Fort Wayne Driving Park

by Mark Meyer

Entrance to Forest Park Addition

In November of 1892 Frederick J. Hayden sold a portion of his property that lay on the northern outskirts of Fort Wayne to a newly formed organization known as The Fort Wayne Driving Association. This sale laid the groundwork for several years of civic pride and inadvertently established the boundaries of two major neighborhood developments of the early 1900s: Driving Park and Forest Hills.

The 100 acres involved in the sale were originally a portion of the vast land holdings amassed by pioneer entrepreneur Samuel Hanna. In the late 1860s the property passed to his descendants after a long court battle over the distribution of Hanna’s estate. By virtue of marriage, F.H. Hayden came into possession of the property that contained the tract sold to the FW Driving Association in 1892.

Map showing where Fort Wayne Driving Club was located

The FW Driving Association included the wealthiest of Fort Wayne residents with  names now familiar to us as park, street, and building names. Among them were D.N. and S.M. Foster, Louis and Charles Centlivre, H.C. Rockhill, and Willis Bash. The Association purchased the property to build a first-class trotting track that would become a point of pride for the city as well as a home for the organization. By 1894 the track lived up to the hopes of its founders when a successful trotter by the name of Star Pointer set a world record mark of 2:04 flat. Although the record was eclipsed within a few days by the same horse on a different track, the event remained a source of pride for years to come.

Throughout the “Gay 90s” Driving Park was a popular gathering spot for the society-conscious and those with a fondness for wagering. In 1902, the Fort Wayne Trotting Association passed control of the grounds to the Fort Wayne Fair Association, a group assembled to create the city’s first fair. Reports in the local newspapers suggest that a sense of nervousness preceded the city’s inaugural fair in October of that year. Civic pride was a driving force in this day and a failed fair would reflect badly on the city. They need not have worried. The 5-day event (10/7-11), drew more than 10,000 spectators a day who marveled at the wares displayed by local businesses, admired the produce and stock shown by area farmers, and wagered on races featuring the best trotters the area had to offer. Among the many special events of the week one new and exciting use for the Driving Park track stands out: automobile racing.

On Thursday, October 9, more than 16,000 were on hand for the festivities which included Fort Wayne’s first auto race. Seven drivers and vehicles were signed up but two no-shows and one withdrawal due to mechanical failure reduced the historic field to just four. Harry Meyers completed the two-mile circuit in 3:21 to claim a comfortable victory over A.L. Randall, Harry Klippinger, and A.C. Alter respectively. This was but the first of many contests involving motorized vehicles on the one-mile oval of the Driving Park. In the following years, auto and motorcycle races were frequently held on the grounds and were a highlight of the annual fairs that took place through 1913.

In 1910, a new motorized vehicle was the star of Fort Wayne’s first aviation extravaganza. Glenn H. Curtiss, who had recently made an historic non-stop flight from New York City to Albany, New York, assembled a group of daring men who barnstormed the country giving many their first-ever glimpse of the new flying machines. Although labeled “The Man Birds who Fly”, perhaps the most notable member of the group was a woman. Miss Blanche Stuart Scott had earned acclaim in 1909 for her cross-country New York to Mexico automobile trek but now proclaimed the ground to tame. She had her eyes set on the clouds and becoming America’s first woman of the air. On Saturday, October 22, in the air above Driving Park, Miss Scott realized her plan and became the first woman in America to make a solo public flight by airplane.

By 1913 interest in the annual county fair had diminished and housing for a burgeoning city was in demand. The F.W. Fair Association was in debt following an unsuccessful fair the previous year. As a result, the board elected to sell the property to a local development company. The Driving Park Improvement Company, spearheaded by Louis F. Curdes (the successful developer of Forest Park and the iconic Forest Park Boulevard) designed a grand addition extending Forest Park Boulevard north of State Boulevard. The new housing development was given the aptly but less-than-creative name of The Driving Park Addition.  Before ground could be broken however, a legal disagreement involving a long-term lease had to be resolved. The solution included an agreement that allowed for one grand-finale fair to be held in September of that year.

Among the many attractions that final year perhaps the most notable was the final day’s main event which featured world land-speed record holder Bob Burman and the car he drove to victory in that year’s 3^rd annual Indianapolis 500. Burman would attempt to set a new and final speed record for the track in addition to staging gimmick races between auto, motorcycle, and horse-drawn chariot. This would follow an exhibition of the new sport of Auto Polo melodramatically nicknamed “The Game of Undertaker’s Delight”. Burman did indeed set a new track record of fifty seconds flat to end the track’s history in fitting style.

Within days of the conclusion of the final fair, developers were grading streets in the western half of the property which was to become Driving Park Addition. The property was bounded on the west by the alley for Florida Drive, on the south by State Boulevard, to the east by Anthony Boulevard, and on the north by the new Curdes Avenue, named in honor of the developer. By the end of that October, 67 of the addition’s 231 lots were sold and the track and fairgrounds were fast on their way to becoming a foggy memory in the bustling, growing, successful city of Fort Wayne.

Sidenote:  The eastern portion of the fairgrounds (east of Anthony Blvd.) was later developed as Driving Park Extended but was re-titled Forest Hill before plot sales began in earnest. For reasons not clear, original plans for ornamental “Forest Hill” steel arches at Kensington and State, and Curdes and Anthony were not completed. If they had, we’d all know Forest Hill today.

Batter Up!

Today we introduce a new blogger for History Center Notes and Queries: Mark Meyer.

Mark is a lifelong resident of Allen County, graduating from Bishop Dwenger and IPFW.  His career path has taken him through management in Human Services, Television, and Online Sales. He’s had an interest in old things since age 11 when he traded a new ’64 Mantle for a stack of ’54 Topps that were “just too cool”.  He has produced a special featuring the locally lensed 1962 feature film “Night of Evil” and researched and published historical newsletters on his 1920s Forest Hill (Driving Park Extended) neighborhood. Mark is widowed and the “father of three beautiful daughters and three equally beautiful granddaughters”.

 

by Mark Meyer

There are two photos of him in the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. As you enter the special exhibit you'll find him pictured standing behind the Philadelphia team he managed to the 1906 World Championship. Around the corner you'll see an earlier image of him with teammates from the Midwest's premier barnstorming team of the 1890s. But neither photo notes that he was one of, if not the, last African-American to play on a professional baseball team until Jackie Robinson broke the color barrier 50 years later. That professional team was Fort Wayne’s entry in the Western-Interstate League.

The player was Solomon White, better known as Sol White. White had eight years of experience playing baseball professionally when he arrived at the Nickel Plate station in Fort Wayne in April of 1895. In the previous eight years he had played on teams in other white leagues but had distinguished himself as a talent on some of the best “colored” teams of the time. These included the Pittsburgh Keystones, the New York Gorhams and the original Cuban Giants. His work with New York’s Cuban Giants in 1894 apparently caught the attention of the Fort Wayne organizer/manager, C.F. Jewell. Jewell hired White to play second base for the city’s entry into the new Western-Interstate League. The W-I League originally consisted of 6 teams from Indiana (Fort Wayne, Terre Haute, and Lafayette) and Illinois (Aurora, Joliet, and Bloomington). The fact that Jewell was an organizer of the league, and already had White under contract, likely played a role in the new league failing to adopt a rule barring players of color. That practice had been in place in the National League for several years and the minor leagues had followed suit. White found himself in a very unique situation that spring.

From the start, the team and the league were on shaky financial ground. The team opened the season with an exhibition game against Cleveland of the National League. They were soundly beaten in front of a modest home-town crowd. Three home games against a Toledo team followed. The games, played at the ball field at Lakeside Park failed to draw the crowds hoped for by the promoters. From that point on Fort Wayne newspaper articles reported on the financial conditions of the team and league with the same attention they gave to game coverage. Despite the financial uncertainties and the added pressure brought on by his race, White excelled on the playing field. Nearly every game reported upon in the newspaper noted White’s skill with the glove or his prowess at the plate. Perhaps no account better illustrates White’s experience than this excerpt from an Indianapolis newspaper: “White, a colored man, played second for Fort Wayne. When the game commenced and was seen by the bleachers that a negro was in the game, several uncomplimentary remarks were made, but after White demonstrated that he is a fine ball player, the sentiment changed and the negro’s playing was applauded.” The challenges were not limited to the crowd. In one game against Aurora the opposing manager knocked White down as he was rounding 3^rd for home. In another he was the butt of the joke in an attempted trick play. Despite the conditions White posted impressive numbers at the plate. Through the first nine league games he was batting in the lead-off spot going 18 for 46, with 2 stolen bases and 12 runs scored. By the end of May it was apparent the league and the team were in danger of folding. Fortunately for White, the right team was coming to town.

Fort Wayne’s final home opponent was the Page Fence Giants, the premier barnstorming team of the day. The Giants were a very unique venture sponsored by a bicycle shop and the Page Fence Company of Adrian, Michigan. The team traveled town-to-town in a sixty-foot-long, gilt-ornamented railroad parlor car. Before the opening game the players would parade through town performing tricks on shiny new bicycles. They’d follow that performance with a brass band concert which in turn was followed by a well-played game of baseball. All of the talented musician/athletes on this popular team were African-American. White performed very well, leading Fort Wayne to victory in two out of three games. In game two he managed four hits, including two triples. The second baseman’s performance led to an offer to join the barnstormers but White stuck to his contract with the Fort Wayne team. A week later White’s obligation ended when the W-I League and the Fort Wayne team folded. The next day, according to the Fort Wayne News, “Sol White is now covering second base for the Page Fence Giants”.

By White’s own historical account of the early Negro Leagues he was the last African American to play on a professional white team in the East. Nationally, only a few players in the Kansas State League followed. There were also a few African-American teams that later competed in white semi-pro leagues but by the end of the century that practice was dead as well. His move to the Page Fence Giants was the start of an illustrious career in “Colored Baseball”. He was a player-manager for the World-Champion Philadelphia Giants1904 to1906 and played a role in two new national leagues: The National Negro League and the Eastern Colored League. He last coached in 1926 for the Newark Stars and ended his career as a newspaper columnist who championed the contributions of African-American ball players. Following the 1906 season he authored, “The History of Colored Baseball”. It remains a rare and invaluable record of the early days of segregated baseball.

White’s stay in our hometown may have been brief but his achievement is a notable chapter in the colorful history of local sports. Against huge odds, Sol White excelled at a game he loved and managed to keep the color barrier open just a little bit longer.

This story written by Mark originally appeared in the Fort Wayne News Sentinel.

 

It Could Be Worse!

A blog post by Carmen Doyle

There has been a lot of worry in the news lately about the flu pandemic. People with coughs or fevers are being urged to stay home.

Staying healthy has always been a worry. However, Fort Wayne has experienced much worse illnesses in its history than this season’s flu. In 1849, then again in 1852 and 1854, Fort Wayne residents suffered from cholera. By the time the cholera epidemics were through, 600 deaths were reported. According to the Allen County Health Department’s website, there were two deaths in 2012 from the flu.

The Fort Wayne Board of Health was started in 1842. When cholera first approached Fort Wayne in 1849, the Board of Health reacted by authorizing two people as deputies from each of the six wards in the city. The deputies’ job was to visit any place- not just homes and businesses, but also yards and alleys- where disease could be spread. The deputies had the power to remove anybody infected with the disease for the safety of the other inhabitants.

St. Augustine’s Academy, which later became the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, was offered as a temporary hospital and the Sisters of Providence as nurses. The 1849 cholera epidemic lasted only a few months, from July to October. One undertaker, Louis Peltier, made many of the coffins, “rough affairs, made hurriedly and from any kind of timber that could be gotten. The lids were nailed down with heavy wrought iron nails, and the coffins were hauled to the cemetery on ordinary farm wagons”. Almost as soon as the 1849 cholera epidemic ended, it seemed as if Fort Wayne had forgotten about it, according to Charles Beecher, a one-time Fort Wayne Presbyterian minister and author.  

In 1852 and 1854, cholera came back and again the Sisters of Providence volunteered as nurses. Two of the Sisters died as a result of nursing cholera victims. A hospital was established at a county farm and a house at the corner of Calhoun and Berry donated by James Barnett (who was Sam Hanna’s brother in-law) was also used for cholera sufferers. One resident many years later recalled watching numerous funerals at the nearby Methodist church.

Medicine has also improved greatly since the cholera epidemics. Griswold, in his Pictorial History of Fort Wayne, describes some of the ways Fort Wayne residents tried to recover from cholera. One doctor is quoted as recommending, “Tremendous doses of calomel, the panacea of that age, and cayenne pepper.” (Calomel is a colorless and tasteless white or brown compound used as a purgative and an insecticide.) Alcohol was also believed to be a beneficial medicine. Officials did realize the health risks of wastewater and the value of removing it. (The latest issue of the Old Fort News contains an article about the health benefits beer was claimed to have as “water frequently carried dread disease”.) 

The next time somebody complains about how sick they are with the flu, tell them it could be much worse- it could be cholera!

A look at Simon Girty

Carmen Doyle, who works at the front desk, discovered the following piece that pertains to one of the characters in the story "The Capture of the Bride". There's good reason that our captured bride didn't want to be a part of this man's life!

"Villains, as well as heroes, played an important part in early local history. Among the best known of the old-time troublemakers who carried on their intrigues and evil doings near Fort Wayne was a trio most appropriately dubbed the 'dirty Girtys.' They were the three sons of Simon and Mary (Newton) Girty, an early pioneer couple in the Middle West. The father Simon was killed by an Indian in 1791.

All three brothers—James, George, and Simon—‘gained notoriety because of their alliance with the savage Indians. Simon, who was worse than either James or George, was usually referred to as 'thee Great Renegade' or 'the White Indian' and with good reason. Although illiterate, Simon early showed a certain amount of talent. Captured by the Indians in 1756, he was released in 1759; and for four years he seems to have been employed as an interpreter about Fort Pitt.

"Later employed as an interpreter for the Continental Congress, Simon finally deserted the American cause. He worked almost constantly among the Indian tribes in the Ohio country, where he strongly opposed all efforts toward peace with the Americans.

"Although he was influential in saving the life of Simon Kenton and several others, the 'Great Renegade' encouraged the torture of captives. At the burning at the stake of Colonel William Crawford, in June, 1782, as well as a number of other burnings, Simon was a delighted spectator. He took part in many battles, including those of the defeat of St. Clair and the battle of Fallen Timbers.

In 1784 he married Catherine Melott, a captive. With the British surrender of Detroit, Simon had to retire to Canada. There, in 1818, totally blind and crippled with rheumatism, he died a dispirited man.

Henry Hays’ journal (printed in Griswold’s History of Fort Wayne, Vol. I and in Quaife’s Fort Wayne in 1790) gives an interesting picture of the part played in 1790 by George and James Girty as traders in the area which is now Fort Wayne."

Materials: “Simon Girty” in Dictionary of American Biography, Vol. 7, p. 323

                  Butterfield, Consul William: History of the Girtys, 1950

                  Boyd, Thomas: Simon Girty, the White Savage, 1928

                   “Simon Girty” by John A Murrell. In Nye, Russel B.: A Baker’s Dozen, 1956, pp. 97-115.

                   Quaife, M.M. Fort Wayne in 1790, Reprinted by Allen County Public Library.      

                   

Evaluation: A study in steady degeneration of character.

Let’s Take a Trip to See:

1. On U.S. Highway 24 just 18.4 miles south of Toledo, Ohio is Fallen Timbers State Park where occurred the battle in which “Mad Anthony” Wayne and his disciplined soldiers defeated between 1,500 and 2,000 Indians ending almost 20 years of border warfare which had which had been stirred up by such men as the Girtys.

2. The Catholic Cemetery on Lake Avenue where stood a Shawnee village called Chillicothe. Here James Girty lived for a time. His brother George lived in a Delaware village some four miles from Fort Wayne.

Ivan Gerould Grimshaw

The Capture of the Bride--Part II

A Search in the Dark

            All the arms at hand were two guns, two or three butcher knives, hatchets, and an ax. With these a rush was made for the cabin, my brother leading the way. On reaching the house the door was found wide open, not a sign of life or death was visible. This was a great relief, “for while there is life there is hope.”

            The bridegroom called and called his wife, with the hope that she might have escaped in the darkness and be hiding near by, but no answer was received. As pursuit could not be made until morning, all returned to the house leaving a part of the number to guard the premises, while the others hastened to the fort to give the alarm. Early next morning runners were sent in every direction to notify the settlers to rally at the fort, to prepare for the pursuit. Samuel Vance, and his father-in-law, Luther Miller, with three brave and trustworthy neighbors, well-armed and provisioned, took the trail of the savages before it was fairly light, leaving instructions for others to follow as fast as possible.

            About five o’clock that evening, the Vance party overtook the Indians (who had stopped to eat and rest a while), but did not dare show themselves. The savages were found to be too strong for them, being eight in number. The only hope of rescue at best, would be to overcome the Indians before they would have time to kill their captives. They fell back to wait for reinforcements, which did not reach them until after sunset. It was decided to start very early in the morning, with the hope of finding the Indians yet in camp, and only a short distance away. But their hopes were not realized, as the Indians did not go into camp that night, but kept on until they reached the river, where their canoes were secreted. Embarking, they hurried down the stream, traveling no doubt all night, making good their escape. The pursuing party, baffled and dejected, returned to the fort to report the unfortunate result of the pursuit. For eighteen years no tidings were received from any of the captives.

            After the peace treaty of Greenville, 1795, one day a tall man, with bronzed face and Caucasian type of features, dressed in the garb of an Indian, appeared in Boonesborough, attracting much attention by reason of his fine physical development and manly bearing. The stranger, that evening having obtained permission to remain overnight at the house of one of the oldest residents, informed his host that he was George Neely, who, eighteen years before, with Martha Vance, the bride, and her sister, Sarah Miller, were captured by the Indians. The object of his visit, he said, was to ascertain whether his father and mother were yet living, and also to deliver a message from Martha Vance to her husband, Samuel Vance, confided to him over eighteen years before.

His Mother Dead

            He was informed that his mother had been dead at least ten years. She had grieved so much over the loss of her only child, George, that she finally went into a decline and died, believing that her son was yet living. His father, after a time, returned to Virginia, where he had many relatives, with whom he would spend the remnant of his days. Samuel Vance was then absent, having gone in search of his wife. As soon as peace was declared between the whites and the Indians, he started on his hopeful errand, saying he would never stop the search until he found her, or learned her fate. The Miller family, as soon as peace was established, had moved East, settling near Fort Greenville, with a hope of being able to learn the fate of their two daughters.

            Several old citizens, having learned that George Neely had returned, dropped in that evening to see him, and requested him to give them a history of his captivity, and what he knew regarding the fate of his companions.

            His account of the captivity was as follows:

             

            Late in the evening of the wedding day, the bride, Martha Vance, and her sister, Sarah Miller, with her aunt Eve, were starting to go over to the new cabin, and, at their request, I went with them. After the cabin had been swept out and arranged, and Martha had closed the door behind us, we heard loud screams, and the cry of “Indians! Indians!” The warning came from the old woman, who was a good ways ahead of us. The night was very dark and cloudy. Before we had time to think, we were surrounded by a band of Indians, eight in number. The women shrieked and screamed, but were shut up by threats and choking. We were hurried away, and had traveled about four hours, when we laid down to rest, starting again in the morning before it was light, and continued a rapid flight all day and far into the night, until we reached the river, when we at once got into the canoes they had secreted in the underbrush.

            The women were completely worn out, and as soon as they took their places in the canoes they fell into a sound sleep. We descended the stream, until near daylight, when we reached the Ohio River, and at once crossed over. The Indians hid the boats as usual. After eating our breakfast, we started on our long journey to Sandusky. One of the Wyandots, who could speak a little English, told me that was their destination. The party was composed of five Wyandots and three Shawnees.

            On reaching our point of destination, we all remained together in the village for several days. One morning Martha called me to her. She said that the Indians, who claimed her as their prisoner, were then about to start for their village, a six days’ journey away. “Go,” said she, “and find Sarah, and tell her I am going; bring her as soon as you can.” I found her, and the two sisters were soon in each others’ arms, and had only time to say “goodbye while they wept as though their hearts would break.

            The separation, so unexpected, was a terrible shock to them. Sarah sank to the earth in despair. The Indians moved on down the hill, but for some reason halted her for a few moments, when I saw Martha beckoning to me to come to her. I ran as fast as I could, and when I reached her, while the tears ran down her cheeks, she said: “George, if you ever meet Samuel, or should have a chance to send word to him, tell him I say he must not despair; keep up heart, for the good Lord will take care of me, and eventually we will meet and be happy, and if not on this earth, we will meet in the better world, where parting is unknown. Tell Sarah she must not grieve, but to cheer up, have confidence in the Lord, and He will make it all right in the end.” We shook hands, and that was the last I ever saw or heard of Martha Vance.

            Soon after this I lost sight of Sarah for about two years, the family by whom she was adopted having left the locality. I met her again at the “great corn dance,” a dance attended by the whole tribe. She informed me that they were living over on the lake shore; that she was married, having married a French Canadian rather than be compelled to marry and Indian. She had determined to drown herself before she would marry an Indian. She seemed quite happy. About a year later I met her again. She had a child in her arms. Her husband was with her. He was a genteel –appearing man. She was mounted on a pony, while he led another, carrying his pack of goods. He was a trader among the Indians, They were then, she said, on their way to visit the Shawnees, over on the Auglaize and Maumee rivers, with the hope of finding Martha. That was the last I ever saw or heard of her. I am satisfied in my own mind that the sisters did eventually meet, for the French trader could go where he chose, and Sarah said they would never stop the search until they found Martha.

Adopted by the Wyandots

            I was adopted by a Wyandot family that had lost their only son by death. My foster parents always treated me with kindness and affection. The Indians all liked me, and I liked them. In time I married a woman in the Delaware tribe, and have three children in my wigwam and am happy and contented.

            He left the house before it was light the following morning, and it was the last ever seen or heard of George Neely.

            Soon after George Neely’s visit, Samuel Vance, sick and broken in spirit, returned from his long and weary journey throughout the Northwest. During the four months that he was absent he had visited every tribe living between the Great Lakes and the Ohio River, and had visited Detroit and Canada. But all to no purpose. A silence as deep as that of the forest through which he wandered hung over his wife’s fate. On reaching Boonesborough he was taken down with an acute attack of pleurisy, and before the message brought by George Neely was delivered to him he became delirious, and died within forty-eight hours after his return.

            In one week after the death of Samuel Vance the following letter was received at Boonesborough. It had been sent to Fort Washington, to be forwarded from there to his destination. It was six weeks on the way!

Traders’ Point

Mouth of the Auglaize River,

October 10, 1799

            To Whom It May Concern:

            On yesterday a woman came to my trading house. She was the widow of an underchief of the Shawnees, who had been dead several months. She came, she said, to make a statement, which she wished me to write down and forward to Boonesborough, Kentucky. She spoke good English.

The Sad Story

            “I am a white woman by birth. My name is Martha Vance, my maiden name was Miller; my father’s name was Luther Miller. On the evening of my wedding day, twenty-two years ago, I was captured by the Indians, in company with my sister, Sarah Miller, then in her sixteenth year, and a neighbor’s son, George Neely, age fifteen years. The band that captured us was composed of five Wyandots and three Shawnees. We were all taken to Sandusky. When the Shawnees started for their village they took me with them, claiming I was their prisoner. The Indians have always treated me with kindness. I remained single for nine years, hoping that something might turn up that would restore me to my husband and friends.

            “I had learned to speak the Shawnee tongue. Under their laws, when a white prisoner of proper age learns to speak their language, they are compelled to marry. although I had for five years escaped the enforcement of the law, and no doubt would have escaped it longer, had it not been for the action of that villain, Simon Girty, who insisted that I should marry him, although he had a wife and children living near by. I had informed him on several occasions that I had a husband living. To this he paid no attention, but continued to press his suit, or demand, for he then threatened to call upon the tribe to compel me to comply with his demand. There was a chief of the tribe, who, for two years or more, wanted me to marry him. Finally, to escape the fiend, Girty, I married the chief. He died five months ago, leaving me with three children.

            My life for the pat twenty-two years has been full of sorrow and misery, relieved for a short time by meeting with my sister Sarah, after a separation of eight years. She had married a French Canadian, an excellent man. They were searching for me when we met. Sarah’s husband erected a cabin for her near our wigwam, and, after making her as comfortable as he could, he left, to be gone for four months, going directly to Detroit to lay in a stock of goods, when he would return to the Wyandots.

            “During the four months spent with my sister I was very happy. But this happiness then was brought to an end by the sudden death of Sarah; she died in childbirth; the mother and child were buried in one grave. The husband returned in a few days, to find his wife and child dead and buried. His grief was intense. In a day or two, taking his only child with him, he left for Detroit, where his mother resided, intending to leave the child to her care. Before leaving he gave me the cabin and promised he would do all in his power to inform my friends of his whereabouts.

MARTHA VANCE”

By Henry Ironside, Merchant and Trader.

            (This letter came too late to be of any benefit to poor Martha Vance. Her husband was now dead. Her father, Luther Miller, with his family, has many years before removed to the vicinity of Fort Greenville, with the hope that he might there learn something regarding the fate of his two daughters, and was never heard from after leaving Boonesborough. The result was that the letter to Martha Vance was not answered, and she was never again heard from.)

E.F. Colerick

THE INDIANAPOLIS NEWS October 19, 1898, 9:10