Hays Travelogue

Dear Family and Friends,

Another thing my grandma used to say was that her people were from “down around Ashmore.” What she didn’t say, or what I didn’t hear, was that her people actually were Ashmores. It turns out that my grandmother’s great-grandmother was Letitia Ashmore Hogue, a daughter of Captain Samuel C. Ashmore, an early settler in Coles County, Illinois where the town of Ashmore was named after Letitia’s brother and Samuel’s son, Hezekiah Ashmore.

While some of the facts of his life are in dispute – for instance, the whereabouts of his birth – much is known about Samuel C. Ashmore. Wherever he lived, he involved himself in the life of the community. While living in Tennessee, he was involved in the creation of counties, the building of roads, and the establishment of churches. He was a commissioned officer under Andrew Jackson during the Creek Indian campaign and at Battle of New Orleans (War of 1812). In Clark County, Illinois, he served as one of the county’s first three commissioners. He was a Justice of the Peace in Coles County, Illinois where he died in 1836.

Samuel Ashmore was married twice. He and his first wife, Letitia Guthrie, had 10 children. When Letitia died in 1815, he promptly married Ruth Cowan and had seven more children.

Beyond these facts, there are two wonderful accounts of his life, both written in the 1800s, that give us some idea of his character and personality.

The first was written by Dr. Hiram Rutherford, a doctor and historian in Coles County, Illinois, and a friend of Samuel’s son, Gideon Madison Ashmore. (The long version is here.)

“Captain Samuel Ashmore is admitted to have been the first settler in this neighborhood. Accompanied by his grown sons — Claybourne, who was then married, and George W. and Madison who were single men — he pitched his tent on what was long after known as the Laughlin farm, now owned by Mr. Andrew Gwinn and the heirs of Snowden Sargent. This was in the year 1829….As a frontier man, his training, habits and education eminently fitted him for the work. Large of frame, strong in body and with a determined will; like Ajax he only asked for day light and fair play….It is probable that Captain Ashmore was born in South Carolina or Georgia, but we first know of him living on Duck River in Tennessee. Here he had the honor of serving as a commissioned officer under General Jackson, was out in the Creek Indian campaigns, and fought at the battle of New Orleans. It is needless to repeat that his opinion of his great commander bordered on reverence, and was fondly cherished by him to the day of his death. (My note: One of his sons was named General Jackson Ashmore.) Resolving to leave Tennessee, whose chattel slavery he thoroughly detested, with his brothers William, James and Amos and all their families, he came to the Wabash country; here he soon fell into the chronic frontier style of life, common today as it was then. First to make an improvement and next get too hot for a sale, and that is made, go to chopping again upon another claim. If it be true that a rolling stone gathers no moss, it is apparent that the tramp farmer is a failure. By the help of his sons he opened a farm near Darwin, cleared off one hundred acres of bottom timber, built a two story house, several stables and out houses and after that he sold the whole caboodle to his son-in-law for $600, in order to get to the Ambraw country. It is scarcely necessary to say that Mr. Ashmore never became a rich man.

Having succeeded in selling his first location to Mr. Laughlin, Mr. Ashmore moved down to Hoge’s Branch, where most of his sons and sons-in-law had by this time settled. He commenced work on what is now known as the Barbour farm. Here after filling the office of justice of the peace, he died in 1838 (sic), aged as his tomb stone states sixty years. (My note: Hoge’s Branch is named for Samuel Hogue, Letitia Ashmore Hogue’s husband.)

One of the great difficulties of a biography is to sketch the character of a man whom the author has never seen. It is a still greater difficulty in the presence of his surviving children, and his descendants — “numerous as the sands of the sea” — to do that work faithfully, especially when all you can say of him is not praise. Like the rough frontiersman that he was his hand was ready, if struck, he returned the blow with interest and effect like a good son of the church militant; a strong friend and hospitable; a bitter enemy and vindictive. Probably he talked too much, a weakness common to the times when it was thought necessary for every man to give an opinion, whether he had a reason for it or not. Then again chimney corner jurisprudence was a fruitful subject for discussion; we don’t know that in our own times the habit is any better than it was then. Mr. Ashmore had hot blood and in behalf of what he supposed was his “rights,” spared neither himself nor others.

“What was his disposition?” we inquired of his venerable and respected daughter-in-law.

“Well, sir, he was a very fractious man — when he got angry.”

To show that he had a fountain of humor in him, it is related that driving cattle once in Tennessee, in a terribly muddy road, he met a broad cloth snob (broad cloth was scarce then) who in disregard of drover courtesies forced his horse into the midst of the herd, producing considerable confusion. In a moment Ashmore comprehended his man and riding up to meet him greeted him as an old friend, “Why, how are you!” held out his hand and grasping that of the snob’s with an iron grip, he put spurs to his horse and dragged the fellow off his saddle into the mud.”

The second set of reminiscences was written by one of Samuel’s sons, C.O. Ashmore, in a letter to Dr. Rutherford.

“Our first cookhouse was built by putting forked poles in the ground and covering with clapboards, and our sleeping quarters was a covered wagon and father’s carriage, which was the only carriage in the country at that time.

We broke out 20 acres and planted to corn before we built our house. In breaking the prairie we used his yoke of cattle and one team of horses on the lead and your humble servant rode the lead horses. We planted our corn by cutting into the sod with an ax and dropping the corn in the hole thus made and pressed the sod together with our feet, and our corn went 75 bushels to the acre. After our corn was planted, we built our house. The house was 24×16, built of white oak logs. We lived in the house until cold weather without any door or sash to the windows, and there was no chimney. Also this was the first that built on that locality.

The nearest neighbors was about 700 Kickapoo Indians, their encampment was on the Brushy Fork, about 7 miles from our place. There was no white neighbors to come and see us or visit; and we was glad when some of our Indian neighbors would call around and see us. The first white visitors we had was my brother Clayborn (Samuel) and his wife (Sarah), they came 40 miles on horseback and I can tell you we were glad to see them come riding in, it was one year after we had came. And the first white woman my mother saw after we had came there was Mrs. Moddrell, and that was in December when my brother G. J., (General Jackson) was born. Mrs. Moddrell lived in St. Omar, then called Moddrell’s Point. She was the grandmother of Sterl Curtis. General Jackson was born December 14, 1829 and he was the first white child born in Douglas County.

We had to endure a great deal of hardships and privations in those early days. We had to go 35 miles to mill to get our corn ground to make bread. We had no roads and quite often we would get stuck in the mud, and we would have to unload our wagons and carry the loads long distances on our backs, and we would have to hallew and thrash our ox teams for all we were worth to get our empty wagons out of the mud, and I tell you a big piece of corn bread would taste awful good when we got through with such a job as that, if we were so lucky as to have some along with us. And there were times when we were unable to get our corn ground and we had to content ourselves on hominy; and we had to do without bread quite a while sometimes. The men would be compelled to be away from home and mother and the three little children would have to stay several nights alone at a time.”

So here you have a glimpse of life on the Illinois prairie in the 1830s. You can expect a few more posts about the Ashmore family, because it turns out that more is known about Samuel’s parents, his grandparents and their travels.

Fractious. Isn’t that a great word?

xox

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