Early Days of Symmes

Early Days in Symmes

Thursday, January 26, 1899

My father, George Irwin, moved to the log house that stands on the farm of R.M. Wickline, in Symmes Township in December 1827. At that time, there were twelve or thirteen families in the township. They were:

• John C. Stewart, at the mouth of John’s creek,
• William McCartney,
• John Nelson,
• W. Burk,
• Solomon Nelson, where
• Thomas Cooper now lives;
• Benjamin Nelson, between the two Buffalo creeks,
• Allen Colby, up on Big Buffalo, Clarkson; on the divide between John’s creek and Buffalo;
• a family or two on Yates fork and one or more on Buckeye.

There was not a road leading to any point. The paths all went over the highest hill of the neighborhood. The entire township was a heavily timbered section of country, with here and there a few acres cleared for gardens. Corn, flax and bread made up the interesting problem for farmers then. As for meat, the woods were full of it. The deer, raccoon, groundhog, opossum, wild turkey, goose and duck. There was no lack on the meat side, but bread was the interesting question. Father had a hominy mortar. Later on, a man over on Cofleetca?? run has a hand mill. Father would take his corn on his shoulder, go over there and grind it. While so engaged, a boy would come with a tin cup and collect his toll.

There was a mill at Marion, and one at Cadmus, but they only ran in wet seasons. Finally, we got a horse mill at Greasy Ridge and one on Crain’s Nest. After that, there was no more dread of hunger. As for drink, the whole woods were full of that too. The country was full of nuts and all kinds of berries, The squirrels had all the nuts they wanted, and were always fat.

As to the wearing apparel, the men had fox and coonskin caps and dressed buckskin for all the rest of the covering. The first pair of shoes I had were made by Elias Justice, out of leather father had tanned.
As for cooking, mother had a large oven, and our mothers knew how to make sweet pone.

Almost everybody had homemade sugar. It could tip off any kind of a meal. As to household furniture, almost everybody had two beds, they stood in the corners of the house, opposite the fireplace. They were the one-leg kind. The head and sides were fastened to the walls, and they were there to stay. The children slept on the floor, and that accounts for me being so hardy, as I slept on the floor till I was 10 years old.

John T. Irwin
Camargo, Ill., Jan. 21

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Thursday, February 2, 1899
I move my second sketch up to 1831. There has been considerable growth since 1827. Several new families have moved in from Virginia. They seem to have the push and go in them. Then there is old, Union Furnace in blast, so the men can earn a little money.

Father hired two men by the day, went with them, chopped wood for 25cts. a cord and made enough money to buy the forty-acre lot where Jesse Vermillion now lives. We were making sugar, right where the house now stands, when a man by the name of Israel Rose, came to get father to go up on Buckeye to old Uncle James Payton’s, to marry him and Polly Payton, as father was a J.P. at that time. The contract was that father should go and say the good words for 75 cents, and that he was to come soon in the morning, so he and his new wife could make sugar enough that day to settle the marriage bill.

That was in February 1831. By this time most families had something to sell, so it was arranged that one man be selected to go with the surplus to the store and exchange it for the comforts of home. That man would ride on one horse and lead a pack horse. On the day the man was to start, the people came flocking in with furs from a wolf, skin to a mink’s or otters, until the pack horse could be fairly loaded down. Besides the furs, the boys and girls would add some ginseng, red pocoon? root and wild turnip.

This agent visited Hanging Rock, Burlington or Gallipolis and exchanged his load for salt, coffee, indigo, alum and copperas. We had our dyestuffs at home, such as white walnut. About this time, the fever and age struck us.

Symmes creek was a long pond, across this region, made by falling of big trees over the stream and damming it in many places. We crossed the creek on these dams for there was no bridge anywhere. This backed up water was a breeder of green scum, and alge. The first remedy for this was lobelia, and if this failed, we resorted to yellow poplar roots or dogwood bark, put in whiskey, and taken three times a day.

That was regarded as a sure pop, and most people really did get well. But as prevention was better than cure, and many families could not buy the medicine, some who believed in witches, would consult those unseen forces. They would have the children run around the house and dog the chills.

There was no doctor closer than Gallipolis. The first one I ever saw was from that place. There was a horse race down south of John’s creek. There was a little clearing for part of the track, but the rest lead through heavy timber. A horse flew the track, lapped the rider around a tree, so to punish the horse, they rode him to Gallipolis for the doctor. He came and that was the first one I ever saw.

[In my last, it should have been Jno. C. Stewart’s house was at the forks of John’s creek, not the mouth.]

J.T. Irwin

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Thursday, February 9, 1899

What I said in my last of obstructions in Symmes may seem strange, but there may be some living who remember there was a special tax levied covering a territory of two miles on each side of the stream. It was districted and the men could work out the tax as they do road tax. So, in the low water time, they could chop and burn till in a few years the obstruction in the stream gave way, and soon the people began to run logs to Cincinnati and bring money back.

The logging and boat gunnel business furnished work for all men who wanted work. Then when the flood of 1847 came, it cleaned Symmes from the head to the mouth. Mills and bridges went with it. There was a bridge where the water mill stands at Waterloo, so, it gathered up and went along, too.

When I closed my last, I was telling about the man who met with a mishap at the horse race. He did not die, yet it was four days before he came to, and was disabled for the rest of his life. While he lay at our house, mother and the mother of the crippled man persuaded father and some others to fell trees across the racetrack, so that put an end to horse racing in that neighborhood.

The next advance in the right direction was to take down the black boards at the forks of the roads where they had the shooting matches. Then the next evil that collapsed was the hoedowns of the community, so the fiddler left the country; and the preacher came in learned of all these bad things.

The first preaching in these back woods were by men who lived at Burlington. They would make a circuit up through the region where Scott Town is, over on to Greasy Ridge, down Sand Fork as far as Patriot; then swing over West to Symmes creek, and along the valley, up one creek and down another, preaching at all the little houses where they could get a crowd.

There was not a church, anywhere off of the river. Patriot was first to build a church. It would take the good man four weeks to make the round. We boys were always glad to see the preacher come for then mother would be sure to have something good to eat.

There were hardly any professors of religion in the country then. But the people were a good-hearted set and always went to preaching without pistols in their hip pockets. The grandest reformation that ever occurred in that region was when Rev. J.M. Kelly came and gave his first exhortation in a log barn at old Uncle Billy Pearce’s about a mile west of Arabia. That was the beginning of the glorious revival, and as I remember, it was the greatest event of his life.

There was a mighty hallowed wave went out from that place, and it rolled on and on, until it was caught up on Symmes and Johns creel and inundated the whole land. Its effects are still seen, and that was more than 60 years ago. Is there anyone living besides Bro. Kelly and myself, who was there? If so, let him hold up his hand in the next Register.

J.T. Irwin

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Thursday, February 16, 1899

The first school in Symmes was about 1830. It was taught in a little cabin house, on the north bank of Johns Creek, one fourth of a mile from the mouth. A man came from Gallia County to get the school.

He proposed to teach for $12 a month, and board among his scholars. There was trouble to get twelve children, so as to make it a dollar apiece each parent was to pay. So, the few parents that wanted school scoured the whole region to get enough scholars. Finally, the quota was drummed up, but they had to draw on Aid and Mason Townships and Walnut in Gallia, to help Symmes out with its school.

The cabin was a rude affair. There was a clapboard door with a big crack in it to furnish light. No loft above, only the bare roof that rattled with the rain and whizzed with the wind. My oldest sister was one of the pupils. The next schoolhouse was on Buffalo, close to where Rehoboth Church stands. The next was on the north bank of Johns, about a half mile east of what was called Devil’s Den. Then, old Symmes began to come to the front. Some of the children came three miles to school. My father lived where James Wiseman now lives. Think of a girl going all that distance through woods and across streams and not miss a day!

I was then big enough to drive oxen, and had to work hauling sawlogs, and only went to school when the weather was too bad to drive oxen. My school days were put in over on Buffalo. My father went over there and arranged that I go to school for fifteen days, and board at the late J.L. Armstrong’s. He lived half a mile east of the schoolhouse.

For my board, I was to go to a mile east and feed 60 head of cattle every day, night and morning, giving them hay and two bushels of wheat; so, you see I made five miles of walk each day, beside yoking the oxen and feeding. So, I got a little start in spelling. I was more inclined to cypher than anything else, so the oldest girl of the family taught me how to make figures, and to this day, I am better at that than spelling or writing.

My wife taught me to read, and the late W.A. Belcher taught me to write, in war times, when I went into the army. I had to get him to read my letters and do my writing, so one day he said there is no use of that – he could teach me to write in a day. So, I went at it, and in a week, I could write well enough for my wife to read what I wrote.

But I have wondered from my text. About the time of my fifteen school days, the law came into effect, and oh, how some of the people who had property and no children did kick! But the hewed log schoolhouse went up all the same, and our township forged ahead in the matter of education.

I spoke in my last of the wonderful revival at the old barn. The next one was in the fifties. It was a Camp meeting at Flag Spring, Gallia County. The whole country came together. It was a wonderful time. Men fell as dead men under the pressure of the Holy Ghost. There was no Sunday excursion. There was not a buggy on the ground. All things were common and all was peace.

John T. Irwin

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Thursday, February 23, 1899

In the year 1830, there came a man with a fine wagon and matched horses. He was a Yankee clock peddler. For the want of roads, he left his wagon at our house, and went afoot one day, but did not make a sale. He asked $40 apiece for his clocks, but said if three persons would buy of him, he could sell the three clocks for $100. So, father, Billy Burke and either J.C. Stewart or one of the Nelsons went in and bought the three clocks for $100. The one my father got is at Abner Wiseman’s in Camargo, Ill., and is keeping time to this day.

In 1834, I commenced business on my own account. Father had a mill between Johns Creek and where Arabia now is, and he attended to that. He set apart ten acres which I plowed, and mother and two sisters help plant and hoe, and we had a fine crop, the horse that did the work cost $37.50, and I so improved him that I sold him for $50 after the crop was laid by.

There was a little store between Etna Furnace and Cannon’s Creek, so mother and I would go down there to trade. We would take shelled corn, butter, eggs, chickens and homemade sugar. We went once a week.

The late Samuel W. Dempsey lived in a hewed house on the banks of Cannon’s Creek. At the Cold Spring farm which Col. Gray now own she had a little Tanyard. We used to stop there on our way home for mother to rest. The next house was on John’s Creek, where John Stevens lived. Next was William Hall, and then came Billy Burk, and next to him, our house. I am speaking of the ones on the pathway.

John Stewart had the first wagon in that region, and my father the second. It was made by the late Lewis Doughty, who owned the ship axe spoken of by The Register some time ago, and which A. N. Stewart donated to the relic room. I saw it many a time, as Uncle John Doughty lived on father’s land when he first came to Ohio.

Now, in conclusion, let me say that it was the little schoolhouse just west of the Johns Creek Chapel where I was converted, and since then my song has been “Glory Halleluiah.” Those are the easiest words I can say in our class meeting today.

When I remember the good old days in Symmes and Ironton, I feel young again. When I read Pilgrim’s description of the 40 years ago Watch Night meeting in Ironton, I could almost imagine I was there once more. those names he mentioned are familiar to me. When I went to Ironton, I used to stop with Mose Davis and go with him to prayer meeting; and we always had a good time.

John T. Irwin

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Thursday, March 2, 1899

I am not writing a history- only talking of old times. I remember when they were pushing the building of the Iron Railroad with great vigor, some man came out to our neighborhood to get some pork to feed laborers on the road. So, father and I agreed to butcher on Thursday and deliver on Friday. But it rained and we did not butcher till Friday, intending to make the round trip on Saturday. So, at 3 a.m., we started with three 4 horse teams.

The roads were very bad. We drove from the hill grocery on the divide between Cannons and Storms creek, till we struck the Vesuvius Road leading to Conway town. Then up to where the road crossed the hill, then down to Lagrange Furnace. By this time, darkness overtook us, and we had to hire a man with two horses to help us, and he was acquainted with the roads.

They were grading from there in, and so there was no Ironton at the time. We had to pull to Hecla landing, to unload and we didn’t get there till 1 o’clock in the morning. Think of it, 22 hours from Johns creek to the Ohio river! We stuck in the mud, broke down and had all sorts of bad luck.

At that time, all was a corn field where Ironton now lays. No bright city as we see it. Only think of the push and go-ahead men that hold of it then. I remember all the charter members of the corporation that built Ironton – knew them personally. Who could believe all that I am saying about it who have not had a chance to know about it for themselves?

The object of my sketches is that the present generation may get a faint idea if what the early men and women had to endure to turn the wilderness into an abode of civilization – how much they risked and suffered in driving out the wolf and rattlesnake, chopping down the forest, making roads, building churches and schoolhouses, and molding the community for good. They were an honest, industrious go-ahead set of men, think how they fashioned the community for good, morally, financially, politically and religiously.

Only think where Lawrence County stands when it comes to the test of education. It is away ahead and no mistake about it. It owes much to the Register for its high standing today, for the Register had always been in the right on the point of lifting up humanity.

I have the right to know for I was the second man to take it in Old Symmes and have been taking it ever since. Then we would get on Tuesday (four days after it was printed) if the water was not too high. It had to go by way of Burlington, then the mail road from there to Jackson.

The mail went out every Tuesday. Our post office was over in Gallia County, and thither we went once a week. After a while, the mail came twice a week. For a long time, the Register was the only paper we took. Now, out here in Illinois we take nine. We get the Register in Friday morning at 7 o’clock, and here we are 400 miles west of Ironton. This is a great change from the olden time.

We still have a thirst for Lawrence County news, and when we see a letter in it from a Lawrence County man, we always read it first thing, no difference if he is in Cuba or some other out of the way place.

So many things come up in my mind that I fear I may weary your readers, so I will say goodbye for the present, with much love for all the Register force.

John T. Irwin

(We certainly thank Mr. Irwin for his frank and instructive letters. They have been widely read. One prominent citizen of Ironton remarked to us that he had read them all and found them very enjoyable. – Editor, Ironton Register)