Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is the oldest and most distinctive festival of American origin. Begun at the end of the Pilgrims' first year here, the practice was confined mostly to the New England states for the first two hundred years. After that long period as a somewhat local custom, the practice spread until it became nationwide.

Thanksgiving was first marked by the Puritans in Plymouth Colony, Massachusetts, in 1621. It had been a most difficult year, but their crops had done reasonably well, and the prospects for food during the approaching winter were much better. Health had improved and more comfortable houses had been built. All were grateful for these good fortunes. Governor Bradford accordingly set aside three days in early December for observance of a period of worship and prayer as well as for feasting, games, contests, and the manual of arms. Hunters were sent into the forest and along the seashore for game. They returned with turkey, waterfowl, eels, clams, fish, and mussels. Neighboring Indians were invited, or heard of the feast, and came bringing five "Deere" with them. There was not sufficient space to house the settlers and the eighty or more Indians. Hence, most of the festivities were held about great open fires. All went well, and the first Thanksgiving was successful. From time to time, but not regularly and not always as thanks for a bountiful harvest, other days were picked for Thanksgiving.

These first festivals were naturally All American affairs, except perhaps for the release by the Puritans of small amounts of "comfortably warm water" (Holland Gin) . The typical menu of the annual festival is still the same - turkey, waterfowl, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie, nuts, oyster dressing, cornbread, and tobacco to smoke after the meal.

The earlier Thanksgiving observances did not have the great religious significance that later came to be associated with them. They took on much of the family reunion or "to grandfather's house we go" atmosphere. In this way, they carried on much of the "home for Christmas" practices of England. Since Christmas had been legally banned in New England, some of the Christmas customs of England easily became attached to the New England Thanksgiving.

After many years, Thanksgiving became a fixed practice in New England. Some steps also had been taken toward making it a national observance. This is indicated by President Washington's proclamation of 1789, which designated November 26 as a day for national thanksgiving. Perhaps Washington was disappointed in its somewhat boisterous observance. He did not issue a second proclamation until 1795, when he designated a day in March as Thanksgiving Day. John Adams issued two such proclamations during his term of office. Jefferson considered it a religious festival and issued none. Succeeding presidents took little note of it.

These conditions held until 1846, when Sarah Josephs Hale became "the lady editor" of Godey's Lady's Book. Mrs. Hale began to advocate a national observance. She wrote many editorials and letters to those of influence, urging the adoption of such a day. After seventeen years, Mrs. Hale's efforts began to produce obvious results. President Lincoln read the editorial she wrote in 1863 and doubtless received a letter from her. His response was a proclamation - perhaps the best one ever written - on October 3 of that year, asking all people to observe the last Thursday of November as a day for thanks and prayer. Each president since that day has designated a November day as one to be observed.

Illinois settlers from Virginia, the Carolinas, Kentucky, and Tennessee brought Christmas and firecrackers to the state. They considered Thanksgiving as a Yankee innovation, however, and accordingly ignored it. It was left for those of New England origin to initiate the Thanksgiving Day practice in the state. The first recorded observance of the day in Illinois came as a result of a proclamation supposedly issued by Governor Joseph Duncan in October, 1838. This proclamation appears to have been the product of a joke or forgery, but it did result in some observances. The next proclamation by an Illinois governor was issued by Governor Thomas Carlin on November 12, 1842, setting aside the last Thursday in November. Since that time, observance of Thanksgiving Day has been a rather regular practice.

With only the exceptions made by President Franklin D. Roosevelt, the last Thursday in November has been the day set apart. In 1939, he chose a date one week earlier. Many state governors ignored the new date and, following the old practice, set the last Thursday of the month as the proper one. After another unsuccessful effort had been made to move the date forward, national legislation was enacted in 1941 to fix the date permanently as the last Thursday in November. Thus, after 320 years,Thanksgiving was made a legal holiday with a fixed date.

[Editor's Note: On October 6, 1941, both houses of the U.S. Congress passed a joint resolution fixing the traditional last-Thursday date for the holiday beginning in 1942. However, in December of that year the Senate passed an amendment to the resolution that split the difference by requiring that Thanksgiving be observed annually on the fourth Thursday of November, which was usually the last Thursday and sometimes (two years out of seven, on average) the next to last. The amendment also passed the House, and on December 26, 1941, President Roosevelt signed this bill, for the first time making the date of Thanksgiving a matter of federal law and fixing the day as the fourth Thursday of November.]

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: The Night the Stars Fell

In addition to recording information concerning the individuals they are designed to honor, gravestones often suggest other stories to those acquainted with local incidents. Such stories are seldom recorded, but nearly every cemetery can supply a few of them.

An interesting story is brought to mind by a broken marker in an unprotected cemetery located on a farm between the site of Jordan Brothers' Fort or blockhouse, about three miles south and one east of Thompsonville, and historic Bethel Church. This burying ground, perhaps the oldest one in Franklin County, has long been deserted, and there is no indication that a burial has been made there within a lifetime.

Only one marker that memorializes a soldier who served in one of our earlier wars is left standing. Many are broken, and hogs have rooted the pieces about; some have gone into the branch that flows beside the plot.

One of the fallen and broken stones carries the inscription : "Z. Mitchell Died November 13, 1833." Zadoc, for that was his first name, was an early settler in the vicinity. So far as records and traditions indicate, he was a substantial and exemplary citizen leading a rather quiet and uneventful life. He would doubtless be entirely forgotten had not the time of his death coincided with a most spectacular shower of meteorites that came on "the night he lay a corpse."

No one knew that literally hundreds of "falling stars" would appear. They understood little of the principles involved, but it was an awe-inspiring sight. The loneliness of the thinly settled Illinois country, the natural grief felt at the loss of an esteemed neighbor, and the general air of solemnity coupled with the dead helped to make the meteoric shower even more impressive in Franklin County.

Neighbors, going to pay their respects to the deceased man or to "set up with the corpse" on that November night in 1833, were gready impressed with the fiery flashes and traces left by the speeding meteorites. "The night that Zadoc Mitchell lay a corpse" and "the night the stars fell" thus became inseparably connected.

For many years after his death, one had only to mention the name of Zadoc Mitchell and the response would be, "He lay a corpse the night the stars fell." If allusion was made to the meteoric shower, the response would be, "That was the night that Zadoc Mitchell lay a corpse." They were much like the method used to designate time in the South in relation to the Civil War, when the expressions "befo' de wah" and "afta'de wah" were commonly used to date events.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Lakey's Ghost

Lakey's ghost had a definite location, and its story is associated with an actual event. This ghost that once made appearances in the southeastern part of the present city of McLeansboro has a story that even yet is heard in the vicinity.

It centers about a man named Lakey, one of the early settlers in the McLeansboro vicinity. His first name is forgotten. Perhaps it does not matter. For this story it is enough to know his last name and that it was given to the small creek that crosses the highway near the eastern limits of the city.

Lakey was building a cabin on the west side of the stream a short distance south of the ford where the present street - then an old trail leading from the Carmi vicinity toward Mt. Vernon - crossed the creek. He had practically completed the log structure and on his last day alive had felled a large oak tree to make clapboards for the roof. At the close of day, he was bolting this timber.

The next morning an early traveler saw a gruesome sight. Beside a large stump was a human body and near by a severed head - they were Lakey's. A broadax sticking in the stump indicated the manner in which the head and body had been separated.

News of the tragedy spread, and settlers came to look and wonder. Lakey was a quiet and inoffensive man. So far as anyone knew, he had no wealth that would tempt anyone to commit such a crime, nor did he have any known enemies. There was no evidence of a struggle. There seemed then to be no explanation for the murder that had evidently been committed about nightfall the day before. Indeed, no solution to the murder has ever come to light. Lakey was buried near the site of his uncompleted cabin, and his story was added to the local lore, but this was not the end of the incident.

On the day following Lakey's burial and just at nightfall, two men living west of McLeansboro were passing the Lakey cabin site as they returned from a trip to the Wabash. A few rods east of Lakey's Creek they were joined by a strange and fearful companion. A headless horseman on a large black steed, on the left hand or downstream side, moved along toward the creek with them.

Neither of the awed men spoke. The new rider also was silent. All rode along together down the gently sloping bank and into the water. As they neared the center of the stream, the phantom horseman turned to the left, passed downstream and appeared to melt into the waters of a deep pool just below the crossing. It must be remembered that no ghost can cross running water.

The two men, happy to be rid of the ghostly horseman, rode onward to their homes. They hesitated to tell the story of the unbelievable incident, but they soon had corroborating testimony. The same apparition appeared a few evenings later to other men approaching the stream from the east at nightfall. The story rapidly gained circulation.

Always the rider, on a large black horse, joined travelers approaching the stream from the east, and always on the downstream side. Each time and just before reaching the center of the creek, the mistlike figure would turn downstream and disappear. For a generation or more an occasional traveler would report the strange horseman; but no living witness of the strange rider has been found.

Very old persons still tell of those who declared they saw him. Perhaps he has completely disappeared. Perhaps it is because there is no longer a ford over Lakey's Creek but instead a concrete bridge. It may even be that automobiles move too rapidly for the slow pace o£ the large black steed. Again, their noise and strange appearance may have frightened him away. Who knows?

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: The Legend of Willie Potts

Records and oral traditions tell of numerous tragedies that occurred along Ford's Ferry Road. One of these concerns William Potts's son, generally called "Willie." According to this story, Willie succeeded only too well in the plans he made to play a joke upon his parents. His success cost him his life, caused his parents many years of sorrow, and left to the region one of its most interesting legends.

It was not strange that Willie, growing up in the environment of the tavern his father kept, would be inclined toward a career of violence. Men engaged in robbery along that trail loitered about the tavern. Willie mixed with them, heard their stories, and naturally became interested in their activities.

According to one version, Willie selected for his first victim a prosperous looking traveler coming north from Ford's Tavern in Kentucky toward his father's tavern in Illinois and rode along with him for some distance before attempting to rob him. The stranger, who had become suspicious and alert, was first on the draw and shot young Potts in the shoulder. The wound was not too serious and the would-be robber rode away at great speed.

A second account says that Willie met his prospect as they journeyed in opposite directions along the road and was robbing him at gunpoint when two farmers, not friendly to Willie, came upon the scene. Fearing exposure, Willie decided to leave the country.

He did so and was gone for a number of years, during which time it is said that he plied his trade with success in other regions. Then, very much grown up and changed in appearance, Willie thought it would be safe to visit the scenes of his boyhood. He was now a very large man and would not be readily recognized. He also had grown a heavy dark beard that would add to the difficulty of recognition.

Members of the gang with which young Potts had once operated observed the apparent prosperity of the stranger when he stopped at Ford's Tavern in Kentucky on his way home. One of the men to whom he revealed his identity informed the others that the supposed stranger was their old confederate, Willie Potts; whereupon the plans already formed to rob him were dropped and he was welcomed back by the group. The next day young Potts went on to his father's tavern at the northern end of the road, arriving there later in the afternoon. Neither the mother nor father recognized the stranger as their son. Willie, enjoying the success of his plan, decided to wait until the morrow to tell them who he was. He and the elder Potts sat talking until bedtime.

Young Potts, being thirsty, asked for a drink of water. His father, as was his custom, suggested that they go to the near-by spring for a fresh drink. When they reached it, young Potts knelt, placed his hands upon the stones as he had done so often in earlier years, leaned forward and began to drink. The father, seeing the opportunity offered, drew a dagger that he always carried and plunged it into the unsuspecting drinker's back, below the left shoulder blade. The victim died at once.

The elder Potts took the large roll of bills that he found, removed the body of his son to a near-by hillside and placed it in a shallow grave among other victims. He then returned to the tavern and went to bed. Measured by his standards, it had been a successful day.

The next morning some of the group with whom his son once had associated came to the tavern from Ford's place in Kentucky. They had come to celebrate the return of their former associate. When the new arrivals inquired concerning Willie, the mother and father were puzzled.

They thought that a joke was being played and appeared to resent it. Further questioning and a description of the one sought aroused grave anxiety in both Potts and his wife. They began to suspect that the stranger of the night before was their son.

After the departure of the puzzled visitors. Potts took a spade, went to the newly-made grave and began to remove dirt. His consternation and remorse may be imagined when the body was uncovered and careful examination revealed a tell-tale birthmark. This mark was a dark figure shaped like a four-leaf clover, once called "the lucky mark," just above the point where the dagger had pierced.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Hazards of Travel

The forest roadways of southern Illinois were lonely ones and ofttimes hazardous. This is suggested in the early records of Randolph County by recurring entries like, "For holding an inquest over a body found on Ford's Ferry Road - 10 dollars."

That an item of record for the Cave-in-Rock region should appear in the Randolph County record may seem strange, but it should be remembered that Randolph County then included practically all of southern Illinois. The first mention of Ford's Ferry Road thus appears in the Randolph County records at Chester. When references to this road are assembled, they add up on one fact - it was not a safe one to travel. Ford's Ferry Road received its name from a ferry located just below the present Ohio dam about three miles above Cave-in-Rock. It was operated by James Ford, who regularly lived in Kentucky. At one time, however, he lived in and was a citizen of Illinois. This is shown by the fact that he served as overseer of the poor for Cave-in-Rock Township. His crossing was the best and most used ferry along that section of the river.

To make travel by way of his crossing more attractive. Ford established a good tavern beside the trail on the Kentucky side a few miles south of the Ohio. Another man, William Potts, built a second one at the north end of the improved section of roadway in Illinois. Potts' Tavern was located beside a fine spring at the southern slope of a hill still called Potts' Hill. A farmhouse stands a short distance west from Illinois Highway 1 where the tavern once was located. The first building was a large two-story double log house with a hallway or "dog trot" between. This place became one of the most widely known in all the region. The length of roadway between it and Ford's Tavern in Kentucky was called Ford's Ferry Road.

James Ford and William Potts, operating taverns about twenty miles or a day's travel apart became well acquainted. According to tradition, they even became associated in certain operations like robbing unwary travelers. By their plan, each robbed independently as opportunity afforded, but not wishing to see a prosperous appearing traveler go unrobbed, a kind of mutual help service was established.

According to stories surviving, if a traveler whose appearance indicated that he might be a good prey came to either tavern, the owner made all reasonable efforts to relieve him of his valuables. If, however, opportunity did not arise to do so, a messenger would be dispatched to the other tavern ahead of the visitor with information concerning him. Potts, thus, would notify Ford concerning travelers from the north, and Ford in turn would relay information concerning those coming from the south.

There are indications that others in addition to Ford and Potts profited unduly from these travelers. Anyway, there is a strange coincidence in the fact that a certain respected citizen in the area often advertised a "stray horse" for sale about thirty days after the recorded disappearance of a traveler. The law required that anyone taking up a stray should hold it thirty days, then advertise it for sale to reimburse himself for the feed bill. Possibly stray horses just liked to go to this man's place, which was some miles from the road.

Today's traveler on Illinois Highway 1 south of Saline River sees some bits of an abandoned and overgrown trail that once was Ford's Ferry Road.


"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Our Oldest Church

Missionaries of the Catholic faith and French explorers came into the Illinois country together. The missionaries, a most devoted group, came to convert the Indians to Christianity. The explorers came seeking to discover the resources o£ the new country and the opportunities it offered. The explorers, as explorers must, kept moving onward. The men of the church paused to establish missions or centers that would enable them to go about their work in a more systematic manner.

Tradesmen coming later often would locate about these mission centers. Officials and emissaries of the French government stopped here. Thus it was that the missions established by the church and afforded a measure of protection by the military, became permanent settlements. Few such settlements survive except in name.

One mission, however, has continued its existence through the years since its establishment on May 14, 1699. This one is the Parish of the Holy Family at Cahokia. Though the original log buildings of this mission have been rotted away for a couple of centuries, some of the relics preserved in the present log church have close connection with the mission that Father Cosme established.

Allowing the curiosity aroused by this old building of walnut logs to function, an inquisitive visitor of today will soon begin to glean bits of the long and interesting story centered about the old church. The age of the structure alone makes it of interest to many. The present building erected and dedicated in 1799, an even century after Father Cosme had set up the first mission, is among the very oldest, if not the oldest church building in the Mississippi Valley.

This log structure does not conform to the usual pattern of such buildings. Instead of the logs being laid horizontally—then practically the universal method except among the French—they are arranged vertically. The ends of these vertical logs, hewed both inside and out, are mortised into other shaped logs lying along the bottom and top of the wall. The matching edges of the vertical logs have wide grooves in them about two inches deep in order to retain the mortar and stones used to chink and daub the openings. The corners of the building are sturdily braced. Also, the logs of the wall are leaned inward about eight inches, better to withstand the thrust of the roof trusses. All these combine to give the building a restrained and rugged appearance.

The floor slopes gently, about six inches, from the doorway to the altar. There is no ceiling. The graceful and well-proportioned trusses that support the roof are of hewed timbers and show skilled workmanship. Bronze plaques and printed legends at appropriate places highlight some of the church's history. Emblems used in the worship service of this and of the preceding churches and mission are distributed about the room. The old pews are gone as are the charcoal foot warmers, but candles still are kept burning at the altar.

In the dim light and quietness, it is not difficult to conjure up scenes of the earlier years. These scenes are peopled with a motley group that included stolid, blanketed Indians, French settlers with their kapots and blue handkerchiefs, Indian traders, coureurs de bois, explorers, adventurers, hunters, the local French gentry and robed priests that ministered to the local citizens and Indian tribes of the area. In the 264 years since the establishment of the mission that is now the Parish of the Holy Family, this old church and its predecessors at about the same spot have seen a motley crowd pass. The church buildings now serving the parish along with the older ones each have their own interesting stories. 

The early burying ground with only a few markers remaining lies behind the old church. An appropriate memorial stands near the center of this spot. A bronze plaque on the memorial says: "Ancient burial grounds of the Holy Family Church of Cahokia. Here were interred from the earliest days of the settlement to about 1840 the departed of this parish and here they He in peace." This is the oldest marked burial ground for white people in Illinois. In 1839 a new burial ground was selected east of the first one.

At one time about two thousand Indians lived in the vicinity of the mission. Groups often were encamped on the plot of open ground in front of the church. It was on this spot that George Rogers Clark, after his conquest of Illinois in 1778, conferred with various Indian tribes in an effort to have them become friends and allies o£ the American colonists.

On this same plot in front of the church, services were held on May 14, 1949, to commemorate the founding of the mission just 250 years before. Pontifical high field Mass was celebrated by Cardinal Stritch of Chicago. The whole proceedings were magnificent and impressive.

From the stone steps in front of this log church and its predecessor, proclamations, announcements, edicts, and sales were made, and public discussions were held in accordance with French practices. Now it is only on rare occasions that services are conducted in the log structure.

A few years ago, about 1950, a thorough restoration of the old church was undertaken. The siding that had covered the logs for fifty years or more was removed. Needed repairs and a few replacements were made. The wood was thoroughly treated to ward off decay. In fact, everything known was done to have the building stand for another century and a half or even longer.

This old church may be considered as a kind of national memorial. The roster of devout men who have served it is a long one. Those who should receive the most credit for its restoration are Father Joseph Mueller, parish priest; Joseph Desloge of St. Louis; Guy Stady, St. Louis architect; and the Most Reverend Albert R. Zuroweste, Bishop of Belleville.

Anyone interested in the early history of southern Illinois can well afford to pause as he drives on Route 3, a few miles south from East St. Louis and visit this picturesque church.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Persimmons

Persimmons apparently have suffered a loss of popularity. They once were, after a few good frosts, a favorite delicacy for wandering boys and for hunters, particularly those who hunted possums at night. By combining the fruit of the Diospyros virginiani, the scientific name for the lowly persimmon, with turnips gleaned from an isolated patch or with apples found in the heavy grass beneath a rusty-coat tree at some deserted farmstead, the night hunter fared well. Persimmons also were a favorite food of the possum. Thus, both the hunter and the hunted were drawn towards the fruiting tree. Birds came by day to peck at the fruit, and flying insects came to suck the sugery juice. Pigs and sometimes dogs also ate them. In fact, they were popular with both men and beasts.

In addition to eating the fruit out of hand, other uses were made of it and of the wood of the tree. It was a practice of some to gather the fruit for making persimmon beer and for puddings. We thought both processes had entirely vanished, but several recipes for each have appeared recently.

Persimmons for making beer are best when gathered after they have fully ripened and are sugary. About a bushel will make a barrel of brew. The gathered fruit is placed in an open barrel and crushed in just enough water to make a thick mushy mixture. Clear water is added to make a total of about twenty-five gallons. A few brewers add new sorghum, saying that it makes a stronger beer. No addition is necessary, however, if wellripened and sugary persimmons are available.

A cup or so of kitchen yeast is added, and the contents of the barrel very thoroughly stirred. It is then left in a warm place to ferment. From time to time it is skimmed as conditions may indicate. After a period varying from a few days to three weeks or more, the mixture ceases to "work" and the amber-like liquid is drained off, placed in jugs and jars, and stored in a cool place.

Our single experience with the product left us of the opinion that the drink was mild and delicious and could be taken without getting the bad after effects of stronger drinks. The slight sampling that Ernie Robb and the writer took from his father's stock is remembered pleasantly. No bad effects whatever are recalled.

Persimmons also are used in puddings, once a common dish in season. Perhaps persimmon pudding is making a comeback, since it has been found listed on the menu at two eating places this fall. Two recipes also have been received for making the pudding. One of them, which the lady giving it called a "receipt," is given here.

Even though puddings are off the writer's diet list, he tried one of the two persimmon puddings found in restaurants this fall. It was indeed really good.

The wood of the persimmon trees served a few particular uses. Excellent gluts for splitting fence rail were made from it, slowly dried by scorching beside an open fire, and then oiled. The wood also was used for making the queerly-shaped spool shuttles used by hand weavers. Occasionally one of these shuttles, worn glassy smooth by a million passes between the threads in an old loom, is found where it was stored a lifetime ago. Persimmon also was a favorite wood for the making of shoemakers' lasts. Today the heads of many golf clubs are fashioned of it.

All uses for persimmon did not end here, however. If the seeds were opened in the proper manner (undetermined), a knife, fork, and spoon would be discernible and a wish made at this point would come true. A handful of the inner bark of the tree could be placed in a pint of water and boiled down to a half-pint. The addition of some sugar and a small lump of alum to the liquid converted it into a potent remedy for thrush, a sore mouth of children. The bark also could be chewed for a sore throat. Anyone trying either of these remedies should remember that the bark is most effective when peeled from the north side of the tree with an upward motion. However peeled, it doesn't taste good.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Sorghum

In September of each year, sorghum-making time comes in southern Illinois. Perhaps it would be better to say it once came, for sorghum-making has diminished almost to the vanishing point.

Once there were many molasses mills in Egypt, and almost every farmstead had its patch of sorghum intended to provide the major source of winter sweets. Now the mills and cane patches alike are scarce. Boys wandering over the countryside can no longer pause to gather a stalk of cane, peel it, and chew the sugary juice from the pulp. Neither can they visit the sorghum mill and scrape the candied molasses from the sides of the pan with small wooden paddles and eat it. Some older persons with lingering memories colored by youthful appetites will recall such occasions with pleasure.

Some who remember sorghum mills and fresh sorghum compare it with maple syrup for use on hot buttered pancakes or flapjacks. If, however, one is forced to eat hot biscuits, the kind that mother made, many insist that sorghum stands supreme.

Sorghum once was a staple crop. Old time one-horse grain drills were equipped with special plates for drilling the seed. At that same time, Sear's catalogue offered large steel rollers to crush the cane and pans in which to boil juice. In fact, one could order a complete mill from Sears.

Harvest-time cane patches were attractive. The leaves took on a tinge of yellow, and the stalks became blotched with a golden bloom like that seen on some ripened fruits. Large seed clusters nodded from the tops of the stalks. Stripping and harvesting cane was not an easy task, but boys did not seem to mind. It gave them opportunity to design and make their own strippers — swordlike wooden implements about three feet long and often notched along the working edge. Occasionally one of these strippers is yet found tucked on a rafter of some old shed or barn. After the leaves were stripped from the stalks, the seed cluster at their top was clipped off with a corn knife and saved to feed chickens. The cane was then cut and gathered into small, carefully ordered piles and hauled to the mill. It was necessary to harvest cane before cold weather arrived, for even a light frost, if followed by a shower or heavy dew, would "run down into the cane and ruin it." If the weather became cold enough to freeze, cane stored in the yard at the mill was likewise ruined.

When time came for making molasses and the stalks were crushed between steel rollers, the juice went to the the large evaporating pan placed on a stone or brick foundation, which served as a furnace. This flat shallow pan some four feet wide and having baffles across it often was twenty or more feet long. Juice fed into it at one end and boiling vigorously was skillfully stirred around the baffles toward the other end. The scum that arose was skimmed off and sometimes fed to pigs. Skimmings gathered near the finish ends of the pan were quite sweet and often were used to make California beer — a mild home brew.

The refined molasses, by now a rich amber color, was drawn off at the chimney end of the long pan and carefully stored for winter use. The container used was often a wooden barrel made by a local cooper. It was a mark of a good cooper to be able to produce barrels that would hold boiling sorghum.

In addition to being mixed with butter as a spread for pancakes or biscuits, sorghum was used in several other ways. A favorite use was to make molasses candy. For this purpose a small amount of water and a cup of brown sugar sometimes were added with a lump of butter, though these additions were not necessary. This mixture was cooked in a skillet
until it "haired." At this point, some candy-makers stirred in a pinch of baking soda, but too much soda spoiled it. As soon as the hot mixture quit foaming, it was poured into buttered tins or plates.

When sufficiently cooled, the candy would be cut into blocks like fudge, or removed from the containers and pulled. If the hands were carefully buttered, the warm candy could easily be pulled into golden-colored taffy, and formed into long twisted rolls that were cut into sticks. In addition to the nourishment that molasses candy provided, its chewing afforded considerable jaw exercise. It also helped to gum up all who handled it.

Another popular use of sorghum was for the making of popcorn balls. To do this, a large pan of corn was popped, and boiling sorghum that had been cooked to candy consistence was poured over it. Balls were then molded. When cooled, they were firm and could be carried about, even taken to school in the lunch pail, or occasionally in a boy's coat pocket wrapped in oiled paper. They were a popular confection.

The use of sorghum didn't end here. Combined with ground black pepper, grated ginger and vinegar, it was made into a cough syrup or cold remedy. Whether effective or not, it certainly was pungent. Also, nothing excelled sorghum as sweetening for gingerbread or ginger cookies. The writer still seriously questions whether real gingerbread can be made without sorghum.

The strangest use ever made or sorghum to my knowledge was in the Gallatin County Courthouse at Shawneetown. When time came to paint murals on the walls of the circuit court room, it was necessary that portions of the wall be primed or sized before the artist did his work. Sorghum was the primer.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Sassafras Tea & Sallet

Good health was vital to the pioneer, and he went to extreme lengths to keep himself fit. When measured by present-day standards, he was not a healthy man, and he had a very limited knowledge of better health practices. However, he did have strange beliefs, antidotes, a considerable stock of remedies, and even health superstitions. Since these were all he had to guide him in the matter of health, he followed them.

As spring came each year, the pioneer began to look about for a spring tonic. This might vary from a mixture of sulphur and sorghum molasses to sassafras tea and sallet. He believed that his blood had become thick during the winter and needed to be thinned, and that his system needed cleaning out.

There were accepted ways in which these objectives could be accomplished. He could take sulphur and molasses, though this popular remedy seemed to have been reserved mostly for youngsters. Another common and less objectionable remedy was sassafras tea, which people drank in copious amounts each spring. They thought sassafras tea was an eflfective blood-thinner particularly so when made from the roots of red sassafras.

Naturally, a sufficient quantity of roots should be used to give the brew strength and color. The amount needed to produce a half-gallon of tea would be represented by ten or twelve pieces about the size and length of a finger. These were allowed to simmer long enough to bring out the best flavor. The tea was then given a minute or so to settle. Sweetened to taste, it was an agreeable drink for most persons, and also was an agreeable way to "thin the blood."

To assure the best tea, the roots were dug in early spring while the trees were dormant; that is, before the sap had begun to rise. Some insisted that roots should be taken only from the north side of the tree. Some even held that those dug during the dark of the moon were more flavorful. All alike agreed that roots from more mature trees, three inches or more in diameter, were more aromatic. Digging sassafras in early spring became almost ritualistic. Only the rough outer bark of the roots was removed. Larger roots were split rail fashion, and diggers generally discarded the central portion of larger sections. When properly gathered and stored, roots retained their flavor for weeks. Properly brewed and allowed to settle, the tea had a most attractive rosy tint. The scent of brewing tea filled the house with a delightful odor.

A similar drink was made from the broken twigs of the spicewood bush. The writer once drank some of this tea in a home that rated it above the sassafras drink. The lingering memories of this one experience, however, are dim among the more vivid ones of sassafras brew.

Each spring now one finds small bundles of sassafras root in rubber bands on sale at grocery stores, even in nationally known chain stores and supermarkets, but something seems to be lacking. It may be that those gathering the roots do not select a sufficiently mature tree. Perhaps they are collecting white sassafras, or possibly they forget to dig only those roots north of the tree. However it may be, today's tea hardly measures up to those memories of yesteryear. Perhaps an explanation may lie in a friend's remark, "That boyish appetite is gone."

Sulphur and molasses and teas from sassafras and spicewood hardly were sufficient to fully thin the blood and clean the system. A supplement of wild greens, or sallet, was necessary. This yearning of the pioneer for green food is not difficult to understand. There were no frozen foods and no fresh vegetables from the South. The first green vegetables that the pioneer could have were those that grew on the farmstead, in the fence rows, and about old fields, where the housewife went to gather sour dock, pokeberry, lamb's quarter (generally pronounced lam-squarter), dandelion, narrowed leaf plantain, wild beets, wild lettuce, young sprouts of elderberry, wild onion, and perhaps other plants not presently popular.

Each family burned an early lettuce bed and often set out stalks of the cabbage that had been holed up in earthen mounds the previous autumn. They gathered the shoots from such sprouting stocks as well as the tops of any turnips that had survived the winter. There also would be an early planting of mustard. If newly planted beets were thinned, their tops were used. Greens thus became plentiful, but no later varieties could replace the first wild ones which were gathered as early as they appeared and cooked with a slab of fat bacon or hog jaw. Memories of these greens, supplemented with crackling bread may cause some oldsters to indulge in a bit of reverie. Some may recall the refrain of a song: "Corn bread, buttermilk, and good old greasy greens."

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Bird Of Evil Spirit

People passing along the river highway north of Alton see a strange painting on the smooth face of the bluff. This picture is about thirty feet long and eight feet high. It represents a strange creature widely known in Indian legends as the Piasa (Pi-a-saw) or Bird of Evil Spirit. 

The present picture, placed there a few years ago, is a faithful reproduction of the original one made by the Indians and carefully sketched by an artist on April 30, 1826. The first picture really was a shallow carving or petroglyph that had been painted in red, green, and black. It remained well preserved until the winter of 1846-47, when the rock was quarried away.

The monster pictured must have been hideous indeed. Its body resembled that of an alligator. Each foot had enormous talons, like those of a bird of prey, and, according to legend, strong enough to carry a buffalo. The head of the beast on an upright neck, was much like that of a man. The ears were pointed, eyes red and staring. Its teeth were large and sharply pointed. Its antlers resembled those of a deer, and its beard that of a tiger. It bore a fiendish look.

The body was covered with scales or feathers of assorted colors. The tail was long enough to return over the back and head, then underneath the entire length of the body, ending like that of a fish. The enormous batlike wings were carried erect. The picture is said to have been so horrible that few of the most daring Indians could look long upon it.

According to Indian legend, this bird or beast had its home in a high cave in the bluff. At first its diet was serpents, and the Indians did not fear it so greatly. One day, however, while two trives of Indians were engaged in a fierce battle alongside the bluff, the Piasa swooped down, seized two warriors, carried them away, and feasted upon them. Having tasted human flesh and found it pleasing, the eating habits of the beast changed. It no longer hunted serpents. Adults and children alike, often several in a day, were seized and eaten. It appeared that all might be devoured. The Indians accordingly were filled with great dread.

After their medicine men had tried many devices but had failed to control the beast, a young chief of the powerful Illinois, named Wassatoga, began a solitary fast, seeking a way to overcome the Piasa. After many days, a vision came to him. The tribe could be saved only if a brave would stand as a living sacrifice. Wassatoga called a council and told of his vision. He agreed to offer himself and, if necessary, to give his life to save the tribe. On the day chosen, the young chief and twenty of the most trusted warriors repaired to a prominent rocky point. Armed and in gorgeous war dress, Wassatoga took position on an exposed rock where he easily could be seen from great distances. His sturdy warriors, with their most powerful bows, hid themselves in the niches of the nearby rocks. All awaited the coming of the Piasa.

In a short time, Wassatoga beheld the monster perched upon a distant point of the bluff. Standing very erect and in full view of the Bird of Evil Spirit, Wassatoga began his death chant. With a great shriek and with each swoop of its wings giving off the sound of thunder, the Piasa dived toward its intended victim. Bolts of lightning flashed from its eyes. The young chief stood defiantly atop the rock. When the beast had come very near, the twenty warriors hidden among the rocks nearby loosed their arros with all the force the powerful bows afforded. According to the legend, these "quivering arrows pierced the monster through to their feathers." The Piasa fell dead against the rock upon which Wassatoga stood. The tribe had been saved. The Indians, to commemorate their fortunate rescue, carved and painted the picture of the beast high upon the face of the cliff.

The first records mentioning the Piasa were those Father Marquette set down in 1673. Fathers Hennepin and Dousy mention it in their accounts. Fathere Gene Saint Cosme tells of seeing it in 1699. No other mention of it had been found, until more than a hundred years had elapsed.

This picture of the Piasa was accounted as the greatest Indian painting found in North America. It apparently was an outgrowth of the widely-held belief of all North American Indians in the Thunder Bird, or god of storms.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Early Schools

The earliest records found for schools in southern Illinois are those for subscription schools. They were operated under contracts with parents who agreed to pay the teacher a stated amount for each pupil sent. One of these old contracts, found in Broughton, shows that in 1823 J.W. Dewees agreed to teach a subscription school in the vicinity of the now vanished village of Rectorville, in southeastern Hamilton County. So far as available records indicate, this was the first school in that vicinity. Fragmentary records and tradition indicate that this practice of conducting schools on a subscription basis continued for many years.

In 1838 a number of men living in that same section decided to organize a school district. They did so and built a log schoolhouse on the east side of the north-south roadway. The newer portion of the Gholson Cemetery, about a mile south and a half mile east of Broughton, now occupies the site of the school.

The house they erected served several generations of local youth. When it became inadequate, a new one was built about a mile to the northwest, where the village was growing up. The old building was sold to a local farmer who removed it a short distance to the southwest and used it as a residence. After many years of use in its second location, it was again sold and removed, this time to a place one-fourth mile north and one-fourth mile west of the place where State Highway No. 142 crosses the Hamilton-Saline county line. It remained there during the rest of its existence.

In its third location it continued to be used as a residence, being occupied in succession by a number of families. The last person to occupy it was Frank Dillsworth, who was living there in the 1930s. After Dillsworth's departure, it was used for storage of baled hay, corn, and farm equipment until it was torn down in 1943.

Many older persons knew of the school and something of its history, but it was during a visit in the 1920s of a very old man who had been a pupil there during its earlier years that many details concerning it were learned. This visitor was a Mr. John Harkrider, past ninety years old, whose home was in Arkansas. He had returned to the vicinity of Broughton to visit relatives and friends and was a Gholson Cemetery on Decoration Day. While there, he pointed out the locations of the homes of several early settlers as well as other landmarks. Among objects he recognized was a large oak tree which marked the site of the schoolhouse built in 1838. He continued for some time to reminisce about the log school.

Another old man who knew something of the story of the school asked Mr. Harkrider if he would like to see it again. His delight in the thought of such an opportunity was evident. A group of persons accordingly drove the mile or so necessary to the old house, still in use as a residence. Once there, Mr. Harkrider spent considerable time in describing the interior of the building as it was during the days when he attended classes in it. He pointed to hold in the wall where pegs once were inserted to hold two writing desks, one for larger and one for smaller pupils. Attention also was called to two other holes beside the door for pegs that supported a smaller shelf for the wooden water bucket and its accompanying drinking gourd. Rows of holed in other logs were for pegs upon which the pupils might hang their wraps. Some of these had portions of the broken pegs still in them. The split log benches used as seats for the pupils as wella s the larger one used for a recitation bench were no longer there, but he described them in detail.

Mr. Harkrider told of the teacher's desk and directed attention to the two holes in the wall above the place where it had stood. It was upon pegs stuck in these holes that the pointers and switches inseparably connected with pioneer schools once rested within the teacher's easy reach. Mr. Harkrider stated that the windows, even then small, were larger than they originally had been.  Careful inspection revealed that each of the two windows had been lengthened about fifteen inces at the bottom.  

It was apparent that nearly all the timbers in teh building were the original ones. Many, like some of the roof rafters, had been split out and others showed by marks upon them that they had been sawed by an up-and-down saw, like the one used at a nearby water mill that began to operate in the same year that the school was built.  The visit of Mr. Harkrider was a rare occasion for those fortunate to be present.

Many persons knowing the old house and its history naturally regretted to see its passing after 105 years. Before it was torn down, however, photographs were take and careful measurements were made. Using this date and the information given by Mr. Harkrider, by Mr. Will Owen who lived nearby, and by the writer's father, who attended school there for a short time, a faithful scale model of the original building and its fittings was constructed.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: The First Roadways

The first white man came to the Illinois country on the lakes and rivers, the area's natural roadways. With rivers on three sides, southern Illinois was easily accessible by floating downstream. Early arrivals came in this manner and settled along the streams at Vincennes, in Indiana, and New Haven, Shawneetown, Cave-in-Rock, Elizabethtown, Golconda, Kaskaskia, Prairie du Rocher, and Cahokia, Illinois. 

Some trails had previously been made in the area by Indians and wild animals. The early animal trails generally were those between their seasonal feeding grounds or to those spots where buffalo, deer, and elk came to lick the salty earth. Older persons used to point out these distinctly worn trails that converged at the salt licks - trails that tended to vanish after the woodland was cleared for farming. These earlier pathways seldom were located to serve the best purposes of the settlers, however.

Some of the great animal trails like those of the buffalo around the southern end of Lake Michigan and similar ones that led through the passes in our eastern highlands were much used by the Indians and later by whites. There also were some trails made by the Indians as they passed between their villages and hunting grounds or went trading.

There still are small areas in the wooded hills of southern Illinois where bits of animal and Indian trails remain visible. One is among the hills lying south of the deserted roadway leading eastward from the vicinity of Potts' Tavern, in Hardin County, to the crossing of Saline River near abandoned Saline Mines. A second place where one may see traces of old pathways is in the hills bordering Big Muddy River above Rattlesnake Ferry, in Jackson County. A third place is near Little Muddy River, southest of Elksville. This one leads toward a shallow spot where the stream could not be crossed more easily. The places mentioned are reasonably accessible, but it may be difficult for the unskilled stranger to find them. 

The first overland trails laid out by white men in this section of the state were those beginning at places already named along the Wabash and Ohio rivers and converging upon the Cahokia-Kaskaskia region or leading to Mississippi River crossings. Perhaps earliest of these was the one from Fort Massac to Kaskaskia. It achieved early importance and continued in use for a long time. As other crossing points were established on the Ohio, trails leading from them were merged with the one from Fort Massac to Kaskaskia making that trail increasingly significant. 

These trails or traces were hardly roadways. They seldom were marked in any way and often were so little worn that they could be followed only with difficulty. When roads and trails were marked, it generally was by infrequent blazes on trees along the route. Moreover, road locations often were changed with changing seasons and with shifting patterns of settlement. A seasonal change in location still is pointed out on the old Ford's Ferry - Gallatin Salines roadway (...). The one on the lower level was the regular roadway, and the one on an upper level still is referred to as the "High Water Road."

At first there were no bridges nor established ferries, and it was necessary to cross waterways at shallow places or on crude ferries or rafts built at the site. Early accounts tell of the difficulties thus encountered. John Reynolds, later to become governor of the state, tells of the grave situation that arose when an ax was lost in Little Muddy River west of Hurst while a raft was being constructed.

Following these early trails and pathways often was a difficult task. This is indicated by the fact that George Rogers Clark, and his band of expert woodsmen - guided by a man named Duff, whom Clark had engaged - became lost on the Williamson County prairie as they moved to capture Fort Gage, at Kaskaskia, in early July, 1778.

When men first began to lay out roads between settlements, the territory had not been surveyed and there were no land lines to follow. Trails wandered from point to point. Wherever convenient, roadways followed contour lines. Hills and swamps alike were avoided when possible and roadways were laid out to cross streams at the less difficult places. Ash Ford, Rhine Ford, Island Ripple, Fish Trap Shoal, and Pull Right are the names of a few of the early crossings. An occasional old ford, sometimes surfaced with concrete, still is found along the roadways in the Shawnee Forest. In a few places trails still follow along the beds of the streams. 

Sections of these very early roadways, deserted and overgrown, are in view beside the present paved highways. Some excellent bits of such an old roadway are seen on the west side of Highway 1 south of the Saline River.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Places Must Have Names

Places naturally require names, and one of the tasks in newly settled southern Illinois was to select them. They came from many sources. Some were borrowed from the localities where the earlier settlers had lived; others were from literature, history, the Bible, and from mythology. Still other places were named for individuals or objects, while some come by their names accidentally.

Several places in southern Illinois have names borrowed from the Indians, though such borrowing did not occur here so frequently as in many other states. The Indians' "beautiful river" still is the Ohio, their "big water" is the Mississippi, and "shining water" remains the Wabash. The Kaskaskia River and village with the same name recall the once powerful Indian tribe that lived in Illinois. Even the state received its name from the Indian word "Illini" meaning "real men."

The village of Tamaroa in Perry county derives its name from another vanished tribe, and the city of DuQuoin does honor to John DuQuoin, a literate chief of the Kaskaskia. Makanda, at the entrance to Giant City Park in Jackson County, is said to have been named for the last Indian chief living in that vicinity. Oskaloosa, in Clay County, commemorates the wife of Chief Mohasda. Patoka was an Indian chief that lived in Marion County. The Cahokia gave their name to a mission there more than 250 years ago. Mascoutah in St. Clair County also arouses memories of an Indian, while Shawneetown is named for the Shawnee Indian tribe which once lived in the region. Shobonier, in Fayette County was another Indian chief. Nameoka, in Madison County, is the "place of fish"; War Bluff, Indian Kitchen, Mound City, Indian Gap, the Pounds, and another half dozen Indian forts suggest the prevalence of Indians in early Illinois. Several smaller streams still are called Indian Creek.

People who came here to setlle brought the names of their former homes. An English colony settled in Edwards County and called their villages Wanborough and Albion. Alhambra, in Madison COunty, and vanished Cadiz, in Pope County, suggest Spain. A great battle was fought at Alma in the Crimea in 1854, and that name, then in the news, was given to Alma, in Marion County. The Swiss came to settle in Madison County, and Highland, once referred to as Helvetia, was named. Some sailors home from the seas settled in the community that is now Marine, in Madison County.

A number of community names were drawn from the Bible. The mountains of Palestine suggested names for Lebanon, in Madison County, and Mt. Carmel, in Wabash County. From Palestine also came Palestine, in Crawford County. A fair and fertile spot in Randolph County became Eden, while Sparta was named for the ancient Greek city. Egypt gave names to Cairo, Karnak, Thebes, and Goshen. Odin was named for a god in Norse mythology. Countless churches answer to the names of Gilead, Zion, Mt. Olive, Bethany, Joppa, Ebenezer, and other biblical names.

Jasper County offers a somewhat unusual association of names of two individuals. The county itself was named for the Revolutionary soldier, Sgt. William Jasper, hero at Fort Moultrie, who was killed later at Savannah. Its county seat of Newton was named for Sgt. John Newton, another Revolutionary War hero. Gallatin County was named for Albert Gallatin, Secretary of the Treasury, as was Galatia once spelled Gallatia. DeSoto, in Jackson County, is for the Spanish explorer of that name.

General John B. Turchin, "the Mad Cossack," a former officer in the Russian army, served with distinction in the Union army during the Civil War. After the war, he formed a settlement in Washington County and called it Radom for his native district in Poland. Randolph County was named for the Governor of Virginia. Vanished Santa Fe village in Alexander County was for the Spanish town of Santa Fe in New Mexico.

French names linger in a number of places. Prairie du Rocher was "field of the rock"; Bellefontaine still is a "beautiful spring" near Waterloo, in Monroe COunty. LaClede, in Fayette County, is for the French founder of the city of St. Louis. Vanished Belle Rive, in Hamilton County, was for Louis St. Ange de Bellrive, who surrendered Illinois to the British in 1765. Pawnee became "pani" or slave in the French patois and later was used for the new town of Pana. 

Fort Massac and Massac County are for M. Massiac, Minister of Marine for France, during the French and Indian War. The Embarrass River, passing near Lawrenceville, and Bonpas Creed (Bumpus), in Edwards County, answer to the names the French gave them as also does Beaucoup (Buckoo) Creek, in Jackson County. Grand Pierre (Grampeer) and Big Grand Pierre, in Pope County, bespeak a French derivation. The town of Equality, in Gallatin County, echoes a part of the rallying cry of the French Revolution. Tonti, in Madison County, was named for LaSalle's faithful lieutenant of that name.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Egypt

Greetings from Egypt - Southern Illinois

Most of the stories and accounts offered here are associated with the southern section of Illinois popularly termed "Egypt." Therefore, it may be meaningful to explain why this region is frequently referred to by that name.

The boundaries of "Egypt" in Illinois are agreed upon to be the Wabash, Ohio, and Mississippi rivers on the east, south, and west. The northern limits, however, are indefinite. There are some, with reasonable territorial ambitions, who would have it include all the state lying south of an east-west line in the approximate latitude of Vandalia. Others, perhaps less imperialistic or perhaps selfish, would include only that part of the state lying south of the Baltimore and Ohio Railroad, roughly a line from East St. Louis to Vincennes.

A second term, Little Egypt, often is applied to a smaller area at the southern tip of the state. It includes eleven southern counties, ending on the north at about the latitude of the city of Benton, in Franklin County. 

Neither of the above terms is recognized as an established geographical place name, and until comparatively recent years they were little used outside the area. For a long time, they were convenient colloquial terms. But, of late, the names have gained wider recognition because they are handy headline designations for southern Illinois in the metropolitan press. 

The use of these terms, Egypt or Little Egypt, to indicate a region so far removed from the valley of the Nile naturally arouses the curiosity of outsiders. Several explanations for the use of the names have been advanced. The two cited most frequently deserve comment. 

The first explanation states that the region was so named because places bearing the Egyptian names of Cairo, Goshen, Karnak, and Thebes were located in it. The name of Goshen, or Land of Goshen, first was applied to a settlement in the south part of present Edwardsville about 1800. The name of Cairo now applied to the town located at the confluence of the Ohio and the Mississippi, first indicated a bank, the Bank of Cairo, chartered in 1818. This bank, which did not survive long, was located and had its offices in vanished Kaskaskia about one hundred miles northward. The present town of Cairo was planned and a charter was secured by the name Cairo City and Canal Company in 1837, at least five years after the name Egypt was in common use. Unless the name Egypt came from "Goshen," "Land of Goshen," or "Goshen Road," all in use in the first decade of the 1800's, it is difficult to support this place-name theory.

The following is a second explanation of the way in which the term came to be applied to the region. This one is supported by documentary sources and by numerous traditional accounts. Perhaps the best explanation of the origin of the term is the one given by Judge A.D. Duff, a prominent attorney, circuit judge, and the person designated as Professor of Law on Southern Illinois Normal University's first faculty. Judge Duff's account appeared in the Golconda Herald in the 1860's, having been copied from an earlier issue of the Shawneetown Gazette. According to his story, the conditions leading to the use of the term Egypt in relation to southern Illinois began with the winter of 1830-31. This was the "winter of the deep snow," the longest and most severe winter that the residents of Illinois had known. Snows came early, reached a depth of three feet or more, and remained until late spring of 1831 and severe frosts continued until May. According to Judge Duff, it was a "very backward spring." The summer was extremely cool and killing frosts came on September 10, making the growing season a short one. 

The late spring naturally delayed the planting of crops. The September frost killed much of the unripened corn in the northern counties. Only in those areas lying south of an east-west line approximately through the locality of Benton in Franklin County did corn properly mature. Farmers north of that line were forced to seek corn for their livestock, for the universally used corn meal, and for planting in counties farther south. 

When this was happening, Judge Duff was a well-grown lad living beside a much traveled north-south roadway in Bond County. He saw many wagos going south to find corn and returning with the treasured grain. Some of these stopped overnight at the Duff home. Many of the farmers driving those wagons were Bible readers who remarked that they, like the sons of Jacob, were "going down to Egypt for corn." The designation of the southern counties of Illinois as Egypt thus came into use.

No record of the term has been found previous to 1832. Once applied, however, it rapidly came into general use. The journal of Daniel H. Brush, prominent citizen of Jackson County, covering the 1830's, refers to Egypt and indicates the same origin for the nickname.

At times the name of Egypt or Little Egypt has been used in a somewhat derogatory way, though originally the name carried no stigma. In fact, it was worn with considerable pride.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Thomas Posey

Thomas Posey himself

A grave in Westwood Cemetery at Shawneetown suggests the story of Thomas Posey, who was born in Fairfax County, Virginia, not far from the home of the Washingtons, in 1750. Not much is known of Posey's family beyond the fact that his mother was Elizabeth Lloyd, sometimes suggested as the lowland beauty alluded to in legends about Washington. Her family was one with a social standing above the average. Posey grew up in the way of country boys of that time, with meager educational advantages. No records of his life previous to 1769 have been found. In that year, when Posey was nineteen years old, the family moved to Botetourt County, Virginia, about 175 miles south and west from his birthplace. This migration brought him much nearer the frontier with its constant Indian threats and conflicts.

Posey enlisted in the militia at an early age and thus began a long and active career. He served as a captain in the forces led by Lord Dunmore and General Lewis in the Indian campaign often designated as Lord Dunmore's War. In this campaign he held the post of Comissary General under General Lewis in the Indian campaign often designated as Lord Dunmore's War. In this campaign he held the post of Commissary General under General Lewis. In the Lord Dunmore War he was engaged in the battle with the Indians at Point Pleasant near the place where the Kanawha River joins the Ohio in West Virginia. He was at German Flats, Schoharie, Cherry Valley, and Wyoming. At all these places he acquitted himself well and acquired an excellent military reputation. When conflict with the mother country came, Posey became a champion of the causes of the colonists. He was a memeber of the Committees of Correspondence that sought to keep the colonists informed concerning developments and relations with the mother country.

Throughout his military activities during the Revolutionary War he repeatedly appears as a favorite of General Washington, who recommended or appointed him to increasingly important tasks. At Washington's special request, Posey was assigned to the celebrated regiment known as Morgan's Riflemen, where he rendered distinguished service. He was present as a member of Washington's staff at Yorktown. After the war, he served under Mad Anthony Wayne in some of his campaigns against the Indians. 

Posey was present and helped to arrange the surrender of General Burgoyne, the English play-writing general, at Saratoga on October 17, 1777. After Saratoga he had an important part in other campaigns. He was at Stony Point and led the battalion that successfully stormed the British position. An incident in the Stony Point battle is indicative of his devotion and loyalty to Washington. When asked to lead the storming troops he is said to have replied, "I'll storm hell if General Washington will plan it." It was he who announced the capture of the fort.

After the Revolution Posey moved to Kentucky, where he was elected a state senator and served two years as speaker of that body. He was thus, ex-officio, lieutenant governor of the state. Later moving to Louisiana, he served as United States senator from that state. Upon the retirement of William Henry Harrison, Posey was appointed governor of Indiana Territory and served in that capacity until Indiana became a state. He was then appointed agent for Indian Affairs for Illinois Territory and moved to Shawneetown in 1816.

As a souvenir of the battle of Stony Point, Posey brought with him to Illinois the flag carried by the storming troops. This flag with its seven broad stripes of red and white and its field of thirteen stars arranged in a circle was one of the objects of interest in Shawneetown for a century or more. Much tattered and frayed, it was, a few years ago, still on display in the bank there.

Posey died in Shawneetown at the home of his son-in-law, Joseph M. Street, on March 9, 1818, within a few weeks of the time when Illinois became a state. He is buried about two miles north of the old town. 

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Pierre Menard

The Pierre Menard Home itself

The house that Pierre Menard built in Randolph County merits a high place on any list of historic homes in the United States. This sturdy old frame house of French colonial design is attractive to look at; its lens and proportions are pleasing. Moreover, it has remained basically unaltered through the years since it was completed in 1802.

It then stood on the east bank of the Kaskaskia River, looking across the stream toward the ancient town of that name. The Mississippi was seven miles away. Today the house, though it stands unmoved at its original location, faces directly upon the Mississippi, continuing to look toward the spot where the town of Kaskaskia once stood, but its view is now obscured by a high levee. This paradox clears when it becomes known that many years ago the Mississippi, while in flood stage, cut a new channel across a narrow strip of land that separated it from the Kaskaskia a few miles above the town and shifted its current to the latter stream. In making this shift the town of Kaskaskia, once the metropolsi of the Mississippi Valley, was washed away. 

Among the houses that were part of the Kaskaskia scene, only the home that Menard built against the foot of the Garrison Hill bluff remains. It has seen much history and as the years have passed, it has become more and more an object of interest. The house considered alone has its appeal just as does the man who built it. Each alike adds to the legend of the other. Perhaps it would not be improper to say that Pierre Menard and the Menard home occupy a position for Illinois much like that of Washington and Mount Vernon for the nation.

Pierre Menard was born at St. Antoine, near Montreal, Canada, in 1766. He left Canada and went to Vincennes in 1787. This was during the period when many of the French settlers of Indiana and Illinois were moving into Spanish territory west of the Mississippi. At Vincennes young Pierre entered the employ of Col. Francois Vigo, an Indian trader with whom he made at least one trip to Philadelphia to confer with President Washington concerning the defense of the western country. In 1791 Menard came to Kaskaskia and entered a business partnership with Toussaint DuBois. He soon became a prosperous merchant, fur buyer, and Indian trader. Here he twice married into prominent and influential French families.

Soon after coming to Illinois, Menard began to attract favorable attention. He was appointed to command the militia. He was name a judge of the Court of Common Pleas and served ten years in that capacity. He also was appointed to other offices, serving some time as judge in a special orphan's court. His name frequently appears as "next of friend" for someone who otherwise could not gain access to the courts.

Menard served as a memeber of the territorial legislature of Indiana from 1801 until 1809. In the spring of 1810 he was with Andrew Henry at Three Forks on the Missouri, where they established the first organized trapping venture in that region. He was elected to the first Illinois territorial legislature and became president in 1812. Though he had come to Illinois as a youth and had been active in civic and political affairs for about thirty years, it was not until 1816 that he was formally naturalized as a citizen of the United States.

When men were selected to frame a constitution for the new state of Illinois, Menard was one of those chosen for the task. The proposed constitution required that the lieutenant governor be a native-born United States citizen, but since Menard seemed to be the best candidate, the constitution was promptly revised to permit anyone two years a citizen of the country to serve in that office. Menard accordingly was chosen as the first lieutenant governor of the state. After completing his term in that office, he retired to his home beside the Kaskaskia to live a quiet life, to entertain his many visitors, and to attend to wide business interests. 

At different times, he was called upon to help in dealing with the Indians, whom it is said he "instinctively" understood. The Indians respected and trusted him. There is no indication that Menard ever used deceit in negotiating with them. Neither did they betray him. The same apparently was true in his relations with the whites.

Today a county and a town in Illnois are named for him. A bronze statue, the gift from a son of one of his business partners, stands on the capitol grounds at Springfield with the simple inscription "MENARD," carved on the granite base. His name occurs frequently in the territorial records of both Indiana and Illinois and upon the early state records of the latter.

As has already been said, the home he built on the banks of the Kaskaskia still stands. Visitors may wander through the rooms of the old house, go to the kitchen with its shaped-stone sink, built-in oven, and fireplace with crane and pendant, where the meals were prepared to be carried to the dining room across an open porch.

Visitors also go through the sone-brick building designated as the "Slave House" where domestic servants evidently were quartered. Some years ago, very old people told of the ruins of a row of log cabins that once stood against the foot of the cliff south of the present house. Tradition indicated that these vanished cabins were the quarters where Menard's field slaves lived. Provision has been made recently for needed repairs to guarantee the preservation of the building. Such belongings of Menard's as are available are being brought back to the home. Other articles needed to furnish it will be supplied by authentic pieces of that period. Thousands of visitors now come to see the home each year. With proper restoration it could become an even greater mecca for those interested in the early history of the state and for those who wish to learn more about the culture of that period.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen

Pierre Menard Home Website:
https://www2.illinois.gov/dnrhistoric/Experience/Sites/Southwest/Pages/Pierre-Menard.aspx

Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois: Washington Never Slept Here

Every region, doubtless, has its list of interesting individuals around whom stories cluster. Those who travel over the Virginia-Maryland countryside frequently encounter signs like "Washington Slept Here." One man, statistically inclined or wishing to appear humorous, insisted that all such claims could not be true. He contended that their combined total would be greater than that of all the nights which Washington spent away from Mt. Vernon. True or untrue, such signs do indicate a desire to connect a locality with some name great in our history. These local associations intensify the feeling that the men connected with past events were real. 

Washington did not come so far west as Illinois, so we cannot erect a "Washington Slept Here" sign. Nevertheless, this region can claim some rather close associations with the great Virginian. One early contact between Washington and men from southern Illinois occurred when unwelcome visitors from here paid a call upon him in 1754. Among these callers were "100 choice troops" with some Indian allies from present-day Randolph County.

It came about in this way. British and French interests had for many years been in violent conflict in various places over the world. The American part of this conflict is known as the French and Indian Wars. In our country it was a struggle for control of the heart of the North American continent. A common objective of both parties was control of the Ohio Valley. The French were in the region early in force and established Fort Duquesne at the site of present-day Pittsburgh. The British, represented by a force of Virginia militia under the command of George Washington, arrived in the same area soon afterwards, intending to establish a fort and thus control the region. When he found the French already there, Washington built a second fort at Great Meadows, not so far away, and named it Fort Necessity.

The French immediately began to gather forces to drive the Virginians away. It was to this gathering of French forces that Major Makarty, commandant at Fort de Chartres in Randolph County, sent a hundred troops accompanied by Indian allies. Other French troops and Indians were sent from Vincennes to join those coming from posts in Canada. When sufficient French forces had gathered, they attacked Washington and forced him to surrender Fort Necessity at Great Meadows, not Confluence, Pennsylvania, on July 3, 1754. The callers from Illinois contributed to Washington's defeat. By a strange coincidence this surrender occurred exactly twenty-one years before the day on which Washington assumed command of the Colonial Army at Cambridge, Massachusetts. 

This sending of troops to attack Fort Necessity does not constitute the only association of Washington with men in our story. A year after the surrender of Fort Necessity, Washington returned to that same vicinity as an aide to General Braddock, commander of British forces sent to occupy that area. The defeat and death of General Braddock and the able services of Washington in rescuing the troops from utter destruction, as well as the part played by the Indian allies of the French, is well known. These Indians, the element that apparently determined the defeat of the British, were directed by Chief Pontiac who later was killed at Cahokia, just south of East St. Louis.

Another man close to Washington came to live at New Haven, in Gallatin County. He had served as Washington's personal baggagemaster during the Revolution and perhaps knew Washington as intimately as it was the privilege of any man to know him. This baggagemaster is buried in a marked grave in the little cemetery about three miles west and two miles north from the Wabash River village.

Another and a better known man associated with Washington ended his days at Shawneetown. This was General Thomas Posey, distinguished alike from his military achievements and as a state and governmental official. 

After all, southern Illinois can claim definite, but tenuous connections with Washington.

"Legends & Lore of Southern Illinois" - John W. Allen