II.

UNADILLA SIXTY YEARS AGO.

1840.

The village as it would have appeared upon the map in 1840 I may describe as follows: Beginning at the upper or east end, the first building was a one story, weather-beaten house, standing near the shanty occupied by Mrs. Slavin; it was the home of our venerable disciple of St. Crispin, S. H. Fancher.

Then came the house now owned and occupied by Horace Eells. It then stood on the opposite or eastern corner of the old Butternuts road—the site is now occupied by another house—and was owned by David Finch, father of Wm. T. Finch, Esq.

A few rods back on the old Butternuts road stood a small, low shanty that had been used in connection with the Noble and Hayes distillery (since occupied as a tannery by Mr. Eells) as a hog pen; it was then occupied by a family of the name of Nichols—Ti Nichols, who was one of my first patrons. I shall ever retain a feeling remembrance of the premises, for the reason that on my first visit in a dark night, the crown of my head came in violent contact with a knot in a beam over head, the room being not over five feet in the clear.[51]

On the site now occupied by Mr. Eells’s house there stood one of the first houses built in this place, the house on the present Post Office corner being the other and of the same style. The one in question was then occupied by Amos Priest, who was the practical farmer for the Noble and Hayes firm.[52]

Next was the old store building of the above firm, soon afterward used as a tobacco and cigar factory by Noble and Howard.

The two next as now standing were the residences of the Noble and Hayes families with the farm house next adjoining. Mr. Noble had died a few years previously. Mr. Hayes was still living and dealing quite largely in fat stock.

Next came the old yellow building that was recently torn down and a double tenement house erected on its site.

Thence was a vacancy down to the premises now occupied by Frank Bacon, where was a small house afterward succeeded by the present neat cottage.

Next was the adjoining property with the present rear portion of the house; the front was afterward built. This house and the small house to the east of it were then owned and occupied by Thomas H. Graves, a partner in the stage route between Ithaca and Catskill.

The two next were as now the H. H. Howard and Benjamin H. Ayers houses,[53] the latter being years after remodelled by the late Simeon Bidwell.[54]

Thence we pass to the stone law office of C. C. Noble.[55]

Thence was a vacancy down to the site of the A. B. Watson house now occupied and owned by H. C. Gregory, where then stood the Masonic Hall afterwards moved to its present location on Watson Street, and converted into a dwelling by William J. Thompson.[56]

Between this hall and the brick hotel stood the Mechanic’s hall, afterwards moved to its present site and now owned and occupied by R. M. Brant as a grocery and dwelling.

The brick store was then occupied by the firm, I think though am not positive, of Noble and Emory, but it was soon changed to Watson and Noble and finally to Watson and Hayes.

Next came the brick hotel opened that spring by Erastus Kingsley who was probably as well known as a hotel landlord as any man in the rural part of the state. He could count his patrons by the hundred; when traveling they would go 10, 15, and 20 miles extra, just to stay over night with “Old Kingsley.”

All was now vacancy again down to the old yellow house on the corner of Martin Brook Street now owned by the writer.

There were no buildings on Martin Brook Street except a small one story one which is now a part of Dr. Joseph Sweet’s residence; it was then occupied by the widow Lamb and two sons, Lewis and Gurdon.

Next on Main Street came the Rev. N. H. Adams house with farm attached, Lewis Lamb, above mentioned, being his farm hand. This is the house now owned and occupied by M. P. Sweet.[57]

Again was a vacancy down to the stone houses; the first or eastern one was built and occupied by George H. Noble, the other was built by F. A. Sands and occupied by Judge Page, who had purchased it on the death of Mrs. Sands, who was the Judge’s daughter.[58]

Where now stands the Lyman Sperry house stood an old house owned by Bradford Kingsley, the father of Erastus.

Then was a vacancy again to the corner of Clifton Street, since opened, where stood the old Benton and Fellows store, the front of which—afterward built on—was moved across the street and is now the Fellows Block, occupied by M. B. Gregory, the printing office, etc. The firm name was then, I think, Benton and Fellows, but it was soon changed to Fellows, Mead and Finch.

Next was the old Benton house, then occupied as now by Major C. D. Fellows in whose house the elder Benton, his father-in-law, died a few days or a short time after my advent.

A vacancy occurred again and extended down to the house then owned and occupied by Col. Daniel Cone, since remodelled.[59]

A small house stood next, on the lot now occupied by Col. Samuel North’s residence; it was afterward moved farther down on the south side of the street and is now owned by Mr. Bryant, the cooper.

Next was the adjoining brick house, owned by Esq. Eells, father of Horace Eells, and of the wife of E. C. Belknap, the present owner.

Then came the frame part of Edson and Hanford’s carriage shop;[60] and then the brick shop and Wilmot’s cabinet shop.

The adjoining house now owned by the A. P. Gray estate[61] was then owned by a blacksmith of the name of Chatfield, whose wife, a sister of our old patriarch O. F. W. Crane, was in the last stages of consumption, and was put into my hands as a patient by her then attending physician, one of my old preceptors, Dr. Francis W. Hine,[62] of Franklin.

[Illustration: DR. GURDON HUNTINGTON’S HOME

The Oldest House in the Village.]

After the A. P. Gray house came the Wilmot homestead.

The next was an old rookery where the residence of the widow Briggs now stands and in the same yard stood a small house which was afterward burned.

Then came a house patterned after the old house behind the Post Office. An incident attached to the latter dwelling I overlooked in its proper place and will give it here. I bought this property, on the corner of Martin Brook Street, in 1850, of Col. A. D. Williams, and lived in it seventeen years. Here my sons were born. While living there I took out the chimney and in doing so, came across a brick, on which were the initials of a man and the year 1809, thus giving at least a hint as to the age of that chimney.[63] The house mentioned above stood on the site of the fine residence afterwards erected by Evans Owens, which was burned mysteriously.

Next was the Dr. Nijah Cone house, now owned by his grandson Frederick L. Cone, and then the Gilbert Cone house, now owned by James White.

If we now cross the road and return, we find the house at the foot of the hill which was the Niel Robertson residence.

The next house stood where the John Van Cott residence now is[64] and was owned by Johnson Wright who conducted a tannery in the rear of the house. He had a leather store in a building which was moved and now stands on Martin Brook Street where it has been converted into a house for rental.

Then came the house[65] and store owned by Colonel Sheldon Griswold, now the property of the Rev. Mr. Hayes. The store was occupied by Griswold and Cone, Lewis Cone being Mr. Griswold’s partner.

A house occupied by A. P. Gray who was running a harness shop came next.

From there all was vacant up to the Dr. Edson place, now belonging to the Peter Rifenbark estate.[66]

From there the land was all open up to the hotel now the Unadilla House.[67]

Next came the old Page house now owned by H. E. Bailey.

From there all was vacant up to the old school house site now occupied by the Teller residence, except that there was a building on the corner of Main and Walnut Streets, which was afterward moved and is now the upright part of the Jordan place on Walnut Street.

Adjoining the school house stood, as now, the H. S. Woodruff place, and next a small house, where now the L. L. Woodruff house stands. This house was moved and is now occupied by Mr. Price, on Watson Street.

Next came the Episcopal Church and adjoining it a house where the rectory stands, which was moved to Martin Brook Street for a house to rent.

Next was a small house which is now the rear part of the L. B. Woodruff house.[68]

Next across the street came the store and dwelling of Colonel A. D. Williams, now owned respectively by A. Mallory and D. P. Loomis.

Then came the brick house owned by Joel Bragg and now the property of Dr. Gregory.

The next was the hat shop of B. H. Ayers, afterwards converted[69] into a dwelling and now owned by Lyman DeForest and occupied by Charles Mulligan.

The next was the old Bragg Hotel now owned by our agent at the railroad station, Mr. Adams.[70]

From there was an open space up to the old Bissell residence which recently passed into the hands, by purchase, of Mr. and Miss Jeyes.

Next was an old house, since torn down, occupied by Daniel Hayes, a hatter. Lastly came the old Judge Beach house which now is the Oliver Buckley residence.[71]

Thus I have mentioned every house and building of any importance which constituted the village of Unadilla when I first became a resident and which stood on Main Street. Watson Street has since been opened through to Bridge Street with the exception of the portion that runs through the land between the Misses Raitt and Miss Elizabeth Veley residences, but there were no buildings yet erected on it. There was not a dwelling or other building standing on Mill Street except the Woodruff stone blacksmith shop, J. Hanford’s wagon shop, the mills and the house where Hiel Crandall lives, which was then the Mill house and stood on the corner by the Condensery.

Martin Brook road had been opened a few years previous. It was opened in its upper part largely through the efforts of A. B. Watson and A. D. Williams who desired to bring business from the Rogers Hollow country to the upper end of the village. The land on either side was in a state of nature, covered from near the Eells tannery, with pine and hemlock; nearly an unbroken forest through to the Wheeler Warrener farm on the Rogers Hollow side of the hill. There was a small clearing on what is now the John Osborn farm, and just beyond, a man of the name of Wycott, had rolled up the year before, a small one room log house. The road was hardly passable the greater portion of the way and I had quite a serious time one very dark, stormy night in getting home from a visit to one of the Bartholomew families, then living beyond the Rogers Hollow Creek.

I was on horseback, and started for home about eight or nine o’clock, as near as I can remember. It was raining and as dark as a pocket, but I had no difficulty until I reached the summit of the ridge, coming toward the village, where I struck the thickest of the woods. The limbs and underbrush began to whip me in the face, and I soon became aware that my horse had lost the trail—it was not fit to be called road—but I could do no better than give her the reins, protect my face from the brush, and allow her to go where she pleased. After what seemed to me hours, I discovered in the distance, a slight glimmer of light and pointed for it. I found it to be the reflection, through the unmudded chinks, of the Wycott house fire place. They were all abed, and had left the brands burning and the light showing between the logs. I hallooed and induced the old man to lend me his lantern. When I reached home the clock was striking twelve so that I was certainly three hours traveling some three and a half or four miles.

An amusing incident in my experience in that neighborhood occurred on the Osborn farm above referred to. An old log house standing near the creek below the Osborn barn was occupied by Ethan Allen, known as “Capt. Horn,” who was given, as those who remember him will recall, to boasting and telling pretty tough yarns, one of which gave him the nickname above mentioned. This yarn related to his grabbing a bull by the horns and hurling him off a bridge and twisting off the horns.

Well, I was called to see him one cold night and found him suffering severely from pleurisy; while preparing to bleed him, which was the accepted treatment in those days for that disease, he made the remark, in his boastful way, that he had never fainted in his life, and that I might take as much blood out of him as I pleased; I could not make him faint. Feeling a little mischievous I concluded to test his powers of endurance. I drew him up before the fireplace, where a roaring fire was burning, corded his arm, made a free opening into the vein, and the blood poured out in a stream nearly as large as my little finger. In less than two minutes he was on his back on the floor in a complete faint. After a few moments he came to; looking up and rubbing his eyes he said: “Doctor, I was not the least bit faint. I was only a little sick at the stomach and thought I would lie down a moment.”[72]