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| York where Indians were plenty and he acquired an early knowledge of their language, habits and medicines. From 1843 to '46 he was sent to school in New York, and in 1846, went to St. Louis where he joined a party of explorers, and in company with them crossed the continent, finally reaching Puget Sound on the Pacific coast. Here he took up his abode with the Blackfoot Indians and trapped for the Hudson Bay Fur Company, where he remained as one of the chief's family until 1852 when he returned home in company with some trappers by way of the Red River of the North, wintering in its valley. He reached St. Paul in November, 1853 and arrived in New York in December, after an absence of seven years. From 1854 to '55 he attended Medical College of Louisville, Kentucky, and in 1856 moved to Fond du Lac, Wisconsin, and commenced the practice of Indian medicine. He carried on a successful practice there for two years, when he buried his young wife, and in a distracted state of mind started for South America, visiting the principal cities of the coast, and spending a season in Cuba. He subsequently returned to New York in the spring of 1860 and started west to visit friends at Fort Wayne, Indiana, who prevailed upon him to remain and practice there. In 1861 he married again, and his practice becoming extensive, he took a student, who is now his partner. Dr A. Simon was born in Allen County, Indiana in 1839 and commenced the study of medicine under Dr. Woodward in 1861. In 1865 he and Dr. Woodward commenced practice together in Warsaw, Indiana and in 1866, Dr. Woodward, finding his health failing left him in charge of his practice, and with his wife and child crossed the plains to the Rocky Mountains, where he renewed many old acquaintances. In 1867, he was engaged in a trading expedition which left Denver City, Colorado for the Red River country. In Wyoming several hostile bands of Indians were encountered and in one affray Dr. Woodward was severely wounded but subsequently recovered so as to proceed with his party. Communication being cut off in their rear for two years their friends supposed the party to have been totally destroyed until their return to Denver City in 1869. In 1870 the Doctor was at the head of another party who travelled through Arizona, New Mexico, Mexico and Lower California, spend | |||
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| ferris wheel - the symbol of excitement. Come on, would you like to go to the Fair with me? Good, but wait as I had to. My mother and aunt always said Wednesday afternoon was the best day at the Fair. Don't ask this impatient kid why. The year is 1923 and this seven year old boy and his mother walk over to Grandma Miller's house across from the West End grocery. My aunt Iona and cousin Margaret are waiting for us. Buffalo Street is right across from the house and that magic street will lead us directly through the archways into the south entrance to the fairgrounds, The sidewalks are crowded now as we cross Seventh Street. Only a block to go. There is a line at the ticket booth to get into the grounds. Look who is selling tickets, that big man, John Isenbarger, who owns the fairgrounds. The first thing facing us is the high bank of the south west turn of the half-mile race track. Wow! A race is on. Listen to the clomping of those trotters as they race by on that clay track, and the people cheering their favorites on from the big white grandstand on the west side of the track. A glance to the southeast turn and look at all the horse and buggies tied up there. There is a good turnout of the old order Dunkards today. We glance to the southwest of the grounds. Wow! What a big tent! A Wild West Show with cowboys and Indians! Right out in front of that is the merry-go- round and the ferris wheel a short distance north of that. We have arrived. Mother gives me a dime and I mount the meanest looking horse while my cousin Margaret sits with the women in the couch-like seats. The music starts booming and we start going around as my horse moves up and down. I am Tom Mix, Hoot Gibson and Buck Jones all rolled into one. Next, we ride the Ferris wheel, each with our mothers. We can see all the race track from up here. There is Jonnie Warvel's deer park to the east, and Peabody Factory and Oaklawn Cemetery to the west. Oh, that sensation as that ferris wheel drops you down. A few rounds and the man stops our car, releases the safety bar and it is all over for another year. There is the whirling chair swing, but mother says perhaps later on in the afternoon. Let's walk the fair and look at other things. There is a row of "throw the ball and knock the dolls off the rack." If you | ||
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| can knock one off the shelf, you might win a Kewpie Doll. Another one had dishes and another, ashtrays. These were for the big boys to impress their girlfriends with what good arms they had. Once in a while one of them would succeed in knocking one off the shelf. Oh look, something new. Throw the ball at a bulls-eye target. A good hit and up in the balcony a little pen would open and a small pig would come sliding down to the ground on a slide. There was a big crowd of people standing around watching this. There were all kinds of tents or stands, barkers selling everything from kitchenware to magic tricks to snake oil. The building our mothers were working their way to was the big, white frame building, just to the west of the grandstand, The Memorial Exhibition Building. This was the ladies' section of the fair. Here they showed off their good work of home canning, dress-making, food demonstrations and the latest household gadgets. It seemed like we spent too much time in there for a seven year-old boy. Once outside we had a pink lemonade from a stand and over by the west fence was a row of HIS and HERS outhouses. I don't believe they had any connection to the city sewer lines. Just north of that was the poultry tent with chickens, ducks, geese and then the north end of the fair grounds the horse barns on Ninth Street. These were for the beautiful trotters and pacers the race horses that excited the male attendees of the fair. I hope this gives you residents who live at the Peabody Home some idea of what took place on these grounds before it all ended at the 1929 fair which was a flop as a dispute arose over the price of rental and all the concessionaires walked out. The only thing at the fair that year was a rodeo show in front of the grandstand. Oh! I could talk about other events that took place during the summer on your grounds. Automobile racing with souped up Model T engines, local talent productions in front of the grandstand. How about the House of David baseball games with the North Manchester Giants and the year they had the brawl in which bats and skulls were fractured out there in the infield. How about those early Twenties when the KKK had their big parade downtown in North Manchester and then the hundred or so | ||
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| 1834. Further up and from thence to its source (in Huntington County) it has the name of Pony Creek, by which title it is designated on the maps. Tradition tells how it received this name, and the legend seemed worthy of a place in this work. Years and years ago at the time when the first pioneers had just begun to penetrate this region, and white settlers were few and far between while the dusky Miamis hunted the deer through the forest-covered lands of Chester and adjacent townships, a band of white desperadoes organized and carried out a plan of stealing their ponies, which evinced much ingenuity; and for a time was very successful. In the central part of the township extending through sections 23 and 24 in Range 7 and Sections 19 and 20 in Range 8, there was a strip of land known as the "Windbrake" in which all the trees had been blown down by a tornado some years before and here among the young timber that had sprung up since, vegetation was more luxuriant than in the surrounding forest. To this spot, the Indian ponies when turned loose were wont to find their way. Taking advantage of this circumstance these renegades constructed a trap or pound, with a converging lane leading to it which was so placed as to intercept the trail taken by the ponies on their way to the "Windbrake". Entering the lane, it was an easy matter for them to find their way into the inclosure through its narrow opening, but once fairly inside they could not readily escape. From here they were taken by the gang, who ran them off to the northward until they came to the creek, half a mile above, and near the county line. They followed down the bed of the stream "to break the trail" and so elude pursuit. Keeping to the creek for about a mile and a half, and reaching Sect. 19, they secreted their stolen property in a pen on the farm now belonging to Warren Jenks. This pen, like the former, was strongly built, being about eighteen rails high, and enclosed an area of nearly two acres. When a sufficient number of ponies had been brought together in this way, and a favorable opportunity occurred, they were then run off to some remote locality and there disposed of. Stealing ponies, however, while it might have been profitable for those engaged in it, was an occupation that had its risks and dangers. The Indians learned to keep a closer watch over their property; and | ||||
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| though it is doubted by some whether they ever discovered the mysterious traps, yet the gang on several occasions were closely pursued and narrowly escaped with their lives. One of them, Wicks by name, had lived among the Indians a large part of his life and having adopted their dress and habits was hardly distinguishable from one of the tribe. About 1840 he disappeared mysteriously and it has always been supposed met with summary retribution at their hands. This band of pony thieves had their headquarters in a hut on the farm later owned by Lewis Dailey in Section 20. Indian ponies in those days were worth from fifteen to twenty dollars each. Though much too light for farm work, they were very tough and hardy and from the scarcity of better animals were often made use of by the settlers. The Indians and their ponies together with the men who stole them, have all passed away. The place where the lower pen was built is now a cultivated field, and all traces of its existence long since obliterated. A few old and nearly rotten rails, and a space in the woods which shows by the absence of large trees that it had once been cleared, is all that is left to show where the trap once stood; but the name of Pony Creek still remains to perpetuate the legend of border times which has been related here. | |||
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| offer, whether they had any intention of buying or not. Though, in the latter case, the land was put up again the following day, another would repeat the game until the speculator became discouraged and withdrew, he often being unable to distinguish between a bona fide bid and one made purely to worry him. Sometimes eligible tracts remained without an owner, parties often fearing to purchase land they had not seen and in this way some pieces escaped attention. An incident may be related to show how these were sometimes entered. Mr. James Ridgely, passing through the southeast part of the township, discovered that part of Sec. 30 (Town, 29, Range 8) was good land and had never been entered. While looking at the land, another party put in his appearance with design upon it also, and it became then a question as to which of them could get to the land office at Fort Wayne in the shortest time. The stranger was afoot, and setting his pocket compass took a bee-line for his destination. Mr. Ridgely, being mounted, struck down to the tow-path of the canal, a more circuitous route, but was fortunate enough to reach the land office at Fort Wayne about half an hour in advance. He afterwards returned to Montgomery County, Ohio, from which point he set out for his new home in the forest where he arrived in September, 1841 bringing with him about a year's supply of provisions. He found the little hut he had previously built used as a sort of stable by the Indian ponies. During the winter following he occupied himself in clearing up a patch on which to raise corn the following year. The tops of the fallen trees served as a "browse" for the cattle and horses and were about all they had to live on until grass came in in the spring. Chester Township has long been ranked as one of the foremost in the county not only in the quality of the soil but in the enterprise of its inhabitants as shown by substantial farm improvements. A large tract of land lying in the southeast part of the township was returned as swamp land and for many years was called the "Bear Swamp" and was supposed by many to have no agricultural value. But it was taken up by an industrious and thrifty population mostly of German birth , and through their labors in clearing and draining, it is taking a high rank as one of the best and richest spots in the township. | ||
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| own people. He made frequent trips to Fort Wayne and to other places where treaties were being made with the white men. His last days were saddened by the oncoming conflict which he saw was inevitable. On the one hand he was true to the peace treaty of Greenville and refused to have anything to do with the attempts of Tecumseh and the Prophet to stir up another war. In this way he incurred the displeasure of the Indians and lost much of his prestige as a leader among them. On the other hand he saw the selfishness and unfairness of many of the whites in their dealing with the red men. General Harrison in his letters to the war department often complained of Little Turtle and even doubted his integrity. But after the death of the great Indian chief, when Gen. Harrison had learned the full truth about the matter, he wrote in highest terms about little Turtle, admitting his faithfulness and help to the American cause: "He continued to his last moment the warm friend of the United States and during the course of his life rendered them many important services." Little Turtle did not live to experience the events of the War of 1812, though he was preparing to help the American cause. At least he would have done all possible to keep the Indians faithful to the treaties with the Americans. He had long been afflicted with the gout, though it developed into what we know as Bright's disease. In order to receive medical treatment he went to Fort Wayne where he died at the home of his son-in-law, Capt. William Wells in July of 1812. He was buried with great honors by the officials of that day, but his grave was unmarked and was almost unknown for a century. It was discovered in 1912 near the west bank of the St. Joseph river. In his grave were found the sword and gun presented to him by President Washington. Also many other relics, all of which are now in the Fort Wayne Historical Museum. Only a small slab marks the place of his burial. In Fort Wayne there should be a suitable monument to the greatest chief of a vanishing race. The fitting inscriptions on the beautiful monument erected on the battlefield of Fallen Timbers gives to Little Turtle due credit and honorable mention along with Gen Wayne and the brave pioneers of the west. A memorial equally fitting should be erected in the former capital of the great Miami Nation where once their great chief reigned supreme. | ||
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