Rubber's Home Town

Chapter 2

A New-Born City Looks Around

 

IT WAS NOT IN THE American tradition that men must re main on the land where they were born, any more than they must follow their father’s trade. More than any people on the globe they were free to go where they chose, making their living in the way they chose. After the Revolutionary War, the nation was on the march with a great continent to occupy and rule.

Akron had two advantages, its founders and its neighbors, to balance against its unfavorable location. To a greater degree than any other state in the union, Ohio, first state carved out of the Northwest Territory, would bear the imprint of the two dominant strains of American life; the Cavaliers of Virginia and the Puritans of New England.

Akron was settled by men from Connecticut, who brought their traditions of manufacture with them, along with their Bibles and spinning wheels. It would grow up in an industrial atmosphere and could look south to a great trading territory where it might sell its goods, if it could make goods, and a great source of raw materials, if it could find some way to put those materials to use.

From its vantage point atop the continental divide it might become a link between the industrial North and the agricultural South. The mark of Virginia and Connecticut would long lie across the land and give the state a balanced economy and culture that made it one of the great states of the Union.

The Virginians brought their traditions of broad lands and gracious hospitality with them; of riding horses and hunting dogs, great brick and stone homes of Georgian and colonial architecture with broad halls and winding stairways which you may still find around Chillicothe and along the National Turnpike.

The New Englanders built their villages around town squares, with high-spired meeting houses and churches in the center, surrounded by white houses with green shutters and red roofs, such as you will find in Hudson, Tallmadge, Leroy, Streetsboro, Twinsburg—and for that matter, Marietta, another Connecticut settlement—which still look much like transplanted bits of New England.

A great Virginian of that day, Thomas Jefferson, might well express the hope that America would always be an agricultural nation, leaving the bickering of commerce and trade to whoever cared for it. Trade to him meant scheming and sharp practice, wooden nutmegs, and let the buyer beware. He might have held different views if he had had to make a living in the Connecticut valley or on the rocky hillsides of Vermont.

In any case, this narrative will point out how America came into a broader conception of trade, realized it could not become a great industrial nation by tricking the un suspecting; could make more money by producing things people needed and could use, that the seller rather than the buyer must beware if he was to build up a permanent business.

Because of its location and topography there could easily have been no Akron at all, or at best only a small canal town which would flourish briefly with its water- borne traffic and fall into obscurity once that passed. In the conquest of the West men by-passed other sections no less inviting and no harder to traverse, continued on, leaving them isolated.

But the New Englanders were the one group in all the country to whom such a terrain would be no deterrent.

They had lived in much the same kind of country, and finding the land not too well suited for farming, had fallen back on their ingenuity to make a living in other ways, with the result that New England had become the principal manufacturing section of the nation.

Such men would see possibilities in Northern Ohio. The hills and streams meant potential water power to them, and water power would turn mill wheels.

Historical facts as well as topography divided Ohio into a north and south. Immediately after achieving independence, the young republic set out on the task of settling the country beyond the Appalachians; the millions of rich acres which the fortunes of war had laid in its lap. The Indians had owned the country, the French had explored and occupied it, the British had defeated the French, and now with England in turn beaten, whatever tide there was to this area, beyond that of the real owners, the Indians, rested with the new nation.

In organizing the Northwest Territory, Congress ran into the fact that various British rulers had made grants to the colonies over the years, most of them extending to the Pacific, wherever that was. Charles II, in a generous impulse in 1662, had made the grant to Connecticut. Some of these grants were overlapping, and in any case did not mean too much, since they had not been made effective through settlement or occupancy. The land granted to Connecticut was not even contiguous with the home state.

There was considerable jealousy among the states after the Revolution, lest some grow too powerful, and several states which had no western holdings, notably Maryland, made quite a point of this, demanded that the lands be ceded back to the general government before they would join the Confederation.

Virginia and Connecticut did so with reservations. Virginia asked for enough land to carry out her promises to her Revolutionary soldiers, and Connecticut retained, as its “Western Reserve,” a strip of land along Lake Erie extending 120 miles west from the Pennsylvania line. It comprised 3,250,000 acres, including the present cities of Ashtabula, Painesville, Kent, Ravenna, Cleveland, Lo rain, Elyria, Oberlin, and as far south as Warren, Youngstown and Akron.

Virginia made a better bargain. Knowing the country through the surveying and soldiering done by her ad venturous sons, she picked the choicest section of the state, a wedge-shaped track along the Ohio between the Scioto and Little Miami Rivers, extending north to the watershed around Bellefontaine and St. Mary’s. It was a rolling country, well-drained by creeks and rivers, covered with timber, wild rye, blue grass and clover, and with game aplenty.

The land picked by Connecticut was much less inviting. South of the divide the land lay fairly level. In fact, six miles south of Akron at the head of navigation of the Tuscarawas, the rainfall seemed to hesitate whether to flow north or south, and at Young’s Hotel a stopping point for travellers for 100 years, they will still show you a point at the canal spillway where the water flows both ways, part of it north to the St. Lawrence and part south to the Gulf of Mexico.

But this favored section was small in area—the Western Reserve extended south only to the 41st parallel, a short distance from the watershed. Things were quite different to the north. The Cuyahoga cuts through the center of Cleveland a hundred feet below Euclid Avenue and the valleys of Rocky River and the Chagrin, bounding the city east and west, are fully as deep and rugged.

Small wonder Connecticut was in no great hurry to claim its inheritance and waited nearly a third of a century; the math tide of immigration not starting until after the War of 1812.

Virginia got to its task immediately after the Revolution. Cincinnati would be a great city before Cleveland or Toledo were ever heard of, and Marietta was thirty- seven years old when Akron was born.

There were reasons other than topography why the southern part of the state was settled first. Ohio lay al most in Virginia’s back yard. Once over the mountains, settlers would find easy transportation by water. The Ohio River ran along the full length of the state and had broad tributaries like the Muskingum, the Scioto and the Miami, reaching deep into the interior. The National Highway would soon be hewed across the state. Virginia had to battle the Indians, but would not encounter serious physical obstacles.

The adventurous Virginians, with land grants from the state in their saddle bags, handy with axe and rifle, familiar with the dangers of the frontier, wasted no time. The size of the grants varied with their Army rank. A private got 100 acres, a colonel 5,000, and Baron Von Steuben, drill master of the Revolution, received 15,000 acres.

They could pick out their land wherever they chose; blue grass bottom lands for farming, rolling hills and woodland for hunting, with no remote regard for parallels of latitude and longitude—a circumstance which would bring headaches to later surveyors, dragging their transits and chains along meander lines which ran all over the map, with such bench marks as a lone tree on a hilltop, a large boulder, the junction of two streams, or a monument sunk flush with the ground.

Baron Von Steuben selected a tract around Chillicothe, later the state capital. Colonel Alexander H. Spottswood, Washington’s aide-dc-camp, picked a rolling stretch in Fayette County near Washington Court House, a name symbolic of its Virginia origin. One wealthy planter gave his grant to his daughter on condition that she take her new husband, the stable master, off to Ohio with her, and stay there—which the young couple did, and lived happily and prosperously ever after.

Connecticut found Ohio much less accessible. It called for a 600-mile pilgrimage across the whole state of New York, which men must make on foot or horseback, or toilsomely by ox team, through unsettled country, with few highways and few settlements along the way. Some early settlers built boats at the head of Lake Ontario, paddled along the shore to Niagara, detoured around the falls, built new boats at Buffalo, and continued on along Lake Erie to their destination.

When the Western Reserve was awarded to Connecticut, the legislature was somewhat of a loss to know what to do with it. Finally it decided to sell off the whole tract to a syndicate of sixty men, the Connecticut Land Company, and let them struggle with the job of settling the country. The price was thirty-five cents an acre; the money going into the state school fund.

In meticulous New England fashion, the land company surveyed the land in a checkerboard pattern, quite different from Virginia’s plan. Sections called ranges were laid out a mile square, and thirty-six of these ranges, six miles each way, constituted a township. Then it held a drawing among its stockholders. Whether they drew good land or bad was a matter of chance.

But it was one thing to own a great tract of distant land and quite another to get people to live on it. Connecticut men were no timid stay-at-homes, as their exploration of the seven seas bears witness. But they were seafaring and commercial folk.

A few came out fairly early to the more accessible sections. Moses Cleaveland of Hartford (1754-1806), Yale graduate and one of the original stockholders of the land company, drew a broad stretch of land along Lake Erie just where the Cuyahoga River breaks the shore line to create a harbor. Being a surveyor, like many men of his day, including George Washington, he realized the value of the property.

Cleaveland organized a group of fifty-two men, followed the two lakes by boat until on July 4, 1796, he came to a river he assumed was the Cuyahoga, and went ashore to celebrate. He discovered a few days later that he had stopped at the wrong river, the Cuyahoga lying twenty miles further west. Naming the first river the Chagrin, in acknowledgment of his mistake, he went on to lay the foundation of the town which bears his name today. That done, he went back to Connecticut, and never lived in his town.

The legend is that a printer on an early newspaper changed the name of the town. It was one letter too long to fit a headline, so he left out the first “a”, which he thought was not necessary anyhow—and everyone decided that it was a good idea, so Cleaveland became Cleveland.

Ohio’s first city grew slowly. It was incorporated in 1814, but did not break into the census figures until 1830, when it showed a population of 1,076 people. John Young started the town of Youngstown in 1799, but it did not amount to anything until the first rolling mill and blast furnace was started in 1845-46. An Indian stockade was built on the site of Toledo in 1800 and a townsite laid out in 1807, but the town was not incorporated until 1843. By contrast, Dayton was incorporated in 1805, and Columbus became the state capital in 1812.

A few people went inland from Cleveland, picking out the better sections. Deacon David Hudson came out from Bradford, Connecticut, in 1799 to start the town of Hudson; Colonel Benjamin Talimadge from Litchifeld in 1806 to start the town bearing his name, and Jonathan Hale from Glastonbury in 1810 to start the town of Bath.

The oddly-named town of Twinsburg, just north of Hudson, honors Moses and Aaron Wilcox, (1771-1828), of Killingsworth, Connecticut, who were not only identical twins, but married sisters, had the same number of children, owned their property in common, fell ill of the same disease, died on the same day, and were buried in the same grave.

These twins were among several proprietors of the Twinsburg area, and when they came west in 1823, at the age of fifty-two, they found a little settlement already started. The first comer had named it Millsville, for him self. Moses and Aaron donated six acres of land for the town square which every Akron-Cleveland traveller remembers, and spent twenty dollars in cash to improve it, on condition that the settlement change its name.

Nobody came to Akron, though Captain Joseph Hart, a Revolutionary soldier, took up a tract in 1807 at Middlebury on the Little Cuyahoga two miles east, and Major Miner Spicer joined him three years later, took up a 260- acre section in the woods where Buchtel College was built afterwards. There were a few Indians still around, but they made no trouble and disappeared after the War of 1812. Using their New England training, the settlers built dams across the Cuyahoga River at Peninsula, Bath and one at Middlebury.

There were enough settlers around to rally to the colors during the second war with England. Legend has it that three of the vessels for Perry’s squadron, the Portage, the Porcupine and the Hornet, were built at Bath and floated down the Cuyahoga River to the lake. When Sam Lane came to town in 1835 he found many people who claimed they heard the cannonading in the battle of Lake Erie, and Bath would celebrate the anniversary of that engagement for many years.

Warren, near the Pennsylvania line, was an important town. It was the county seat of Trumbull County which comprised the entire Reserve, and was named for Governor Jonathan of Connecticut. Warren is of interest to Akron because it was there that Simon Perkins, a young surveyor from Litchfield, Connecticut, came in 1798 with his bride and stayed on as agent for the land company.

An aggressive personality, who won the rank of brigadier general in the War of 1812 with special commendation from William Henry Harrison for leadership and courage, Simon Perkins bought a considerable tract of land near Warren in 1804, and three years later picked up a thousand aces, fifty miles to the west, which was being sold for taxes.

General Perkins knew this tract because he had surveyed it. It was uneven, rough, swampy in places, and was crossed by two valleys. He had no special use for it, but the taxes amounted to only a little more than four dollars a year; something one could buy and forget about.

He would not know for another eighteen years how good a buy he had made.

It has been said that the easiest way to make money is to have your grandfather buy a farm in what later will be the business center of an important city. General Perkins did just this. The property picked up for taxes is today the heart of downtown Akron.


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Rubber's Home Town, The Real-Life Story of Akron, Hugh Allen, 1949, American Heritage Series Vol. V., transcribed & edited by L. K. Ortmann.


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