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The Early Days of Burlington - Charles G. Foltz
Charles G. Foltz was born in West Winfield, Herkimer
County, New York, in September 1837, the oldest of the six children of Rev.
Benjamin Foltz and his first wife, Jane (Harwood) Foltz. The family moved to
Ohio in 1846 and came to Wisconsin in 1849, settling first in Emerald Grove in
Rock County and then in Allen's Grove in Walworth County. They moved to
Burlington in 1854, where Rev. Foltz became pastor of what was then the
Presbyterian church. Charles G. Foltz was one of the charter members of Burlington's Plymouth Congregational church, which was organized in 1858; and he served as church clerk for many years. He was also active in Burlington's school affairs, serving as trustee on the school board for many years and as treasurer during the building of the Conkey Street High School (now Cooper School), which opened in 1897. His wife, Mary Ann Chandler, was a teacher in Burlington before their marriage in 1861. Foltz died in Burlington on July 22, 1921, at age 83.
My first glimpse of Burlington was in June, 1854. I had walked more than twenty miles that day, driving the family cow to our new home. The sun was around the bend in Chestnut street, and the village and its beautiful surroundings of rivers, hills and groves were spread out before me. Tired and footsore as I was, I was rejoiced to have my lot cast in so goodly a home. I felt sure I had reached a desirable haven. Burlington was then in its boyhood. Seventeen or eighteen years before, the first pioneers had come to the fork of the rivers and erected their cabins and log houses. There had been rapid growth, so rapid that in 1854 it was quite a village, and had developed manufacturing and commercial interests to quite an extent. A healthy and robust growth, so that, to use a figurative phrase, Burlington was "handsome as a boy," and with the passing years has retained this reputation. The village then and for many years after, was under the town government. Surveys had been made, streets and roads laid out that met the requirements for many years. In this work there were controversies and conflicts at times that account in part for the crooks in some of our streets. Silas Peck and Mr. Perkins (who owned adjoining sections) had different views as to platting--so that to thwart the purpose of one the other would put up a building to head off a street. A cobblestone house erected where the Christien shoe store is [now 161 Chestnut Street], was the cause of the bend in Chestnut street. When the Spring Prairie road [now West Chestnut Street and Highway 11] was laid out, the supervisors favored its running direct into town over the steep hill on Ephraim Perkins' land [where Hillcrest Bed & Breakfast is now located], contending it was shorter than to run it around the base of the hill. Mr. Perkins was strongly opposed to this plan and carried the point by saying, "I do not find the bale of a kettle measures any more lying down than standing up." The growth of the village was slow for three decades. In the residence portion there were many blocks with few if any buildings. Corn fields, orchards and pasture land existed that are now covered with houses. The manufacturing and commercial interests also were of slow growth. I will speak briefly of those that existed in the fifties. Ephraim Perkins, to whose enterprise and shrewdness the village was indebted for much of its development, had several years before been "gathered to his Father," and his son, Pliny M., reigned in his stead. He was the manufacturing magnate of that time, as well as a large land owner. He owned and operated the quite extensive woolen mills, the excellence of its cashmeres, tweeds, flannels and yarns being known far and near. Quite a large custom business was done for the farmers -- carding their wool into rolls for the thrifty housewives to use in their domestic manufactures. Mr. Perkins also owned and operated one of the two flour and grist mills then here. The other was Scott's mill, down near the Chicago, Milwaukee, & St. Paul bridge. Quite an extensive milling business was done at that time -- the farmers bringing in large grists, some coming a long distance and waiting their turn, after staying over night. Their patronage of the taverns, as they were usually called, and stores made them quite important factors of the business of the place. Another important manufacturing plant was the Sawyer & Barns plow shop. Some can still remember the excellence of their plows. Wagons were made by McCumber & Williams, George Stohr, John Edmunds and others. Two foundries and repair shops were operated by Wagner & Zwiebel, and, if I remember right, as early as this period, a brewery by Jacob Muth. Several blacksmith shops were run by Jacob Wambold, William Rein, Frederick Keuper and others; tin shops; boot and shoe shops by Simon Kempf, Frank Schemmer, T. J. Thompson; harness shop by Milo T. Hayes, about cover the list of manufactures. Now most of these lines have ceased to be made here. The mammoth trust industries have driven the smaller out of existence. Most of the mercantile business places were on the corner of Geneva and Chestnut and Pine and Chestnut streets[Geneva is now Milwaukee ave.]. Orson Sheldon was the leading merchant. He, as well as the other dealers, kept a general variety, forerunners of the modern department stores. Many important articles at that time are almost unknown to this generation. Fish oil, Camphene Burning fluid and candles were sold for lighting purposes. In the drug department of Sheldon's store were some small bottles labeled "Petroleum or Rock Oil, for external use as a remedy for cuts and burns" -- all that then was known of kerosene. Yellow sugar in mammoth hogsheads, loaf sugar in conical shaped loafs, grain cradles, flails, etc. Nearly all wants could be supplied from one store -- from a silk dress and bonnet to axle grease and tar. Butter, eggs, tallow, rags, hides, etc., were taken in barter. Besides the Sheldon store, the firms of Gammel & Phelps and Mr. Clark, dealers in general merchandise, such as dry goods, groceries, etc., were located on the corner of the same streets, one in the building now owned by Mrs. August Reuschlein [where Johnson Bank is now located], the other in the building that is now occupied by Miller & Voelker's millinery store [where Chocolate City Travel was located]. On the corner of Pine and Chestnut streets were the drug store of Dr. William Lewis, grocery of W. C. Grassie, and later the toy and variety store of Francis Reuschlein, which was the store of the most attraction to the children of that day. The corner where the Florence block -- the Wien store -- now is [later occupied by Kessler's Five and Dime, Cannella Response Television, and others], was vacant until Mr. Peck [another source says Hiram A. Sheldon] built a frame building early in the sixties, and opened a hardware store. His successors in the occupancy of this building were Sheldon & Conkey, Anthony Meinhardt and Theodore Riel, general merchants. Mr. Peck's house was about one hundred feet from this corner. From his house to Jefferson street was all vacant. The block from Washington to Jefferson street, Mr. Peck donated for a park, but as the town did nothing to improve it, but rather seemed to turn down the gift, it reverted to his heirs after twenty years. Henry Neuhaus was the jeweler of the early years, owning and located in the building adjoining the Meinhardt bank [now Chase Bank of which the Neuhaus building is a part]. Francis Meinhardt, Sr., had a store where the Bank of Burlington now is [on corner now occupied by May's Insurance]. The building was small, one story, but it was wonderful the great variety of merchandise it contained. It used to be a common saying that you could not call for anything but he had it, which was tested one time when a stranger to its resources accepted a wager that he could. They went over to the store, and he asked for goose yokes. The old gentleman fumbled over some dusty packages on the top shelf and, sure enough, produced them. All the banking business of the town for years was in the second story of the building now known as the Meinhardt bank [now Chase Bank]. Caleb P. Barns was president, vice-president and director -- he was the "whole thing" -- as the boys would say, he was "it." He was so genial and jocular that a borrower would feel that he was granted quite a favor in securing a loan at 12 percent, and I believe the interest was deducted in advance. Most of the banking business was done in Racine. I remember that a temperance lodge I belonged to used this second story for a while, and at one time had public installation of officers, followed by a social and oyster supper. The young folks (I was young then) proposed to have something else -- a dance to end the festivities. The older ones said "No." The young people insisted, and formed on for a quadrille, when the opposition removed the chairs and put out the lights. They failed in their purpose -- the dance went on, and in the next issue of the weekly paper was a notice of it in Brewer Muth's ad: But, to return from this digression to business and its locations: Between the corners I have described there were a few scattered buildings, one story, small, little better than shacks, except Klingele's saloon, grocery and dwelling, built of brick, located where C. G. Foltz Co. now holds forth [now the site of Delights gift & candy shop and other businesses and organizations], and the Haman saloon, also a brick building [thought to be where Gingham Dog Antiques No. 2 was later located], where its owner met a tragic death. The hotels at this time were the Aikin [Aiken] House, on the corner where the Jones House stands [now the site of Coach's Bar & Grill]; the Fox River Hotel, that was near the Fox river bridge [on Jefferson st.], W. H. Addington, proprietor (by the way, the road ran straight down from one to the other across Peck's land), and the Kossuth House, kept by a Mr. Wetroth, if I remember right. A large tree stood about where Johnson & Rittman are now [now site of Gingham Dog Antiques], and a big wood pump and watering trough between it and the hotel [now Coach's Bar & Grill]. The shade of this spreading tree made this spot a favorite resort for the village idlers and those who were on the lookout for a horse trade. I remember hearing of one that occurred. A traveler came to the Aikin [Aiken] House riding a good horse, jaded out, and lame for the time. Anxious to continue his journey, as his business was pressing, he made a trade for one, little better than a crowbait, whose owner was willing to let it go as an accommodation or special favor to help the stranger on his way. As he rode off, watched by those who had been drawn there to see the trade, Ephraim Perkins remarked, "Friendship, pure friendship." Another source of interest that centered around this corner was the morning departure of the stage, with its passengers and mail for Racine and other places. As John Emmerich, with the winding of horn and cracking of whip, dashed down to the bridge and out of town behind his four-horse team, he was a veritable Jehu "driving furiously." watched by many a boy as long as he was in sight, whose highest ambition was to fill his place. When the railroad came, his occupation, like Othello's, was gone, or at least reduced to short drives carrying the mail to Honey Creek, etc. During the war, terrible reports of defeats would be in circulation at these points, away from the railroad, that would not be known here until he on his return would report them as the latest over the grapevine dispatch. John was one of the wits of his time, quick in repartee. At one time he was employed in a livery stable. In the absence of the proprietor, he loaned a buffalo robe that the owner missed on his return, and called on John to account for it. When he told of loaning it, his boss said, "Why didn't you let him have the barn, and be done with it?" John replied, quick as a flash, "I would, but there's such a heavy mortgage on it that he couldn't draw it off." The erection of the Klingele & Boub stores in 1855 or 1856 was quite a boom. The branch store of Johnson & Wright, of Racine, occupied the building now the Crawford jewelry store. J. S. Crane was their manager, and when B. Foltz & Son bought their stock and commenced business in 1857, he remained with them until 1862. I have taken too much time in speaking of the manufacturing and commercial interests of these early days. I will try and be more concise in reminiscing upon other subjects. As I spoke of early school matters at the dedication of the Lincoln school last evening, I pass over what I have prepared on the subject. [The school on the corner of Kane and State streets, which now houses the Burlington Area School District's administrative offices, was originally built as the Burlington Union School in 1859, when Abraham Lincoln was first nominated for the presidency. It was remodeled in 1911, the centennial anniversary of Lincoln's birth, and renamed Lincoln School.] The church buildings then existing were the first Catholic church building [St. Sebastian's], across the street from the present one. It was on quite a knoll, and had a large cross set in the ground near it. The second [now St. Mary's school annex] was commenced in 1855, and seemed such a massive edifice that if anyone had predicted it would be superseded by number three in thirty or thirty-five years, he would have been thought a wild dreamer. Father Wisbauer ministered to the church for forty years or more -- a gentle, good man, beloved by all and mourned by all when he died. The other churches were the Presbyterian, ministered to by my father [Rev. Benjamin Foltz] and Rev. Philo C. Pettibone. In 1858 this building [a wooden buiding later replaced by the brick building now occupied by the Plymouth Congregational-United Church of Christ] became the property of the Congregational church, Rev. Pettibone being the first pastor. He was a very earnest, devout man, and during the war period manifested his intense loyalty to his country by his stirring addresses. The building now known as the Baptist church [the building on the corner of Jefferson and Kane streets now occupied by the Church of the Nazarene] was at first called the Free or Union church -- built to give a church home to Unitarians, Baptists, Methodists, and perhaps other demoninations. Rev. VanAmarige I remember the most distinctly as preaching there. Both these buildings were erected about 1852. A brief mention of the legal fraternity. None, whose memory can go back to the years when Lewis Royce was on earth, can forget his fierce pugilistic attitude toward opposing counsel, especially Squire Chapman, of Waterford, -- and how peacefully they would hobnob together after the case was thrashed out. Caleb P. Barns, A. G. Cole, J. Oscar Culver, Charles W. Bennett, William Penn Lyon and John Fox Potter were among the legal lights, and some shone with increasing brilliancy in after years, whose fame extended throughout the state and nation. The doctors of that period led strenuous lives -- frequent drives into the country by day and night -- no telephones to aid them. To illustrate this strenuous life, I relate an incident in Dr. Dyer's experience -- one of many that might have been given of him and his fellow co-workers in alleviating or curing the ills that flesh is heir to. The good, but at times rather gruff, old doctor had come in late at night from quite a drive, and was in a sound sleep when loud knocking roused him. Putting his head out of the window, he asked in no amiable tone, "Who's there?" The knocker said, "It's Steve Houghton, come out and see my wife, she's awful bad. Come soon as you can, for God's sake." The doctor said, "I can't, Steve, just back from a hard jaunt, can't turn out for another long drive tonight. Get some other doctor, I won't go." And down went the window. Houghton, in his perplexity, thought of Caleb P. Barns. He would get him to go and use his influence a second time with the doctor. So another sound sleeper was aroused, another window raised: "What's wanted?" "O, Barns, go with me to Dyer's; see if you can't persuade him to go out to my poor wife, he's always attended her, no other doctor will do." Mr. Barns, knowing the doctor's characteristics better than Houghton, said, "Get into your wagon, Steve, and drive home as fast as you can. You'll do well if you get there first." He acted on the advice and found the doctor ahead of him. Owing to so much country practice, the doctors made it a point to have good horses, of speed and endurance. I can well remember they took great pride in the animals to which they were much attached. To hear Dr. Cooper [Joel Henry Cooper] praise up his fleet footed nag -- enlarge upon its intelligence and various wonderful points -- you would think there was not one his equal; until you heard Dr. Darling's [Milton T. Darling] encomiums on his horse, then your opinion would veer around like a weather vane and conclude that Dr. D. had Dr. C. beaten to a frazzle. Appendicitis and other diseases that seek for the surgeon's skill in modern times were then unknown, or nearly so. Microbes did not trouble people then, all ate and drank with impunity. No trained nurses or undertakers locally, but friends supplied the lack of professionals, doing what they could for the sick and dying and laying out the dead, aiding the bereaved in all the preparations for burial. We turn from this somber subject to the more trivial and joyous phases that entered into the social life of that period. Sleigh ride parties to adjoining towns, oyster suppers at W. P. Storm's, of Vienna; Campbell, at Rochester; Russ Hotel, in Waterford; corn-husking parties; spelling contests in various school districts, etc.; the street parades of maskers, rebuking in pantomime anything done that had given offense. For instance, the masker astride a miniature schoolhouse, his long black-gloved fingers grasping it -- soon after the school building on an out of town farm land had been taken for some other use. The numerous picnics to nearby groves. There was music in the air when Professor Wald's band headed these parades, keeping regular step on going out -- I cannot say much of their return. Yes, those were jolly days, of fun and joke. I can give but a specimen or two. Adam Kleinkopf, farmer, fisherman, and the only barber of that time, devoting Saturday afternoons to his patrons. In addition to his tonsorial duties, occasionally served up a free lunch, when he had made a catch of fish or turtle. One Saturday morning he brought in a large turtle and served it up in an appetizing soup that was all consumed before one of our worthy citizens -- who never meant to miss a free lunch -- was aware of what was going on. When he showed up, Adam said he was too late for the first batch, and told him to come around later. The joker fished out some bones and crusts from the garbage pail which he stewed up, well seasoned, and duly served to the belated applicant, who ate it with great relish and smacking his lips declared "it was the best soup vat he ever ate." Another more serious joke was when a farmer on a load of hay hailed Squire Cole on the street and asked the way to Squire Barn's barn. Cole said, "I am going right by it, follow me," and led the farmer to his own barn. As the hay was on account, the wrong delivery was not discovered for some time. One dull, dreary, hot day in August, when those employed in the stores were outside, sitting on the blinds and boxes, they were aroused from their somnolent condition by some of the High Street, Wheatland boys, who had been imbibing enough to make them quite hilarious, who sailed down Chestnut street reading the signs as they passed: M. Klingele, Geo. Verhalen, B. Foltz & Son, Schumaker & Wurms, Chris. Boub, Valentine Schmitt, Henry Neuhaus, F. Reuschlein, -- Dutch, all Dutch. The politics of Burlington then, as now, were strongly democratic. The voting place for some time was Klingele's saloon and grocery -- passing our votes through a window where a pane of glass had been removed. Prominent guardians of the polling place were "King" Catton, as he was called; "Big Mike" Cunningham; and N. B. Norton. There were others also for when I offered my maiden vote in 1858, Christian Boub, the pathmaster, was on the watch and said, "How is this, Charlie (everyone called me Charlie then) when I tried to collect poll tax from you last summer, you said you were not of age, and now you are trying to vote." I quietly informed him that I had passed my twenty-first birthday since. The decade of the fifties was marked by stirring times in national affairs. The impending crisis, predicted by Helmer and others in their writings, was near its culmination. During the closing years of this decade the political clouds of the oncoming storm were surcharged with the elements of discord and dissension. The muttering thunders became louder and near at hand. Not the efforts of the north nor the utterances of President Lincoln in his inaugural address could allay the tempest. At Fort Sumter pealed forth the bolt "that echoed 'round the world." The call for volunteers to preserve the union met with a prompt response from Burlington and the surrounding country. Many of our boys were soon wearing the blue. The 1st and 22nd regiments of infantry and the 9th battery received most of those who enlisted in the early stages of the war. Before called into active service, while being drilled, the 9th battery were in quarters in Sheldon's warehouse and Company C, 1st Wisconsin regiment in Schaffer's pavilion on the little island near the Wald tannery and woolen mill. The stirring tunes of fife and drum in the day drills and when off duty evenings the lively tunes played on violins by Charlie Wood and Ed. Loomis used to attract the villagers over the river to join in the festivities, and sometimes to share in the evening meal, and join in the current songs such as "He that hath plenty of peanuts and gives his neighbor none; he shall have none of my peanuts when his peanuts are gone." These were soon substituted by the loftier songs inspired by the progress of war events, such as "We are coming, Father Abraham, 300,000 more"; we'll rally once again, shouting the battle cry of freedom"; "We are tenting tonight on the old camp grounds"; some of our boys by actual experience could sing "Marching through Georgia, from Atlanta to the sea"; in many homes could be sung the pathetic words, "We shall meet, but we shall miss him, there will be one vacant chair."
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