How did we get Richmond?

Franklin and Union counties were formed a bit earlier, in 1804. But as the treaties with native tribes began to take hold and warp out of shape, settlers moved farther from the Ohio Valley into areas closer to the flatlands.

One area, in what would be Wayne County, in 1802, David Hoover and four others traveled from Ohio to inspect the Whitewater in search of a suitable place in which to live. By spring, they had found it.

Most of the early settlers in Wayne County were Quakers who had migrated from North Carolina, ostensibly to escape the social pain of dealing with slave owners. The Quakers took root in Indiana.

The Indiana Magazine of History:

Hoover's party came north across the Kanawha River HERE to the Ohio and set up at Cincinnati. Naturally it took time for the settlement to move into Indiana, and it was not until 1806 when structures were erected. Originally, the Hoover party had planned to settle in Ohio, which was a state. Indiana would not be a state until 1816.

Others who settled in that area were Richard Rue, George Holman and Thomas McCoy. It's difficult to fine-tune their connections or where they came from. In 1806, Andrew Hoover entered several sections of land into the federal register and later that year, John Smith built a cabin that most likely was the first permanent house in present-day Richmond, south of what is now U.S. 40.

Jeremiah Cox claimed to be the first permanent Quaker in Richmond.

After a fashion, immigration and settlement was rapid. By 1812, Richmond was a thriving post.

The two principal reasons for the migration of the Friends appears to have been a desire for economic betterment and opposition to slavery. Stephen Grellet, a famous Quaker preacher, visited North Carolina in 1800 and described conditions there. Many were living on “poor, sandy, and unhealthy soil.” 

Some had migrated to Ohio to try to find suitable places in which to live. Of slavery he said: “Another great inducement to Friends to wish for a change of their residence, was the great sufferings of the poor slaves around them.” 

The slavery issue is a story of manifold proportions and connects strongly to another Richmond feature -- its track as part of the Underground Railroad that focused on the Coffin home in Fountain City. BLOG ITEM HERE

This is a blunt blog item and barely skims the surface of what's available on the settlement of Indiana. The Richmond area is loaded with interesting historical factoids, trivia and fascinating research.

A GRELLET LINK

Canal stuff, generally interesting

 There are several blog items on this site that deal with the canals that ribboned across Indiana in the early 1800s. Generally, the claim is that the canals were bankrupt by 1840 and out of business 20 years later.

This photo from a state government canal history site, was probably taken around 1855, and shows how wide the trench was at the time. 

It's not a third that wide now. The photo appears to be somewhat near the aqueduct, which can be seen in the distance. That would put it just downstream from Metamora.

This clip from the Brookville American from January 1857 suggests that the people who did commerce on the canal weren't giving up without a fight. It's generally conceded that not much was being hauled by canal boat by then. The railroad was just next to it.

Most likely, shipping was quite local, perhaps from Brookville to Laurel. Not much farther because the canal wasn't useful by then.

As of this writing 2022, the village of Metamora and the state DNR have not replaced the boat that has fascinated tourists for a couple of decades. The Ben Franklin III was doomed to time.

The canal and the area around it in Metamora have been a rather constant drain on resources over the last 40 years. The place was old when the state made it into a memorial. 

A Whitewater Canal friends Facebook group exists. 

Skeeter Sleet

George Wayne Sleet played basketball at Connersville High School in the early 1930s, leading them to Regional championships in 1932 and 1933 and earning all-tournament honors at the Indianapolis state finals at Butler Fieldhouse.

George Wayne Sleet was, as they described him at the time, "a flashy Negro." He was colored. Less desirable names applied if you want to go there. 

Sleet is not particularly important to the history of Fairfield or Franklin County. His teams played against all the teams from around there, usually in the Sectionals at the cramped gym in Connersville or Rushville. They would have gone to Brookville or Liberty every year or so. Sleet played against Springfield in the Sectional finals (my dad's last high school game).

Sleet's credentials are marginally important. He averaged around 15 points a game in the contests that mattered, maybe more on some nights. His ability to move quickly gave him the right to be called "Skeeter."

He did not attend college but played industrial league ball after school, worked in a factory in Connersville and ... had his own orchestra.  

I came across Skeeter's band when I found an old ad from 1941 that said the Skeeter Sleet's Colored Orchestra was playing a venue north of Brookville. He showed up in other ads, other places, often known as Baron Sleet.

He was called Wayne in some other sports columns about his game. A writer from the Indy Star said Sleet was one of the 10 best players in Connersville history, and that took some doing for a team with two state titles and dozens of college-able players.

Connersville was among the few teams that embraced integration in its sports teams, as far back as 1910. Had Sleet lived in Indianapolis or Gary, he'd have been required to attend one of the segregated high schools -- which were not permitted to play in the state tournament by Arthur Trester, the IHSAA commissioner who was a known racist and member of the Ku Klux Klan. That ban ended in 1942.

I can't find anything that evaluates Skeeter's music, or which instrument he played. He would have been in his 20s when he formed the orchestra. What would they have played? Where did he learn music? Most likely, the band was told to eat dinner in the kitchen but to look good on the bandstand.

His basketball antics are more in evidence: 

The Rushville Republican, in describing Skeeter's game: "Displaying a perfect definition of the word 'elusive,' little Skeeter Sleet was the thorn which punctured Rushville's dream of a regional championship. Connersville's dusky shadow flitted here, there and everywhere to roll up 17 points for the Spartan cause. In breaking up Rushville plays and in sneaking up from nowhere to get a held ball out of an unwary Lion, Sleet also excelled."

Sleet died in 1997 at age 83. 

1913 -- even more fun than factual

 The origin of this blog was attached quite firmly to flooding on the Whitewater River.

The flooding created a need for a dam and the rest is history.

But some history just defies even logic of the time. In the days immediately after the Great Flood of 1913, any story that could be told was as good as any they hadn't dreamed up yet. If the story was good enough, it made sense.

Nothing made sense in the 1913 flood. The scope of the calamity defies human comprehension.

But an article on March 27, 1913, in the Richmond (IN) Palladium-Item, is frighteningly hysterical in the face of more than a century of knowing what was real and what was not. To be fair, some of this likely was factual.

• Laurel was not wiped out.
• Nobody from Metamora died in the flood.
• The story about the rockets over the river is too funny to imagine.
• There were fatalities in Brookville. One family was washed away.
• People who did not live in the valley did not abandon their homes. They made room for others.
• Getting from Liberty to Brookville on the old winding road WAS impossible for a time. On the best of days, it was a challenge.

The headline:

BROOKVILLE

IS CUT OFF

FROM WORLD

LIBERTY, Ind., March 26 (11 p.m.) – Brookville's inhabitants are quarantined tonight in the court house and the school house and the school building.

Even those residents of the higher section of the city, which has not been touched by the flood waters of the Whitewater River, have abandoned their homes to take up quarters in the two public buildings to conserve the scanty fuel supply.

Four people living in the lower section of the town are known to be dead and a dozen are missing and have been in all probability, drowned. The town is in absolute darkness.

Will Ketner, a farmer, living seven miles north of Brookville, telephoned to Liberty tonight that all today unsuccessful efforts had been made to shoot a line across the river with rockets to send provisions to the river besieged townspeople. Only one bridge is standing in Franklin County and it is impossible to enter Brookville. Every house in the lower section of the town has been washed away.

At Metamora, Franklin County, only three houses are standing. The rest have been washed down the river. The loss of life there cannot be estimated. It is believed the entire town of Laurel has been wiped out.

OUR INITIAL BLOG ENTRY ON 1913.

June 1923

 

Fairfield: Once, close to perfect

 

February 1916, or the year of the Indiana centennial celebration.

The honest people of Fairfield decided to make it pretty clear where they stood on matters of good and evil. This was printed in the Brookville newspaper.

*

“Fairfield is indeed “on the map,” even if we hav'nt a post office. No where in the state can be found a village of same population with so many “societies” that make for the betterment of mankind. The F. & A.M. No. 98 … the Eastern Star, the I.O.O.F. … the daughters of Rebekah, the Knights of Pythias, the Pythian Sisters, the Red Men, the Daughters of Pocahontas.”

(whew).

This photo has zilch to do with the story.

But wait, there's more!

“These noble orders are in a flourishing condition and we hail with delight the many good deeds and kindness with which the aforementioned orders use their finances for the relief of those who are sick and in distress.”

More plaudits about the Methodist Episcopal Church and its auxiliaries.

“Our pastor, Rev. O. Polhemus, is ever mindful of the responsibilities which rest upon him and is ever admonishing his people in the paths of right. An earnest, whole-hearted co-operation on the part of this people will make largely for the good of the community.”

Everybody chip in, please.

“The Ladies Aid Society meets every Thursday afternoon and is ever alert in looking after the financial interests of the church. The Woman's Foreign Missionary Society must not be overlooked, for it is doing a noble work in the field of Christian Endeavor.”

And last but not least …

“... is our Sunday School. Under the leadership of a clean Christian man as superintendent, assisted by teachers who have at heart the best interests of the school, we have developed into an organization whose achievement has been sounded far beyond the borders of the county.”

In summary:

“The year 1916 has started out with bright prospects for a greater and grander work (citing increased attendance at church) … there are many parents and some children not yet identified in this work. This should not be.”

So, scolding people for being heathens evidently, the writer claims “parents are negligent of their full duty if they fail to share this influence with their children. An urgent invitation is extended to all such and a royal welcome awaits you.”

But … and this is important:

“In our community, like all others, there is some friction, as some of those not identified with church and Sunday school work are ever ready to hurl an epithet at the organization of some member thereof, using the pet phrase “hypocrite”.

“Life is too short to bandy words and spend much time with a dissenter. We have only to turn to the records of the Juvenile Courts to show that the long train of delinquents are largely not of Sunday school training, but come from homes where there is no religious training of any kind, and usually from homes of dissipation.”

And there you have it …

signed ***

Speedy and the 1916 Brookville baseball team

- Brookville Democrat 

Over various searches of interesting people from the old town or from the olden days, we stumble over new sources here and there. One of those people is Fred H. Miller, a long-ago semi-famous local guy who played part of a season in the Major Leagues.

Miller, a lefthanded pitcher who was born in Fairfield, spent some of the 1910 season with the Brooklyn Superbas, who years later were renamed the Dodgers. Miller's career was short, and his professional resume is – at best – mediocre. But it existed.

He managed to come back to the Whitewater Valley in 1914 and became a member of the Brookville semipro team, a team that was not unlike thousands of them across the country: Weekend warriors who gathered, formed a league and went full-tilt into the summer with as much ambition as they could muster. They took the game seriously, and so did the fans.

The team during those years was owned and operated by a Cincinnati businessman named "Judge" R.L. Head. Head seems to be a quite interesting person who was involved in 1910 with the imaginary concept of "wireless telephone service."

But the Judge was a doer and a mover. He knew people and he apparently had some extra walkin'-around cash. He drove an Oakland. He knew enough people to get his own Brookville team scheduled for games where the Reds played. 

The 1916 Brookville team revealed itself in a newspaper article in May of that year. Speedy Miller was the team's first baseman and had been with the team for a couple of seasons. By then, his pitching career was in the rear-view mirror.

Two of Miller's teammates were members of the 1913 Covington Blue Sox, a minor league professional team that came within a half-season of lasting long enough to become a major league operation. The term "flop" applies well here.

The Blue Sox are not terribly important in the long version and are marginally interesting in the short term. Although, it brings the Fairfield-Brookville area a touch closer to the Big Time. If you dig deep enough, you find a story. The story grows.

The photo shows Miller in the top row, second from the left.

The guy in the front row, left, is Ed Cefalu, who was one of the Blue Sox players Another pitcher, Ed Sanford, was their star 'twirler' for part of the season, although he didn't pitch the whole summer. He isn't in the photo. Pffffffffffft. 

Semipro baseball in the olden days was a town event. Fans followed the team quite closely. They passed the hat.

There was less baseball in 1917-18 due to men being conscripted into the military for World War I. The work-or-fight orders were fairly clear. Fred H. Miller and many others show up as men who did county road work. Speedy was a farmer and likely was exempted from the Army due to rules about "essential" occupations. 

One event strikes as especially fun -- The May 7, 1903, edition of the Brookville paper tells us that "Speedy" struck out 21 batters in high school games against Aurora and Lawrenceburg. But he also plunked four batters.

Miller did pitch the 1907 season at Jackson, Miss., according to a news report. 

This is from 1906. Later, he left the Pittsburgh organization and joined the Brooklyn franchise. Lefthanders who threw hard were always in demand, even if they were raw talent. The Pirates were among the most successful teams in the majors in the 1904-10 era. One report from May 1910 says the Superbas bought Speedy's contract from Chattanooga for $1,200. Two months later, he was in the majors, throwing nearly 7 innings in his debut against the Pirates. 

Speedy's last big-league game was in August of 1910. The score was 14-0. 

THE SPEEDY MILLER BLOG ITEM IS HERE

THE 1919 REDS BLOG ITEM IS HERE

^^

THE BLUE SOX

In 1913, a group of sports enthusiasts sought to create another professional league. But the Federal League of 1913 found itself more ambitious than practical, which had Covington in the crosshairs of the process. The Federal wanted to cut into a market in Cincinnati, since the established Reds worked in a town that was feverish about baseball. It was, after all, the place where pro baseball got its symbolic start in 1869.

Fans in Cincy showed up for the games at Redland Field (later, Crosley Field) and the men who wanted a slice of that decided Covington would be a good spot to place a Federal League team, with the notion it would be “major” a year later.

The league's business model was a disaster. They did more harm than good by trying to pry fans away from established teams. In the days before radio, a shortage of fans meant bankruptcy. That was Covington's undoing. Their ballpark was essentially useless and fans who followed the Reds had little taste for the team. The park was near the river and often flooded.

Midway through the 1913 season, Covington moved its team to Kansas City. A year later, the Feds arrived. For the time being.

The Federal collapsed in 1915 under the financial strain and insider dealings that allowed the wealthier owners to leverage themselves into the mainstream. All that remains of the league that fans recognize is the ballpark that eventually became Wrigley Field in Chicago.

Grocers

 These photos are pilfered from Town Under the Lake, but we won't be worried.

Willie T. and Nannie Davis ran the grocery on the corner until 1964.

Bert Luker ran the other store. He retired a little earlier than the Davises did.

Doctor Linegar

Ranging from patent medicines to payday loans, the good druggist was also called once to testify in a drawn-out divorce proceeding of a woman in Greensburg who was accused of mental illness amid her infidelity. Not clear was the matter of sexual orientation. Messy stuff. It went on for 3 years in one form or other. It isn't clear on what his testimony might have included.

Not that it mattered, but a 1925 Atlas shows Mary Cory and John Linegar owned adjoining farms south of Fairfield near the river. Suppose ... nah? She just bought the building, right? And rented it to the good doctor. Sure, whatever. 

Dr. Linegar died in March 1923. He was only 60. His father, Daniel, had been a surgeon in the Union Army during the Civil War. 

Doc Linegar had other connections to Greensburg, namely brothers Oscar and Daniel, who ran a somewhat prosperous mercantile operation. They probably didn't lend money, though. This ad is from 1918, during the war. 

You could call either number.

Sheds we did not call home

 Offices, workshops:

Abe Preston's doctor's office was next to ... um ... the Preston house on Main Street. Story was, the people at Indiana University were originally curious about the contents of the little office, which was just cluttering up the runway for years. When the thing was dismantled and sent to Bloomington, it just cluttered up the runway there for years.

Eventually all the stuff went away, and IU people shrugged and said they didn't know what happened to the office, or its contents. 

This would be Bob and Lois Preston's actual house.

An old shed next to Ned Parker's house on Main Street. Ned's actual house was nothing more than a log cabin. Maybe the original log cabin in Fairfield, maybe the first one ever built. 

The shed was also fascinating because it was once the workshop of fabled bootmaker M.H. Thurston. His actual time in town isn't clear, but he did have an ad in the paper in 1854, suggesting he wasn't in Fairfield at the time. He was likely there about 20 years later. 

Ned's actual house being taken apart.

Howard Snider had a woodworking shop next to an office next to his house. 

Story was, the Quonset hut was moved. No idea why. 

This was Howard's actual house.

This is what our school looked like after a couple of years

of being closed and abandoned. 

It was taken apart and became somebody else's shed.

A winter tale in summer

One of Fairfield's most eloquent and fascinating people was the legendary Theo Dickerson, who was a teacher, a historian, author and more. Dickerson's name appears so frequently throughout the late 1800s and forward that it's enough to just say T.D.

In one particular article he penned for the Brookville Democrat, in 1916, is a most curious piece. It dealt with the "year without a summer."

1816. 

That same year in December, Indiana was admitted to the union, Fairfield was a year old and the rest of the Northern Hemisphere was either starving or freezing. The summer with no warmth.

Crops failed. Birds died. Fish froze. The end was near.

The 1916 article came essentially as part of a yearlong celebration in Indiana as the centennial year, and virtually anything 'historical' had value. There is a BLOG PIECE on that, as if you wondered.

That particular summer of 1816 was really the result of an event that happened an entire year earlier -- a huge volcanic eruption in the Asian area around Java. It was known as Tomboro, or Tambora, and even at the time, the blast was considered the worst in global history. The measure of 'worst' was relative, but not much ever compared to it.

Descriptions from those who witnessed the destruction range from awe-inspiring to no-that-is-not-possible. 

The ash and volcanic gas rose hundreds of miles into the sky and began to drift. A year later, the clouds were so thick that summer never arrived.

Dickerson says farmers planted their corn three times. Nothing grew. An April blossom spurt fizzled in May and temperatures were in the low 40s in July. Elsewhere in Europe and Asia, the famine was intense. Food riots ensued. People only knew there was no grain; they did not know why. 

Until more than a year later, the explanation came.

Indiana plugged along and built its new state in December without saying much about the year it never got warm enough to get a tan.

It's a story that's out there, but it isn't one that is often discussed. History tends to create its own magical moments. The reality is that another such Tambora could happen any minute. It's not clear on how we'd deal with it now, owing to instant news. Outcomes might vary but we have better weapons now -- both for survival and destruction.

A link to a blog piece from 2015 on Dickerson.

Random houses in town (2)

 Random, meaning in no particular order for no particular purpose with no stated agenda. These were just places where people lived. Houses with a finite value, based on a government formula. Memories that were of no importance to people who never lived there. 

Random houses in town (1)

 No distinction on owners, since you didn't know them anyway. The eclectic nature of a town creates varied architecture. Toward the end, the places were starting to look seedy. In their heyday, they were home.

Photos from the Himelick collection

Letters

 A century or more ago, the postman knew where you lived. 

A C Carter was an ESQ

Humboldt, Kansas (no idea on the year)

Nancy E. Laforge of Letts Corner, Indiana (near Greensburg). 

 

Stamp enthusiasts might take a liking to these beauties.

A Post Office database shows a Fairfield Post Office on record in 1898, although it was probably not very active. 

Richard H, Tyner, who was also a shopkeeper, was listed as the Postmaster. Tyner is an interesting study. His brother James served as a member of Congress as well as U.S. Postmaster General in the Grant administration. 

Richard's mother was Martha Sedgwick (Noble) Tyner. She was a sister to Noah Noble, one of Indiana's governors who came from Brookville. Another brother James was once appointed to the U.S. Senate. Noble County in Indiana is named for one or the other. 

Richard (1831-1907) was in business with Albert Miller, whose daughter was Richard's wife. His failing health forced him to sell his store, apparently to George Jinks. 

This little dwelling has been identified as a lot of things, 

but it's probably where the post office was located -- next to the Masonic Lodge. 

Snapshots of the area around the lake

 

The top photo is directed toward the dam, facing south. This is the boat launch just north of Brookville off SR 101.

The bottom photo is the narrow Farm Hill Road linking Causeway Road with Bath Road, west of SR 101. 

Nothing particularly poignant about either photo. In the 1960s, you could not have taken these two pictures.

Our architectural paradise

 The three main buildings in downtown Fairfield are iconic only to people who have a memory of the town. To each, there is a specific memory, or a general one. These old structures were just there, doing what they did in the hundred-plus years they existed. 

There might be evidence on their origins, what they cost, where the building materials came from, what their overall purpose served. Three-story buildings in the 1800s were considered skyscrapers.

Fairfield, as just 'another town' along the river, didn't merit these architectural shrines. Yet, there they stood, to the end. Floors were warped, the ceilings were water-stained and none of them cared if you couldn't climb the steps.

Those upper floors? Not for kids. Not for discussion.

Some of it was used for dwelling space. 

And over the years, for many goods and services. All of it interesting.

The Town Hall:

The K of P lodge (also apartments and various mercantile businesses):

The Masonic Hall:

Not much in these photos that reveals much. But if you are looking for the Golden Age of Fairfield and the East Fork, you found it. Note the architecture. If you know the trends, you can date the structures. The fire escape ladder on the Lodge wall is intriguing. Nobody ever had to use it. 

These photos do not represent their original charm, obviously, since the pictures were taken after Fairfield was doomed. Upkeep had long ceased. How much longer could these buildings have stood? 

Giza.