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Cornell University Library 1993.ORLANDO ALLEN
ARTOTYPE, W. J. BAKER, BUFFALO, N. Y.ORLANDO ALLEN
GLIMPSES OF LIFE IN THE VILLAGE OF BUFFALO.
HEAD BEFORE THE SOCIETY, APRIL 16, 1877.
BY WILLIAM C. BRYANT.
I have undertaken to write for the Buffalo Historical So-
ciety a sketch of the life and character of Orlando Allen.
When it was first proposed to me, I accepted the task in the
light of a grateful duty. I loved, admired and revered the
man. From the first, the magnetism of his nature attracted
and held my sympathies. Besides, he shared my enthusiasm
in a special field of research, which has little popular attrac-
tion. When that hasty consent was irrevocably given, I had
time to reflect how ill-fitted I was to furnish a truthful portrait
of the man—to give a just estimate of what he was, and what he
did, and what influence he exerted upon the community among
which he lived and labored for more than half a century.
The best that I could do in the time at my disposal, and labor-
ing under the disadvantages at which I have hinted, is, with
many misgivings, offered to you to-night, and I pray your most
charitable judgment upon the manner in which I have executed
the task.
I have had the aid of a considerable mass of manuscript
penned by Mr. Allen, which he left, a priceless legacy, to his
TP33°
ORLANDO ALLEN.
posterity and to this Society, which, I presume, is ultimately
to become the custodian of them. Aside from this, the mem-
ories of our older citizens are stored with racy, characteristic
anecdotes of the man; and the difficulty under which I have
labored, has been to determine the proper limitations of a
paper, which, at best, can be expected to furnish but a sketchy
outline of the features of its subject, rather than an elaborately
wrought portrait.
The progenitors of Mr. -Allen were among the earliest settlers
of New England. His grandparents, Gideon Allen and Let-
tuce Curtess, migrated from the town of Adams in the state of
Vermont, into New Hartford, Oneida county, New York,
shortly after the close of the revolutionary war, bringing with
them a family of hardy, Green Mountain youths—seven boys
and one daughter. His mother’s parents, Amos Lee and Anna
Camp, came from Hartford county, Connecticut, into New
Hartford about the same time, bringing with them three sons and
four daughters, the youngest of whom, Sarah, was afterwards
Mr. Allen’s mother. Sarah Lee and Eli Allen married in 1797.
Orlando Allen, the subject of this sketch, was born in New
Hartford, according to the record in the old family Bible, on
the tenth day of February, 1803. His father’s family continued
to reside in that place until the spring of 1820, when they re-
moved to the village of Fredonia, Chautauqua county, New
York; but, during the previous year, Orlando had anticipated
the hegira of the family, and had been sent to Buffalo to study
the science of medicine in the office of Doctor Cyrenius Chapin,
an early and life-long friend of the family. It is not to be pre-
sumed that, in the sixteen years intervening between his birth
and his induction into the mysteries of the medical art, as taught
by the redoubtable Doctor Chapin, Orlando had enjoyed many
advantages of education. In truth, his opportunities of be-
coming learned were exceeding meagre; but, to make amends
for what he lacked in this particular, he possessed remarkably
alert receptive faculties, as well as a fondness for reading, whichORLANDO ALLEN.
33*
went far to compensate for the want of educational training
and discipline.
Doctor Chapin had come westward in 1801, to arrange for
the reception of a small colony of immigrants,—Orlando Allen’s
father among the number,—but the embryo city and the virgin
country surrounding it were in no condition to offer them even
the rudest hospitality. Doctor Chapin himself was forced to
seek a temporary abode on the more civilized Canadian banks
of the Niagara, where he sojourned for nearly three years,
practicing his profession; but he removed to Buffalo some time
in the year 1803. As soon as the surveyors employed by the
Holland Land Company had mapped the wilderness at this
point into inner and outer lots, and into streets and avenues,
with formidable Dutch names, Doctor Chapin selected inner
lot number forty, at the northwest corner of Main and Swan
streets, as his future abode. Weed’s Block and another brick
store adjoining it,—which latter was erected by Orlando
Allen*—cover the Main street front of this lot* which extended
to Erie street. I will here quote from Mr. Allen’s unfinished
autobiography a description of Doctor Chapin’s office and its
surroundings.
“At the time I came to live with Doctor Chapin, his dwelling was on the
northeast corner of Swan and Pearl streets; his office was on the second floor
of a wooden one and one-half story building on the Main street front of his
lot, near the north line; this was a small building, originally a dwelling house,
the first floor of which was at this time occupied by a Mr. George Keese as
a drug store. John Wilkeson, Esq., then a lad of about my age, was the
sole clerk in this store.
“Ouroffice, as I have said, was in the second story, reached by outside
stairs starting from the ground on the south side of the building, rising and
winding around to the back end, through which was the door of the office.
Immediately in the rear of the store, and some fifteen or twenty feet from
it, was a small frame barn, used for stabling the horse employed by the doctor
in his professional rides, together with a Boston gig, cutter, etc. On the
south of the store were some small one-story buildings, which occupied the
remaining Main street front of the lot, with the exception of some six or eight
feet left for a passage-way to the stairs leading to the office. These offices,332
ORLANDO ALLEN.
or small buildings, rested upon the front foundation wall of Doctor Chapin’s
dwelling, which was burned when Buffalo was destroyed by the British, in
December, 1813. Behind them was a wide passage-way from Swan street to
the barn which I have mentioned, large enough to form a very convenient and
serviceable barn-yard. The office on the corner of Main and Swan streets
wras occupied by James Sheldon, Esq., the father of our present judge, Hon.
James Sheldon. The one next north of it was occupied by Joseph W. Moul-
ton, Esq., as a law office; the next one north, by J. Nash Bailey, Esq., a
justice of the peace; and the remaining one, by the late James Sweeney, as a
tailor’s shop.”
Doctor Chapin had at this time a partner, Doctor Congdon,
originally from Connecticut, and another student besides Or-
lando Allen and Hiram Pratt, by the name of Wakelee, a fine,
companionable young fellow, for whom Mr. Allen cherished
feelings of warm affection. Doctor Chapin was, in truth, the
most considerable personage in the village at this era. His
gallant achievements and sacrifices in the second struggle for
Independence, when he had exchanged his perilous drugs for
the still deadlier implements of war, were fresh in every mem-
ory; and his brusque but honest ways, practical benevolence
and sturdy character, won for him a place in the hearts of the
pioneers of this region. He was a large landed proprietor, too,
—owning no less than five extensive farms—and his profes-
sional services were sought throughout a vast region, lapping
far over into the heart of Canada, and extending as far south
as Erie. When it is remembered that these visits were accom-
plished on horseback, and that there were no macadam or
plank roads in those days, the arduous nature of the doctor’s
professional duties will be easier comprehended. The keeping
of the doctor’s accounts, among other multiform duties, de-
volved upon Orlando. Returning from his weary all-day’s
ride, the doctor, after partaking of some slight refreshment,
and cleansing his apparel from the stains of travel, would repair
to the office, fill his comfortable pipe with tobacco, and sur-
rounding himself with a cloud of fragrance, would tell off his
professional calls and services, and the same would be jottedORLANDO ALLEN
333
down into a book by the student. A formidable array of
figures it would make, but, alas, no alchemy could transfuse
the mass of these accounts into hard money or its equivalent.
The country was wretchedly poor, and the good doctor must
needs be content with what the gratitude of his richer patients
impelled them to requite him.
It is not difficult to imagine what kind of a youth Orlando was
at this period. Sprung from Puritan ancestry, there was still a
dash of the cavalier in his composition; and the union of these
opposite traits in one nature, made him the gallant, dauntless,
hard-working and ingenuous lad that he was. There are, or
were a few years ago, many well-attested legends current among
the older class of our citizens, illustrating the love of adven-
ture and heroic disregard of danger which characterized him at
this period.
It may be gravely questioned, whether the youthful Orlando
was a diligent reader of the dozen or so of medical works
which constituted his master’s library. He had no strong predi-
lection for the medical science. His genius was rather adminis-
trative than contemplative; and, in a field like Buffalo, where so
little had been done to subdue savage nature, and where there
was yet so much to do, his joyous, healthful, manly spirit re-
belled at confinement, and would do battle with the difficulties
around him. Accordingly, we soon find him relieving the doc-
tor of a large portion of the labor and cares that lay outside of
his professional duties. He kept the doctor’s accounts, made
his collections, superintended his farming operations, gathered
and drew to the house such farm produce as the wants of the
household required, and kept a vigilant eye on all the doctor’s
interests. Orlando did all this the more willingly, since the
doctor had, from the first, generously assumed the whole expense
of boarding and clothing the lad, without remuneration from
his father.
It will be borne in mind, that, at this period, Buffalo was little
more than a rude hamlet,—that the forest-circle which girded334
ORLANDO ALLEN.
it was unbroken save by the silver clasp of Lake Erie. Out
of this sunless barrier of woods, the red deer would occasion-
ally emerge to crop the grass that stretched a carpet of verdure
along the edge of the clearing. Often, in those days, the wood-
land solitudes threw back on the listening settlement the echo
of Miles Jones’ rifle, as it rang the death-knell of these wary
and beautiful visitors.
Society in the village then displayed that charming simplicity
and equality which characterize pioneer settlements. The vir-
tue of hospitality was universally practiced, and the hearts
of the villagers were* knit together by ties that sprang from
their isolation and unity of interests. The good doctor’s man-
sion was the resort of all kinds of graceless vagabonds, who
were never turned away naked or hungry. Aside from these
random visitors a few strange characters quartered themselves
in the doctor’s habitation, as perennial boarders and lodgers,
under the shallow pretense of rendering some helpful service
in his household. Among them was a thin, long-legged Yankee,
a mighty man at the trencher, but a living negation of the fabled
thrift and industry of his race; an Irishman, sadly addicted
to punch, but overflowing with that rollicking humor which
gilds with sunshine the humblest pathway; and an oracular
negro, known as “Old Jack,” who never tired of recounting
how he witnessed the throwing overboard of that historic tea
in Boston harbor, and how, as a good stout lad, he saw the seven
martyred patriots fall, beneath the fire of Major Pitcairn’s
soldiery, at the outbreak of the revolutionary war.
Aside from the usual motley population of a frontier town,
the village was skirted on one side by the hunting grounds of
the Seneca and other Iroquois Indians, whose villages dotted
the banks of Buffalo creek and its tributary streams. This
ancient and warlike race, with the renowned Red Jacket at
its head, still assumed sovereignty over a broad region of coun-
try, and had abated little of the pride and truculence which
had characterized the Six Nations when at the zenith of theirORLANDO ALLEN.
335
power. Drunkenness and kindred vices, introduced by the
pale-faces, had, however, begun their baleful work among them.
During the first three years of his residence in Buffalo, young
Allen witnessed what threatened to be a bloody collision be-
tween this waning aboriginal power and the white authorities
of Western New York. So-ongise, or Tommy Jemmy, armed
with the unwritten decree of the Seneca Council, had put
to death a squaw named Kauquatau, who had been convicted,
by that tribunal, of witchcraft. The Indian executioner was
arrested by process of law, and immured in the white man’s
dungeon. This invasion of their national prerogatives alarmed
and incensed the haughty Senecas. The morning after his
arrest, the common near the northeast corner of Main and
Swan streets was covered with a multitude of armed and scowl-
ing warriors. Among them was Sagoyewatha, or Red Jacket,
who addressed them in a fervid speech, attacking the whites
with fierce invective, and lashing the Indians into fury by his
artful and fiery eloquence. A massacre seemed imminent, but
just then the tall form of Captain Pollard was seen moving
through the multitude. Commanding silence by a gesture, he
urged the assembled warriors, in a temperate and eloquent
speech, to disperse to their homes, and remain quiescent until
an appeal to the white man’s law and sense of justice should
prove ineffectual. His voice was obeyed. The subsequent
trial and acquittal of Tommy Jemmy were a triumph to Red
Jacket, and a vindication of the assailed sovereignty of the
Seneca Nation.
Doctor Chapin was immensely popular with these ancient
lords of the soil; for, aside from his prestige as a great medicine-
man, his valorous exploits in the late war with England were
known to them, and were a title to the red man’s homage. As
a proof of their liking, they bestowed upon him the monoply of
their patronage, and dubbed him “Ah-ta-gis,” the doctor. Dr.
Chapin, in treating his red patients, experienced great embar-
rassment from his ignorance of their language, of which he was336
ORLANDO ALLEN.
never able to master a sentence. He accordingly instructed
Orlando, among his other duties, to make himself sufficiently
acquainted with the Seneca dialect to qualify him for the office
of interpreter. There is something mysterious and fascinating
about these unwritten, aboriginal tongues; and Orlando prose-
cuted the task of acquiring the Seneca with a diligence and zeal
that overcame all obstacles, and were rewarded with a complete
triumph. Thenceforward, in the absence of the great white med-
icine-man, Orlando was constrained to prescribe for the minor
ailments of these children of the woods, and waxed deft and
bold in wielding the turnkeys and the thumb-screw lancet.
But greatness in any field of human exertion is purchased at
the price of many failures. Our hero’s first essay with the
lancet, a ragged-edged affair,—laid up Conjockety in his cabin,
opposite Farmer’s Point, for three months, and nearly cost that
mighty hunter his life. This unlucky misadventure entailed
on Doctor Chapin many a visit to Conjockety’s wigwam; but
Orlando was not chided by the doctor, nor did he lose the
friendship of his Indian victim.
The Indians delighted in being bled. They regarded it as a
sovereign remedy, especially for the. bad blood engendered by
dissipation. They rarely came singly to have this operation per-
formed, but in families and groups. On one occason, soon after
the Conjockety mishap, on a warm summer afternoon, a party
of nine natives repaired to the office and asked to be bled.
The doctor was “over the hills and far away,” and Orlando
must needs act in his place. Seating the nine dusky patients
on a bench which stood in a passage-way alongside the office,
he bared and ligatured the arm of each individual, and then
gallantly applied the lancet to each in turn. Opening a vein
was a very small operation, but bandaging the bleeding mem-
ber required care, and involved considerable delay. When all
were bleeding finely, he commenced with the one first bled, and
carefully enveloped his arm with the necessary wrappings.
Before he got through, however, the head of the column beganORLANDO ALLEN.
337
to waver, the loss of blood was excessive, and the wounded
sought the support of mother earth, in a state of insensibility.
It required considerable exertion to. resuscitate the sufferers,
but this was achieved at length, and no irreparable damage was
done. Mr. Allen had an inexhaustible fund of anecdotes of this
description, wThich he would relate in terse, graphic language,
and which his powers of mimicry and dramatic action rendered
irresistible. But it must not be imagined that young Allen had
an eye only to the humorous aspect of Indian character. He
had a sensitive, warm heart,—the poetic insight that was quick
to discern the pathos that lurked behind this incongruous mask.
Whatever was strange, picturesque and noble in the character
and habits of these children of the woods, at once arrested his
attention. He recognized his brotherhood to them, and re-
garded them with a strange, yearning interest, as a wronged and
doomed people, soon to pass away forever from the earth. He
eagerly sought to acquaint himself not only with their perish-
ing language, but with their fading customs and traditions.
Scattered among the Indians were a number of white captives—
Indians in all but features and complexion—who had been tom
from desolated hearths during the old French and revolution-
ary wars. The narratives of the lives of these unfortunates
outrival the creations of poetry and romance. At all times
during Mr. Allen’s boyhood days, the Indians were seen in
greater numbers on the streets of Buffalo than the whites; but
for a week during each year they congregated in large numbers
to meet the United States Indian agent, Jasper Parrish, and the
United States interpreter, Horatio Jones. Both of these gentle-
men had been Indian captives, had been brought up to manhood
in Indian wigwams, and were, therefore, thoroughly conversant
with the language, customs and character of the Iroquois. The
occasion of these yearly meetings with the aborigines, the grave
councils held with plumed and painted sachems, the distribu-
tion of annuities and presents, diversified by Indian games,
races and dances, gave a strange, picturesque aspect to village338	'	ORLANDO ALLEN.
life, a half century ago. Young Allen made the acquaintance
of the principal chiefs and warriors, as well as captives, and
eagerly listened to the stories related by the latter, of their
eventful lives. The store where the Indian goods were housed,
and where Jones and Parrish, with the chiefs and head men of
the Indians, naturally resorted, was situated a few doors above
Doctor Chapin’s office. Here Jones, who had not imbibed the
Indian habit of taciturnity, but delighted in social converse,
would while away hour after hour in relating reminiscences of
the past. From his own lips Orlando heard the narrative of
his capture and his experience among the Indians, which is
not surpassed in romantic interest in this whole department
of literature. Far into the morning, seated around a cheerful
fire, and soothed by pipes of the fragrant weed, these sessions
were held, until young Allen’s memory became a store-house of
information, now so rare and inaccessible.
On one of these occasions, captive and captor,—the one in
the pride of manhood, the other a bowed and wrinkled warrior,
—suddenly confronted each other with silent, eager gaze, and
then extended the grasp of amity over the dying fire. I will
relate a single incident, culled from many which I have heard
Mr. Allen relate with that rare colloquial grace and dramatic
power that rendered his conversation so fascinating.
Many of the captives were among the first-fruits of mission-
ary labors on the banks of the Buffalo creek. Among them
was Thomas Armstrong, who served as interpreter to the mis-
sionaries, in the little chapel on the reservation. He was a
thoughtful, exemplary man, but, like all the captives resident
among the Indians, was wedded to their manner of life, and
resolved to live and die among them. He was captured in
Pennsylvania during the revolutionary war, but was so young
at the time that the incident affected his imagination like a
vague and troubled dream. When he arrived at manhood, an
irresistible longing seized him, to revisit the home of his child-
hood and seek out his relatives, should any be living. He knewORLANDO ALLEN.
339
that his father’s name was Thomas Armstrong, and some wan-
derer from the region of the Susquehanna, when the captive
had attained to manhood, brought the joyful tidings that Tho-
mas had a sister still surviving there—the wife of an opulent
farmer, the mother of blooming children, and the mistress of a
happy home. With such information as he could glean from
this stranger, the captive started out one morning from Buffalo
creek, and, after a journey of several days’ duration through an
almost trackless wilderness, his eyes were greeted with the
pleasant signs of civilization in .the old settlements of Pennsyl-
vania. He found with some difficulty the residence of his
sister. With faltering steps and a throbbing heart he entered
the house, and was greeted by a gentle, sweet-faced woman, who
eyed him with compassion, but with a countenance which indi-
cated no suspicion that the wild being before her was her long-
lost brother. Armstrong took the chair that she proffered,
without the power of uttering a word. She placed food before
him, for he was haggard and almost famished, but the first
morsel of bread nearly choked him. He could not eat, but
watched with a yearning heart every motion of his sister as she
caressed her children, or busied herself with her household
duties. A spell was upon him, and he could not speak. He
was but slightly acquainted with the English tongue, and he
was dressed in the garb of an Indian. Would she acknowledge
this wild man of the woods as her kindred,—her brother ?
Would not the revelation bring distress and humiliation to a
home so happy and so blessed ? His resolution was soon taken.
With a simple gesture of thanks, and with a heart that was
breaking, he left this hospitable roof without divulging his
identity, and retraced his long and toilsome path to the Seneca
village, on the banks of the Buffalo creek. The descendants
of this captive at present reside on the Cattaraugus reservation,
near Buffalo. The narratives of Jones’ and Parrish’s experi-
ences among the Indians, teem with similar incidents of roman-
tic and tragic interest.340
ORLANDO ALLEN.
There is little doubt that the brave young novice, Orlando
Allen, would ultimately have achieved distinction, had his heart-
been wedded to the healing art.
It was the custom of the Indians to pierce one ear with
sundry holes for the insertion of silver trinkets; and to slit
the rim of the other, separating the skin from the cartilage
the whole length, leaving it attached at the ends, and thus
forming a long pendant loop, to which were attached gaily
dyed birds’ feathers, shells, and other ornaments. Not unfre-
quently, by accident, or in some affray, this loop would become
broken, the ends dangling down to the shoulder. Quite often,
also, the jewels in the pierced ear would in like manner be torn
from their slight hold, leaving the member in a jagged and un-
sightly state.
“With ears in this condition,” writes Orlando, “ there came to the office
one day an Indian, in great pain from a carious tooth, which he wished me
to extract. This being accomplished, I called his attention to the unsightly
appearance of his ears, and proposed to trim off the dangling ends and
jagged points. To this he readily assented; so I got a scalpel, together with
a basin of water and sponge, and commenced the operation of reducing his
ears to proper shape. He bled like a butcher, but bore the pain without
wincing. I saw him often afterwards, and sometimes joked him about his
ears. They were in very good shape, but somewhat reduced in size.”
Soon afterwards, his skill as a surgeon was put to a much
severer test. A squaw from the Tonawanda Indian village was
brought to the office, with a compound fracture of the right
leg. It was evening when she arrived, and Doctor Chapin was
absent, and was not expected to return until the following
morning. Morning came, but the doctor came not; nor was
there a physician to be found in the village or its vicinity.
Inflammation set in, greatly increasing the difficulty of the ope-
ration. The case admitting of no further delay, Orlando
doggedly addressed himself to the task, manufacturing the
necessary splints and bandages, and set and dressed the limb.
In about ten days she was brought back, with the dressings
off and the injured limb in a most terrible condition. TheORLANDO ALLEN.
341
young surgeon again set the limb, and the suffering woman was
sent off with many admonitions. To his utter amazement,
within a week she was again brought to the office with the
bandages and splints off from the leg, which was in a state but
little removed from mortification. It seems she had been plied
with whisky to assuage the pain, and in her drunken frenzy
she had denuded her limb of splints and bandages. In the
meantime, an artificial joint had been formed. Again Orlando
manfully grappled with the case, and, after a tedious and pain-
ful operation, sent her home, her friends promising thereafter
to watch the wretched woman night and day, and to desist from
giving her alcoholic stimulants. Strange to say, she recovered;
and, stranger yet, the broken limb grew to be as sound and
symmetrical as its fellow.
There were few bearing fruit-trees in this region at this period,
save clumps of the ruddy and golden Indian plum which here
and there dotted the meadows. The neighboring settlements
in Canada, however, which boasted of a higher antiquity, were
provided with the common varieties of cultivated fruits. I
will again quote from Mr. Allen’s manuscript.
*	*	* “It was in this same autumn (1820), that one day, while at din-
ner, the doctor said to his nephew, Gorham Chapin (who boarded with the
family), and myself, that he was going over the river that afternoon after
apples, and that the desired our assistance. We took a lot of bags in a
wagon, and went down to Black Rock, intending to obtain a yawl-boat with
which to cross the river. In this we were disappointed. We could find
nothing better than a log canoe or ‘dug-out.’ Both Gorham and myself re-
monstrated against undertaking the passage of the river in such a frail craft,
especially when loaded with bags of apples. The doctor insisted that it was
safe, with good management, and we accordingly embarked, crossed and
dropped down the river to the Wintermute place; where we obtained, I
think, six bags of apples, which, when placed in the canoe, filled it com-
pletely from stem to stern.
“ It was necessary, in order to reach the place of our departure, where our
wagon was, to ascend the river nearly up to Colonel Kirby’s mill, which
stood some fifty or sixty rods above the present ferry. This we did by tow-
ing; Gorham and myself pulling at the rope, while the doctor sat astride of342
ORLANDO ALLEN.
a bag of apples, and kept the canoe off from the shore. When we arrived at
the point of leaving the shore, and saw that the addition of our weight would
sink the canoe nearly to the water’s edge, both Gorham and myself again
remonstrated, thinking it the height of temerity to hazard our lives in that
way. Again were we overruled, and ordered into, or rather onto the canoe..
With great reluctance we complied; not, however, until we had divested
ourselves of shoes, stockings, and much of our clothing; feeling almost cer-
tain that the canoe would sink when we got into the fierce current, for her gun-
wales were not, certainly, much, if any, more than three inches above the water.
Gorham said, ‘Well, doctor, both Orlando and I can swim, and, in case of
trouble, will, most likely, reach the shore; but you can’t swim, therefore you
must hang on to the paddles, as the canoe will doubtless sink.’ I think the
doctor had some misgivings himself, but we must recross the river, and the
canoe was our only resource. With him, there was no such thing as ‘ back
out;’ and whatever were his doubts, he kept them to himself, and simply said,
‘ Now, boys, get on, and keep still. Don’t stir, and I will take you safely
across.’ Each of us took a paddle to assist in preserving a balance; not in
propelling the canoe, for that we were strictly forbidden to do, as a false
motion when we were in the rapids might work mischief. I shall never for-
get how I felt as we put off from the shore. It was a balancing between
fear, and confidence in the doctor. To our agreeable surprise, we did cross
in safety; not, however, without imminent peril; for, more than once, while in
the most rapid part of the current, my heart leaped into my mouth as it
seemed that we were about to go under.”
Our hardy pioneers thought little of such hazards, even
where the prospective reward was less alluring than a few bags
of applies. But we will let our hero tell his own story.
*	*	*	“ The road by the way of the Indian reservation was much the
shortest; but then there was the creek to ford, which was no easy matter
with a load of hay on an ox sled. So, on my return, I took the one by the
way of Abbott’s Corners and the lake, taking the ice at Barker’s; thence the
track was a straight line to the old light-house.
“ These oxen were a famous pair, old Dun and Bright, as they were named,
not only for size and strength,but for their sterling qualities in other respects;
quick to obey the word of command, gentle to ride when fording streams,
etc. One could ride on a load behind them and manage them almost as
well as he could a pair of horses with reins. I entered upon the ice not
without some apprehensions, as it had been snowing the most of the day, and
still continued. The track was fast becoming obliterated, and soon would
be entirely, if it kept on snowing. After getting well out upon the ice I wasORLANDO ALLEN.
343
entirely out of sight of land. So thick was the atmosphere with the falling
snow, that I must trust entirely to the sagacity of the oxen.
“Afterhaving gone on long enough, as I thought, to be somewhere in the
neighborhood of the light-house, I began to peer about; peradventure I might
get a glimpse of some familiar objects, and thus determine my whereabouts.
All at once it stopped snowing,—the clouds broke away,—the sun shone full
and clear, just above the horizon. To my utter amazement, I discovered, but
a short distance before me, the open water, and my position far out towards
the Canadian shore. I was not long in changing my course and reaching
the shore near the mouth of the creek; thankful to have escaped the fate
which might have befallen me had the storm continued.”
In the autumn of 1820, one William Keese, who occupied
the first floor of the building in which Doctor Chapin’s office
was situated, had the misfortune to lose his wife by death, and
thereupon determined to sell out his stock of goods and busi-
ness, and return to his friends in the East. He made overtures
to Doctor Chapin, who concluded to make the purchase, pro-
vided that Orlando and young Hiram Pratt would take turns
in looking after the store, alternating one day in the store
and one in the office. The young gentlemen were not averse
to this proposition. Young Pratt, who did not diffuse his ex-
ertions over so wide a field as the ubiquitously useful Orlando,
but grappled with the drug business solely, soon managed to
become a partner in the concern, whose managers were thence-
forth' known to the world as the firm of Chapin & Pratt.
When the circuit of the year was made, and an account of stock
had been taken, to the surprise of all parties it was found that
the net gains amounted to the munificent sum of one thousand
eight hundred dollars. Young Pratt, elated with this success,
effected an arrangement by which he purchased Doctor Cha-
pin’s interest in the store, and for a time carried on the business
in his own name. But he could not manage to dispense with
Orlando. The young men were attached to each other by the
ties of friendship, and had mutually resolved in their confidential
moods that they would unite their business interests as long as
they lived. Orlando was three or four years Hiram’s junior344
ORLANDO ALLEN.
and it was arranged that he should continue in the store as a
clerk until he should arrive at his majority, and then be ad-
vanced to the dignity of junior partner in the house of Pratt &
Allen.
It cost Orlando but a slight struggle to turn his back upon
the profession which was his father’s choice, and embark in a
mercantile career. But, like the good son that he was, he made
a point of first obtaining the consent of his parents to the
change, and next respected the claims of gratitude, by seeking
the approbation of Doctor Chapin. He succeeded in obtain-
ing both, although the good doctor was regretful at losing so
faithful and accomplished an assistant; and, with a light heart
and many rose-colored visions of future affluence and dignities,
Orlando became an embryo merchant.
I cannot better illustrate the indomitable spirit which early
characterized Mr. Allen, than by quoting from his autobiography
the following incident of life while an inmate of Doctor Cha-
pin’s family:
“In the autumn of 1820, the first agricultural fair ever held in what was
then known as Niagara county, was held in the village of Buffalo. The
ground selected for the fair was a small meadow, bordering the northerly side
of Little Buffalo creek, now the Main and Hamburgh street canal. This
meadow -extended from a point a little east of Alain street, to a point some
distance east of where Washington street now is, and south of Crow, now
Exchange street. It was all below what was then called the hill, being a
smooth, level piece of green-sward well suited to the purpose.
“ Doctor Chapin was the president of the agricultural society, and Joseph W.
Moulton, Esq., the secretary. The doctor, as I have before stated, owned five
farms; including one of the Hamburgh farms, then known as the Colton farm,
but in later years as the Duel farm, situated about one mile south of Potter’s
Corners. It then contained somewhere in the neighborhood of three hundred
acres of land. On it was kept a considerable amount of stock, consisting of
brood mares, colts, and a stallion, an imported horse of very pure blood;
also neat cattle and sheep.
“The two farms in Clarence were adjoining, and together contained
somewhere from two hundred and fifty to three hundred acres. One of them
fronted on the main stage road, a little east of Harris hill; the other on aORLANDO ALLEN
345
parallel road, their back ends lapping a little, so as to enable the occupants to
go from one to the other without trespassing upon other lands. On these
farms he had sheep. Desiring, of course, that the fair should be a success,
he made early arrangements to have the pick of his herds and flocks, the
products of the dairy and the loom, from his farms, ready for exhibition.
“ It was a hobby with the doctor that all of his family should on that
occasion be clothed in domestic manufactures, and, as far as possible, with
material from his own farms. To that end, besides flannels, stockings, linen,
etc., he had manufactured a piece of black cloth for the male members; also
a piece of pressed woolen cloth, in which he intended his wife and daughter
to be arrayed,, instead of silks, etc. The persons in charge of his several
farms were directed to have all things brought in the day before the fair, but,
as the time drew near, the doctor began to have misgivings about the working
of his plans in that respect, and desired me to take horses, and a boy he
named, and proceed to the Colton farm in Hamburg, and see that all the
stock which he had designated was forthcoming.
‘ ‘ I arrived at the farm on the morning of the day preceding the fair,
when I found that nothing had been done in the premises. I told the man in
charge, that if he would get the old merino rain down, I would be respon-
sible for all the rest. So, with the aid of the boy, I started with not less
than twenty head of stock of all descriptions, to lead and drive some four-
teen miles; and every rod of it, after the first two miles, without a fence
along the road, and through woods the most - of the way, across the Indian
reservation. After many attempts on the part of the loose cattle to turn
back, and long chases through the woods, we finally got them all safely here
in Buffalo, and shut up in the barn-yard. We came in about three o’clock
p. M., and while I was relating to Doctor Chapin the arrangements about
the old ram, up came the man who was to bring him, minus the ram. It
was impossible to make him lead, and there being no means of conveying
him, he was obliged to let him go back. A nephew of the doctor’s, Gorham
Chapin, a young law student who was present, seeing the doctor’s great dis-
appointment, for this was the finest animal of the kind he had, proposed to
take a small wagon we had, and go for the ram and bring him in that night.
While getting my dinner, the doctor said to me, that he had heard nothing
from his sheep., which were to come from the farms in Clarence, although
he had, early in the morning, dispatched a special messenger to see to them.
I told him to give himself no further uneasiness about them; that I would
see to it that they were here on time. He put his hand in his pocket,
pulled out some silver change, which he handed me, and said he did not
like to ask me to go, nevertheless he would be much gratified to see the
sheep. About four o’clock, I mounted a fresh horse and rode for Clarence,346
ORLANDO ALLEN.
On the way, I met the messenger who had been sent out in the morning, re-
turning without having made any arrangement by which the sheep would be
forthcoming. I had him turn and go back with me. We arrived at the
Harris hill farm about dark, and found the delinquent farmer sitting before
the fire, waiting for his supper. I told him how Doctor Chapin felt in re-
gard to his negligence, when it seemed that just then it began to dawn upon
his mind that he had been culpably negligent, and that the reckoning would
be anything but agreeable. ‘Well,’ said I, ‘deacon, what do you propose
to do?’ ‘I can’t do anything as I see; it is too late,’was his reply. I
said, ‘These sheep must be in Buffalo before to-morrow morning.’ ‘But
they are in the pasture, a half a mile away?’ ‘No matter if they are five
miles away, they must be driven up and got underway.’ So, after supper,
we took lanterns, went away off down into a back lot, drove up a large flock
of sheep, got them in onto the barn floor, when, by the light of a lantern, I
selected the required number (forty), handling every one of them myselfr
taking care to select only such as were of good size, with a heavy fleece of
fine wool, turned them into the road, and started for Buffalo. There were
three of us to drive the sheep; the deacon, the boy and myself, all on horse-
back. I kept the boy ahead to guard the cross roads, one after another.
After we had got pretty well under way, the deacon proposed to turn back.
I said, ‘No, you must help us on a way further;’ and so I kept him along, he
from time to time urging to be released, until we arrived at the top of Wal-
den’s hill, as it was in those days called; the first rise of ground as you go
out on Main street. We were just upon the borders of the village, which
was in sighjt. There he turned back, not wishing to have the reckoning
just then. It was 'already broad daylight. In a few minutes after, the
sheep were yarded, when I learned that the missing buck from Hamburgh
had arrived, but that there was still one wanting of a different breed, which
was with Major Miller, on Slosson’s farm, about eight miles east, on the
road to Williamsville; past which I had come, with the other sheep, but a
little time before.
“This buck had been loaned to Major Miller, and he had promised to
return it here in time for the fair. Without more ado, I put a fresh horse
(the doctor’s favorite mare, Kate) into the small wagon, and was soon at
the Slosson farm. The family were just arising from their beds. I ob-
tained a hearing with the Major, who said the ram was with his flock, some
distance off in the pasture. He started out two or three of his boys, when
off we all went to the fields, after the sheep. When in the barn-yard, I re-
quested the boys to catch the buck, while I went to the wagon for a rope.
On my return, the buck was still with the sheep, which I thought a little
strange, as the boys knew that I was in great haste; nevertheless, I pitchedORLANDO ALLEN.
347
into the buck, and he pitched into me; from which I came out second best,
as he had given me a tremendous bunt, which sent me rolling across the
yard. This pleased the Miller boys right well, it being precisely what they
expected, as they knew the combative propensities of the old fellow, and I
did not. In the next attempt I was more successful. I got hold of him
and hung on until he was finally securely bound and in my wagon; when,
taking my seat, old Kate came through on the double-quick. I soon had
the buck tied, in the yard I have so often mentioned. Just then, Doctor
Chapin came out from the house, pipe in mouth, having just risen from the
breakfast table; when, after giving some words of commendation for my active
zeal in getting the stock into the fair, he turned to take a look at the newly-
arrived buck, and incautiously approached within the length of his tether.
I saw the intention, but, before I could give the note of warning, as quick as
thought, the buck made a spring, and sent the doctor rolling in the dirt.
My bones were still aching from the bunt he had given me, but, notwith-
standing I feared the doctor was seriously hurt, I could not restrain a laugh
at the scene. Fortunately, he was not much injured.
“ The day was fine, the entries quite numerous, and the display of animals
and products highly creditable; and everything passed off to the satisfaction
of all concerned. But the crowning joy with me was the ball in the evening.
I was to wear a brand new suit of clothes, made from cloth manufactured of
some very fine merino wool from our own sheep; and, being veiy fond of
dancing, I expected to have a gay time, which I did, in fact. It forms one
of the green spots in my life, which still lingers in my memory.”
*The village paper, in its next issue, comments upon this ball,
as follows:
*	*	*	“ The assembly exhibited the congregated beauty and worth of
the village and country, mingling in all the equality, harmony and conviviality
of good feeling. The managers of the society expressed a hope that the
ladies who attend the next anniversary ball will appear in domestic manu-
factures, and they who assisted in making their own will receive the awards
of the society, and the distinction to which such merits will entitle them.”
The phrase “domestic manufactures,” implies that the fabric,
as well as the fashioning of it, should depend solely upon the fair
fingers of these village belles.
“At that period,” writes Mr. Allen, “Senecaoil,—petroleum, as it is now
called,—was kept only in drug stores, and solely used in making ‘ British
Oil,’ and ‘Oil of Spike,’ both of which were made by mixing the oil with
spirits of turpentine in equal quantities. The sale of these preparations was348
ORLANDO ALLEN.
quite limited, and from three to five gallons of the oil was considered a large
supply. There was an old man living out on Oil creek, then a terra incognita
to dwellers hereabouts, who came to Buffalo every spring, with two ten gallon
kegs slung across the back of an old white mare. These kegs would be full
of Seneca oil when he started from home, but by the time he got here,—
several days being occupied in the journey,—half the oil, more or less, would
have leaked out; and, if he succeeded in arriving here with ten gallons out of
the twenty, he considered it great good luck. That amount, even, would
meet all possible demands, if, indeed, it did not glut the market. He
obtained the oil by spreading a woolen blanket upon the surface of the spring
where it arose, by means of which the oil was gathered.” -
From this humble beginning dates the history of the enor-
mous business of mineral oil production in the United States.
In the month of August, 1822, Mr. Allen was sent to Detroit
to take temporary charge of a store which Mr. Pratt, together
with a nephew of Doctor Chapin, had established in that place
the preceding year. Detroit was then a small French town,
which Mr. Allen reached by a sail-vessel—the only steamer
then on the lake having been disabled by a broken shaft,
which was being repaired in Albany. He remained there less
than two months. About this time, the growing prosperity of
Mr. Pratt’s business had been such as to justify the location of
a branch establishment at Painesville, Ohio. This business was
no longer confined to drugs and medicines, but embraced gro-
ceries, hardware, paints, oils, etc. In addition to this business,
Mr. Pratt carried on in the rear of his store a kind of exchange
office, by virtue of an arrangement made between him and the
Canandaigua branch of the Utica Bank, which supplied the notes
or bills. On the tenth day of February, 1824, Mr. Allen arrived
at his majority; when, by the terms of the compact between
himself and Mr. Pratt, he was to be admitted into partnership
with that gentleman. In the meantime, however, Mr. Pratt’s
ever extending business operations had induced his forming a
partnership with one Horace Meech, which rendered the intro-
duction of Mr. Allen impracticable. Mr. Allen was, however,
repaid for his disappointment by being offered the munificentORLANDO ALLEN.
349
salary of one thousand dollars a year, as general manager of
the store, which he cheerfully accepted. The usual salary
of clerks at this time was two hundred dollars; aside from
Mr. Allen’s salary, the highest paid in the village was three
hundred dollars per annum. But there was something more pre-
cious than money that insured the fidelity of young Allen to the
new firm, and to the interests of Mr. Pratt. He bore the yoke
of this servitude more meekly, for that he had many months
previous become the vassal, thrall and bondsman of Mr. Pratt’s
girlish and charming sister. At the expiration of two years,
the firm of Pratt & Meech was dissolved, and Mr. Allen became
a co-partner with Mr. Pratt, the firm being known as Pratt,
Allen & Co.
The “ Co.,” by the way, was a purely ornamental appendage
to the title of the firm, and only existed in the mercantile
imagination.
“ For the first' two or three years after we commenced in the little store,”
Mr. Allen remarks, “our goods were forwarded from New York to Albany
in sloops, from thence to Buffalo by the large Cannestoga wagons, drawn by
five to seven horses, so common in those times. They usually came in here
several together. I remember, on one occasion, seeing seven of these seven-
horse wagons come along down Main street in a line; they made a very im-
posing appearance.”
I have spoken of Mr. Allen’s early relations to the Indians.
Those of our citizens who remember Red Jacket, Pollard,
Stevenson, Seneca White, Two-guns, Captain Cold, and their
brother chieftains, will bear testimony to the truth, that how-
ever degraded a few of them may have been by the master
w
vice of drunkenness, they were men of rare natural endowments,
and of fine, commanding presence. The race has sadly degen-
erated since the days of Red Jacket and Cornplanter. It may
not be amiss here, to relate two unpublished anecdotes of the
chief last named, which present an interesting phase of Indian
character.
“I can best illustrate his standing and influence in their (the Iroquois)
councils, perhaps, by relating an incident that occurred here at Buffalo in an35°
ORLANDO ALLEN
annual council, held for the purpose of transacting their business with the
United States, to receive their annuities, etc.
Some months before, the Seneca chiefs had borrowed, of a person here in
Buffalo, the sum of five hundred dollars, for the purpose of defraying the ex-
penses of a delegation of the chiefs to Washington on public business, pledg-
ing for its reimbursement the Grand Island annuity due to them on the first
of June, from the State of New York. The creditor appeared at this council
for his pay, and presented his vouchers, properly authenticated, to the agent.
The money was counted out, including the wod-dod-e-yock, literally growth,
(interest); and, as it was being handed over in payment of the debt, some one
arose, and objected to its being paid until they had looked a little further into
the justice of the claim; arguing that a deduction from the amount claimed
should be made, for the reason, that their delegation had stopped at Oneida
on their way, and taken from that people an Indian along with them to
Washington, and defrayed his expenses there and back; consequently, the
Senecas had not the entire benefit of the loan; therefore, the whole sum should
not be paid by them. In vain it was urged, on the other hand, that the
money was loaned to the Senecas on the faith of the Nation, and the pledge
of that specific annuity; that the creditor knowing nothing of, and having
nothing to do with the manner of spending the money,' was in no way
responsible for the wrong-doing of their delegates in the premises; and, that
if there was a claim against anybody, it was the Oneidas, for they had,
through their delegate who was sent on to Washington with the Senecas,
participated in whatever benefits had resulted from the expenditure of the
money borrowed. Still the payment of it was strenuously opposed by a
considerable number. The debate waxed warm, and words ran high.
“At this juncture, Cornplanter, who had all this time sat apparently an
uninterested listener to the controversy, arose, and walked deliberately across
the floor of the council-house to the agent’s pay-table, where the money which
he had at first counted out for the payment of this debt lay, in a pile by itself,
and asked the agent if he had looked at the computation of interest to see that
it was correct. ‘ Yes,’ replied that officer. ‘ And is the exact amount of the
claim contained in this pile of money?’ taking it up in his hand. ‘Yes,’ was
the answer. Cornplanter turned, and walked deliberately to the claimant,
dropped the money into his hat which hung by the rim between his knees,
and, turning to the objectors, said: ‘ This debt is paid, and there is no more
to be said. It is enough; Cornplanter has spoken!’ and, with a wave of his
hand, as much as to say to the agent, ‘ Proceed with your business,’ resumed
his seat. Not always in this way exactly, but somewhat after this manner,
was he wont to enforce his ideas of honesty and fair dealing on the part of
the council.ORLANDO ALLEN.
351
“In the autumn of 1835, Cornplanter visited Buffalo for the last time.
He came, as usual, to attend the annual council for the transaction of
their business with the United States; receiving annuities, distribution of
goods, etc. He remained, and participated in all that was done of a public
character; and, when the council-fire was about to be covered, there was a
sudden movement on the part of the loiterers outside the council-house
toward the door, and all who could find room went inside. Cornplanter
arose, and, in a solemn and impressive manner, recounted the principal events
of his life, as connected with the interests of his nation. He said he had
endeavored conscientiously to discharge his whole duty to his people. What-
ever errors he might have committed, were errors in judgment and not of the
heart. If he had done any wrong, or in any way given offence to any one
present, without just cause, he desired the aggrieved party to come forward
and be reconciled. It was his wish to be at peace with all men. He was
about to go to his home, never again to leave it, until the Great Spirit should
■call him hence. He had done with the active business of life; and he added,
‘When I leave this place, most of you will have seen me for the last time.’
He then gave them advice and counsel for the future; went from one to
another and took them by the hand, saying a few parting words to each;
passed out of the door, mounted his horse, called his traveling companions,
and left, never to return. He died on the fifth of March following, aged
about one hundred years.”
Mr. Allen was familiarly acquainted with Red Jacket during
the last twelve years of the latter’s life; and nothing incensed
him more than listening to the exaggerated and sensational
stories current, respecting the vices attributed to the great abo-
riginal orator. He stoutly maintained that his Indian friend
was by no means an habitual drunkard, even in his worst estate;
that, for considerable periods of time, Red Jacket would abstain
from the use of all intoxicating drinks; and when any council
was to be held, or any important business to be transacted, his
intellect was never known to be obscured by the fumes of alco-
hol. It was, nevertheless, true, as Mr. Allen admitted, that the
old chief would occasionally visit the settlements and drink to
excess; following the example of many a brilliant orator and
astute statesman among his white cotemporaries. Upon such
occasions, neither he nor his Indian comrades possessed the art
of veiling his fallen dignity from the public gaze.352
ORLANDO ALLEN.
The charges of cowardice, treachery and moral weakness,
which have been urged against Red Jacket, were, in Mr. Allen’s
opinion, equally unfounded. Red Jacket’s genius had its ap-
propriate sphere in the council, rather than on the war-path.
He was a statesman of the woods, and, like many another in a
higher plane of enlightenment, the policy which temporarily
governed his conduct exposed his motives to misinterpretation
and censure. But always and unswervingly he was a patriot, and
had one end in view, the happiness and welfare of his people.
With all the unconquerable, fiery energy of his nature, he would
throw, himself a living barrier between the child-like helpless-
ness of his people and the craft and insatiate greed of the pale-
faces. He was a phenomenal barbarian. In the memorable
trial of Tommy Jemmy for murder, Red Jacket sat by the side
of the counsel for the prisoner, scanning with his piercing eye
the lineaments of every talesman who had been summoned as
a juror, suggesting who should be accepted and who chal-
lenged, and insisting that one who wore “goggles” should,
before he was sworn, be compelled by the court to remove those
shutters from the windows of his soul, that he might look within
for the evidence of honesty or guile.
Mr.. Allen’s estimate of Red Jacket’s character was shared by
others who had equal or better opportunities of observation.
That Red Jacket was constitutionally brave, admits of little
controversy. The testimony of Generals Worth and Porter
and of Major Fraser,* ought to settle that question forever.
His energy and resolute will-power were remarkable. Con-
testing the ground, inch by inch, with his adversaries, after
every resource had been exhausted, if finally beaten, he would
invariably appeal to the Great Father at Washington. To ob-
tain the means to do this, taxed a mind, always fertile in re-
sources, to the utmost. But he knew no such word as “fail.”’
With means ludicrously inadequate to the emergency, he would,
*See letter of Major Fraser, in the Addenda, p. 363.ORLANDO ALLEN.
353
in company with some faithful adherent who could serve as
interpreter, set out for the distant Capital.
“ On one of these missions,” writes Mr. Allen, “he took with him ‘Hank
Johnson/ a white man by birth, but an Indian by education and habit; hav-
ing been captured by the Indians in childhood. This trip to Washington
was in the latter part of the winter of 1828, I think. Early in the month of
April of that year, I was on my way to New York in a stage coach, there
being no other means of public conveyance thus early in the season. Having
got down below Utica, somewhere in the neighborhood of Herkimer, I was
sitting on the back seat of the coach,—the day being warm, the curtains were
up,—looking out ahead. A slight curve in the road revealed to me two In-
dians picking their way along through the mud, on foot. On nearing, I dis-
covered them to be Red Jacket and Hank Johnson.
The stage stopped, and, after a hearty greeting, I learned (what I knew
before, by the way) that they were returning from Washington. They were
out of money, and were obliged to travel on foot. The passengers supplied
them with a small sum of money, and they were advised to make themselves
known at Utica, and possibly Mr. Faxon, the managing stage proprietor
there, might dead-head them in his stage. After I returned home, I learned
from Hank Johnson that they were kindly received at Utica, and a con-
siderable sum of money raised, with which a horse, saddle, bridle and port-
manteau were purchased and presented to Red Jacket, together with funds
sufficient to defray their expenses home. Johnson used to relate the various
incidents of their journey; and, with much gusto, what he considered an
amusing one which occurred at Geneva on their way home. When approach-
ing the town, Red Jacket told Johnson he intended to have a good dinner.
So they passed along through the low'er town,—Red Jacket on horseback
and Johnson on foot,—up the hill to the hotel, where quite a number of
gentlemen wrere sitting on the stoop in front. The hostler came up to take
his horse. Red Jacket shook his head, and, assuming an air of grandeur,
ejaculated:
“Landlord!”
The landlord then made his appearance, when the following colloquy
occurred:
“Ham?”
“Yes.”
“Eggs?”
“Yes.”
“Oats?”
“Yes.”
“Take horse,” and throwing mine host the reins, Red Jacket alighted.354
ORLANDO ALLEN.
This is one of the very few instances on record, when the
chief condescended to speak English. Mr. Allen describes
him as usually very sedate and dignified in his demeanor. Oc-
casionally, however, his austerity would relax, and melt into a
bland and smiling mood that captivated all hearts. At such
times he betrayed a fine sense of humor, and was wont to
indulge in a vein of pleasantry, badinage or sly irony, often
enlivened by anecdotes which convulsed his red auditors with
laughter. Still, his prevailing frame of mind was contemplative,
abstracted and severe; too subjective, in fine, to be consistent
with an unvarying.sunniness of exterior. Like every intelligent
Iroquois, he was an ardent admirer of George Washington.
“ When,” remarks Mr. Allen, “he was particularly pleased with and de-
sirous of complimenting any of his white friends, he would say in English,
‘Just like Wash-e-ton; his beau ideal of all that was great and good in man.
On all public occasions, Red Jacket was scrupulously neat
and painstaking in his dress and appearance; and his carriage
and air were those of a man calmly conscious of his superlative
powers and commanding influence.
“In person,” says Mr. Allen, “he was above the medium size; five feet
ten inches in height; large limbs; well rounded muscles; physically as well
as intellectually strong. Sometimes he was dressed in a blue cloth coat, cut
after the peculiar Indian fashion, and girt about the waist with a wampum
or beaded sash; blue leggings, ornamented at the sides and around the bottom
with white beads; a red silk kerchief, knotted, sailor-fashion, around his
neck; plain moccasins on his feet, which were considerably misshapen by
rheumatic pains; and always, when in full dress, with his Washington medal
suspended from his neck, and his tomahawk-pipe in his hand. At other
times he was dressed in a smoke-tanned deer skin coat and leggings, fringed
writh the same material at the seams.”
Cornplanter, in his extreme old age, when Mr. Allen first
knew him, was a bowed and wrinkled warrior not much above
the average stature. One of his eyes was disfigured by a droop-
ing lid, and his nether lip had a twist which imparted a some-
what grotesque look to his visage. But when he arose to speak
in council, his voice was sonorous and thrilling, and his pres-
ence appeared dignified and commanding.ORLANDO ALLEN.
355
Mr. Allen was married on the twentieth day of November,
1826, to Miss Marilla A. Pratt, daughter of Samuel Pratt, senior,
and sister of the late Hiram Pratt; a union which was produc-
tive of great happiness.
Mr. Hiram Pratt, a few years later, retired from the firm of
Pratt, Allen & Co. in 1831, to assume the position of president
of the old Bank of Buffalo. At his death, he was succeeded in
the office by Mr. Allen; who filled the position until its affairs
were wound up, and the bank went out of existence in the dis-
astrous year of 1837. The financial storm which swept over
the entire country during the years 1836 and 1837 involved in its
wreck the estate of the late Hiram Pratt; and plunged the affairs
of Mr. Allen into irremediable disorder.
The next ten years of Mr. Allen’s life were spent in a heroic
but almost hopeless effort to extricate his affairs from the
embarassments that had overtaken him; a task whose propor-
tions would have appalled a weaker man, but to which he
addressed himself with an energy that was tireless, and with a
spirit of cheerfulness that no adverse fortune could quench.
He triumphed at last, as such men will, and his indomitable
energies sought new fields of exertion.
Communication by rail between Buffalo and the coal fields
of Pennsylvania, has been a dream of our Buffalo merchants
for more than a generation. It was a favorite project of Mr.
Allen. No one at this day would seriously talk of construct-
ing a railroad between these points without municipal aid.
That the Buffalo, Bradford & Pittsburgh Railroad, without this
encouragement, and almost on the eve of triumph, failed to
become a verity, was no fault of Mr. Allen.
Lack of capital, and the proverbial apathy of our wealthy
citizens, are responsible for the failure. Mr. Allen was the
president of the company, and the life and soul of the enter-
prise. As such, his course has met in some quarters adverse
criticism; but those who knew the man were assured that he
was not responsible for the miscarriage of the scheme, but356
ORLANDO ALLEN.
that the labor and time which he devoted to it, in the end were
unrequited and unappreciated.
I approach with reluctance another subject, that, in the minds
of sentimentalists, may awaken long slumbering prejudices,
which involve the motives and characters of honored citizens
now deceased. When the future destiny of Buffalo as a great
city was foreshadowed, the removal of the Indians, whose
tract of thousands of acres bordered on it, became inevitable.
No humanitarian or philanthropic considerations could stand
in the way. A few hundred indolent semi-barbarians could
not preserve the choicest agricultural region in the immediate
vicinity of Buffalo, for their hunting grounds. The town must
grow, and its expansion could not be stayed by such a puny
barrier. Aside from this, it was vitally important to the Indians
themselves that they should be removed from the corrupting
influences of a great city. Capt. Pollard, their noblest chief
after the decease of Cornplanter, saw, with prophetic vision, the
rapid destruction of his people, from the causes at which I have
hinted. A majority of the educated and Christianized Indians
favored the removal, as the only practical means of averting
their complete demoralization and consequent extinction.
Their removal, to which Mr. Allen lent his active aid, has been
fraught with incalculable benefits both to Indians and whites;
and the Senecas to-day, in their new home at Cattaraugus, are
rich in lands; and, were they to emulate the white man’s indus-
try and thrift, would be an exceptionally wealthy community.
That some of the means employed to induce the Indians to sell
the Buffalo Creek reservation were questionable in their char-
acter, cannot be denied, but it would be difficult to attach the
responsibility to any one person. The Indians themselves
were divided into factions, each eager to overreach or punish
the other. Remembering by what tortuous paths great party
leaders arrive at magnificent results in these latter days, let us
carefully bury in forgetfulness, the scandals and prejudices of
a departed era. I should be doing the memory of Mr. AllenORLANDO ALLEN.
357
injustice, did I not add in this connection what is within my
own personal knowledge, that he retained until his death the
confidence and friendship of the Indians, in a remarkable
degree. They have never ceased to call him “The Helpful,”
or “The Protector;” and the appositeness and felicity of these
titles were demonstrated, almost daily, until his death.
Mr. Allen had an ardent passion for sylvan sports, especially
angling, and was an adept in the use of both rod and gun;
although his life was too busy to admit of frequent indulgence
in such pastimes. Still, he would occasionally snatch a few
hours from inexorable business pursuits, to seek some woodland
solitude, where the muffled drum of the partridge was heard, or
where, in shaded pools, or lapsing, ledgy rivulets, the speckled
trout gleamed through the waters, as they darted at hovering
insects, gay with burnished wings.
In a series of papers written for the benefit of his grand-
children, and printed in one of our local journals, he related
some thrilling experiences of the old Indian and pioneer hun-
ters; particularly the exploits of Capt. Strong (Os-qui-ye-son)
and Philip Conjockety; not to mention his eccentric friend,
Justice Slade, who slew two noble bucks with one charge of
his rifle.
The red deer were plentiful about Buffalo a half century or
more ago, and the howl of the wolf and scream of the panther
were occasionally heard on the skirts of the primeval woods
that girt the settlement. Near where the gas-works now stand,
was a grassy glade, circled by sedgy swamps and black-ash
forest. Often the apparition of a family of deer, quietly crop-
ping the short, sweet grass that carpeted this opening, has
gladdened the eyes of Orlando and the truant young villagers;
a slight exclamation of wonder or delight, and, lo ! this vision
of beauty had vanished into the gloom of the adjacent forest.
Let me again quote from Mr. Allen’s manuscript.
*	*	*	“ I got Jacob Jimeson, who was studying medicine with Doctor
Chapin, to go up with me and try and buy an Indian pony belonging to an358
ORLANDO ALLEN.
Onondaga Indian on the reservation. After getting up some little distance
beyond the Indian church, galloping along in a sort of blind path through
high bushes, we came into an open glade containing, perhaps, half an acre,,
nearly circular in form. When, just as I, being ahead, emerged from the
bushes, I discovered an enormous buck, with his head down, feeding, not
more than twenty feet distant. I turned my horse’s head a little, and in
three or four jumps came up alongside, and gave him a heavy blow across,
the loins with my riding whip. I will not undertake to describe the jump he
made, but it was tremendous, and he bounded out of sight in a moment. A
few steps further on, we met an Indian, shooting young pigeons with a bow
and arrow. We told him of the deer and the direction he had gone, when
he started off upon a run, to get his gun and follow the trail.”
*	*	* “In the fall of 1820, there suddenly appeared here a swarm of
black squirrels. Buildings, fences and trees were covered with them. It
was said that they migrated from Canada, swimming the Niagara; how this
was, I know not. Certain it is, however, that this shore of the river was
lined with them. I shot fourteen from one little willow near the shore, one
afternoon. The tree was not twenty feet high. There were some large oak
trees standing on the common, between Main and Washington streets, some-
where between North and South Division streets, from which the Indian
boys picked off hundreds in the course of a few weeks, with their bows and
arrows.”
The history of Mr. Allen’s career during the past twenty
years, is, in effect, the history of Buffalo for the same period.
There has scarcely been any civic undertaking or public enter-
prise that has not received the impress of his personality. As
a member of our board of supervisors and of our common
council; as manager of a railroad; as mayor of our city; as
member of the legislature; as one of the founders of the Orphan
Asylum; as a manager of the Insane Asylum; as councilor of
the University of Buffalo; as president of the Historical Society;
as chairman of the Old Settler’s Festival; as trustee of one of
our savings banks, and chairman of its building committee;
as presiding officer in public meetings without number, and as
councilor and friend of innumerable other interprises into
which he contrived to infuse something of his own tireless,
inexhaustible energy and dauntless spirit, his name will be
written on every page of our later annals. There is so muchORLANDO ALLEN.
359
work to be accomplished in society, so much need of men of
achievement, where men of words are so redundant, that Or-
lando Allen could not be idle. To a man so richly and
variedly endowed,, with such overflowing vitality and such
exuberance of strength, labor in every form is a relief and a
pastime. If it kept him continually prominent in the public
eye, the voice of envy and detraction was hushed, when the
unselfish and chivalrous nature of the man was known.
The career of Mr. Allen during the past twenty years is
crowded with incidents of an interesting character, but the
limits of this paper will not admit of even a passing glance at
them. I have preferred, rather, to dwell upon the events of
his early life, with their novel and picturesque surroundings;*
reserving for another occasion, details which are fresh in all our
memories.
For two or three years before his death, his family and inti-
mate friends discovered that he had become affected with a
chronic disease of the heart. Winters spent in Florida and
Southern California did not woo back the health so eagerly
coveted. And yet, to all appearances, there was little abate-
ment of the old-time vigor, and no eclipse of that joyous spirit
that irradiated happiness all around him. He had passed
through many vicissitudes, had breasted many storms, had
been defrauded of a fortune, and had but just regained it after
a weary legal warfare that ended only with the court of last
resort, and had done an amount of work of which few men are
capable. At last, with a competency that justified cessation of
care and toil, surrounded by a united and affectionate family,
with a capacity for enjoyment that few men possess, with every
prospect that could render the evening of his life beautiful, the
strong man bowed himself.
“Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher; vanity of vanities; all is vanity.”
“What profit hath a man of all his labor which he taketh under the sun.”
Mr. Allen died in Buffalo, in the Christian faith, which he
had professed for nearly fifty years, on the fourth day of Sep-360
ORLANDO ALLEN.
tember, 1874. His widow and two worthy sons, William K.
and Henry F. Allen, survive him. He himself followed to the
grave four of his children, Sarah J. Allen, Hiram Pratt Allen,
Orlando Allen, Jr., and Lucy A., wife of Hon. Nelson K.
Hopkins.
Mr. Allen’s mental character exhibited a rare combination
of qualities. Eminently a man of action, he was a man of
reflection as well, but not to that degree that leads men to
carefully poise opposing arguments and forces, and then ponder,
hesitate and doubt, until the golden opportunity has fled. He
had a cool, practical judgment, and the faculty of seeing both
sides of a question,—of taking in at a glance the arguments to
be met, and the difficulties to be overcome. His course once
marked out, it was followed, with an inflexible tenacity of pur-
pose, to the end. He was never bigoted or narrow in his views,
but, while steadfastly loyal to his own convictions, was uni-
formly tolerant and charitable toward the opinions of others.
He never sought office, and never practiced any of the arts
of popularity. Indeed, while not insensible to the favorable
opinion of his fellow-men, he preferred the approval of his own
conscience to popular applause, which he knew to be capricious
and evanescent.
He did not readily admit his acquaintances to the inner
circle of his friendship; but, once admitted, they were attached
to him as by hooks of steel. No labor or sacrifice in their be-
half was too great or costly, and there was something in the
royal nature of the man that led the perplexed and troubled to
repose in security upon his ample strength. He possessed an
innate refinement of mind, clear, acute perceptions, and a
vigorous understanding. Without the aid of an early education,
he found opportunities in his busy life for self-culture, and had
enriched his intellect by reading and by habits of reflection.
He was never unemployed; if he had but a moment of leisure
he would seize some favorite book, and become absorbed in its
perusal. He had the blessed faculty of labor, and his spiritsORLANDO ALLEN.
361
seemed to rise and grow buoyant in proportion to the height
of the difficulties which rose in his pathway. He was not an
egotist in the offensive sense of the term, for he rarely spoke
of himself or his achievements, but he had illimitable confi-
dence in his own powers, and his iron will and indomitable
energy took no account of a possible failure when he had fairly
embarked in an enterprise.
Although he could exhibit a righteous indignation when just
cause arose, his temper was remarkably serene and equable.
He apparently never lost his cheerfulness in the midst of dis-
aster, for he never doubted his ability to conquer the most
adverse circumstances. He knew how to “ labor and to wait,”
and saw a silver edging to the darkest cloud. His memory
was wonderfully retentive, and was an inexhaustible storehouse
of fact and anecdote relating to the past. As a story-teller he
was inimitable;'and, like Abraham Lincoln, he had an apposite
and happy anecdote to illustrate or enforce every proposition.
His heart could never grow old; and so tenderly had the
passing years touched him, that, on the verge of three-score
years and ten, his hair was still unbleached, his step had the
elastic spring of youth, and his whole aspect betokened the
meridian strength and glory of manhood. In the autumn of
his days, his feelings had the glad freshness of the spring-time.
He had not grown weary of the warfare of life, nor misanthropic,
nor cynical. There was not the slightest morbid taint in his
nature. He accepted life as the good God gave it—the sweet
and the bitter—and was grateful for the happiness he could ex-
tract from it. He had imagination, too, and was easily kindled
into enthusiasm, but his robust sense forbade his being led astray
by any chimera. He was an affectionate husband and father,
a humble and sincere Christian, and a notably useful citizen.
He was also, I may add, a man of large and active benevolence.
I cannot better close this feeble tribute than by quoting the
remarks of the late Rev. Dr. Lord, made at Mr. Allen’s funeral,
which I find reported in one of our daily newspapers:36 2
ORLANDO ALLEN.
“ Orlando Allen was a man of great power and untiring activity. Under
different circumstances and with better opportunities, he would have been
the leader of armies, or guided the councils of the State; for, in the speaker’s
opinion, he was one of those men born to command. Could any one doubt
that in God’s amazing universe of spirits, that active, earnest soul would find
an exalted place, where its energies would be eternal ?”ADDENDA.
The following letter, printed in the Buffalo Patriot of August 7th, 1821,
was written by Major Donald Fraser, aid-de-camp to General Porter, and
in command of all the Indians in the service of our government, on this fron-
tier, during the last war with Great Britain.
The signature, “Black Wolf/’ is a translation of the Indian name bestowed
upon Major Fraser by the Indians.
“Mr. Salisbury:
“ Sir—A deserved eulogy on the character of the venerable chief of the Six
Nations, the late Farmer’s Brother, published a short time since in the New
York American has, I perceive, been copied into several other papers; it is
due to the character of that celebrated chief, Red Jacket, to correct the state-
ment so far as it alludes to him.
“Red Jacket is charged with being cowardly, treacherous, dishonorable and
intemperate. It ill becomes us to charge him with cowardice. At Fort
George, Chippewa, &c., he led'his men bravely into action, and if ever there
had been a doubt respecting his courage, his conduct in those bloody scenes
should have acquitted him thenceforward; but the fact is otherwise. In what
act of his life has he evinced treachery to his nation, or to the people of
these States? I challenge a single one! His conduct during the late war,
in support of the cause of our country, shows he was not treacherous to us;
and the course which he has invariably pursued, in relation to the various prop-
ositions which have been made for the purchase of the Indian lands, shows,
at the same time, his honesty to his own nation, and acquits him fully of the
charge of dishonor.
“ The last charge cannot be rebutted in toto. He is, at times, intemperate;
but the writer of this article has seen him during two campaigns in the
enemy’s country, not only refrain from the use of ardent spirits, but earnestly
urge the commissary-general not to pennit any to be furnished to his men
while engaged in our service in Canada. I have repeatedly seen him in coun-
cil with us, and know that he made it a principle to abstain from liquor
during the session.
“ Red Jacket is truly a great man, and commands respect for his astonish-
ing powers of oratory, and his gallantry in the field. It will be but an act
of justice to him, for the editors of the American, and those of other papers
who may have copied the articles alluded to, to give this an insertion.”
“Black Wolf.”364
ADDENDA.
JOSEPH BRANT AND THE BATTLE OF WYOMING.
Extract from notes of conversations at a meeting of the Club of the Buffalo*
Historical Society.
Mr. Orlando Allen said: “I was not present at the last meeting of the
Club, at which, as I learn from the Secretary’s minutes, allusion was made to
Captain Brant, in connection with the massacre of Wyoming, and Campbell's
poem on that theme. There is an incident relating to the subject, which I
would beg leave to relate. In the latter part of 1836, or early part of 1837,
Storm’s Life of Brant was issued from the press. The Democratic Review,
in noticing the work, sharply criticised and questioned the ground Colonel
Stone had taken, in combatting the generally received opinion, that Brant was
the master spirit in that lamentable affair.
‘ ‘Although well satisfied, as he afterwards told me, of the correctness of his
statements, founded as they were upon unquestionable evidence furnished by
the Brant family, Colonel Stone desired to fortify his position by testimony
from unprejudiced sources. You, sir (turning to Ex-President Fillmore),
then a member of Congress from this district, gave him a letter to me, in
which you briefly stated his wishes. He came to my house in the month of
November and presented the letter. I had a long and pleasing conversation
with him, in the course of which he told me the facts of the case, and said
he desired to find some Indians who had been present at the Wyoming affair,
and procure their testimony on the subject. I told him I knew several par-
ticipants in the massacre, and among them the distinguished Seneca chief,.
Ga-oun-do-wah-nah, or Captain Pollard.
“The next morning I drove Colonel Stone out to the reservation, and to
Pollard’s residence. The old chief lived in a well-furnished one-and-a-half
story house, surrounded by an orchard and finely cultivated fields. There
was an air of comfort and thrift all about the place. We found the chief
confined to his bed by an attack of rheumatism. I introduced Colonel Stone
to him, and told him the object of our visit; to vindicate, if possible, the
memory of the dead, and settle a vexed question in history. Captain Pollard
maintained a thoughtful silence for a few moments, and then said to me in
the Seneca tongue:
“ ‘I was at Wyoming, and probably know as much about that affair as
any living man. You know that I was once a pagan warrior, but that I
have since become a Christian, and look upon the scenes of my younger
days, with abhorrence and regret. I dislike to dwell in thought upon
this subject, much more in words. But as it is a duty to vindicate the
dead, 1 will conquer my reluctance and tell you what I know. There
were two war parties at Wyoming. One was composed of Senecas, ledADDENDA.
•365
by a chief now living, and whom you know. The other was composed
of Onondagas, led by a man now living on that reservation, and whom you
also know,—he is a very aged man. Besides, there were a few Mohawks,
but not enough to form a distinct band, and they joined our party, the
Senecas (for they were our neighbors then), encamped at Lewiston, on the
Niagara. Captain Brant was not there. I know the fact. He was at
Niagara at the time.’ ”
Mr. O. H. Marshall.—“Who did Captain Pollard say led the Senecas at
Wyoming?”
Mr. Allen.—“ It was Old King, as I remember.”
REMINISCENCES.—From Mr. Allen’s Autobiography.
FIRST SIGHT OF A STEAMBOAT.
“ Shortly after I came to Buffalo, in the summer of 1819, I rode down to
Sandy Town, as it was called. I followed the creek to the beach; and, after
going down that a short distance, turned off, inland, passing through a belt
of timber, and came into a large opening, containing five or ten acres, pos-
sibly more. On the east it was bounded by a marshy swamp; on the west by
a range of sand hills, which bordered the beach of the river; on the north by
a high ridge of land, and on the south by the belt of timber I have mentioned.
Some of these sand hills were from twenty to thirty feet high, and partially
covered with small trees. There were the remains of the long ranges of log
barracks which were used by soldiers during the war. There were also-
two log dwelling-houses, which appeared to have originally belonged to the
barracks. These were inhabited,—and this was Sandy Townl
“ While loitering back of these sand hills, looking about, everything being
new to me, I heard a burst of music, in loud-swelling notes, that came float-
ing on the breeze from over the sand hills, which then obstructed my view
of the river. I forced my*horse to mount one of these elevations, from which
I saw, out upon the water, a large vessel, with flags and streamers flying; a
band upon the upper deck, discoursing sweet music; a large number of gaily
dressed ladies and gentlemen; smoke and steam issuing from her several
chimneys and pipes, and more than all, a long hawser, reaching from the
vessel to the shore, to which were attached some twenty or thirty yoke of
oxen, tugging away, hauling the vessel up the rapids. This was the steam-
boat Walk-in-the-water, of which I had often heard but never before seen.
It was, to me, a novel and splendid sight, making an indelible impression
upon my mind.
“ The Walk-in-the-water and Sill Thompson & Co.’s “horn breeze,’^be-
came familiar objects to me ere long.
* See Early Reminiscences of Buffalo and Vicinity, p. 164.366
ADDENDA.
“ While out on this or some similar excursion, I noticed some coffins, par-
tially exposed; the sand in which they had been buried having been blown
away. There were evidences that considerable numbers had been buried
there;—soldiers, probably, who died while in cantonement. There were one
or two coffins which were entirely exposed, their lids being off. The skele-
tons seemed to be there, though the coffins were filled with sand. The bones,
so far as they were in sight, were clean and dry.
“On my return, I spoke to Doctor Chapin, or some one, about them; and,
coming to the conclusion that there would be no harm in securing one of
them for the office, I resolved to do so. So, one very dark night, not long
after, I took a bag, mounted a horse, and rode down to Sandy Town. The
box which I had marked out as the one I wanted to empty, was in pretty
close proximity to the dwelling-houses, in one of which there was fiddling
and dancing going on, on that dark night. There was a bright light in
the house, the door stood open, and let a stream of light far out upon the
sand, reaching to the box in question, which I feared might expose my ope-
rations to the inmates. But I concluded to run the risk. So, dismounting
from my horse, slipping the bridle-rein over my arm, I squatted down and.
commenced feeling in the sand for the bones. With the larger ones there
was no difficulty, and knowing pretty well where to feel carefully for the
smaller ones composing the hands and feet, I.soon went through the box
from head to foot, mounted my horse with the bag in front and rode home.
On examining my prize by the light of day, I was agreeably surprised to find
that there was not a bone missing; I had the skeleton, complete and sound.
It remained in the office for long years after I left.”
AN INDIAN SPY.
“ Doctor Chapin had one or two horses, which he sometimes used in his
rides, and which we were accustomed to turn upon the commons. When
wanted for use, they were hunted and brought up. The Irishman, O’Brian,
of whom I have spoken, was generally pretty good upon the trail; sometimes,
however, he would be at fault. One morning in the summer of 1820, I went
out in search of these horses. I went down Seneca street to the woods,
which then commenced a little way east of where Wells street now inter-
sects, possibly nearer to where Michigan street is. At that time, Amasa
Ransom’s house on the corner of Seneca and what is now Centre street,
was the last one on Seneca going east; nor was the street opened beyond
the woods above mentioned.
“ There were places here and there in the woods, comparatively open, which
afforded pretty good grazing. There was one, in particular, containing halfADDENDA.
367
an acre or more, which, at some period long before, had been thoroughly
cleared of trees and stumps; not a vestige of either remained. It had a clean
nice sward, its outer edge fringed with thorn bushes, and a small clump of
them standing near its center. It was a beautiful grass-plot. It must, I
think, have been cleared by the hand of man; possibly an Indian’s wigwam
had once occupied the place. This spot was as far east as Chicago street,
and south of the line of Seneca, two or three hundred feet. Hereabouts,
as I expected, I found the horses. The grass was cropped off quite close, in
this little “ oasis,” except one small patch close to the fringe of thorn bushes,
differing so materially from all the grass around it in appearance, that it
attracted my attention. On examining it more closely, I found imbedded
among the roots of grass, part of a human skeleton. On taking up the skull,
I noticed two unnatural holes in it. One, near the center of the forehead,
appeared to have been made with a round instrument like a rifle ball.
The other, in the side of the head, near the angle of the skull above the ear,
had the appearance of having been made with a small hatchet or tomahawk.
The cut was clean, no fracture extending from it, except that the bone at
the lower lip of the cut had chipped off a little. In other respects the skull
was perfect, and I carried it up to our office in my hand, it being quite clean
and free from any unpleasant odor. It was seen and examined by a number
of old citizens who were here at the burning of the village by the British,
when a number . of citizens were killed by the Indians. The prevailing
opinion among them, and particularly of a Mr. Timothy McEwen, who
claimed to know all about it, was, that it was the skull of a Canada Indian,
who was killed here during the war, by the famous Seneca chief, Farmer’s
Brother, as a spy.
“The circumstances connected with the affair, as* related to me then by
those who claimed to know, were somewhat as follows:
“ As all the world knows, the Mohawk Indians once lived within the bounds
of the State of New York, but, having espoused the cause of the king against
the Colonies in the Revolutionary war, at its close, they settled upon the
Grand river in Canada. Subsequently, other portions of the Iroquoisx bands
of Senecas, Cayugas, Onondagas and Tuscororas, also migrated to the lands
reserved for them, on the same river. It was an Indian belonging to one
of these Canada bands of Iroquois, probably a Mohawk, I think I was so in-
formed, who came over here during the war of 1812, pretending friendship.
He had been here some considerable time, associating with our Indians,
when he began to be suspected as a spy. On being watched closely, cir-
cumstances transpired which seemed, to fix the crime upon him, in the minds
of the Indians, beyond a doubt; Farmer’s Brother, Captain Pollard, Little
Billy, Young King, Destroy Town, Major Berry, and others, investigated the368
ADDENDA.
charges very thoroughly; indeed, he had been heard to boast of the number of
scalps he had taken from our soldiers and Indians. One of the grave charges
preferred against him was, that he had decoyed some of our Indians off into
a solitary place, and then killed and scalped them. He was condemned by an
impromptu council of chiefs and warriors, to die as a spy. He was made to
lie down, when Farmer’s Brother took a loaded gun from the hand of an In-
dian, and, after addressing the culprit upon the enormity of his offense and its
consequences, he closed with words to the following effect: ‘ You are about to
die the death of a dog; I am going to kill you now; ’ when, suiting the action
to the word, he raised the gun and fired, putting the ball into his head; then
stepped up, and gave him one blow with his tomahawk, upon the head.
Turning to some young Indians present, he told them to drag the body off
into the woods, and then leave it, food for dogs. This account of the exe-
cution, in its main features, agrees substantially with that given in William
Ketchum’s History of Buffalo and the Senecas, though differing somewhat in
its details. I tell it as it was told to me, by an eye-witness. Taking into
consideration all the circumstances of that affair, as related, particularly when
I add, that my informant further told me that the body was dragged off in
the direction, and left somewhere in the vicinity of where I found the skull,
it seemed quite probable that the remains in question were those of that
Indian spy.
“ I will add, that I have heard the same statement, substantially, from the
Indians themselves. In relation to Farmer’s Brother, it was said, that im-
mediately after the execution, without communicating with any one, he turned
and went directly to his home on Farmer’s Point, where he spent the two
succeeding days and nights, lying upon his couch, with his face down, com-
muning only with the Great Spirit and his own thoughts.
“ I never saw Farmer’s Brother; he died before I came to Buffalo, but from
my mother-in-law’s family, all of whom were more or less, and some of them
most intimately acquainted with him, speaking his language fluently, I have
heard much of him.”
‘ ‘ STEEP-ROCK.
That young Allen’s intercourse with the native proprietors of this region
was not invariably amicable, the following incident, related by him, furnishes
convincing proof:
“One evening, in the spring of 1821, an Indian by the name of Steep-
Rock came in, having on no clothing except a shirt, fastened around the
waist with a knife-belt, and breech-cloth. He was one of the seven Indians
who were taken to Europe on exhibition in 1818. Without saying anything,
or even noticing me, he walked straight to the back end of the store, pickedADDENDA.
369
up a tumbler, squatted down in front of a cask, and commenced drawing
whisky into the tumbler. I picked up an axe-helve, and told him to desist.
He paid no attention to me, but let the liquor run, until the tumbler was run-
ning over. He turned off the faucet, and, without putting the tumbler to
his lips, was about to rise to his feet, when I kicked it from his hand. He
turned to face me, but on seeing my preparation- for defence, he sprang for
the door. Before he could make his exit, however, I let him feel the weight
of the axe-helve across his shoulders; when, with one bound, he cleared the
platform and steps, landing far out towards the outer edge of the sidewalk,
which was then only of earth, turned, and ran down the street.
“In a few moments he came back, whooping, yelling, crying, by turns,
swinging his axe, and making terrible threats of vengeance. I then began
to have some fears. He was a large, strong Indian, of fine mould, but an
ugly, vindictive one. He had divested himself of his shirt, but still retained
the belt and knife. As I stepped out upon the platform in front of the store,
I could discover no one about the store next above us; but, on turning m^r
eye down street, I saw Henry Wormwood, a young man in the employ of
Townsend & Coit, sitting on a cask in front of their building, on the corner
below, the other side of Swan street. I called to him in a manner which in-
dicated my need. He came up immediately; when, upon my informing him
of the state of affairs, he drove the Indian off, without offering him any
violence. Wormwood had a strong, heavy frame, and was as plucky as he
was strong.
‘ ‘ There was a space of some eighteen inches to two feet between our store
and Hart & Lay’s, next above. This vacant space was in dispute between
Doctor Chapin and Eli Hart, but was used in common by the occupants of
the stores as a receptacle for broken crockery, bottles and glass, of which it
contained a liberal supply. This open space was covered by one of our win-
dow-shutters when open.
“About nine o’clock, having forgotten all about the affair with Steep-Rock,
in closing the store for the night, just as I put my hand to this shutter, I
heard a jingling among the broken crockery. On stooping down and peering
under the shutter, I saw the bare feet and legs of an Indian, nearly up to the
knees. I knew him to be Steep-Rock, and suspected his intentions. I also
knew that he could not get out without crawling upon his hands and knees, as
the shutter was firmly held in its place by strong iron fastenings. I gave no
intimation of recognition, but stood a moment reflecting upon the situation
of affairs, when, just at that instant, I heard young Wormwood come along
Swan street, and take his seat upon the steps of Townsend & Coit’s building.
This was, indeed, timely aid. I called to him as before. As he came up,
I pointed to the feet and legs seen under the shutter. Wormwood was a370
ADDENDA.
laboring man, of large muscular frame,—a match, physically, for any Indian.
“ After conferring a moment as to what we had better do with him, he stood
guard, while I went down below Swan street to Weed’s hardware store,
and got a couple of rawhide whips. On my return, I took a light from the
store, when, on throwing back the shutter, there stood Steep-Rock wedged
in between the buildings, pretending to be dead drunk; as limp as a rag.
His knife lay at his feet, which he had drawn from its sheath and held in his
hand, in readiness to plunge it into me as I opened the shutter, which was
undoubtedly his intention; but, on finding that he was discovered, and to have
two instead of one to deal with, he had dropped the knife, in hopes, prob-
ably, that it would be hidden by tlie rubbish. With an axe-helve I poked
it out, and got possession of it, when we drew him out and across the street
on to the common, now Ellicott Square, turned him over upon his face, and
gave him a few cuts with the rawhides on his bare shoulders and back; I
think we must have given him as many as twenty, well laid on, before he
showed the least sign of life or feeling. There was not the perceptible
quiver of a muscle, but the blows became too hot and heavy for him to sim-
ulate dead drunk any longer, and, in an instant, as quick as a flash, he
sprang to his feet, gave one of those terrific yells which the Indians were
accustomed to give when in trouble, and bounded off like a deer, out of reach
in a moment, taking his way towards the Indian village. We could hear his
signal whoops and yells, and see his form, for a long distance,—the moon was
full and shining brightly;—we could also hear responses a long distance off,
in two directions.
“ Steep-Rock was a vicious, ugly fellow. While in England, he twice at-
tempted to kill the interpreter. He subsequently murdered his squaw, and
died in the jail at Batavia, while awaiting his execution.”
JONES AND PARRISH.
“ It was said that Captain Parrish spoke five of the Iroquois dialects flu-
ently. I have no personal knowledge as to the truth of this claim. When-
ever I have heard him address the Indians, it was always in the Mohawk
tongue.
“Captain Jones was considered an excellent interpreter of the Seneca
language. He spoke it like a native; and, for an uneducated man, had a
remarkable command of the English language. His selection of words to
express his ideas, was happy, and his description of scenes, graphic.
“ They were both large, portly men, with gray hair and florid complexion;
and, as they moved about our streets, would attract notice by their dignified
carriage and gentlemanly bearing.ADDENDA.
371
“On the trial of Tommy Jemmy, here in Buffalo, many of the leading
■chiefs of the Seneca nation were examined as witnesses for the prisoner;—
among these, Red Jacket, Young King, Little Billy, Destroy Town, Captain
Pollard, James wStevenson, Big Kettle; besides others, whose names I cannot
recall. Captain Horatio Jones, interpreter for the New York Indians, was
interpreter for the court, on this trial. When Red Jacket was called to the
stand, he remarked to the court that not only the life of his friend, So-non-
gise, but questions of paramount importance to his nation, were at stake; he,
therefore, desired as interpreter, his friend, Mr. Pratt, O-way-non-gay
(Floating Island), who was master of both the English and the Seneca
languages, that what he had to say might be accurately interpreted. He did
not, in the least, distrust the integrity or ability of the United States inter-
preter, Captain Jones, but, for other reasons, preferred that his friend, Mr.
Pratt, should officiate on this occasion. Captain Jones, glad to be rid of the
responsibility, stepped aside, Mr. Pratt was speedily obtained, and the trial
proceeded.
“In the course of his direct examination, Red Jacket was asked, ‘How
old are you?’ Answer—‘ I don’t know, but my mother told me that when
Fort Niagara was captured from the French by the British, I was just big
enough to crawl around on the floor.’ *	*	* He also stated, at the same
time, and on the same authority, that he was born at Canoga, on the west
bank of Cayuga Lake, where his parents were encamped on a fishing expe-
dition.”