovable, and impregnable. They then proceeded to the rear of the jail yard, which was enclosed with pickets twelve feet high, set in the ground. A istrip of scantling was spiked to the pickets about ten feet from the ground to hold them parallel at the top. By a run and a leap they found they could reach and hold to the scantling. After throwing over a sledgehammer, which they anticipated would be necessary for their purpose, they leaped the pickets and went to the back door of the jail hall. This door was not locked. They had learned from one McDonald, a tavern keeper in Detroit, the plan of the jail, and where the jailor hung the keys. The prison was on one side of the hall, and the room right opposite the jail door was occupied by the jailor and his family, and behind the door of the jailor's room hung the prison keys. Walter was awake, and James went to the prison door and whispeied to his brother, who informed him where the keys hung, and that the largest key was the one to his door. James entered the jailor's apartment into perfect darkness, and began feeling for the keys, but was some time in finding the largest one. Isaac stood in the door of the room. James, in fumbling for the keys, unfortunately knocked a large bunch of heavy keys from their suspension, which fell rattling like a log-chain upon the floor, rousing the jailor, who instantly sprang to his feet and exclaimed: "What in the name of God is that? Who's here?" Isaac Knapp, guided by the sound, sprang directly in front of the jailor as he stood at the bedside, and said, in a low, determined voice, "Not a word, sir. We have come for a prisoner; we must have him; and if you utter one word of alarm I will dispatch you in a moment!" At this the jailor's wife and children were terrified, but the same command, backed by the command of the jailor himself, to save his life, soon quieted them. Meantime the key was found, and James and Walter were at the door of the jailor's apartment saying: ' ' We are here." Isaac followed the sound and reached the door, joined his brothers, and proceeded to scale the pickets at a different point and over into an alley. As they were going through the yard, which was planted with potatoes, Walter lost his bundle of clothes, and began to search for them. Just then the jailor gave the shout for alarm, and they heard numerous voices at the front door of the jail. There was no time for hunting old clothes in the dark, and James whispered "come," and instantly they scaled the pickets. Isaac siezed Walter by the collar, and with a bound threw him over to James, and with another scaled the

[ pickets, bounding almost at the same time into the | alley. Walter was weak from confinement and ill- | ness, and the brothers siezed each arm, emerged i from the alley into the main road or street, which led | to the church steeple, under which they knew their ! canoe was, a mile distant. By this time the alarm | became loud, and the inhabitants were hurrying to j the jail from every quarter. They met many, but I when out of sight made such speed as permitted ! Walter to touch ground only once in a while. They reached the canoe, but Walter was exhausted, and i they laid him in the bottom of it and shoved off.

! James and Isaac took their seats at the oars with j their backs towards the Detroit shore, struck in the i oars as strong and active men would in such a case,

| till they supposed they were in the middle of the river, and out of sight and hearing from the Canadian shore. At this point Walter, who had been rendered breathless and fainted in the race, came to, and | told them to give him a paddle, as he was able to 1 steer. The Judge, in narrating this adventure, said j that it seemed to him as if the canoe leaped out of j the water at every stroke of the oars. At the middle of the river they slacked their exertions to rest a little and take observations. They soon gained breath and found their direction, and then pulled leisurely to the landing from which they had started. Isaac's ninety dollars would be forfeited if he kept the canoe over three hours, and he found the Frenchman, who hoped for the forfeit, loth to wake, but finally succeeded to make him acknowledge that he was awake, receive the canoe, and refund tiie ninety dollars, less three, the agreed price for the use of the craft. After half an hour spent at this place and in reaching John Halmer's tavern, they found it lacked five minutes of two hours from the time they left the landing on the American side.

With the Judge himself, and others who knew the facts, it is still a mystery how Isaac got Walter over the pickets of that jail yard; and this rescue was considered one of the most daring and successful of ; Northern adventures. The Judge said: "I was in Major Holmes' command on the Thames when we were one hundred and fifty surrounded by about five ' thousand British, and yet entering that jail in the j dark was more trying to my nerves than that battle. But as soon as the jailor waked and spoke, and l had something to do, my courage and coolness came to me at once. I was cool and determined. I did not ! wish to injure the jailor, but I had determined to save my brother, and we did."*

Portage Riveras formerly, at El more, where there was now a solitary cabin, occupied by the family of a Mr. Harris, who kept the mail-carriers over night. Hon. Homer Everett gives the following account of his father's experience while in the service:

From two to three days, often four, were required to perform the trip. I have heard my father frequently mention his disagreeable experiences in this service, being often compelled to camp out between Maumee and Portage River at night and alone. He told of a fallen hollow sycamore tree which he used as a protection on these occasions, when the state of the roads, or accident prevented him from reaching Portage River on his return trip, which frequently happened. If on foot, the mail, and a blanket made into a pack, were slung upon his shoulders, with bread and meat for the journey, - and with a hatchet and knife in his belt, he would set out. If on horseback, which the roads permitted only a part of the year, a more ample outfit was carried, and grain for the animal. At the sycamore tree the axe, steel and flint aided to build him a good fire in front, which kept off cold and wolves. The wolf's howl near by was familiar music then, and he was waked in the morning, and found a path beaten in the snow around him by the feet of these prowlers. He was always anxious to have a good road from Lower Sandusky to Fort Meigs, and lived to be eminently useful and influential in having one made.

One of the old mail-carriers on the route up the river to Delaware was named Brush. Samuel Cochran was stationed near the mouth of Wolf Creek, in Ballville township, to ferry the mail-carriers over

The route from the east, opened soon after the war closed, came from Norwalk across Strong's ridge to Amsden's corners (Bellevue); from thence by a crooked path through the southern part of Green Creek township to the old Rumery place and thence to Lower Sandusky. A fourth route was established during the period which we are describing, from Lower Sandusky to Venice on the bay shore.

After the Maumee road was completed a stage line was established, which carried east and west mails. Mails from the south were brought down the river on horseback for a number of years afterward.

Harvey J. Harman succeeded Newman as postmaster, and after his death in 1834, the office was placed in charge of Grant F. Forgerson. Jesse S. Olmsted succeeded. Homer Everett, who had charge of the office during Olmsted's administration, was commissioned postmaster in 1837. His successors have been Benjamin F. Meeker, Wilson M. Stark, Isaac M. Keeler, L. E. Boren. We are unable to conclude the list, no record having been kept. George Krebs is the present efficient incumbent.

THE first organization of local government on the soil of Sandusky county followed in consequence of an order directing the erection of the township of Sandusky, in August, 1815. The first page of the record has been torn out of the musty old book and is destroyed. On the cover of the book is written in a large, clear hand:

Israel Harrington was the first justice of the peace. The other officers elected August 15 were: Isaac Lee, clerk; Isaac Lee and William Ford, fence viewers; Jeremiah Everett, Randall Jerome, and Israel Harrington, trustees; William Andrews and Morris A. Newman, overseers of the poor; David Gallagher, treasurer; Henry Disbrow and Charles B. Fitch, appraisers of property; Thoda A. Rexford and William Hoddy, constables.

There seemed to be great unanimity at this election. None of the candidates voted for or received less than twenty-six votes, and four of them received the full twenty-eight. Partisan bitterness was not yet born and an election was much like a I council of friends. It seems, too, that it was a council in which all were pretty much of one mind.

The first appraisement of property was made by Charles B. Fitch and Daniel Hill, May 23, 1816. Only eight houses were appraised, as follows: Morris A. Newman, one, $250; Moses Nichols, one, $100; Israel Harrington, one, $300; Aaron Forgerson, one, $200; Randall Jerome, three, $450; Thomas Brown, one, $15°.

At the October election of 1816 thirtythree votes were cast. Since very few of the citizens whose names are given lived beyond the present corporate limits of the present city of Fremont, we give the poll as a census of the cluster of homes about old Fort Stephenson, just beginning to assume the appearance of a village: