The Smell of Bacon

Just look at this picture. You can smell it, can't you?

There's nothing quite like the smell of bacon. That salty, sizzly goodness, especially fried to a crispy dark brown in an iron skillet, is one of the best smells and flavors around. Maybe it's my pioneer Indiana roots, iron skillets used to cook salt pork over an open fire in the hearth of a log cabin, the abundance of pork, raised in Southwestern Indiana, packed and shipped to far away ports, like New Orleans...

Yep, I have an affinity for bacon, especially thick cut, meaty bacon. The fat has to be brown and crispy. If it's springy and chewy, I gag. I'll eat it cut to any thickness, but I prefer the thicker cuts.

The smell of it frying in the morning immediately takes me back in time.

My dad was a breakfast connoisseur, often getting up early to make it for himself or the fam. Bacon, spam, mush, eggs, potatoes and such were typically on the menu. If you don't know mush, you don't have Appalachian roots (I see ya Kentucky and Southern Indiana!). But the smell of bacon often reminds me of early childhood and dad on the weekends in the kitchen. Mom liked to sleep in.

My Uncle John would be the first adult up on trips to our Sullivan, Indiana, cabin. I'd be sleeping on the cool sheen of Grandma Doyle's old couch in the living room and on the other side of the bar, Uncle John would be banging around in the kitchen. I'd hear the iron skillet come out and soon the sound and smell of bacon! That would rouse me from sleep the quickest. The smell of bacon reminds me of those cool, musty mornings in that old cabin, Dad and Uncle Al asleep on old Army cots on the screened porch, kids sprawled about the floor in sleeping bags, the smell of the smoldering fire pit wafting through the open windows. There was dampness from the swampy land Grandpa Doyle purchased for the family cabin, a low spot on Greenbriar Lake, a spring-fed strip mine pit, abandoned in the late 40's/early 50's.

There were countless mornings at my house, cooking breakfast for my girls, bacon first into the skillet before scrambling eggs or making muffins, toast or biscuits. Thanks to my Dad, I've always been a fan of breakfast. First thing when I get up, the coffee is brewing and I'm getting food out of the fridge. My girls would often wake to that glorious smell. It signifies some of the simplest, yet happiest memories for me of fatherhood. And when we'd go to the family cabin, I'd be the one up early banging around the kitchen, looking for that old skillet. My girls would be asleep on inflatable mattresses just long enough for their short bodies, built-in Disney Princess sleeping bags on top. The couch long gone, along with the interior walls, my ex and I would have just slept through the night on an inflatable mattress of our own. A day of fishing, swimming, exploring and rowing would usually begin with the smell of bacon and that smoldering firepit just outside the cabin. Sometimes, I'd even regnite the coals and cook out there over the open flame.

That brings me full circle to my pioneer roots.

Our cabin, built by Dad's father, was about two counties north of where Mom's family, my pioneer ancestors from the East Coast, settled circa 1811. In those days, rough hewn logs from recently felled trees were notched and placed, like Lincoln Logs, into a rectangular shelter, fireplace at one end for heat and for cooking. I can imagine my 5th great uncles banging around with the iron skillet and setting some salted pork or smoked bacon in to start sizzling to perfection.

That smell, tops among all other food smells (garlic being a close second), is what takes me right back to my childhood, to the cabin, to fatherhood and makes me very happy. The payoff, the thick, crispy breakfast meat, is the end result every time. Paired with a couple of over-medium eggs and skillet potatoes, maybe an English muffin hot and buttered, is one of my favorite meals, so good I'd eat it three times a day!

33 YEARS AGO TODAY...

...the world lost a great woman, my maternal grandmother, Kathryn "Kate" Dunning/Larson/Wright...

One of my most favorite blog posts ever is the one I wrote about her 15 Jul 2010 (link in caption):

Pancakes & Smoky Links

She was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1989 when I was starting out on my own in Florida. I was so disappointed I couldn't come home for the annual Dunning reunion that October, or to see her while she was sick. It would've been bad to see her in the condition she was, so skinny, a wig and just not the robust woman she'd always been.

But happier memories, like my blog post, are of her making one of her signature pies or cobblers (apple or blackberry) with a tub of Emge Lard and the extra crust she would bake on an upside down pie plate sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar for us kids (I forget what she called it).

She'd also make a vinegar slaw with few ingredients--cabbage and green peppers, the vegetables I remember--and she'd salt the heart of the cabbage for us to share. I remember having that sweet and salty summer slaw with fried chicken and biscuits during summer visits to Princeton.

But beyond the great food she prepared for us, the most important memory--her legacy--is the love she showed to her grandchildren. Grandma Wright was one of my biggest fans, always quick with a word of encouragement. I am sure that my loud drumming would hurt her ears and be a great annoyance during the middle of the day, into the evening, but she'd praise me for figuring it out by ear and playing with such gusto...I mean, not in so many words, I'm paraphrasing. Midwesterners raised on farms were not usually verbose, at least not in their praise, but she encouraged nonetheless!

Everyone of her grandkids will tell you how she made them feel loved and appreciated. The food was just an awesome, added bonus!

So today, on this sad anniversary, I remember you with love and fondness, Grandma...rest in peace.

The Remarkable Story of the McClure Brothers (Civil War/Gibson County History)

You can read part of the story in the news article, below, published on page 4 of the 1 Sep 1911 Evansville Journal newspaper. It tells of the annual reunion of the 17th Indiana Infantry Regiment, Company H, assembled in Gibson County, Indiana, during the Civil War.

Not mentioned was a fifth McClure brother, Alex, who died four years earlier. He also served in this company of Gibson County men. David, mentioned above, was their brother who served in a different Indiana company and regiment during the war.

Now, the McClure brothers were sons of Catherine Devin-McClure (1812-1888), who was Rev. Alexander Devin's daughter. The Devin family pioneered Gibson County and Princeton, Indiana. Catherine's brothers ran a mercantile business on the square in Princeton and the building on the Northwest Corner of the Public Square is the Devin Block, built by them in the 1800's. They were well known for selling loads of pork and produce at the Port of New Orleans, floating their merchandise by flatboat down the rivers. In fact, the name Joseph Devin was popular among the residents of that town, I have a second cousin named after him, Joseph Devin Hussey (1859-1951).

So FIVE of Catherine's sons went off to war in 1861 as part of the Union Army...and ALL OF THEM came home in one piece! That is quite remarkable! And their regiment (Indiana's 17th) was active in famous battles at Chickamauga and the Siege of Atlanta. You can easily fact check me on that.

Here are the brothers names and dates, in order, all but one of them died in Indiana:

ALEXANDER DEVIN MCCLURE, 22 Dec 1837 - 6 Mar 1907
JAMES M. MCCLURE, MD, 20 Jan 1841 - 14 Mar 1913 (He attended medical college in Chicago after the war, then set up his practice in St. Louis, practicing general medicine)
JOSEPH DAVID MCCLURE, 9 Jul 1844 - 6 Jan 1919
ROBERT MOFFIT MCCLURE, 16 Sep 1846 - 26 Dec 1926 (Died in Kansas)
WILLIAM GRADY MCCLURE, 29 Mar 1848 - 29 Feb 1920

Interesting to note, that the three youngest brothers were only teenagers when the war broke out, William, the youngest was but 13 years of age.

Dr. James M. McClure, got sick and took the train home from St. Louis, to his youngest brother's house South of Princeton. He died in 1913 at Prentice McClure's residence, a year and one half after the reunion described in the article, above. Here's an excerpt from the medical journal where news of his passing was relayed to his colleagues at the time (note, the date 16 Mar 1913 is the day his obituary ran in the Evansville newspaper).

WM C HASSELBRINK OF FRANCISCO INDIANA FOUND!

 FRANCISCO MAN GOES MISSING FOR 20 YEARS
-------------
Just walks away from shop, farm and family - DISAPPEARS!
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DISCOVERED DEAD SOME 284 MILES FROM HOME

This crazy story happened in the first three decades of the 20th Century in a rural part of Southwest Indiana where I'm from. I have marital connections to this family from Francisco, Indiana. It's such a small farming hamlet, one time hub of commerce on the Wabash & Erie Canal, that I'm related to most of it's early inhabitants.

Well, the Hasselbrinck family is no exception. The spelling with a "c" seems to have come from the old country. William Carl, the subject of this made-for-TV saga, was the child of German immigrants, born in 1856. He grew up on a farm in rural Gibson County, outside Francisco (or Frisco, as locals call it). In his 50's, he put together stock and capital to open a hardware store in town, circa 1909. It had been in business with the aid of his son George William Hasselbrinck, about four years when the owner walked away.

Reasons are sketchy as to why, but on a Thursday, middle of September 1913, with no advanced warning, William simply walked away...from his home, from his store, from the hamlet of Frisco, Indiana. 

24 Sep 1913 Evansville Courier and Journal, p. 19

Apparently, the day was 18 Sep 1913 and the talk about Oakland City and Princeton and surrounding towns was about this mysterious disappearance of a 56-year-old man. The article, above, ran in the nearby Evansville newspapers almost a week later. A few days after that, it was picked up by a paper in Madison (IN) this time with speculation as to why.

27 Sep 1913 Madison Daily Herald, p. 2

All up and down the Ohio Valley, local Indiana papers were picking up the thread, like this one two weeks post-disappearance, and each sheds some new light. The article, below, from Spencer County, says that the subject was last seen cashing a $17 check at a bank in Princeton. Where he was headed was not known. A family and community grasping for answers assumes the man was "slightly deranged."

3 Oct 1913 Rockport Democrat, p. 3

After 40 days, the Evansville papers run a picture of William with his physical details and announcement of a $25 reward offered by his wife. This would translate in today's currency to about $740. Later, we learn that his description and this reward were circulated nationwide.

1 Nov 1913 Evansville Courier and Press, p. 6

Then, in 1914, an apparent break in the missing persons case! The body of a man is found floating in the Ohio River near Evansville. It has been drowned for some time and is decomposed, but folks say it matches William's description. The community is cautiously hopeful. This article ran on the front page of the Princeton Democrat newspaper:

20 May 1914 Princeton Daily Democrat, p. 1

The following day, the Evansville Journal reported on the body found:

21 May 1914 Evansville Journal, p. 5

Even the small town Poseyville News weighed in on the matter some eight days later. Interesting to note, the piece of evidence heretofore unknown. William was last seen aboard an interurban headed towards Evansville. That could have been the route our wayward wonderer took, but who can be sure?

29 May 1914 Poseyville News, p. 4

After the excitement and buzz over potential closure to this case, reality began settling in upon the family. His estate was settled and in Sep 1918, five years after her husband died, the alleged widow went after his life insurance company, as reported on the front page of the Oakland City paper.

20 Sep 1918 Oakland City Journal, p. 1

I'm sure interest died down in the immediate aftermath of the body found near Evansville years earlier. The family gave up hope of ever hearing from him again and doubted they'd learn the details of his passing. It was as if he'd just vanished from the planet. There was no GPS or Internet, surveillance cameras or cable news. In fact, news in 1913 travelled very slowly at times, especially in rural areas like Gibson County, Indiana. It must have seemed like all hope was lost.

Meanwhile, on the opposite end of Illinois, almost 300 miles away, William was farming in the community of Glasford, keeping a journal and speaking of his faraway home. When the connections were made, he was already laid to rest. His family had given up on ever finding him more than 10 years earlier. He'd been gone for almost 20 full years!

The story hit the newswires and this United Press article ran in the 9 May 1933 Indianapolis Times on p. 4. This must have given the family some modicum of closure, even if the why's and how's could never be answered. William Carl Hasselbrink would be brought home and laid to rest. In fact, he was buried in southern Gibson County, southwest of his Francisco home, at St. Paul's Cemetery along State Road 168.

I found all of these articles yesterday in a search for relatives. It took me on a wild ride down some rabbit holes, but I was transfixed and fascinated by the details--that a man would just walk away from his home, his family, his life of more than half a century and move that far away and just start over, too afraid, perhaps, to contact his wife or to go home. This would make for great television drama. Who has the number for Netflix, Hulu or AppleTV?

Alice K. Thurston, Deaf and Determined, my 2nd cousin

This morning, I came to the Thurston branch of my family tree, which shoots off from the Greeks and McCormicks of Gibson County, Indiana. For reference, my third great-grandmother on mother's side was Berilla (Mills) Greek, who lived 1829-1908 and was the daughter of my pioneer ancestor, Duston Mills (1804-1875), and wife of prominent Gibson Co. farmer, Joseph Greek (1822-1911).

Berilla's grand-daughter, Helen McCormick-Thurston (1902-1980), had two daughters--Evelyn in 1925 and Alice in 1931. Helen was a single mother in 1940, raising her daughters alone and running a beauty salon in Princeton, Indiana. The girls were listed on the 1940 U.S. Census as living at home with their mom; however, I found a second census record that year for the youngest one, Alice K. Thurston, and it led me to this:

INDIANA STATE SCHOOL FOR THE DEAF Indianapolis

I searched for records of her attendance, but could find nothing on Google. On the school's website, I found the Admissions Office and contacted a Mrs. Rice. She led me to the digital collection containing their archives on Indiana University's website. That's where I struck gold, including this senior picture of Alice, giving her full name and hometown.

Not only was that such a cool find in and of itself, but her name is the same as my grandmother, Alice Kathryn Dunning-Larson-Wright, just spelled in the "southern Indiana way." In fact, I've seen my own grandmother's name mispelled "Kathern," they way it's pronounced in the country. :)

The school had a monthly publication, first called The Silent Hoosier, but by the time Alice enrolled in January 1937, it was simply called The Hoosier. Not only was Alice in that publication dozens of times between 1937-1950, but she submitted more than a couple of articles, including this one on learning to swim in the May 1949 edition of The Hoosier:

LEARNING HOW TO SWIM

I have been afraid of water all my life and never learned to swim until last summer. My sister and brother-in-law tried their best to make me overcome this fear. When they tried to teach me how to swim, I was very stubborn. They let me go after they helped me to float many times. I was choked, but sure enough, I conquered the fear. I learned to do several things in water. I have not learned to swim skillfully, but it is satisfying to know that I can swim some. Now I would love to go swimming. —Alice Thurston

I learned all kinds of valuable information from that publication, like her nickname "Thirsty," the names of her best friends and her aspirations. During her last two years at the school, she aspired to become "the world's fastest typist," the Vice-President of the United States and the operator of her mother's beauty shop in Princeton. I don't know if any of those aspirations were realized or not, but I feel like I came to know my second cousin a little bit better. She was a very active student at the school, attending there from K-12, participating in clubs, music, cheer squad ("yell leader")--yes, the deaf school had yell leaders--and writing for The Hoosier. She graduated June 6, 1950 and the trail for her grows cold.

Her parents either divorced or her father perished while she was a student at the Indianapolis-based school, about a three hour drive from her hometown. There was one instance where she wrote about a visit by her mom, dad and sister, in the late 1930's. My best guess is that her father left for California, remarried and became an auto mechanic for a Bakersfield, CA, Chevrolet dealership. Her mother reported to the 1940 Census taker that she was widowed. I'm not certain, but I do know that she grew to womanhood without her father's presence. I can't imagine that opportunities were as plentiful in the 1950's for people with disabilities as they are today, but with her good looks, abilities and determination, I'm sure she made a good life for herself.

Discoveries like that are what fuel my drive to complete the book I'm writing about my family, from pioneer times in Gibson County, IN, to the present. Thanks for taking the time to read this post.

My Dunnings and the Great Flood of 1937

The Great Flood of 1937 hit the Ohio River Valley hard in mid-late January after 12 days of rain caused every tributary to over top their banks, flooding 70 percent of Louisville and 90 percent of it's sister city, Jeffersonville, Indiana. Things were so bad down river that Evansville officials declared Marshall Law. Upstream, things were nearly as dire for towns like Hazleton, Patoka and Wheeling, Indiana. The highest crest ever recorded in the town of Hazleton, situated at the mouth of Robb's Creek on White River, was in January 1937 at 31.7 feet, just for reference.

Gaylord, Elsie & Nancy Kirk

We'll get back to the flood momentarily, but first let me introduce you to my Aunt Elsie's family. That picture was taken around 1957 of Aunt Elsie with her husband and oldest daughter. Elsie was the first child born to my maternal great-grandparents, David and Ruth (McEllhiney) Dunning.

She was born in 1909 on the farm of her grandparents, Thomas J. and Rhoda (Greek) McEllhiney. In fact, the attending physician mistakenly wrote her last name as McEllhiney on the birth certificate when, in fact, she was the first Dunning child born in Center Township, Gibson County, Indiana.

Aunt Elsie married Uncle Gaylord on Christmas Eve 1933 in Evansville. She had spent the better part of her life taking care of eight younger siblings, so having kids was not her first priority after marriage. Oldest daughter, Nancy Gayle, wasn't conceived for almost seven years. In the meantime, the young couple took up residence in a house near Hazleton, owned by the Ice family. The Ices were property owners north of Wheeling, not far from where Elsie grew up. The Dunning family farm was on Wheeling Road, north of Francisco. Anyway, Elsie's older cousin, Venita McEllhiney had married Charles Ice three years earlier, so we know the cousins were tight with Charles and his family. While living near Hazleton, Gaylord was a bus driver for the local school there. It wasn't long before they moved into the house owned by Gaylord's grandfather, John A. Kirk, elsewhere in Washington Township, Gibson County.

When they moved to Section 1, Center Township in Gibson County, they were living in the Netty Moore house very near where Elsie attended 7th and 8th grade at the Lawrence School, a single-room country schoolhouse before the consolidation of county schools in 1927. She never went beyond the 8th grade. That old schoolhouse, as well as the Netty Moore place where she was living, was on property once owned by her 3rd great-grandfather, a war hero, Joshua Stapleton, who fought the Native Americans at Tippecanoe (and I believe, also saw battle during the American Revolution). Joshua had lived there as early as 1820 and donated the land for Lawrence School. This was the best place they had lived since getting married in 1933 and it put Elsie much closer, within 2 miles, of her family home.

So that Gaylord could work his own farm, reaping more of his labor, they once again moved within Center Township. This time, they moved even closer to Elsie's family, taking up residence on the 100-acre Morrow farm on Wheeling Road in the Patoka River bottoms. It was late 1936 and they were about to experience one of the worst flooding disasters in Indiana's history. By mid January the next year, with the ground frozen and saturated by the Indiana winter, the rains began to fall, 15 inches in 12 days at Louisville fell from January 13-24th, according to the National Weather Service. As noted at the beginning of this post, it was a disaster of epic proportion for the entire region.

The land rented from Vesper Morrow began to fill with water. Unlike their McEllhiney neighbors across the road who had built their house on an elevated piece of land in the bottoms, the Morrow home that Gaylord and Elsie lived in was at ground level. The Patoka River flowed into the first floor of their farmhouse, but they had prepared by removing valuables to the second level and elevating furniture as best they could. Wheeling Road was impassable below the Dunning farm and the Kirk home on Vesper Morrow's farm was only accessible by boat until waters receded in February. The family had escaped in time and most of their valuables and sentimental items were spared.

It was still a mess and took some time to get back to where they were when they had moved in a few months earlier. Keep in mind, this disaster came on the heels of the Great Depression. As Uncle Les (Elsie's younger brother) reports, the financial crisis did not hit farm families quite as hard as they were more self-sufficient than ordinary homes. For instance, "they had their own wheat for flour, cows for milk and butter, chickens for eggs and meat, hogs and cattle for meat, their gardens for vegetables, enough crops to feed the livestock and sell for the staples needed. Eggs and cream were sold for salt, pepper, coffee, baking powder, soda, sugar and etc." ("The Early Life of Elsie Isabell Dunning/Kirk/McDowell" by Leslie Dunning.).

Elsie took the hardships of the flood without complaining and accepted the gracious help of friends and neighbors to recover, clean and set back up her home. In early 1938, she was dealt another setback, as her mother left her father at home with two children and another finishing high school. Elsie stepped in to help her grieving father take care of the house and the children, stepping back into the role she served as a teenager.

Aunt Elsie

Her mother left with Elsie's Uncle Edward Williams and soon filed for divorce from David Dunning. This was quite a shocking development and David demanded that his ex-wife, Ruth, have no contact with their children, the youngest of whom, Carl, was only six. Two years later, Elsie became pregnant with Nancy, who was born in early 1941. By then, her brothers, Roy, Tom and Les were serving our country, Ginny was in high school at Francisco and Carl was in 4th grade.

Aunt Elsie survived the Great Flood of 1937 that claimed nearly 400 lives, fairly unscathed, and the personal tragedy at home of her parents' 1938 divorce. She was a great stand-in matriarch for the Dunning family all while trying to start a family of her own. She and Gaylord Kirk had two daughters who are still living in the area where their parents made their humble start. Speaking of humble beginnings, Elsie started her life in a one-room log cabin and grew up on the Dunning homestead, which still stands (in an updated form) on Wheeling Road outside Francisco, IN. She was my great-aunt and lived a great life of 96 years.

My family has now farmed Center Township in Gibson County, IN, for more than 200 years. I'll be posting more about our pioneer ancestors in the weeks to come to commemorate the bicentennial of the State of Indiana, admitted to the Union in 1816.

My pioneer family and ties to Lewis & Clark

Today's pioneer history lesson takes us back to 1799 and Gibson County's oldest known settler, Keen Field. I was transported back in time when I first saw his grave, marked with a pioneer-era tombstone, a piece of slate with his name rough-etched into it. He's buried north of Patoka, Indiana, in a cemetery now known as Field-Morrison Cemetery, once maintained by my late Uncle Les Dunning. It sits at the edge of a corn field alongside the railroad tracks and CR 50 E. It is the cemetery where my Morrison ancestors from North Carolina are buried.

It is Rachel E. Morrison (1840-1917), my third great aunt, who ties me to the famous pioneer family. I say famous because Keen Field's wife, Anna Lewis, was kin to Meriwether of the famed Lewis and Clark Expedition. Keen's brothers, Joseph and Reuben Field, were part of Lewis & Clark's Corps of Discovery. Anna (Lewis) Field gave Keen at least 10 children, some born in Kentucky before the move in 1799 to Indiana. Their grandson, Joseph Jackson Field (1831-1864), who died in a sorghum mill accident, was my Aunt Rachel's first husband, married in Gibson County 8 Jan 1863.

The Field and Morrison families were part of what became the Steelman Chapel neighborhood just north of Patoka. That area, first surveyed by the British when it was still part of the Northwest Territory, is laid out in 100-acre tracts running diagonally, SW to NE, known as Military Donations (land that was given to American war veterans in the late 18th and early 19th centuries). The Field family owned Military Donation 10, just south across Steelman Chapel Road, from where the pioneer cemetery mentioned above is located. The Morrisons took up farming just east of there and on the north side of Steelman Chapel Rd, sometime during the last half of the 1850's.

Aunt Rachel was married twice. After her first husband's accident, she married a Henry Barton, whose lineage I have not confirmed, as there were at least 3 Henry Barton's born around that time in Knox and Gibson counties. The headstone where he is buried at Shiloh Cemetery, not far from the original family farm, bears a birth date nine years later than his actual birth--a mistake on the part of the family or the gravestone engraver, I'll never know. I only have record of one child, Nancy Jane Field, being born of Rachel's first union. However, with Henry, she bore at least six children. She died 5 Dec 1917, at age 77, near Patoka and is buried near her parents, David and Jane (Swaim) Morrison, in the same cemetery as Keen Field.

Though not a direct relative, I took much time in researching the Field family from Virginia, who settled at the mouth of the Salt River, just south and west of Louisville, KY. I happened upon Lucie and Gene Field's research some years ago at luciefield.net, where they have painstakingly laid out the family history and retraced the famed steps of Meriwether Lewis and his intrepid group of explorers. It was with great sadness that I did not get to meet Gene and Lucie in person during their trip to SW Indiana in the Summer of 2011. Gene Field left this world two years later, leaving a great legacy to those of us who were connected to his family, either by birth, marriage or friendship.

I've been painstakingly tracing my roots back to the pioneers of Knox and Gibson counties for the better part of 15 years. My mom's lineage goes back to pre-Indiana statehood and pioneers from Maine by the English name, Mills. Since this is the state's bicentennial, admitted to the Union in 1816, I'm near the end of writing a book about that family, showing where we've come in 200 years, it's working title is "My Mills Family: 200 Years in Indiana." Stay tuned for more as I travel along in this quest.

PRINCE TOWN DVD HAS ARRIVED!

Prince Town the DVD is now available! My very first documentary project is in the bag and I couldn't be happier. With over 80-minutes of footage, this DVD features color footage from the '30s, front porch interviews, coverage of the 1965 state basketball championship from WRAY and the IHSAA archives and much more! For those who have ever called Princeton, Indiana, home...this is a must-own DVD!

I spent a good part of the fall down in Princeton, pouring over hours and hours of archival footage, shooting new footage from atop the county courthouse and assimilating it all into this video documentary, based on the research of my Uncle Greg Wright (author of Prince Town and More of Prince Town). Produced in 16:9 widescreen, even the home movies from the 40's and 50's look great. There is the 1955 Fair Centennial Parade, construction of the new Gibson County Bank (1964), pictures and video of the square at Christmastime, footage of the 1992 Heinz plant fire and an extensive look back at the Great Tornado of 1925. Anyone who is interested in a copy of Prince Town the DVD can contact me directly.

PRINCE TOWN DVD

Here is a sample of the documentary film that I am helping my uncle to produce. It features historical images from his book, Prince Town, rare video footage shot as early as 1938 and interviews he conducted with past residents. The finished product will be a captivating peek into Princeton's past.

I hope you enjoy the six-minute preview.

Morris Birkbeck's "Notes on a journey in America," 1818

An English gentleman set out from the British Isles to begin his “voluntary exile” in the first half of the year 1817. Journaling along the way, he chronicles his adventures from his voyage to his final destination, though the last page of the book finds him still in Princeton, Indiana.

I found this book through another book I was researching, Early Indiana trails and Surveys (1919), by George R. Wilson. In Wilson’s book, he notes, “For a good pioneer description of Princeton and southwestern Indiana, as of 1817,” see Morris Birkbeck’s Notes on a Journey in America. I’ve become a frequent visitor of the American Libraries’ site, Archive.org, which has volumes of historical books in various digital formats. It was there that I found an online version of Birkbeck’s 1818 work. And it has been a fascinating read, thus far.

The earliest accounts of pioneer life in southwestern Indiana I had discovered previously were written from second- and third-hand accounts after the Civil War. This book is the first eyewitness account I’ve read, and it confirms, in large part, the descriptions of pioneer life from the accounts, like that of Col. William Cockrum, penned decades later.

I have quite enjoyed the perspective of this English gent who praises the qualities of Vincennes’ French residents and looks down in disgust at the filth of many cabin-dwelling pioneers in the countryside. He describes the attitude of the latter as “yawning lassitude.” From what I gather, he considers Princeton somewhere in the middle.

From the outset of the book, Birkbeck explains his reason for the “narrower limits” of his American exploration through only Pennsylvania, Ohio, Indiana and Illinois. “I can forego the well-earned comforts of an English home, [but] it must not be to degrade myself and corrupt my children by the practice of slave-keeping.” The “curse” of slavery—“the bane of society”—he says, has taken “fast hold” of Kentucky and every state south, so he sets a northward course for the untamed wilderness of the Wabash Valley.

He lands at Norfolk, Virgina, 3 May 1817 with the hopes of reaching the Illinois Territory by winter (Note: it would not be entered as a state within the Union until December the following year). Upon reaching Pittsburgh, he foregoes the most common means of travel—down the Ohio River upon a flatboat—for the land-bearing route across Ohio. He finds that horses are rather inexpensive here, since most eastern travelers dismount in favor of the river highway to ports south, namely New Orleans. After purchasing a couple of horses, the Birkbeck party set out for Cincinnati on 4 Jun 1817.

It is not clear the precise date that Birbeck’s traveling party reaches Indiana, as there is a gap in his journal from 23 June – 6 July. By the former, he is writing from Cincinnati and by the latter from Madison, Indiana, about 90 miles downriver. Upon reaching Madison, he writes in his journal,

Indiana is evidently newer than the state of Ohio; and if I mistake not, the character of the settlers is different, and superior to that of the first settlers in Ohio, who were generally very indigent people : those who are now fixing themselves in Indiana, bring with them habits of comfort, and the means of procuring the conveniences of life: I observe this in the construction of their cabins, and the neatness surrounding them, and especially in their well-stocked gardens, so frequent here, and so rare in the state of Ohio, where their earlier and longer settlement would have afforded them better opportunities of making this great provision for domestic comfort. (p.85)

Birkbeck finds from his own personal experience that the stereotypes held in England of the inhabitants of Indiana are quite false. He does not encounter “lawless, semi-barbarous, vagabonds, dangerous to live among.” On the contrary, he finds Hoosiers to be both “kind and gentle to each other, and to strangers.” He also finds across the rolling hills between Cincinnati and Madison several cleared settlements that seem to “multiply daily” interspersed among miles of uncleared timber. His first impression of Indiana and its people is very favorable. He writes that Madison is but five years old at the time of his arrival, which is off by three years, as the town was incorporated in 1809. Still, we get a glimpse into our pioneer past and see the southern portion of our state as it was in its infancy.

Making great headway through the State of Indiana, he comes within a day’s journey of Vincennes by 12 July, stopping at a spot 16 miles east of there, called Hawkins’ Tavern. He speaks of another tavern just 20 miles east of there which sits on the White River, called Stolt’s Tavern. I’m guessing this would have been in the area of present-day Loogootee, Indiana. Most of the land between these two stops, he says, is “unentered, and remains open to the public at two dollars per acre.”

The final destination of the Birkbeck party was eastern Illinois, but for some reason, upon reaching Vincennes, they head south, reaching Princeton by 18 July. For whatever reason he chose the budding town, Morris Birkbeck opines, “Prince Town affords a situation for a temporary abode, more encouraging than any place we have before visited in this neighborhood.” He rents a log home in town with a bountiful garden for nine months at a cost of 20 pounds. This would become his headquarters for the remainder of the book. From here, he would venture out on several explorations of southwestern Indiana and across the Wabash into Illinois Territory.

On one such exploration, he journals from Harmony, Indiana, on 25 July, that he has traveled from there 18 miles south to the banks of the Ohio River, lodging for the night in Mt. Vernon. He speaks of the vast amount of valuable land rich in sand, but it is no match for the prairie land he seeks in Illinois. He calls Mt. Vernon “a very new town,” which by name it was. Settled in 1805, it would be known for the next 11 years as McFadden’s Bluff, renamed in 1816 after President Washington’s home. Upon return from Mt. Vernon to Harmony the next day, Birkbeck finally crosses the Wabash into Illinois and explores the region called the Big Prairie between the Wabash and Little Wabash rivers.

At the beginning of August, 1817, Morris Birkbeck finds his way to the land office in Shawnee Town, Illinois, where he purchases 1,440 acres of prairie and marsh land near the Little Wabash. He describes at great length the land and inhabitants of the Big Prairie with which I will not bore you here. He does return to Harmony, Indiana, a forty mile trek from Shawnee Town, on Sunday night, 3 August. There, he finds the streets empty as everyone is at church. In fact, he has to call the innkeeper out of church to fetch his horses. He comments on the neatness and peaceful appearance of the Harmonites as they pour out of the church, all 700 of them, though he laments their religious superstitions.

By 4 August, he is back in Princeton and pens his next several entries from there, commenting on everything from wild game to the climate. It is for these brief glimpses into the life and times of the Hoosier pioneer that this book is well worth the reader’s investment.

My Dunning Discovery

Next weekend would've been my great-grandfather's 126th birthday, so to celebrate we'll make our annual excursion to the tiny hamlet of Francisco, Indiana, to visit with several generations of David Dunning's descendants. Though he passed in 1977, at the ripe old age of 93, we continue the tradition started by his family decades ago. We still meet at his farm on Wheeling Road that holds so much in the way of memories, including how he fed and raised nine kids there. Only two of his children will be able to share in the festivities October 2-3, my Uncle Les (88) and Aunt Ginny (85). Yes, they are great-aunt and uncle, but we've always called them by the moniker Mom used to address them growing up.

It is fitting that my latest genealogical discovery involves Les and Ginny's grandparents, my 2nd great-grandparents, Albert Charles "AC" and Sophronia (Morrison) Dunning. Since they died in 1932 and 35, respectively, all I had were bits and pieces of family stories and folklore. I only found some old pictures of them while going through my late grandmother's things a couple of years ago. Here is one of the family taken about 1884.

That's my Great-Grandpa David sitting in his father's lap. The two older boys, George and Robert Charles, died when they were 25 and 13, respectively, so I never knew them either. Aunt Bessie is seated in Sophronia's lap.

Needless to say, I had no clue where they lived other than the old census records that gave their residence as White River Township in Gibson County, Indiana. Well, lo and behold, the 1881 Atlas of Gibson and Pike Counties shows the location of the old family home in the White River bottoms. I had studied that map several times at the library and online before I discovered the AC Dunning farm about midway between Patoka and Hazleton and west of the highway about 2 miles. It was sitting right there under my nose!

So on my last visit to the area (just last week), I was able to get access to the old property in the river bottoms from the current owner. Unfortunately, the Dunning home is gone, bulldozed by the current owner five years ago. But I walked where my ancestors once lived, along an old creek and down a steep, sandy, one-lane road eroded into the side of a hill. Driving down that narrow lane was like stepping back in time. I could imagine the horse-drawn carriage or wagon bumping down the sandy slope, through a corn field, around an old barn and to their two-story, white, wood-framed farmhouse. They raised their children in that home, along with some chickens and livestock. The current landowner says he knocked down an outhouse and chicken coup in addition to the old house. He walked the property with me, pointing out the location of everything. In fact, if you look on Google Earth, you can still see the footprint of the house.

I look forward to seeing the family this weekend and hearing more old stories of David Dunning and his parents who survived floods and the hard life of late 19th-century farming. I can't wait to ask Uncle Les and Aunt Ginny if they have any memories of the old home in the river bottoms. All I have is a picture taken beside the house in the teens or 1920's. AC and Sophronia are elderly, their children all grown, at least David and his three surviving sisters (three brothers died, the two mentioned above and one as an infant). As I said, it was a hard way to live back in the late 1800's in rural, southwestern Indiana.

We'll gather at the spot where my great-grandfather celebrated his 93rd birthday nearly 34 years ago. He is buried at Fairview Cemetery just one mile west of his home (pictured above about 1993). I remember attending his funeral as a 9-year-old boy. It was a tragic year for me, as I lost my Grandma and Grandpa Doyle in March '77. Still, the reunion brings back great childhood memories, not just of Grandpa Dunning, but of the whole family gathering to tell stories, play games and, yes, eat our fair share of down-home goodness! We'll be doing it again in a matter of days, and I cannot wait!

Decker Township (Knox Co) Connections

The excerpt above is from The History of Knox and Daviess counties, Indiana (The Goodspeed Publishing Co, 1886). I found it while researching my ancestry in Knox and Gibson counties. I am descended from the early pioneers of southern Knox and northern Gibson. Three of the families mentioned, above--Decker, Anthis and Jacobus--all have links to my family tree. However, I don't have much information on these families other than what has been captured in this 1886 publication.

The old land plat maps in the IUPUI Digital Collection show adjoining farms along the White River in Decker Township that belonged to my family--the Morrisons--and to the Decker and Anthis families.

Ond of my connections to the Anthis family traces all the way back to Jacob Anthis who settled in Knox County from Tennessee, possibly before the turn of the 19th century. His great-grandaughter, Clarissa A. Field, married my second great-uncle Fletcher A. Morrison in 1880. Clarissa was a member of the Field family, who were also Gibson County pioneers. There is an extensive website of the Field family at www.luciefield.net.

If you know a Decker, Anthis or Jacobus from Indiana, won't you put them in touch with me?

Lyles Station: Jewel of American History

I am opposed to the whole system of slavery, in all its heinous forms, and conscientiously believe it to be a sin against God and a crime against man to chatelize a human being, and reduce God's image to the level of a brute, to be bought and sold in the market as cattle or swine.

- Levi Coffin, Letter to the editor of the Cincinnati Commercial dated May 12, 1860

A few miles from the town of my birth--Princeton, Gibson County, Indiana--lies an almost hidden jewel from our Hoosier past and a priceless piece of American history from the 1800's. It is the unincorporated area of Lyles Station.

Originally known as the "negro colony" west of Princeton, it was comprised of three settlements by free African-Americans, Southerners and former slaves--Sand Hill, Lyles and Roundtree. Sand Hill was on the main road, now State Highway 64, about halfway between the Wabash River and the county seat of Princeton. Lyles was north about a mile, and Roundtree was further north and east on the banks of the Patoka River.

Though I spent many a summer visiting family in the area just to the east of Lyles Station, I had no clue that it even existed. I don't remember my grandparents, aunts or uncles ever speaking of the "colored folks" from the river bottoms west of town. Nonetheless, a thriving agricultural community existed there until the floods of March 1913. In fact, the train that ran just downhill and around my grandparent's home and the hospital where I was born, used to stop at Lyles Station on it's way to Illinois through the 1950's. Still, I had no idea there was a veritable treasure trove of American history just a few miles down the tracks. That is until I learned about it online just a few years ago, thanks to the tireless efforts of Stanley and Mary Madison (Pictured above right, Wayman Chapel AME Church, the oldest building in Lyles Station dating back to 1887).

This week was my first visit to the area called Lyles Station (see picture above). The Madisons and the Lyles Station Historic Preservation Corporation were celebrating Juneteenth and I was able to take my family down for the festivities. Before the trip, I was already committed to volunteering my time to help in any way I could. But afterwards, my resolve to help out is even more concrete. My first goal is to register the site as an official stop along the famed Underground Railroad (UGRR) with Indiana Freedom Trails, Inc.

The western route of the UGRR through Indiana is well-documented. The Wabash River valley through southwestern Indiana provided a means of escape for runaway slaves who were brave enough to cross the Ohio River near Mount Vernon (Posey County) and Evansville (Vanderburgh County) or traverse the meandering Wabash up to East Mount Carmel, then head northwards to Vincennes. Free African-American settlements in Gibson County would provide a common-sense resting place for fugitive slaves escaping north. There are oral traditions that say Thomas Cole, a Sand Hill/Lyles resident, owned many barns with hideouts in the lofts that provided cover by day for many a fugitive. Within walking distance of the Cole residence and uphill towards the banks of the Patoka River sat the home of noted station master David Stormont. Other UGRR stops existed in nearby Princeton, Francisco and Oakland City. Some of these are also well-documented, but the area of Lyles Station is yet listed as an integral part of the railroad.

As my research continues, I'll post more about this exciting project and enlist some of you to help. In the meantime, please visit http://www.lylesstation.org/ to learn more about this jewel of American history.

**UPDATED**Help Michael Treinen Fight AML

***UPDATED***


Great News for Michael!!!
I just received a call from ICHIA- the high risk insurance that has been expedited due to the overwhelming attention Michael's situation has been given. Although the coverage is not 100%- with the money raised through all of your efforts - combined with the insurance- we can confirm payment with Seattle- TODAY!!!!!!!!!

I can't even begin to thank each and everyone of you for helping us get to where we are today. It could not have happened without the efforts of not only your $$$ but your time and making contacts for Michael!

We love all of you!
The Treinens

----ORIGINAL MESSAGE-----

Hello Friends,

We are parents who are pleading for your help. Our son Michael is 19 years old and last May was diagnosed with Acute Myelogenous Leukemia (AML), a fast-growing cancer of the blood and bone marrow. Many of you already know Michael's story but let me give you a few highlights. As of May of 2007 Michael was a typical goofy 18 year old from a typical family in Noblesville, IN who was ready to graduate from high school. Michael loves hockey and lacrosse. We, as most of you, thought that nothing would change our lives in such a drastic way. Boy, were we wrong. Michael had some swollen lymph nodes and when they were checked we were told the devasting news of cancer. We put on our "big girl pants" and were ready to fight this thing. In December, Michael went into remission but by January was back in the fight. This time we are in the fight of our lives.

Fast forward to now, Michael has been receiving treatment at Riley Children's Hospital in Indianapolis . His next step is a bone marrow transplant. Michael needs to have the transplant in order to survive. From our research the best place for treatment is Children's Hospital in Seattle, Washington . Now here is the catch. Michael is at his life-time limit for insurance. In order for Seattle to schedule the transplant we need send them a check for $500,000. We are no longer the typical American family and like most of you- do not have $500,000 to send them.

WE NEED YOUR HELP! We are asking three things from you:

1. Your prayers that we get our miracle and Michael survives his fight with AML and is able to return to the life of a typical nineteen year old.

2. Please send a donation of $20.00 to the:
Michael Treinen Medical Trust Fund
c/o Mr. Sid Loomis
Harris Bank
107 W Logan Street
Noblesville, IN 46060

3. Please pass this e-mail to at least twenty (20) of your friends and relatives and ask them to send this email to at least 20 people. Please feel free to share a personal connection with Michael and our family.

This a time-sensitive grass roots campaign to raise the $500,000 that Michael needs. Time however is not our friend. We need this money to be received by Thursday, April 3rd. We have to get treatment started as soon as possible!

I know that many of you do not know us. I can assure that a year ago we would never have believed that we would be asking not only our friends and family, but complete strangers to help us pay to save our son's life. Believe me when I tell you this is the last thing we want to be doing. But, you do what you have to do.

Please help us and send a check to the bank...today! Also, please send this email out to everyone you know. I know we can do this with your help. If you want to know more about Michael, you can go to http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/michaeltreinen (Caring Bridge Site).

God bless and thank you,

Tom and Kelly Treinen

Chatard Trojans Own the Dome

Back when the football stadium in Indy was known as the Hoosier Dome, the Bishop Chatard Trojans won the inaugural high school championship. The year was 1984. It was my junior year.

The last 23 years brought about a name change to the dome, a class change for Chatard from 2A to 3A, and several inches to my waistline. But the glory of Chatard football remains.

The Trojan football team now shares the distinction with only one other team as having the most state championships--NINE!!!
I witnessed the first two of those during my sophmore and junior years at Chatard. Though I didn't play high school football, I was a proud member of the squad's 12th man.

The 1984 game was most memorable for its location, the sparkling new gem on the Indianapolis skyline, the $82 million Hoosier Dome. With memories of that game on my mind, I returned to the dome for this year's championship game. I wasn't disappointed. Save for a late fumble, the Trojans would have shut out South Bend's St. Joseph. It was total domination from the first whistle.

I had to be there to witness the last high school football championship to be played in the famed dome. Next year, retractable-roofed Lucas Oil Stadium becomes the shining new gem on Indy's skyline and the dome will be razed. The memories, however, will live on. I'm just thankful that Chatard was able to begin a legacy there in 1984 that lives on today.

Congrats to the Trojans, state champions for the ninth time, an Indiana High School Athletic Association record!

Photo credit: Joe Vitti, The Indianapolis Star, 2007

Indiana Autumn

With the onset of fall-like weather, I am reminded afresh of why I missed Indiana so. It is more than just the colors that come with the fall foliage. It is the brisk morning air hinting at the change of seasons, the colorful sunsets, hayrides, fall festivals and bonfires.

Yesterday, I enjoyed an exhilarating, solo bike ride at sunset…and what a magnificent sunset it was! In my shorts and t-shirt, I set off for a quick circuit around our neighborhood and enjoyed the cool breeze as I got my heart rate up peddling in 14th gear. When I rounded the next to last corner on my final lap, I saw a brilliantly orange moon peak above the roofline of my neighborhood. It was a picture perfect night.

This morning, on my way to work, I watched the sunrise in the rearview mirror of my truck. A thin ribbon of clouds hanging high over Castleton were turning a Raspberry color in the first light of sun. The air was brisk. I wondered if fall was truly here, considering last week’s 90-degree days.

The landscapers were busy mowing the grass at the dealership. When I took an early walk over to our used car lot, I was met with the most pleasant smell of summer—fresh cut grass. That’s a smell that I won’t get to enjoy in a few more weeks. It will soon be replaced by the smell of wood burning fireplaces and the pungent aroma of dead leaves burning in backyards.

These hints of the new season at-hand are novel to me once again. We usually had a week or two of fall-like weather in Tallahassee. Beyond November, the weather there waffled between winter and fall for a few months, then came the return of blanket-like humidity and scorching heat. I missed Indiana for a lot of reasons, not the least of which was my extended family, but Indiana Autumns are hard to beat

It's Freakin' Cold Here!

You might think that a kid who spent the first 17 years of his life here would know this already...but IT'S FREAKIN' COLD UP HERE!!!

After a week of 70-degree-plus temperatures and one of the mildest Marches on record, this Hoosier kid is stunned by the chill in the air (see temperature map above, courtesy of The Weather Channel). I mean, I remember that there is usually another cold spell around Easter before Springtime weather firmly takes hold in the Heartland, but freezing temps and snow flurries??? SHEESH! C'mon, Mama Nature! How 'bout a little help here?!?!?!

I recently moved my family up from Tallahassee, Florida. I thought we had survived winter, what with a late February blizzard and all, then the sudden 80-degree, record setting days that followed. But this weather is PSYCHOTIC! Call Doctor Phil or something!!!

We used to joke in Tallahassee that if you didn't like the weather, just wait 10 minutes. The speed with which change could occur in the stratosphere above North Florida was amazing, but seldom did we get 40-degree swings in a 12-hour period, only to have it swing 40 degrees the other way soon after. That's what it's been doing here in Indiana.

It begs the question, "What was I thinking?" And I could live with this psycho weather if I knew an end was in sight, but a co-worker just told me in passing that he's seen snow flurries as late as May before. That is very disconcerting.

This is my formal plea to Mr. Jack Frost. Get the heck out of Central Indiana and go back to the poles where you belong!