Frontier Life

Excerpts on Frontier Life in Washington

By Kit Zinser

You probably don’t consider the vast prairie you live in as “paradise,” and it is understandable as we view the countryside from cars scooting along at 70 mph.  But without fail, early travelers to this area described the scene:  “A more beautiful region is not to be found in the whole earth than the great Central Prairies of Illinois.” M.L. Dunlap, 1864. Or “a delicious green like a smooth carpet or well-worn lawn." More raved about the “bluestem grass with asters, golden rod, scarlet lilies, purple violets;" and “a fairy-like scene on which the eye delights to dwell."  One group was in awe of “the sunlight, the endless horizon, the variety of plants, and the open sky.”   

Meet Belle Harlan (1832-1917), who shared some of her memories about frontier life in our little town - just eight years after William Holland founded Washington.

“My parents felt keenly the disadvantages they labored under in raising their children. My mother was one of the noblest of women. She had few equals and no superiors.  And a more honorable, upright man than my father never lived.”   “The privations of our lives then would today make young men and women’s ears tingle” – B.H. 1901.

Early settlers traveled through the prairie in covered wagons, just like you see in the movies—possessions piled as space would allow, often with large families. One group, arriving in 1851, consisted of three covered wagons: 9 children in one wagon, 6 in another, and 4 in the last. For kids, the journey was exciting, and for parents, it was arduous. But coming from the dark, dense forests of the East, settlers found Illinois open and bountiful.

Streams and creeks were full of fish.  Tall as a man on horseback, the prairie grass provided a haven for quail, gophers, and prairie chickens. The dense timber hid wolf, deer, bear, and fowl. Sugar trees and bee trees stood near the edge of the forest. However, not all was nirvana.

Heavy rains created swampy spots on the prairie.  Water stagnated, and the result was described as a hotbed for disease.  The shaking disease (called ague) sprang from the wetlands.  This swamp flu threatened whole families and delayed much-needed preparation for fall and winter. Malaria-like illness became an expected condition, just as we expect the flu each winter.  Mosquitoes and huge green-headed bugs (horse flies) invaded settlements, causing pain and irritation to horses and riders alike. One settler talked about his white horse covered in blood from the painful bites of the fly.  Wetland drainage by farmers helped ease the disease and insect problem.  Setting up a home was not for the faint-hearted.

Picture living in rough-hewn log cabins with south-facing windows and North and South entrances with string latches on the outside of the wooden hinged door. A stone fireplace occupied the wall of the one large room. Cooking was done outdoors, and baking was accomplished with hot coals atop and below a heavy iron skillet. The kettle outside was upturned to keep the fire from going out during a rainstorm. Sleeping, eating, and living took place here, with extra sleeping in a loft reached by a wooden ladder. Sometimes gaps in the roof clapboards allowed snow to drift beside the bed or rain to puddle on the floor. Wool clothing was hand-spun and durable.  Socialization was common as neighbors shared and traded meat and vegetables and stories.  Overnight guests  (often strangers passing through) were welcomed, and extra sleeping was accomplished by pushing the dining table aside to make a pallet on the floor. As peril and clashes were a constant, security in the form of watchfulness and firearms was all that a father and brothers could provide.

No public funds existed to educate the young. The task fell to mothers, or there were families who, as patrons, subscribed as many students as they could – sort of a “private school tuition."  The schoolhouse in 1836 was a log structure.  Seats were slabs with holes bored into each end and hand carved legs inserted.  The height of the stool was stationary.  Little ones were in constant motion, and back problems were not uncommon.  The writing accommodation was a broad shelf fastened to the wall under the windows, which ran the room's length. Quill pens were provided.  Windows provided light as glass was used, not the old greased paper.  A fireplace occupied the whole front of the room. Sometimes teachers were not as educated as the pupils.   Teachers “boarded round.”  They spent time with each patron's family, and a teacher stayed only as long as she or he was impressed with the lodgings.  After the school was established, settlers then thought of having a preacher. Often, the schoolhouse doubled as a church.  

Doctors were few and far between.  Medical care often fell to women in the community.  Fever and ague were expected ills.  Calomel was the all-cure potion.  Belle’s mother ministered to the sick and women awaiting the birth of a child.  She would be gone for days at a time and return home herself exhausted, but the children hurriedly prepared something palatable to take away the taste of rough cornbread, fat bacon, and sage tea she had been served while away.

As travel was completed mostly on horseback, weather often hindered the journey. One wintery day, Father and brother were returning home with freshly milled flour. The rain slowed travel, and the normally shallow Mackinaw River was swollen, so the horses could only swim across.  Father told my brother to hold fast to the horse even if he had to let the flour go.  The wind changed to the north and blew Father’s cape straight up, freezing it stiff.  Mittens were frozen fast to the bridle reins.  The weather was so miserable that they had to stop halfway at a neighbor’s farm to warm up. In the yard, chickens' feet froze to the ground. That day was spoken of as “the sudden change.”  

Farming with crude utensils presented its own challenges. Corn was planted by hand as one person followed the plow scattering seed, and then another covered the furrow with a handmade rake. Grain was threshed on a hard floor by horses trampling it. Separation of chaff from grain was accomplished by a fanning mill. Farmers literally uncovered another danger.  The sod turning became dangerous when it disturbed the dens of rattlesnakes.  Described as six inches thick and as long as a road is wide, rattlers had to be dealt with whether it was plowing or something as simple as gathering strawberries.  One farmer spoke of killing 26 in one day.  Difficult conditions aside, the settlers hung together.

Society was as crude as the utensils for labor, stated Belle.  However, the “latch string” was always out, and even though a neighbor lived eight or ten miles away, it was not unusual for people to travel several miles to spend an evening with a neighbor.  Oftentimes, the visits were unannounced, but that did not deter hospitality.  Sumptuous meals were prepared, and guests never left for their homes before midnight.  Socialization is important for the growth of any culture, and early Washington was no exception.

Today, you might be acquainted with descendants of these early settlers – Holland himself had three wives and 21 children. Holland wrote to many about this “paradise.”  Today, you might converse with a descendant and not know it.  Holland, James Smith (who built many homes and all the depots on the TP & W from Bushnell to Effner), Kingsbury, Tobias, Ferner, Kindig, Scott, Harvey, Wrenn, Baylor, Wilson, Switzer, Danforth, Zinser, and countless others found beauty and value in this little prairie town just like you have.

Portions of information taken from:  “Early History of Washington, IL and Vicinity,” originally published in 1929 by the Tazewell County Reporter, Washington, IL. And “The Early Illinois Prairie” by William Roger Harshbarger.