Ahead of Her Time

blog post by Laura McCaffrey

Gene Stratton Porter was a Hoosier original. Born in the mid-1860s on a farm in Wabash County in Indiana, Geneva (Gene, as she would soon decide) was the last child for Mark and Mary Stratton. She had lots of freedom and roamed the fields and woods as she wanted. Her lifelong love of nature-flora and fauna
began there. Her father encouraged her interest in nature and taught her much about the land and its inhabitants. She did well in school work only if it was something she found interesting and even left school shortly before graduation.

Gene was an attractive young woman and caught the eye of an older business man when she was visiting friends. He was Charles Dorwin Porter. And the rest, as they say, is history.

But not quite.

In responding to his letter, Gene warned Porter that she was unlike other women. She said what she thought and pretty much did as she wanted. He was agreeable and after a brief courtship they were married and had a daughter, Jeanette. Charles prospered and Gene definitely said and did what pleased her. Writing.
Photography. Drawing. Mucking about in the swamps in northern Indiana. Collecting plants and birds. She became a world famous author and an avid advocate for conserving our natural resources. In her time she influenced politicians and presidents and provided reading joy to millions. She went to California to visit, but eventually went there to live. She died in an automobile crash in 1924.

Today we remember her in Indiana more, perhaps, because of the land she gave to the state than for her best sellers. (The Gene Stratton-Porter State Historic Site
near Rome City, Indiana and the Limberlost State Historic Site at Geneva,
Indiana). Reprints of her books are currently available as are some of her movies. Books that made her famous included Freckles, The Girl of the Limberlost, and Michael O Halloran.

AHEAD OF HER TIME is the title of the free Mather lecture and book signing to be presented by local author Barbara Olenyik Morrow on Sunday, November 6 at 2 pm at The History Center.

The book, NATURE’S STORY TELLER, is well-illustrated with photographs of Gene and the people and places in her life. The story told is indeed of a woman ahead of her time, worrying about land, habitat, climate, and
conservation long before it was fashionable.

Although this book is ostensibly written as part of a series of Indiana history books for youth, it is an excellent adult book as well. Gene Stratton-Porter emerges as a thoroughly believable and modern woman who was passionate about her cause. And we should all applaud her vision.

I thoroughly enjoyed reading again about the author I read greedily as a child. I think I will read again the lessons she taught about goodness and clean living and loving nature. Nature can be cruel, but her books provided lessons in a kinder and gentler way of living. Olenyik Morrow has captured the essence of Stratton-Porter in her narrative.

NATURES STORYTELLER; THE LIFE OF GENE STRATTON-PORTER (Indiana Historical Society Press, 978-0-87195-284-4) by Barbara Olenyik Morrow is available at the Museum Shop.

Italian Roots in Indiana

Written by Laura McCaffrey

If you were unable to attend the Mather Lecture for October, reading THE STONECUTTER’S ARIA is perhaps the next best thing to being there. Carol Faenzi, of Indianapolis, presented the lecture and authored the book.

THE STONECUTTER’S ARIA covers a century in the tumultuous life of a real Italian family who immigrates to America to find a better life and eventually ends up in Indiana. Faenzi writes about her own family history and these are actual people’s lives we are reading about.

Just as though the book were an actual opera, each character tells their story as it relates to the time and place. The story begins during the late 19th century with the Giovannoni family in Carrara, the marble capital of the world and also home to an opera company. Music and marble have been in the family for generations, but hard times and promise of opportunity send the more adventurous to America. Such a one is Aristide Giovannoni who marries Ione and has children before he leaves for America and a new life. Ione and the surviving children follow and we get a steerage view of travel from Italy to America in the early twenties. The cities in the east are fine but too many Italian grocers compete and since Aristide and many other Italian immigrants are stonecutters they go where work is. Indiana.

The quarries of southern Indiana need for skilled workers create the influx of a sizeable Italian population in Indianapolis and other areas. The day to day life of the Giovannoni and Faenzi family become more complex and provides somewhat of a microcosm of life in the Great Depression. Oddly enough, the stonecutters prospered because the government and others erected many public buildings and Indiana limestone was a prime component. World War II presented some obstacles and the next generation went different ways.
Later, Faenzi herself will become one of the voices as she sought her heritage here and in Italy. Through her efforts, we can realize what drew these hardworking and talented people to Indiana and what they have added to our heritage. Researching for my reading, I discovered that Italians were also attracted to the mines in Southern Indiana. This made me understand why Clinton, Indiana in Vermillion County has an Italian Festival

On Old Barns and Artists

I have always cultivated a secret passion for old barns, and have been dismayed at how many are vanishing from our landscape, so it is gratifying (and humbling) to witness a talented artist wielding her paintbrush in defense of them. Like small children, they can’t speak for themselves. They are too easily and frequently abused and neglected. But like our great-great-grandparents, their broad shoulders have withstood the brunt of storms and the test of time. They helped shape Indiana…and oh, the stories they could tell!

Gwen Gutwein is one of the artists who has so generously donated a work of art to our 2011 Buffalo Tro fundraiser, a plein-air oil painting of the Old City Hall building, which now houses the History Center. She is an exhibitor and award winner of the Hoosier Salon, which in the art world is a Pretty Big Fat Deal. With a focus on realism, it has roots going back to 1925 and earlier. It was foundered by members of the Hoosier School of art and the famed Brown County Artists. (You’ve seen their work if you’ve even been to the Student Union at I.U., or to many Indiana art museums).

But what especially sets Gwen apart is her series on Indiana Barns. She has dedicated the past six years of her life to capturing them on canvas before they are gone. With a goal of 2 (or more) from each county, she has completed 100 since 2005, and has 84 more to go. I had the privilege of taking a peek inside her studio, and got a close-up look at some of these magnificent barn paintings, but you can also see her first 50 barns as part of a traveling exhibit sponsored by the Fort Wayne Museum of Art.

Gwen grew up on a farm, and has fond memories of playing in the barn with her siblings and cousins. As she got older, she was amazed at the skill and integrity that went into building them. “They really knew what they were doing when they built these barns. Even on a hot summer day, you walk down to the lower level and it is 65 degrees. You can’t get that with a modern pole barn.” She also marveled at the old-growth timber that went into the barns, and continues to be preserved by them.

She set brush to canvas when she noticed them disappearing—a collapse of a neglected old heap here, a tear-down to make way for a faceless subdivision there. One by one. Gone, and never to return.

Each of her paintings has a much deeper story behind it, and sometimes it is heartbreaking. She was painting an 1835 stone barn in Southern Indiana, and mentioned it to some architectural experts, who came down from Chicago, climbed all over it, inside and out, and proclaimed it a Smithsonian-quality treasure. In its basement were three 60’ hand-hewn chestnut beams, with 24 additional chestnut beams and many 24" wide planks in the hayloft. The farmer was begging her to buy it—he had sons, and they just weren’t interested in this legacy. “I’ll sell it to you with ten acres of land. I’ll sell it with five!”

Other stories are chilling. In one county, she has only painted one barn. Another barn owner agreed to let her paint an additional barn, but then her son stepped in and denied the permission. She said it is the most desolate county, with huge tracts of corporate farmland, few trees, fences gone, tractors bigger than her house, and a business model designed to wring every last grain of corn or soybean from the brutalized ground—rather than turning at the edge of a field, the tractors drive straight across the roads as they are plowing, planting and reaping. (Most of the smaller family farms are now huge conglomerations). “In that county,” she noted, “people couldn’t even look me in the eye.”

For the most part, though, she is welcomed joyfully by barn owners who take great pride in what they have and want to share it with others. The collection has already been featured extensively in galleries and museums, but Gwen is not selling any of the paintings. She explains, “The whole is greater than the sum of its parts; if I piecemeal them out, the collection will lose its integrity.” Her hope is that the collection will be preserved intact and be kept in the public eye so Hoosiers can continue to appreciate the treasures they have in their landscape, and take steps to start preserving them before they are all lost.

To see the full series of works in the Barn Project, go to gwengutwein.com. The three barns shown here are all in Allen County, and the Old City Hall painting was donated on behalf of our Heritage Education Fund. Gwen sells her paintings through her studio and local galleries, and also have offered barn calendars since 2008.

A Few Thoughts on the Buffalo Tro and Parties at Chief Richardville’s House

For many years I would have occasion to pass the Chief Richardville House, set back in the trees on a gentle hill overlooking Bluffton Road. I was always intrigued by its forlorn-looking gray façade.

When I joined the board of the History Center, I learned some of the stories the house could tell (going back to 1827) when it hosted the glittering parties of the great Miami chief. Imagine how highly sought this invitation was, when most of Fort Wayne’s inhabitants were living in rough-hewn hovels of sticks and stones!

Two grand, gnarled old silver maple trees frame the house. According to a recent Native American visitor, a member of the Miami tribe, these two old guardians are “spirit trees.” Normally a silver maple will not swirl dramatically, but according to this belief, trees growing in a place of powerful spirituality will manifest this spirit by growing in a manner contrary to the way they are “supposed” to grow. To me, the “genius of the place” is one of welcoming joy and a loving family, although perhaps my emotions are just tricked by the intrinsic beauty of the property.

Even when the house was owned by a gravel company, which tore up the surrounding landscape, no one dared set hand to those two trees. They knew they were special.

Were these trees saplings back when Jean Baptiste de Richardville and his family lived in the house? How many horses and carriages trotted by these trees, the occupants dressed splendidly as they alighted for an important meeting or one of the galas Richardville loved to host?

The descendents of Chief Little Turtle’s family played under these branches. The future of our region was shaped in the elegant parlor. The house itself is the result of hard negotiations with the U.S. Government, bargains driven by the man who controlled the key Portage for the region and sought to protect his tribe.

Stories passed down from the generations whisper of how Richardville became Chief by his mother Tacumwah’s counsel—establishing his leadership by slashing the bonds of a white captive who was doomed to the stake—and how his gold helped to found the University of Notre Dame. (He was educated by Jesuits and was fluent in six languages: English, Miami, French, Greek, Mohican and Latin.)

Under the stewardship of the History Center, the house’s exterior has been restored to its former beauty, and visitors are welcomed. Once a year its bonfire and torches are lit, lights warmly shine from the windows, fiddle music swirls across the lawn, and its doors are opened for an evening of festivities in a manner that recalls the early frontier. This is the Buffalo Tro.

The Tro helps to raise funds to bring thousands of schoolchildren through the History Center for free. Many of these kids wouldn’t be able to attend if their stressed teachers had to drum up support from a cash-strapped school or send that note home asking for a few dollars from a parent who may rank among the high percentage of Hoosiers who are jobless.

I love that the Tro supports these kids, but more selfishly, I love that the Tro helps bring to life the history that I have only read about in books, starting with my 4th grade Indiana history textbook. (I also love that, beer in hand, we get to throw buffalo steaks onto the red-hot coals.)

This year’s Tro will be particularly special, as the house is on track to receive National Historic Landmark status—the only other structures in this corner of Indiana with this designation are the Allen County Courthouse and the Auburn Cord Dusenberg Museum. What a mark of respect to Chief Richardville, his beloved Miami, and the generations who have helped preserve this wonderful house. I have my invitation in hand, and I’m looking forward to the party!

(The Buffalo Tro is Friday, September 30th, 2011 at 6:00. Call the History Center at 260-426-2882 if you are interested in attending. Admission is $50 and proceeds go to the Heritage Education Fund.)

Educating Women Physicians: A Fort Wayne Tradition!

To no one's surprise, approximately one half of medical students today are women. Until only some thirty years ago, however, women had very limited opportunities to enter the profession. Not many people know that Fort Wayne had a medical school that was an exception to the general rule of excluding female students. From its opening in 1876 until it merged with Central College of Physicians and Surgeons in Indianapolis to form the Medical College of Purdue University in 1905, the Fort Wayne College of Medicine publicly advertised its acceptance of women on the same basis as male students.

The board of trustees and faculty took a great risk with this admission policy. Women of the period were generally considered intellectually inferior. Medical schools were afraid that female students would drive male students away and thus be a financial drain. They were already plagued with scandals over dissection of cadavers, even grave robbing. Furthermore, many people thought that by studying nude bodies in the presence of men, women would lose their femininity and invite sexual harassment. Even if they obtained medical training, women physicians were generally shunned by their male peers. What were the leaders of Fort Wayne Medical College thinking?

General clues for this bold policy rest with three of the college's founders, the Rev. Reuben Davisson Robinson, and Drs. Willam H. Myers and Christian B. Stemen. All were on record as supporters of women's education. Rev. Robinson, the former minister of Wayne Street Methodist Church, had served as president of the co-educational Fort Wayne Methodist College from 1855 to 1866. Dr. Myers was known as an early advocate of women's rights. At the first meeting in Fort Wayne to promote woman suffrage held in 1871, Dr. Myers announced that he had become a convert. In 1883, when the Indiana Medical Society debated admission of women to the Indiana Medical College, Dr. Myers advocated what was still a minority position. "Our college has always admitted ladies, and we have suffered no inconveniences from their presence," he told his colleagues. "I think they have had a salutary influence upon the gentlemen they met there." Finally, Dr. Christian Stemen demonstrated by personal example his support for women physicians by mentoring his daughter, Harriet Stemen Macbeth, as a medical student and practicing physician.

Fort Wayne Medical College always had a small enrollment. Perhaps its most illustrious female student was Alice Hamilton. At the beginning of her internationally recognized career as a trailblazer for industrial medicine, she took advantage of the college to brush up on science and medicine prior to her acceptance in medical school at the Univeersity of Michigan. She gained experience in the college's clinic serving poor workers on the city's west side.

Of the women graduates who remained in Fort Wayne, most is known about Dr. Harriet Macbeth and her niece by marriage, Dr. Bertha Goba Macbeth. Both served the growing industrial city and its surrounding communities for many years. Following practices of the day, they visited patients in their homes. When money was scarce, patients showed their appreciation with chickens and farm produce.

When we drive by the grand old building on Superior Street that was the last home for the Fort Wayne College of Medicine, we can feel proud. In the long history of women in medicine, Fort Wayne was ahead of its day.

Allen County's Oldest Restaurant

The Nine Mile Restaurant sits rather inconspicuously on the east side of U.S. 27, and motorists unfamiliar with its excellent food and rich history often drive by on their way to Decatur without giving it a second look. They shouldn't. The tavern and one-time inn is one of Allen County's treasures - very likely one of the oldest, if not the oldest,restaurant in the northern part of Indiana.

To appreciate the restaurant's history, one must go back to the early 1830s and the pioneer settlement of what became Marion Township. Several ancient trails ran through the area, including Wayne Trace, through which Anthony Wayne's army had marched after leaving Fort Wayne in 1794, and the Piqua Road, which was surveyed in 1830 and made use of what was probably an older Indian trail. This road became what is now U.S. 27. In the 1830s, however, it represented one of the few paths a pioneer had for reaching Fort Wayne - once considered a far-away place from the more settled parts of central and southern Indiana. The land was so marshy that travelers on the road often had to fell trees and find parallel paths in the woods to get around the thick mud that rendered the road impassable.

Pioneers began settling Marion Township in 1832. Philo Whitcomb, one of the first to arrive, established a post office at a place called Root near what is now U.S. 27 and Flat Rock Road.
Then in 1837, John Karn opened a tavern at the site of the present Nine Mile Restaurant. As the Piqua Road improved, a stagecoach line was established, and Karn's tavern became an important stop. In 1850, John Holmes acquired the tavern and rebuilt it in a Greek Revival style, calling it Nine Mile House, because it stood exactly nine miles from the Allen County Courthouse. The site became one of the most important gathering places in the southern part of Allen County - a place where travelers spent the night and where pioneers met to exchange news over a pint.

A series of owners followed Holmes. At one time, it was known as Bubb's Nine Mile after its then-owner, Anthony Bubb. The oldest known image of the structure, shown above, dates from the 1930s, when there were gas pumps and a Coca-Cola sign in the front. Later the structure underwent a series of significant renovations that changed and greatly expanded its appearance.

Today the restaurant is painted brown, but the original roof-line can still be seen within the other additions. Nine Mile is popular with residents in the Hoagland and Poe areas, but it is less well-known to Fort Wayne residents. It has an excellent menu, with barbecued ribs being one of its specialties. The cuisine is very much of the down-home variety, and while I don't profess to be a restaurant critic, I have always found my visits there enjoyable. My wife, who has deep ancestral roots in Marion Township, likes to speculate that many of her ancestors must have eaten there over the last century and a half. We enjoy the ambiance, even if the interior isn't designed to be historic. We know that buried deep within the walls is still the 1850 structure.

Nine Mile is well worth a visit. Plan on having an intimate dining experience, with tables placed close together, and with excellent service. While there, you can celebrate how unusual it is for any business, especially a restaurant, to operate continuously at the same location since 1837.

Tierces, Kits, Firkins, Kegs, Barrels and Hogsheads

Historians write about the days before automobiles and of early grocery stores that received edibles in barrels, cloth bags or wooden boxes. Today, we as consumers understand those "packaging" terms, but there were names for shipping containers that we no longer use nor would we understand. With a few small tools to loosen and remove the nails that fastened the wooden box lids, a pine box top was removed and the bulk contents were ready for display. The same was true with barrel heads that could be removed and the contents opened for easy viewing. When a customer made a selection the product was weighted out usually by the pound and placed in a paper bag for the customer to take home.

Many products were stored and shipped in barrels such as smoked pork or pork packed in brine. Some held apples and flour in the days before refrigeration. Iced compartments were not thought to be practical until railroad cars were fitted out to provide the service. Wood barrels churned out by local cooper shops made both “tight” and “slack” types. Tight barrels were made for holding liquids such as vinegar or cider requiring hardwoods such as white oak with strength enough to endure rough handling during the days of the mid-nineteenth century. Slack barrels made of softer woods such as elm, basswood or linden were fine for sugar, fruit, flour, or salt. Then there were different grades of slack barrels since flour required a tighter fit than say one for apples.

Next a grocer had to know the several sizes and capacities of barrel design. Smallest of them was a tight barrel called a “kit” which held one or two gallons used often for salt-mackerel in brine. “Kegs” came in various sizes as did half-barrels used to contain linseed oil that were made of oak and some times reinforced with iron hoops. Depending on the product a slack keg was ideal durables such as nails. A “firkin” normally held about one quarter of a barrel and typically was a tight barrel used for consumables such as butter or lard. Standard sized barrels were supposed to hold 31-1/2 gallons. A larger size called a “tierce” had a nominal capacity of 42 gallons and the type most often produced. Another was the “hogshead” which was larger ranging up to 140 gallons.

As a suggestion, the next time you go grocery shopping please don't confuse that hard working clerk with a line like, "Oh, I don't know, how about giving me a tierce worth, but I will have to have help getting it to my car."

From an unpublished manuscript with the working title, The Merchants of Vittles, T. Castaldi - 2011