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The Johnsons Reunited:
Family of city's first citizen arrives
Road to Oconomowoc constructed
Article
from the
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 long [sic (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
pappoose's [sic] 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, 1870
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.
kmr
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
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 [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.* 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**. 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
*
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
first postmaster in Watertown was William M. Dennis, not Patrick Rogan.
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.
Cross 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.
1907 Homecoming Day, Recognition of, Watch Fob
