obituary of Heman Oviatt
From the Cincinnati Enquirer (Cincinnati, Ohio) – Sunday, 31 Dec 1854, Page 1
[From the Ohio Observer.]
OBITUARY – Died, at his residence in Richfield, very suddenly, on the morning of December 5, Captain Heman Oviatt, aged 70 years. He had been quite unwell for about three weeks, but, as usual, washed and dressed himself, and lay down upon the lounge, and died almost instantly.
Captain Oviatt was one of the pioneers of Ohio, and perhaps some of the incidents of his life, as connected with the first settlement of this now beautiful “New Connecticut,” would be interesting and profitable to some of the readers of the Ohio Observer.
Captain Oviatt was born in Goshen, Litchfield county, Connecticut, on the 20th day of September, 1775, and on the 10th day of January, 1796, he was married to Eunice Newton. In the year 1798, under the preaching of Rev. Asabel Hooker, he experienced, and made a public profession of religion, by uniting himself with the Congregational Church of Goshen. In April, 1800, he left Goshen for the Far West—the “Western Reserve.” As there was no method of public conveyance at that time—almost the whole country west of Utica being one vast wilderness, inhabited by Indians and wild beasts—it became necessary for every emigrant to make his own passage as best he could. He left Connecticut on horseback, and traveled until he reached Bloomfield, (then a small settlement,) in Ontario county, New York.
At this place he found David Hudson, Esq., and a few others, fitting up an expedition for Ohio. He there joined with them. At this place it was necessary to purchase provisions and all needed implements, not only for the voyage, but for use after their arrival at Ohio. They bought at this place two boats, called “Schenectady bateaux.” These boats were built at Schenectady, and taken up the Mohawk River, and into the Oneida Lake, thence down the Oswego river to Lake Ontario, thence up the Lake the mouth of the Garundaquot Creek, on Lake Ontario, from which point the embarkation of this Bloomfield company took place. After getting all their provision and other materials on board of their boats, they being of sufficient capacity to carry from six to ten tons each, they started from the Garundaquot Bay, on Lake Ontario, for the Niagara river, proceeded up the river to the landing below the Falls, there unloaded, and took the boats, with all the loading, by land around the Falls, and launched, and reloaded above, and proceeded to Buffalo, thence, in these open boats, to Cleveland, with no propelling power but the muscles of the arm and white-ash oars, rowing all the way from Buffalo to Cleveland. From Cleveland they stemmed the current of the Cuyahoga river, up to “Hudson landing,” now the mouth of Brandywine Creek. Here they disembarked, made some wood sleds, and hauled their goods and provisions through the wilderness to Hudson, a distance of about seven miles, and arrived at Hudson the last of May.
The October following, Captain Oviatt returned to Connecticut for his family, and on the 10th day of January, 1801, with his wife and two children, (Marvin Oviatt and Orson M. Oviatt,*) (*Marvin Oviatt was drowned in August, 1853, in the San Juan river, on his return from California. Orson M. Oviatt now resides in Cleveland.) he left Goshen with an ox wagon and team of two yoke of oxen, which he drove himself, by the way of New York City, Reading and Pittsburg, and on the 22nd of March, of the same year, all reached Hudson in safety. A log cabin was soon erected, about one mile south of the Center of Hudson, and the family moved into it.
The next thing, and that which appeared of the greatest importance—now that the fatigues and dangers of the passage were over—was, what shall be done for provisions? In the year 1799, Esquire Hudson had been out and surveyed the township, and cleared off and put in a piece of wheat, Of this crop Captain Oviatt got six or eight bushels, and with his oxen and horse went Newburg mill, the only mill at that time in the country. While waiting for his grist, he went on horseback to the mouth of Rocky river, swimming his horse across the Cuyahoga, and there fished with a spear two nights, got a fine bag of fish, and returned to the mill, where he got an old flour barrel, in which he packed his fish with salt enough to save them, and returned to Hudson the third day, with his temporal wants well supplied, a bag of fish, to be cured principally by smoking, and a grist of flour.
But the temporal wants of himself and family were not all that occupied his mind. He did not, like too many, leave his religion and the cause of the Redeemer when he removed West. One of the principal things with him was, to secure the preaching of the Gospel of Christ and establish the ordinances of the church. He was a strong Congregationalist, and by his exertion, connected with the energies of the late David Hudson, Esq., a Congregational church and society was soon organized, and of that Church he remained a member until the spring of 1889, when he removed to Richfield, with letters from the Hudson church, and united with the Congregational church of Richfield on the 22nd day of August of the same year, and remained a member of that church until the time of his death.
Through all the changes, trials, delusions and attempted innovations of the church, he remained steadfast in the faith of pure Bible Congregationalism. Perfection, by which, at one time, the church in Hudson seemed almost ready to be devoured, produced no change in him—principle could not yield to fancy. And so with all the different phases of come-onter-ism. Although a strong temperance man and abolitionist, and in fact a zealous advocate of all the reforms of the age, still the church was his main hope, and in connection with its labors he expected to see all good accomplished that was accomplished in this wicked world. And his faith was not a dead faith, as his works fully manifest. When the Western Reserve College was chartered, he, feeling the necessity of a place to educate the young men of the West for the ministry, bestowed of his means liberally for that object, and so anxious was he that orthodox Congregational theology should be taught in the theological department of that institution, that when he endowed a theological professorship, he made one of the conditions of the endowment to be, the teaching of orthodox Congregational theology, and manifested his sincerity by paying the sum of eleven thousand and seven hundred dollars to that institution. The American Board, Home Missionary, Bible, Tract, and Christian Union Societies have shared liberally of his donations. At one time, a few years since, he donated to the American Board four hundred dollars, and at two several times each six hundred and five hundred dollars to the Home Missionary; to the Christian Union also about three hundred.
Although particular in the extreme in all his business transactions, he was always ready to pay the last cent as to exact it. And when we review his life and some of the thrilling incidents connected with it, it does seem that the God in whom he trusted spared him to do good. At the time of his settlement in Hudson, there were no roads in the country, except Indian trails or paths, and very few travelers upon the paths except Indians. There was a leading path of this description from the southeast to Sandusky. Crossing the Cuyahoga river at Standing Stone, (now Franklin,) (this Standing Stone was a large rock in the river.) and passing through Hudson about 80 rods north of Captain Oviatt’s cabin, (about where Timothy Kilbourn’s house now stands.) From this point east it was called “Big Son’s Trail.” From the same point west it was called “Stigurnisha’s Path.” When the Indians were traveling this path, they usually stopped at Captain Oviatt’s, all of them knowing him, and frequently trading with him. Some of them were very friendly, and others always manifesting a disposition to be hostile. Of the former class George Wilson and Big Ben stood preeminent—of the latter, a Chippeway Indian by the name of Ogontz, or Hogons, took the lead. One day when Capt. Oviatt was absent from home, Ogontz, Wilson and others, came to his house. Very soon after their arrival, Ogontz commenced bantering Mrs. Oviatt for a trade for a fine horse which Capt. Oviatt owned. Mrs. Oviatt told him she would not sell the horse at any price. Ogontz insisted upon having the horse. She finally sold him a Chickasaw pony (a small Indian pony) that Capt. Oviatt had, and he went on, but at night returned, and still insisted that Mrs. Oviatt should sell him the large horse. She refused and the Indians concluded to stay all night. When Ogontz lay down, he put his knife and tomahawk under his head as usual, and in his countenance was depicted all that ferocity and revenge belonging to Indian character. George Wilson discerned it, and said to Mrs. Oviatt, after Ogontz fell asleep, “Cawin nehishin Ogontz,” (meaning Ogontz was for fight.)
Mrs. Oviatt understood the Indian character so well that she was but little alarmed, and after Ogontz was sound asleep, she and her two sons, Marvin and Orson, watched the performance George Wilson begun the operation of disarming Ogontz, with all the shrewdness, cantion and elasticity of the Indian race. Wilson crept slyly to the head of Ogontz, and by moving hardly a hair’s breadth at a time, he succeeded in getting both his knife and tomahawk. These, with his gun, were secreted until morning. The family then felt safe, and were about retiring, when Capt. Oviatt came home. Soon after Ogontz awoke, found his arms gone, and lay quiet until morning. In the morning his arms were restored to him, and he commenced bantering with Capt. Oviatt for the horse. Capt. Oviatt would not sell him. Ogontz then packed up, mounted his pony, and pretended that he did not know where to strike Stigurnisha’s Path, and would be satisfied with nothing short of Capt. Oviatt’s going with him and showing him the path. Mrs. Oviatt remonstrated with the Captain. She read the Indian character. She feared the consequences. But his resolution was not to be daunted. He was not to be frightened by an Indian. He went to the path, put Ogontz upon it, and turned to go to the house. As he turned, being ten to sixteen feet from Ogontz, and his back to him, he heard the click of his rifle as Ogontz cocked it. Quick as electricity he turned. Ogontz sat upon his pony, with rifle cocked and breech at his shoulder, raising the deadly weapon to level at him. Cool, resolute, and quick as spring of steel, Captain Oviatt sprang upon him, clenched his rifle, took it from him, fired it off, then threw it down, and caught his knife and tomahawk, and threw them away, all done in an instant. He then pulled Ogontz from his horse, and as the boys say, “the way he catched it was a caution to Indians.”
Reader, when the report of that rifle was heard at the house, Imagine, if you can, the feeling that existed there. Mrs. Oviatt understood the Indian character; she read Ogontz like a book; she knew the deadly malice of his heart and the deadly aim of his rifle when leveled. There she was, in a log cabin in the wilderness, with two little boys, and to her mind, as really a widow as though in fact it was so, with her husband a few miles off, brutally murdered by an Indian. For a moment, extreme agony filled her bosom, but relief soon came. As they pressed to the door they saw Capt. Oviatt leading Ogontz, and Ogontz leading the pony, and all coming to the house. Ogontz begged and promised, and Capt. Oviatt let him go without further chastisement.
Many other instances, of the most thrilling kind, could be mentioned, but we have already occupied as much space, perhaps more, than an obituary notice should claim. Such spirits as Capt. Oviatt’s were necessary for the settlement of a new country, and but for such the churches and colleges that now adorn Hudson and other parts of the Reserve would not have been. God carried him safely through all these scenes to a good old age, and permitted him to expire in the midst of his family and friends, lamented most by those who knew him best. ----
[From the Ohio Observer.]
OBITUARY – Died, at his residence in Richfield, very suddenly, on the morning of December 5, Captain Heman Oviatt, aged 70 years. He had been quite unwell for about three weeks, but, as usual, washed and dressed himself, and lay down upon the lounge, and died almost instantly.
Captain Oviatt was one of the pioneers of Ohio, and perhaps some of the incidents of his life, as connected with the first settlement of this now beautiful “New Connecticut,” would be interesting and profitable to some of the readers of the Ohio Observer.
Captain Oviatt was born in Goshen, Litchfield county, Connecticut, on the 20th day of September, 1775, and on the 10th day of January, 1796, he was married to Eunice Newton. In the year 1798, under the preaching of Rev. Asabel Hooker, he experienced, and made a public profession of religion, by uniting himself with the Congregational Church of Goshen. In April, 1800, he left Goshen for the Far West—the “Western Reserve.” As there was no method of public conveyance at that time—almost the whole country west of Utica being one vast wilderness, inhabited by Indians and wild beasts—it became necessary for every emigrant to make his own passage as best he could. He left Connecticut on horseback, and traveled until he reached Bloomfield, (then a small settlement,) in Ontario county, New York.
At this place he found David Hudson, Esq., and a few others, fitting up an expedition for Ohio. He there joined with them. At this place it was necessary to purchase provisions and all needed implements, not only for the voyage, but for use after their arrival at Ohio. They bought at this place two boats, called “Schenectady bateaux.” These boats were built at Schenectady, and taken up the Mohawk River, and into the Oneida Lake, thence down the Oswego river to Lake Ontario, thence up the Lake the mouth of the Garundaquot Creek, on Lake Ontario, from which point the embarkation of this Bloomfield company took place. After getting all their provision and other materials on board of their boats, they being of sufficient capacity to carry from six to ten tons each, they started from the Garundaquot Bay, on Lake Ontario, for the Niagara river, proceeded up the river to the landing below the Falls, there unloaded, and took the boats, with all the loading, by land around the Falls, and launched, and reloaded above, and proceeded to Buffalo, thence, in these open boats, to Cleveland, with no propelling power but the muscles of the arm and white-ash oars, rowing all the way from Buffalo to Cleveland. From Cleveland they stemmed the current of the Cuyahoga river, up to “Hudson landing,” now the mouth of Brandywine Creek. Here they disembarked, made some wood sleds, and hauled their goods and provisions through the wilderness to Hudson, a distance of about seven miles, and arrived at Hudson the last of May.
The October following, Captain Oviatt returned to Connecticut for his family, and on the 10th day of January, 1801, with his wife and two children, (Marvin Oviatt and Orson M. Oviatt,*) (*Marvin Oviatt was drowned in August, 1853, in the San Juan river, on his return from California. Orson M. Oviatt now resides in Cleveland.) he left Goshen with an ox wagon and team of two yoke of oxen, which he drove himself, by the way of New York City, Reading and Pittsburg, and on the 22nd of March, of the same year, all reached Hudson in safety. A log cabin was soon erected, about one mile south of the Center of Hudson, and the family moved into it.
The next thing, and that which appeared of the greatest importance—now that the fatigues and dangers of the passage were over—was, what shall be done for provisions? In the year 1799, Esquire Hudson had been out and surveyed the township, and cleared off and put in a piece of wheat, Of this crop Captain Oviatt got six or eight bushels, and with his oxen and horse went Newburg mill, the only mill at that time in the country. While waiting for his grist, he went on horseback to the mouth of Rocky river, swimming his horse across the Cuyahoga, and there fished with a spear two nights, got a fine bag of fish, and returned to the mill, where he got an old flour barrel, in which he packed his fish with salt enough to save them, and returned to Hudson the third day, with his temporal wants well supplied, a bag of fish, to be cured principally by smoking, and a grist of flour.
But the temporal wants of himself and family were not all that occupied his mind. He did not, like too many, leave his religion and the cause of the Redeemer when he removed West. One of the principal things with him was, to secure the preaching of the Gospel of Christ and establish the ordinances of the church. He was a strong Congregationalist, and by his exertion, connected with the energies of the late David Hudson, Esq., a Congregational church and society was soon organized, and of that Church he remained a member until the spring of 1889, when he removed to Richfield, with letters from the Hudson church, and united with the Congregational church of Richfield on the 22nd day of August of the same year, and remained a member of that church until the time of his death.
Through all the changes, trials, delusions and attempted innovations of the church, he remained steadfast in the faith of pure Bible Congregationalism. Perfection, by which, at one time, the church in Hudson seemed almost ready to be devoured, produced no change in him—principle could not yield to fancy. And so with all the different phases of come-onter-ism. Although a strong temperance man and abolitionist, and in fact a zealous advocate of all the reforms of the age, still the church was his main hope, and in connection with its labors he expected to see all good accomplished that was accomplished in this wicked world. And his faith was not a dead faith, as his works fully manifest. When the Western Reserve College was chartered, he, feeling the necessity of a place to educate the young men of the West for the ministry, bestowed of his means liberally for that object, and so anxious was he that orthodox Congregational theology should be taught in the theological department of that institution, that when he endowed a theological professorship, he made one of the conditions of the endowment to be, the teaching of orthodox Congregational theology, and manifested his sincerity by paying the sum of eleven thousand and seven hundred dollars to that institution. The American Board, Home Missionary, Bible, Tract, and Christian Union Societies have shared liberally of his donations. At one time, a few years since, he donated to the American Board four hundred dollars, and at two several times each six hundred and five hundred dollars to the Home Missionary; to the Christian Union also about three hundred.
Although particular in the extreme in all his business transactions, he was always ready to pay the last cent as to exact it. And when we review his life and some of the thrilling incidents connected with it, it does seem that the God in whom he trusted spared him to do good. At the time of his settlement in Hudson, there were no roads in the country, except Indian trails or paths, and very few travelers upon the paths except Indians. There was a leading path of this description from the southeast to Sandusky. Crossing the Cuyahoga river at Standing Stone, (now Franklin,) (this Standing Stone was a large rock in the river.) and passing through Hudson about 80 rods north of Captain Oviatt’s cabin, (about where Timothy Kilbourn’s house now stands.) From this point east it was called “Big Son’s Trail.” From the same point west it was called “Stigurnisha’s Path.” When the Indians were traveling this path, they usually stopped at Captain Oviatt’s, all of them knowing him, and frequently trading with him. Some of them were very friendly, and others always manifesting a disposition to be hostile. Of the former class George Wilson and Big Ben stood preeminent—of the latter, a Chippeway Indian by the name of Ogontz, or Hogons, took the lead. One day when Capt. Oviatt was absent from home, Ogontz, Wilson and others, came to his house. Very soon after their arrival, Ogontz commenced bantering Mrs. Oviatt for a trade for a fine horse which Capt. Oviatt owned. Mrs. Oviatt told him she would not sell the horse at any price. Ogontz insisted upon having the horse. She finally sold him a Chickasaw pony (a small Indian pony) that Capt. Oviatt had, and he went on, but at night returned, and still insisted that Mrs. Oviatt should sell him the large horse. She refused and the Indians concluded to stay all night. When Ogontz lay down, he put his knife and tomahawk under his head as usual, and in his countenance was depicted all that ferocity and revenge belonging to Indian character. George Wilson discerned it, and said to Mrs. Oviatt, after Ogontz fell asleep, “Cawin nehishin Ogontz,” (meaning Ogontz was for fight.)
Mrs. Oviatt understood the Indian character so well that she was but little alarmed, and after Ogontz was sound asleep, she and her two sons, Marvin and Orson, watched the performance George Wilson begun the operation of disarming Ogontz, with all the shrewdness, cantion and elasticity of the Indian race. Wilson crept slyly to the head of Ogontz, and by moving hardly a hair’s breadth at a time, he succeeded in getting both his knife and tomahawk. These, with his gun, were secreted until morning. The family then felt safe, and were about retiring, when Capt. Oviatt came home. Soon after Ogontz awoke, found his arms gone, and lay quiet until morning. In the morning his arms were restored to him, and he commenced bantering with Capt. Oviatt for the horse. Capt. Oviatt would not sell him. Ogontz then packed up, mounted his pony, and pretended that he did not know where to strike Stigurnisha’s Path, and would be satisfied with nothing short of Capt. Oviatt’s going with him and showing him the path. Mrs. Oviatt remonstrated with the Captain. She read the Indian character. She feared the consequences. But his resolution was not to be daunted. He was not to be frightened by an Indian. He went to the path, put Ogontz upon it, and turned to go to the house. As he turned, being ten to sixteen feet from Ogontz, and his back to him, he heard the click of his rifle as Ogontz cocked it. Quick as electricity he turned. Ogontz sat upon his pony, with rifle cocked and breech at his shoulder, raising the deadly weapon to level at him. Cool, resolute, and quick as spring of steel, Captain Oviatt sprang upon him, clenched his rifle, took it from him, fired it off, then threw it down, and caught his knife and tomahawk, and threw them away, all done in an instant. He then pulled Ogontz from his horse, and as the boys say, “the way he catched it was a caution to Indians.”
Reader, when the report of that rifle was heard at the house, Imagine, if you can, the feeling that existed there. Mrs. Oviatt understood the Indian character; she read Ogontz like a book; she knew the deadly malice of his heart and the deadly aim of his rifle when leveled. There she was, in a log cabin in the wilderness, with two little boys, and to her mind, as really a widow as though in fact it was so, with her husband a few miles off, brutally murdered by an Indian. For a moment, extreme agony filled her bosom, but relief soon came. As they pressed to the door they saw Capt. Oviatt leading Ogontz, and Ogontz leading the pony, and all coming to the house. Ogontz begged and promised, and Capt. Oviatt let him go without further chastisement.
Many other instances, of the most thrilling kind, could be mentioned, but we have already occupied as much space, perhaps more, than an obituary notice should claim. Such spirits as Capt. Oviatt’s were necessary for the settlement of a new country, and but for such the churches and colleges that now adorn Hudson and other parts of the Reserve would not have been. God carried him safely through all these scenes to a good old age, and permitted him to expire in the midst of his family and friends, lamented most by those who knew him best. ----