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The Johnsons Reunited:
Family of city's first citizen arrives
Road to Oconomowoc constructed
Article
from the Jan 22, 1851 issue of the Watertown
Chronicle
Personal account of early Watertown,
written by Timothy Johnson,
the first white settler [1836] of what is
now Watertown
During the same summer I cut a
road, with the assistance of three hired men - Philander Baldwin, Reeve
Griswold and Charles Seaton - from Jefferson to Watertown, on the east side of
the river, and one from Jefferson to a point near the present tavern stand of
Austin Kellogg, in the town of Concord. Striking the extensive tamarac swamp there, which we
regarded as impassable, we abandoned our intention of opening a road to
Milwaukee.
During the summer I built a cabin
within the present village of Watertown, and erected the body and laid the
floor of the log house now standing on my farm, on the west side of the river,
about three fourths of a mile south of the village. In the fall I sent for my
family. About the time I expected them to arrive at Milwaukee I started for
that place on horseback, following the Indian trails through lxonia, Oconomowoc and Summit, to Prairieville. I do not
think that any white man had previously passed over that route. There was at
that time no inhabitant between Watertown and Prairieville. Having been thrown
from my horse in fording the Oconomowoc River, wetting me to the skin and
rendering useless my fire matches, I passed a cold, comfortless night encamped
by the side of a log near the junction of the Twin Lakes.
On reaching Milwaukee, I found my
family had been there two days. I hired a man to carry them to Prairieville,
where they remained about four weeks. I then hired their conveyance to the
upper lake, on the Oconomowoc. At that place I and my men dug out five poplar
canoes, each 31 feet long, and lashed them together, and built a red cedar raft
capable of bearing two or three tons weight, expecting to find little or no
difficulty in floating them down the Oconomowoc and Rock to Watertown, with my
family, furniture and provisions. But I was mistaken. - As
we passed out of the lake, we found the water quite shallow, and some days did
not travel to exceed 80 rods.
We camped nights on the shore,
and usually cooked provisions enough to last us through the following day. We
reached the head of the lower lake, where the village of Oconomowoc now stands,
on the night of the fifth day after leaving the upper lake. That night was
intensely cold, and in the morning we found the lake covered with ice strong
enough to bear a man. Of course, we were compelled to abandon our expectations
of reaching Watertown by water.
So leaving my family in a tent under
charge of one of my men, (Mr. Griswold) I and Miller started for Watertown
after my ox team, to convey my family thither, by land. Returning to Oconomowoc
with the team, I took my family and a portion of my goods, and started for
Watertown. At a stream now known as Battletown Creek,
about three miles from Oconomowoc, we found it necessary to build a cabin for
our accommodation, until we could bridge that stream. We were thus detained
three or four days. We also cut the road all the way from that point to
Watertown, which place we were three weeks and three days in reaching, from the
time we left Prairieville. The road thus opened was the only one traveled
between Watertown and Prairieville for many years; and for a long time was the
cabin alluded to, the only building on the road.
Battletown Creek received its name from the
following incident: A little difficulty occurred at the cabin one night, while
we were building the bridge, between one of my men by the name of Gardner and myself, ending in a "clinch" in which I obtained
the advantage of my antagonist. No blood was spilt, however, nor bones broken.
The next morning one of my men wrote with a piece of red chalk, on the top of a
stump near the cabin, "Battletown." The
creek thus took its name, which it has borne ever since.
I might have stated before, that
my family landed at Watertown on the night of the 10th of December, 1836. Mrs.
Johnson was the first white woman who settled in that town.
I must pass over a number of
incidents which I had intended to weave into this narrative. Two only have I
time to give.
In Jan. 1837, I bought a load of
provisions at Milwaukee. One barrel of flour I could not get into my shantee, and left it for the night by the door. In the
morning it was gone, as also a bed cord I had used to bind the load. I could
easily determine from the tracks in the snow, that the thieves were Indians. I
followed their track nearly to the present village of Lowell, but not
overtaking them, I gave up the chase.
About two years afterward I
ascertained the name of the mover in the theft. He said that he and his company
lashed two poles together with the bed cord, a foot or so apart, and lashing
the poles to the pack saddles of two ponies, placed the flour upon the kind of
rack thus formed. From the vicinity of Lowell, they took a turn east and did
not unload the flour until then reached Hustis'
Rapids. The reason he assigned for the theft was, that while I was in Milwaukee
after my provisions, he had sold a pony to my son for five gallons of whiskey
and alleging that the article had been watered he maintained that the flour
would no more than make good the supposed cheat!
In the spring of 1837, six
drunken Indians and their squaws came to my log house and asked for whiskey,
saving, in their native language that they were "whiskey hungry." - I
refused to let them have any. This exasperated them,
and one of their number catching up an ax, aimed a blow at my head but I warded
it off, and jerking the ax from him, threw it at some rods distance. I then
seized a pitchfork, and striking him over the head, felled him to the ground.
Drawing to strike again, the instrument was caught by the remaining five
Indians, and neither party was able to wrench it from the other. Letting go
with my right hand, I used my fist upon the "red skins," and knocking
them all down, rushed into the house and bolted the door. One of the Indians
got the ax, and approaching the door, gave it a blow which is visible to this
day. I told him I would assuredly shoot him if he broke in the door.
A consultation took place between
them, and picking up the Indian whom I had first struck, they departed, and
encamped for the night near the present residence of Wm. M. Dennis. Early the
next morning, the father of the wounded Indian visited me and said he wanted
some whiskey to wash his papoose’s head, as he was "much hurt."
I told him he could not have the whiskey but that I would go up and see the
fellow. I did so, and found the camp 30 strong. I examined the skull and found
it was not broken, although it had been laid bare by the blow. I assisted in
dressing the wound and left. - Had not the father of the young man voluntarily
proclaimed that he was a "bad pappoose"
this difficulty might have been attended with serious consequences. As it was, l heard no more of it.
Founder's physique belied historical stature
A companion
article to Johnson's writings, originally published in
the Watertown Democrat on Feb 9,
1870.
Perhaps it will not be out of
place, in this connection, if we attempt to give an outline of Mr. Johnson's
personal appearance, as we were accustomed to see him some years ago. He was
somewhat under the average size and weight, not very tall but slim, and without
looking either powerful or robust, he struck one as being tough, sinewy and
persistent - a man accustomed to activity,
exposure and outdoor life, and capable of enduring a great deal of
fatigue and privation. When we first saw
him, his once erect form slightly stooped, from the effects of toil and years.
His complexion was light, and in youth must have been florid and fair. His eyes
were deep blue, and age had silvered his hair.
On all subjects that came within the range of his observation, he was
well-informed, acute and practical in his conversation. Though something of a
reader, his book knowledge was probably not extensive, as perhaps neither his tastes or pursuits led him in that direction.
If, as we have been informed, in early manhood, he had been a Methodist
exhorter, he must have been warm and fervent in his appeals. He was a good and
accommodating neighbor but not disposed to be on very familiar or intimate
terms with many. He was retiring and secluded in his habits, disposed to be
reticent and keep his own counsel, and rather choosing to be by himself - there
being something in the grandeur and stillness of the boundless forest, and in
the solitude of the lonely journey that harmonized with his thoughts and
feelings. For a home, he seemed to
prefer the distant frontier, with its trials and dangers, to the crowded city,
with its rivalries and excitements.
These are the impressions we
received when we first met him, more than seventeen years ago. We remember we
had been here but a few days, when he called at our office, subscribed for the
Democrat, and casually stated that he had taken all the papers ever published
here. This led to a little talk, during which we ascertained that our visitor
was the first settler of the place.
We are not aware that more than
one likeness was ever taken of Mr. Johnson. That was obtained, at our
suggestion, about fourteen years since, through the kindness of Mr. Curtis
Cooley - who then had a Photograph Gallery, and the last time he was in his
rooms, shortly before his death, he brought the negative into our office and
gave it to us and it is still in our possession.
A fond farewell: The Obituary of Timothy Johnson
Death of the Pioneer of Watertown
The
Watertown Democrat, Feb 2, 1871
Mr. Timothy Johnson, the first
settler of Watertown, died at Madison, Wis., at 8 o'clock on Sunday morning,
the 29th of January, 1871, in the 79th year of his age.
He was born in Middletown, Conn.,
on the 28th of June, 1792. What his early educational advantages were we are
not informed, but we presume they were fair, though the common schools of those
days so soon after the close of the revolutionary war were by no means what
they now are. While still a lad, he moved with his parents to central New York,
then the land of promise for New Englanders. In 1816, he made a journey to the
south, wandering about a couple of years in Virginia, North and South Carolina
and Georgia. Not long after his return he married, purchased a farm near
Rochester, sold that and bought another in Orleans County, which he afterwards
exchanged for one in Montville, Medina County, Ohio, whither he removed in
1828. There he remained several years, when the roving desire again took
possession of him, he visited the Maumee region, but finding no location that
suited him, he extended his tour into Wisconsin, reaching the valley of the
Rock River. He was so well pleased with the new country that he resolved to
make it his home.
After various excursions
previously made - sometimes by himself alone and sometimes in company with
others - the 10th of December, 1836, found him, with his family, occupying the
only house then standing within the limits of our city, which he had previously
built with his own hands, the first permanent American settler ever located
here. It was then a wild, woodland, untenanted, neighborless
place, with all the hardships and deprivations of frontier life and none of the
comforts of civilization. The Indians were still lingering about their familiar
haunts, looking with distrust on those who were about to take their lands and
drive them away. Here he remained a number of years, until a prosperous and
flourishing community grew up around him, profiting little by the opportunities
he had of securing a competence, when in 1856, he again resumed his youthful
habit of exploring new territories, and in his old age, sought a home for
himself in the Northwest portion of the state - Polk county, we believe he
selected.
The gathering infirmities of his
advanced period of life rendering him too feeble to endure the exposure and
toils of the lonely pioneer, he again returned to this city, to pass the rest
of his declining days in quietude and repose with his children, who watched
over him with all kindness and solicitude. But shadows and darkness began to
cloud his once clear and vigorous mind. His misty language and listless groping
exhibited unmistakable signs of mental depression and alienation. His malady
did not assume a violent form, but showed itself in strange ways that too
plainly indicated reason was losing its "proud empire" over his
thoughts and actions. For his more skillful treatment, he was taken to the
Asylum at Madison, where he lingered, without much suffering or pain, until
death came to gently draw aside the veil from his overcast and wandering
intellect, release his spirit from its bodily imprisonment, and disclose the
realities and splendors of the world beyond the grave there. "There is no night there."
Mr. Johnson was a man of close
observation, good intelligence, sound judgment, and remarkable, even among the
proverbially generous pioneer elm, for his unfailing and genial hospitality.
When his rude and solitary log cabin was the only habitation in all this
vicinity that could offer shelter to the traveler, the belated wayfarer or
stranger was sure of a hearty welcome to his roof, and readily entertained with
the best he could furnish. Some of our oldest citizens - among whom is Gen. L. A. Cole - passed their first night, after
reaching here, weary and fatigued, at his fireside and partook of their first
meal at his table. He was a kind, accommodating neighbor and true friend.
Of Mr. Johnson's family four
daughters and three sons survive, viz: Mrs. Philander
Baldwin of Iowa; Mrs. P. V. Brown and Mrs. J. A. Chadwick, of this city; Mrs.
Dwight Goodrich, now in Pilatka, Florida, where she
is spending the winter with her husband for the benefit of his health, Henry
Johnson of Dexterville, Wood county, Charles Johnson
of Milwaukee, and John B. Johnson of Portage, Wis.
The funeral took place on
Wednesday the 1st of February, at the residence of his son-in-law, Mr. John A.
Chadwick, attended by a large number of former neighbors, and a few of the
surviving companions of his pioneer days.
Death
of the First Settler of Watertown. Mr. Timothy Johnson.
The
Watertown Republican, Feb 1, 1871
Again the painful duties evolves
upon us of chronicling the death of another early settler of Watertown, this
time the first white man who settled where the city of Watertown now stands -
Mr. Timothy Johnson. Mr. Johnson died in
the Hospital for the Insane, at Madison on Sunday morning last, in the 79th
year of his age.
In the month of June 1836 Mr.
Johnson came up Rock River in a canoe, to the spot where Watertown now stands. Finding the location favorable, he built the
first house here ever erected by a white man, near the site of the present
residence of Mr. A. W. Carlin, in the 3d ward. After a residence here of about 20 years,
during which time he lived to see the spot, where but a few short years before
the Indians reigned supreme growing into a large and flourishing town, he again
engaged in the life of a pioneer in the St. Croix region of this state. Here he remained nearly four years, but he
finally returned to this city, and for several years resided with his
daughters, Mrs. J. A. Chadwick and Mrs. T. V. Brown; until by reason of his
demented physical and mental condition, it was necessary to place him in the
Hospital for the Insane at Madison. His
mind remained impaired up to the time of his death, but his health was generally
good, and he appeared to enjoy life under the kind treatment he met with. He received a paralytic stroke which was the
immediate cause of his death.
Mr. Johnson was born in
Middletown, Conn., June 28th, 1792. He
early emigrated to Rochester, N.Y., where he married. From Rochester he moved to Medina, Ohio, from
whence he came west. Mr. Johnson was
possessed of all the strong and marked characteristics of the pioneer. Fearless, independent and honest, he
outwardly, perhaps, to some, did not always show the warm, tender heart that
beat within him. Before his late
affliction Mr. Johnson was possessed of more than ordinary mind, much given to
research, and he was able to express his ideas very aptly in his own peculiar
way.
The old pioneer goes down to his
grave full of years, and the places which knew him will know him no more, but
the memory of the first settler of Watertown will ever remain green in the
minds of our people.
The
Founding of Watertown
as seen through the eyes
of
Timothy
Johnson’s daughter
by
W. F. Jannke
III
When I stated a desire to write
about Timothy Johnson, the founder of our fair city, I was faced with a
dilemma: what can I say that hasn’t already been said or that I could say in
one article instead of a mini-series? I puzzled and puzzed
until I came across a copy if a speech which had been written by Jane
(Johnson) Chadwick, one of Johnson’s daughters. Her speech was
presented before an old settlers meeting in the late 1880s
and a version of it had been published in the Watertown Gazette. But I had a
copy of her original notes, which contain charming colloquialisms (as well as a
very personalized form of spelling!). This manuscript, the original of which is
in the collections of the Watertown Historical Society, I felt presented a very
unique perspective on the founding of our city, through the eyes of a young
girl.
Jane Melissa Johnson was the
fourth known child born to Timothy and Lucretia
(Brownell) Johnson. She was born August 14, 1827 in Rochester, NY. She married
John Chadwick, another pioneer settler, in 1842 and they had at least four
children. She died in Watertown on April 14, 1898 and
together with her husband they are buried in Oak Hill Cemetery, not far
from the grave site of her parents.
Here, in her own words, is Jane
Chadwick’s story:
I will date this little
manuscript September 20, the day we started from Medina, Ohio, for our western
home, then called the Northwest Territory, later
allied Wisconsin Territory. Then there was no settlement to speak of this side
of Green Bay. There was a fort at Portage where a few soldiers were stationed.
The settlements were few and far apart as I said. We started September 20, came
to Cleveland and there took a schooner for Milwaukee. At that time there were
no steamers running farther than Detroit. We lay six days in Cuyhaguy River windbound, then
another week on the St. Clair flats, then a day or two in Mackinac and when we
landed in Milwaukee we had been on the boat three weeks, it being then the
first of October.
Milwaukee was a small village
then, [having] only two hotels, one called the Bellaview,
the other [the] Cottage Inn. The east side of the river was Juneau’s side and
the west side was called Kilbourn Town. On the east
side Mr. Juneau had a trading post for the Indians. The Indians had unbounded
love and reverence for him. They called him Solimo Nichisin Solimo, [which means]
good in our language. We stayed in Milwaukee five days. My father [met] us
there, he having come here in early spring. He did not dare to leave his claim
for fear of someone jumping [it], for the land was not then in market and if
they should only be gone for a short time perhaps when they returned they would
find another occupant as much at home as you were when you left, so you see it
was quite necessary for one to stay and keep close watch over what he had. In
those days might was right; [there was] no law to speak of and it stood one in
hand to guard well his own. I think perhaps that is in a measure the same now.
We started from Milwaukee [and]
went as far as Prairieville, now Waukesha. There we again stopped for four
weeks. There not being any road cut through, my father thought he would dig out
some canoes and come down the Oconomowoc stream. So he made four. He fastened
two together making quite a craft. We loaded what few household goods we
possessed and again started for our new home we had heard so much about, the
land of promise to us. But our boats were green and heavy and the stream too
small, so the consequence was the men had to wade a good part of the way and
push the craft. Our intention was to come down the Oconomowoc, then down Rock River to our home, then nameless but now our
long loved Watertown.
Well, it was now in November. The
weather was getting cold and we had managed to get as far as the first lake and
the ice had frozen so hard they had to break it with poles. But by hugging the
shore we managed to get through the first lake, now called Fowler and Labelle.
We again pitched our tent and in the morning the lake was frozen over so hard
the Indians could walk across. Well here we were, frozen in. The next thing to
do was to stay where we were until my father could come here and get his team,
consisting of a yoke of oxen and wagon, which took one week, we camping there
all this time. I forgot to mention there were three men with us, helping us: Messers. Miller, Griswold and Baldwin.
Mr. Griswold stayed with us whilst my father, my oldest brother, then only 14
years old, and the other two men came for the team. My father had cut some hay
and they had to take some to feed the oxen.
It got a little warmer and we
again took up our line of march, cutting the road
through the Rock River woods, which was thick heavy timber, and many times not
getting but a very short distance, not being worthwhile to move our camp. There
not being a house between here and Waukesha , we got along so slowly we all got
very tired, so my oldest brother, Henry, my two older sisters Mrs. Baldwin and
Mrs. Brown, and myself, then only nine, started afoot from Pipersville and
followed an Indian trail until we reached here.
There was one little log shanty
here. It stood about where the new Opera House is [Editor’s Note: Today the Elk’s Club ]. We found a French man in it. He
was very glad to see us. All he had to eat was some salt pork and we brought a
loaf of bread, of course [it was] not very good such as we could make on our
way as we journeyed along. But such as it was I never had a meal taste better
than that fried pork and bread did. That cold night of long ago was my first
night in Watertown. Two days later the rest of the family came, which was the
12 of December, 1836. [Editor’s
Note: Mrs. Chadwick is in error. The Johnson family, according to all other
sources, including that of her father in 1851, arrived in Watertown on December
10, 1836, not December 12th.] The snow had fallen to
the depth of two feet and it was very cold. Thus bedded our
long and tedious journey of about three months. People complain now of
slow trains, but when you can start from here at seven in the morning and get
to Minneapolis at 3:30, a distance of three hundred miles, I think it quite an
improvement on ‘36 times.
When we left Waukesha we bought
vegetables for the winter. But before we reached here they were all frozen. Our
journey here was such a long and expensive one. What we thought would do for
our winter supplies was nearly gone, so after my father had got a little rested
he had to start again for Milwaukee for more supplies for the winter. He bought
one barrel of pork for which he paid $40.00 and two barrels of flour for which
he paid $20.00 a piece. Butter was 50 cents a pound, too much a delicacy to
indulge in very much, and other things in proportion.
When my father reached home our
little shanty was too small to hold all, so we put one barrel of flour outside
and covered it as well as we could. But before morning the Indians had stolen
it and father followed them for two days but could not catch them. They had two
ponies and put poles across from one to the other and laid the barrel on the
poles. That was quite a loss for it took so much time to go for it, as well as
paying for it.
We had the body of a hewn log house
up but it had no roof nor floor and that had to be made by hand, cut and split
out of logs and hewn and the shingles made the same. But it was finished and I
think we moved in January. It was very comfortable. Then we had to think about
how we were to get our seed for our spring sowing. So after we had got settled
in our new house, father cut and hewed timber for building purposes and rafted
it down the river, I think, to Janesville, where he sold it and bought potatoes
for which he paid five dollars per bushel and beans the same. That of course
did not mean many to eat, we had none all winter. But as soon as they could
grow we had a plenty, for the soil was very rich and
yielded abundantly. I never saw such lovely gardens as we used to have.
When we came here our nearest
neighbor was Mr. Dwight Foster, living at Fort Atkinson. They moved there the
same fall we came here. We did not quarrel but lived as all good neighbors
should, in peace and harmony with each other. [It was] not very neighborly for
we were twenty-five miles apart.
When my father came here he
claimed where the most of our city is on the east side of the river. He sold to
Mr. George J. Goodhue his interest in the water power and [in] the summer of
1837 he built a dam across the river and a sawmill. It
seemed very nice to have lumber without making it by hand. The first year after
the dam was built the fish came up here in such swarms they seemed to fill the
river full. We had them in every form, fried, boiled, baked, and roasted. Also
smoked and salted. In fact we had fish enough.
Our little town was first called
Johnson’s Rapids after its founder but later was named Watertown. Judge Hyer had the honor of naming our city. Some of the oldest
settlers will remember him. He, with Thomas Brayton,
settled in Aztalan. There were two or
three brothers of the Braytons, one they called Honey
Brayton. This was a little anecdote they used to
relate about him. He used to be fond [of] making a little money out of people
as they were traveling through the country. So one night a wayfarer happened to
stay with him all night. In the morning he charged him 75 cents, 25 cents a
meal. He said he slept on a turnpost bedstead and had
honey on the table. Thus he derived his name; them
days we never thought of charging anyone for a night’s lodging or meal. We were
only too glad to see them, that was recompense enough.
We did not have so much to offer, but it was freely given.
The first religious meeting here
was at my father’s house, the Rev. Mr. Halstead officiating. He was a Methodist
circuit preacher. He came about noon, weary and almost sick. My mother got him
some dinner and he went to bed to refresh himself so he could preach in the evening.
We children (there being seven of us) were sent in different directions to
notify the people that there would be preaching at our house that evening. I
think there were about 12 or 15 present. But the poor man was so tired and sick
he had to sit in his chair to preach. That was the fall of 1837. After that we
had meetings about once a month. A Mr. Pillsbury was on the circuit with him.
The first school here was taught
by Miss Dolly Piper. She taught two summers. She was a lovely lady [and] a
daughter of Mr. Benjamin Piper of Pipersville. The first male teacher was my
husband, Mr. J. A. Chadwick. The first postmaster was Mr. Patrick Rogan. [ Editor’s Note: The first postmaster in Watertown was William M.
Dennis, not Patrick Rogan. ]. The first store here was kept by Mr. Luther and John Cole. It
seemed so nice to have a place where we could do our trading without going to
Milwaukee. One time, in company with three or four of my friends, Mr. John Cole
said the one that got married first should have a stone jar that stood there
filled with snuff. Well, I was most always up to snuff so I got the jar. And a
good husband too.
Mr. Linus
R. Cady kept the first hardware store here; Mr. Stephen March had the first
furniture store here; Mr. William R. Perry had the first cooper shop; the first
lawyer here was Mr. John Richards. He came here in a very early day, I think in
‘37. The first death here was a Mr. Bass. He came here with two others [and]
was hired to come here and jump people’s claims. They got to drinking and
quarreling and killed Bass. They came in the night to have my father go to
their shanty, but he refused to go, saying if he was dead he could do nothing
for him. But in the morning he, with another man, went to where they were and
found him laying by the fire, his flesh nearly burned
off one side. They had to send to Milwaukee for a coroner to hold an inquest
and my father, with one or two others, made the burial
case made of planks split and hewn from logs. Not very beautiful but I presume
quite substantial. In grading the streets a few years ago [in 1859] he was
found and laid to rest in the cemetery. That was our first death and
burial.
The few first years of our living
here were attended with many trials and privations [and] also some pleasures.
We used to look forward to our holiday festivities with a great deal of
pleasure. Sometimes we would go to Jefferson and sometimes their people would
come here to attend our parties. But as the country became more settled we knew
less of our more distant friends and, in fact, hardly knew them at all. I hope
our meeting here may renew our old friendship and form new ones. I feel that it
was not us that had to bear the burden but our fathers and mothers who had it
to bear, who had to care for us before we could care for ourselves. But they
have nearly all gone to another home. The home where sorrows never come. If we are prepared for that journey, let’s go
hand in hand to our Old Settler’s meeting there. Please excuse my many
shortcomings.
Mrs. J. A. Chadwick
1907
1907 Homecoming Day, Recognition of, Watch Fob
1936
Cited in Centennial Parade
1954
06 18 1954
A
grandson of Watertown's first white settler and founder of Watertown, Timothy Johnson,
will come here for the city's centennial celebration.
He is
Edward L. Johnson of Pewaukee, where he operates a drug store with Edward Panter, former Watertown druggist. Mr. Panter at one
time managed the Ford-Hopkins drug store.
The
two were in Watertown yesterday calling on a few old friends and while here
dropped into the Times building. Mr. Johnson said that they had read about the
coming centennial festivities and decided that while they were in the vicinity
they'd better come here to give the city a quick once-over again and then
announced they'd be back for the celebration, notably for the parade on June
27.
Mr.
Johnson was not born in Watertown, even though his grandfather first came here
in 1836 to settle what is now the city of Watertown.
The grandson was born in Pittsville, Wis. His parents were Mr. and Mrs. Henry
Johnson.
The Obituary of Charles Johnson
Died: Charles Johnson,
11/19/1924, 86, born in Watertown, son of Timothy Johnson, first white settler
of Watertown, at his home in Milwaukee. He resided in Watertown until 1865 when he
went to Milwaukee. He was an engineer on the Chicago, Milwaukee & St. Paul
Railroad. Johnson Creek was named after his father. Taken to
Watertown for burial.
1908 Charles Johnson return visit to
Watertown
References:
[ 1 ] First deed to
a land grant was in 1836 and went to James Rogan. Timothy Johnson, made his first land claims
at Aztalan, then in Jefferson and subsequently 1,000
acres in Watertown, but apparently this was recorded after Rogan's. Both came
here in 1836.
Minnie
Krueger, recollection of her mother having worked before her marriage for
Timothy Johnson.
