Wade family from Kentucky to Ohio, part 1

Note: This series of posts deals extensively with the historical animosity between Native Americans and white settlers. Although the point of view of the Native Americans is underrepresented and deserves better recognition, my ancestors happened to be white settlers. Unfortunately, they participated in the historical travesties perpetrated against Native Americans. However, since this is a genealogical blog, it is primarily told from my ancestors' point of view, with an attempt to be sympathetic to both sides. The term "Indian" is used in reference to the indigenous peoples (when the nation or tribe is unknown) because it was the term most often used at the time, and because I have recently been informed that it is still the preferred term in many native cultures. I am not an expert in the subject, and humbly apologize if anyone finds it offensive.

Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Come all ye brisk young fellows who have a mind to roam

All in some foreign country, a long way from home,

All in some foreign country, along with me to go,

And we'll settle on the banks of the lovely Ohio.

We'll settle on the banks of the lovely Ohio.

-American folk song

Zephaniah Wade and Nehemiah Stites, both youths of about eighteen years old, along with Stites' dog, were traveling on foot along the old Buffalo Trace. They were somewhere along the eight mile stretch between the settlement of Mayslick and the town of Washington. The Buffalo Trace had been beaten down from centuries of American bison pounding through the bluegrass and canebrake from their ford on the Ohio River to the salt licks in the interior of Kentucky. These were not narrow game trails; in some places they reached fifteen feet wide and were rutted six feet deep, especially around the licks. The buffalo traces had been adopted as roads first by the Native Americans and later by the white settlers, and now settlements were popping up along them, taking advantage of the plentiful wild game seeking salt. Mayslick was one of these settlements, and Nehemiah Stites was one of the pioneers there. Zephaniah Wade resided in or around the town of Washington. 

The sources differ somewhat in the reason for Wade and Stites' journey. Allan W. Eckert in his book That Dark and Bloody River claims that they had been hunting on the North Fork Licking River, but Stites' cousin Mary Covalt Jone says in her journal that only Wade had been hunting; Stites was returning to Washington, where he was employed, from Mayslick, where he was "making a settlement," when he met up with Wade along the trail. 

In any case, Zephaniah's brother Joseph Wade later recalled that "because of the danger posed by marauding Indian bands, the two young men were not on the trail but traveling through the woods close by." A couple of Indians were in the area, spotted the pair of youths, and fired on them. Stites was instantly killed, "shot right through the breast over one shoulder & out the back" according to Jone. She goes on to say that "his dog stayed to defend him." Meanwhile, Zephaniah fled. His brother said that he "ran to a nearby tress, climbed part way up, and spied one of his attackers. Upon taking careful aim, he fired his rifle, wounding the Indian," whereupon the second Indian gave chase. At this point, Zephaniah took cover, either "behind a large root of a blown down tree" or "behind a bank." Jone adds that he could hear Stites' dog from his hiding place. Once he felt safe from pursuit, he hurried back to Washington, "barefoot but uninjured" (Eckert). He reported the death of Nehemiah Stites, and a company of men went out to retrieve his body and track the Indians. The body was retrieved, but the Indians got away. However, Joseph Wade adds, "they found an overcoat that had been worn by the Indian Wade had shot. They reported the overcoat had two bullet holes in it and had apparently been thrown off after the Indian was wounded."

The Kentucky Gazette of 21 Mar 1789 gives an account that took place the previous week which sounds remarkably similar to this one: "We are informed that on saturday the fourteenth instant, the Indians killed a man and wounded another, on the road from Lexington to Limestone, near May's lick... It is said they were pursued by about forty men who were determined to know to what place they belong." It is the same road, near Mayslick (May's lick), and the same number of white men mentioned, with one killed. The only detail disagreeing with the accounts of Zephaniah's experience is that the other man was wounded, while Zephaniah apparently escaped injury. Since no names are given in the Gazette, it remains uncertain whether this indeed refers to the same incident, but it is quite possible that it does. If it does, it provides an exact date for the event. The other sources are a bit hazy on the date. Eckert gives a date in the spring of 1787, but his source is not explicitly stated and is likely to be found somewhere within one of the many manuscript collections he cites for the chapter. Jone recollects the event as happening sometime around late 1788 or early 1789, but the recollection was not written at the time of the event. The latest date, the fall of 1789, is given by Joseph Wade, whose 1863 retelling of the story is summarized in an article by Stephen Kelley.

The story, whenever it occurred, also includes two postscripts. Mary Covalt Jone, who, as you will recall, was a cousin of Nehemiah Stites, concludes that "the dog followed me many a day after that." It is easy to envision the heartbroken dog pining for its master. However, Allan W. Eckert (or his source, whoever it may be) opts for a more amusing epilogue:

Back at Washington and Limestone word of the attack was quickly going the rounds, though in some tellings the dead man was confused with his friend.

At the small tavern in Limestone, where Wade dropped in after the expedition returned, he was greeted with handshakes and cheers, and one of their neighbors gripped Wade's shoulders and commented relievedly, "Why, Zeph, we heard you was killed."

"Y'know," Wade replied dryly, "I heard that, too, but decided it was a lie."

The "small tavern in Limestone," incidentally, was at this time run by a man with a name very familiar to most Americans. His name was Daniel Boone.

 

 

Sources:

David I. Bushnell, Jr, "Daniel Boone at Limestone, 1786-1787." The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography 25 (Jan 1917); digital images, JSTOR (https://www.jstor.org/ : accessed 15 Jan 2021) 1-11.

G. Glenn Clift, History of Maysville and Mason County  (Lexington, Kentucky: Transylvania Printing Co., 1936), vol. 1. 

Don Corbly, Pastor John Corbly and his neighbors in Greene Township  (N.p.: Lulu.com, 2011).

Allan W. Eckert, That Dark and Bloody River: Chronicles of the Ohio River Valley  (New York: Bantam Books, 1995),  180. 

Neal O. Hammon and James Russell Harris, "Daniel Boone the Businessman: Revising the Myth of Failure," The Register of the Kentucky Historical Society 112 (Winter 2014); digital images, JSTOR (https://www.jstor.org/ : accessed 30 Dec 2020) 5-50.

Stephen Kelley, "Lore, Legends & Landmarks of Old Adams," The People's Defender, online archives (http://peoplesdefender.com/main.asp?Search=1&ArticleID=129868&SectionID=36&SubSectionID=360&S=1 : accessed 19 May 2012). No longer accessible.

"Lexington, March 18, 1789," Kentucky Gazette, 21 Mar 1789, p. 2, col. 2; digital images, Lexington Public Library (https://www.lexpublib.org/digital-archives : accessed 8 Jan 2021), Kentucky Gazette 1787-1840.

Amanuensis Monday: Christmas dinner at home (Elsie's Christmas book part 5)

Now, wasn't that clever of me? I very carefully arranged this transcription of Elsie's Christmas Book to conclude during the Christmas season... and then forgot to schedule the publication date. So here it is, a week late, and after the conclusion of the Twelve Days of Christmas. Oops.

Fanciful image of a dragon playing Snap-dragon, from Robert Chambers' Book of Days (1879)
The original uploader was Ziggurat at English Wikipedia., Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Here he comes with flaming bowl,
Don't he mean to take his toll,
Snip! Snap! Dragon!

Although Elsie makes no mention of a rhyme, which she surely would have done had she remembered one, she does recall a game of snap dragon. This is a game with which I am familiar in only a literary sense; it is not commonly played in my part of the world. Knowing it as a game from Victorian England (although apparently it originated much earlier), I often wondered whether my Victorian English ancestors participated in it, and here Elsie gives me the answer to that question.

Our Christmas dinners were a lot like we have today, with the exception of plum pudding, mince pies, mince meat tarts. Mother used to make me a white cake with lemon filling and soft white frosting. I couldn't eat raisins for some reason and all her Christmas dessert had a lot of raisins. I still like that kind of white cake.

The turkey was always placed in front of Dad at the table. Always at the head. of the table., that was his seat always andevery day, of the week. We all were at the table together every meal, that we were home. Especially for dinner. Imagine eight at the table every day and most every meal. Thats what it was like after all Mothers children were grownup.

Dad would say a grace and give thanks for the day. He'd stand up with the craving knife an the steel to sharpen the knife. He would hold the knife in one hand and the steel in the other. He would rub them both together a few times and then he would start to carve the turkey. He was pretty good at it. I often wondered if the knife needed sharping every time.

He would ask us what part we wanted. White or dark. He usualy gave the drum stick. I never asked for it but he would say I know what part Sis wants and it was the drum stick. As I grow older I told him "Dad I think some of the others would like the drum stick." So he started to cut some of the meat off and make more drum sticks, we always had such big turkeys, there was enough for everyone.

He had a little saying while craving "You can have the wings and toes but I'll take part of the parson's nose." The parsons nose was the part the tail feathers came out.

Dad had to have Brussel sprouts, if possible and Mom liked a little bit of celery, her words. Dad's dessert for Christmas was "little pigs in a blanket." They were made from little sausages rolled up in pie crust and baked.

Once Dad placed a lot of raisins on a heat proof platter and poured brandy over them, then he lit the raisins they flamed up. He told us to go ahead and eat some of them. I was afraid of the fire, we were told not to play with fire My brothers were really eating the raisins, saying they were good. Dad asked why I was afraid of them. The boys weren't. So very cautiously I took one at a time. They didn't burn at all, just no heat. They went out before you got to your mouth. I didn't eat many as I never liked raisins anyway. It was exciting to watch my brothers eating them. Dad called them snapdragons. Now I know how the fellows that swallow the flaming sword or sticks fool us. The fire goes out as soon as it hits your mouths. Alcohol is a cool flame.

One night Santa came to our house early. We were going to have dinner early as Dad had an appointment for the evening. We were just a bout thru when Dad excused himself and said he'd be back as early as possible. He got up from the table and went into the bedroom. He came back all excited and in a hurry. "Santas been here I believe, theres something in the bedroom and the window is open." We all jumped up and ran as fast as we could to the bedroom. Dad was still mumbling "He must have come thru the window." He had us convinced. Behold he had been there. And left a lot of toys. The window was wide open and the curtains were waving in the breeze. No one in his right mind would open a window in the dead of winter. Our bedrooms were real cold in the winter time. Just a potbelly heater and the kitchen range to heat the whole house.

I am sure Dad never intended to go to any meeting that night. He stayed home and seemed real happy to enjoy our gifts.

This time we never had to wait for Santa to come, he was ahead of himself, no waiting, we still hated to go to bed Christmas Eve. It was so much fun staying up and playing with our toys. We got some real toys this year.

I enjoyed writing this, as it brought many memories.

Elsie May Crocker

April 15, 1990 

Citation:

Elsie Crocker, "Christmas on the Farm when I was a Small Child" (typescript, 1990); copy in possession of Amber Brosius, 2020.