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The Hastings Banner — Thursday, July 27, 2023 — Page 7

Founding of Yankee Springs – Part 1

The following was read before the Barry
County Pioneer Society in 1903 by Mary
Lewis Hoyt of Kalamazoo, daughter of “Yan-
kee” Bill Lewis, founder of Yankee Springs.
Banner June 18, 1903.
On the afternoon of a summer’s day,
August 26, 1836, nearly 67 years ago, there
might have been seen a covered wagon con-
taining a stalwart man of 34 years and five
children between the ages of 11 and two
years, driving through the then unbroken wil-
derness of Barry County, in the Territory of
Michigan.
Accompanying this wagon was a woman
on horseback, carefully guiding her gray sad-
dle horse over the rough roads of the new
country. She had, in this way, performed near-
ly the whole of the journey, their having start-
ed from Weathersfield, Genesee County, New
York, three weeks before, taking Canada in
their route and expecting to settle in Indiana.
This party consisted of my father, William
Lewis and Mary Goodwin, his wife, three
daughters and a son, also an adopted daugh-
ter, Flavia Stone. We were at this time about
to spend the night with an older brother (of
William’s), Calvin Lewis, who came to Mich-
igan a few weeks in advance of us and settled
at Yankee Springs, but the result was that we
settled there also. I was a child of four years
at the time, so the words of my mother will
best describe our coming into Michigan:
“After leaving Detroit, the road was mostly
through dense woods, Marshall, Battle Creek
and Kalamazoo being marked by little clus-
ters of houses surrounded by forests. After
leaving Kalamazoo, we passed through Gull
Prairie, now Richland, and met Leonard Slat-
er, located there on the Indian Reservation, as
a missionary to the Indians of the Pot-
tawatomi tribe. Leaving this place, we
plunged into the wilderness and journeyed 18
miles farther through the woods without see-
ing a single habitation.” Tired and trav-
el-worn, weary and hungry, we halted at
nightfall in a lovely valley in the wilderness
where a log house was in the process of erec-
tion. Living springs of clear cold water were
gushing from a bank, and on a nearby poplar
tree, someone had fastened a shingle marked
“Yankee Springs.”
A welcome was given to us by our rela-
tives, and the log cabin of two rooms was
shared together. A quilt was hung over the
door space, and the windows were boarded. A
supper was served, and we settled down for
the night. Dismal tales have come to me of
those first nights in the forest, that the bark-
ing of wolves broke the stillness of the hours,

and that the glittering eyeball of the panther

looked down upon us with no friendly gaze.

Why we settled there, I do not know. Per-

haps it was the pure springs of water that

attracted us; perhaps it was to avoid the wea-

riness of further journeying.

My father located 1,000 acres of land there,

and it soon grew to be an attractive place. We

endured in common with all the early settlers

the trials and privations of pioneer and fron-

tier life and lived to see the wilderness sub-

dued and surrounded by all that pertains to a

later civilization. In this thick forest, the land

entirely unclaimed, we settled. The woods

were filled with Indians, and our nearest white

neighbor, Calvin G. Hill, was eight miles dis-

tant from us, and from Middleville to Ada, the

direct route to Grand Rapids, was a dense

forest, an unbroken wilderness without an

inhabitant. But we were not alone. The fur

trader and the speculator were abroad in the

land, and to fill the increasing demands of the

weary traveler, our little cottage of two rooms

was extended, building after building, until

we occupied “nine stories on the ground” and

became the “halfway house” to all the country

round. But one portion of the old building

now remains – a mute witness of bygone

times, when the stagecoach was the means of

rapid transit and the ox team the ordinary

method. Since the erection of that pile of

buildings, Chicago has grown from a frog

pond to be the second largest city in the coun-

try, and innumerable cities have sprung into

existence everywhere. Telegraphs and tele-

phones were unheard of, and autos and bicy-

cles; to have even thought that human beings

could be rushed about in such ways, would

have relegated one to an insane asylum,

except that Michigan did not boast of one.

People were all supposed to be level-head-

ed in those days.

Together, this husband and wife labored

and toiled, their chief desire seeming to be to

give happiness to those about them. With a

hospitality that was proverbial and a generos-

ity that cannot be measured by ordinary meth-

ods, they greeted all who came. The man

without money was treated as well as the man

whose pocket bulged with the currency of that

day. Ministers of all denominations, irrespec-

tive of creed, were entertained free of charge

but were expected to hold an evening service

in our large dining room, and men were sent

out to notify the neighbors to that effect. The

first Episcopal service I ever heard was ren-

dered there by Dr. Francis Cumming, who

was journeying to Grand Rapids to settle over

St. Mark’s Church in that city.

We were in very close touch with the peo-

ple of Grand Rapids in the early days and

visited often in their families. Much of our

trading was done there, and although 38

miles distant from us, we made frequent

journeys there. I remember seeing Louis

Campau and Rix Robinson – those grand

pioneers – the earliest. Their names should

never be forgotten by us. They were here in

the early 20s, and none who came after

exceeded them in powers of endurance or

the cheerfulness with which they bore the

hardships and toils of that period. The

Withey family, the Moreaus, the Godfreys,

Morrisons, Mary A. White, Henry R. Wil-

liams, the Almys, P. R. L. Pierce, Canton

Smith, an early hotel keeper of that city, the

Rathbones, early settlers there, who built a

large hotel and opened with a big dance. (I

was there and danced all night.) Mrs. T.B.

Church, that noble pioneer woman who

played the organ of St. Mark’s Church for 50

years and is still living in that city, her gifted

son Frederick Church, then a babe in arms,

now celebrated worldwide as an artist – all

these and many more were household names

with us, and went to make up a part of our

family life in a time when there were few

social barriers, and man felt and needed the

sympathy and encouragement of his brother

man. Society in those days was very primi-

tive. There was little courtesy and less polish

but much kindly feeling and appreciation of

the genuine. There were no social corrup-

tions, and parents had little fear for the mor-

als of their children. Domestic scandals were

exceedingly rare, and divorces were almost

unknown.

Those pioneers in coming to Michigan had

calculated not so much upon their own imme-

diate advantages as upon giving their children

a chance “to grow up with the country,” and

their first work was to inaugurate a good

school system, which has been well devel-

oped by those coming after, and today Mich-

igan leads in her grand educational advantag-

es. Children in those days prized their few

advantages and even excelled in general

knowledge and application more than many

college-bred students of today.

My father was a man of indomitable cour-

age and perseverance – never discouraged –

always happy, and with a fund of humor, wit

and storytelling rarely excelled. He was just

the one to lead in settling and establishing a

new country. He planned largely and liberal-

ly and was able, with his perseverance and

strong health, to carry out his plans and, by

his personal magnetism, encouraged others

to work and persevere also. He was the first

to contract for carrying the U.S. Mail through

that portion of the country. In the first con-

tract, he was assisted by General Withey of

Grand Rapids. This route was from Battle

Creek to Grand Rapids. Later, a contract was

taken to carry the mail from Kalamazoo to

Grand Rapids. Lines of stages were put on,

and several coaches a day were started from

these points, all meeting at Yankee Springs,

“the halfway house,” for refreshment of pas-

sengers and change of horses. For many

years, this was the only route through the

woods from Battle Creek and Kalamazoo to

Grand Rapids, and until other roads were

opened up, it made for very lively times at

the old house. The Yankee Springs post

office for a long time supplied the adjacent

country, Hastings coming there with others

for the mail. Letters were luxuries rare and

costly in those days. Envelopes and postage

stamps were unknown. We wrote on three

pages of paper, folding it so the name could

be written in the middle of the fourth, sealing

it with a wafer, directed and paid our 25 cents

postage on it or left it to be collected by the

person to whom it was addressed just as we

chose. Sometimes, it was difficult for the old

settler to produce the 25 cents to pay the

postage, and he had to earn it before he could

claim his letter.

My father and Rix Robinson built the first

bridge across the Thornapple River in 1838.

The road then ran on the old Indian trail

across Scales Prairie. In 1838, my father also

built the first bridge across the Coldwater

Stream on Section 35 in Caledonia. Split logs

were used for flooring, pinned down by

wooden pins. He, in company with some oth-

ers, started in 1849 to build a plank road that

was to run from Galesburg to Grand Rapids.

A good deal of time, energy and capital were

expended on this scheme, but it was finally

abandoned.

There was a period when the Yankee

Springs property was considered very valu-

able, and the Rathbones in Grand Rapids

wished to change their hotel property for our

own – we to retain the farmlands. This Grand

Rapids property is now worth several hun-

dred thousand dollars and is the present loca-

tion of the Widdecomb building, corner of

Monroe and Market streets, and the other,

deserted and forsaken and requiring a stretch

of the imagination to believe it was ever of

great importance.

Wheat and potatoes at this early date

brought fabulous prices, but the table was

always well supplied with the essentials and

with many delicacies. Great care and atten-

tion was given to the large garden of several

acres that lay across the road from the old

house. No vegetable or flower then heard of

was not grown there. The light soil, highly

enriched by muck taken from the marsh, was

calculated to bring them forward to speedy

perfection. The most luscious fruits, melons

and vegetables were grown in abundance, all

luxuriating in the new warm soil of the val-

ley. Arbors were filled with choice grapes,

peaches ripened in the sun, and flowers – the

good, old-fashioned flowers of that day –

grew in abundance. Celery, the first grown in

Barry County (and perhaps in the state), was

raised there. Tomatoes were raised. They

were first called “love apples,” and we grew

them for their beauty, but soon learned to eat

them. Men were constantly employed in car-

ing for the ground. Water was supplied for

use by wells dug on the ground.

We were ten years in advance of the Mich-

igan Central railroad. We heard rumors of its

approach, but so slow was it in coming that

the old stagecoach kept right along its undis-

puted way for many years. The Central was

built by the state and in sections; starting

from Detroit in 1836, it reached Ypsilanti in

1838, Ann Arbor in ’39, Jackson in ’41, Mar-

shall in ’44, Battle Creek in ’45 and awoke

the echoes in Kalamazoo Feb. 2, 1846. At

this period, the state sold the road to the

Michigan Central, and six years later, in May

1852, the road reached Chicago. That vener-

ated relic of the past – the old stagecoach –

can be commended for bringing people to a

common level, making them acquainted with

each other and tolerant of each other’s opin-

ions. You may ride all day in a railway car by

the side of a man, and he may not deign to

converse, but in the old coach, silence found

a tongue and unsociability a voice. Common

want made them companions, and common

hardships made them friends.

Michigan was the 13th of the new states to

come in on an equal footing with the original

13, and her acceptance doubled the count of

the states, making her the 26th state to come

into line, and the people of Michigan accept-

ed their place as citizens with unbounded

confidence in its future, which has increased

with their years and her growth. January 26,

1837, marked the day of her birth, and her

proclivities at that period were strongly

democratic. Michigan went into the banking

business as soon as she was admitted into the

union, and a great variety of bills of different

denominations were soon issued, such as

“red dog,” known by a red line running

through them, “blue pup” having a blue line,

and “wild cat,” all in gray like the animal it

represented. Everybody felt rich for a while,

but the reaction came in a very short time

and soon money matters were settled on a

more solid basis.

Part 2 of “Founding of Yankee Springs”

will be released in next week’s Turning Back

the Pages.

Pierce Cedar Creek Institute

events for July 28-Aug. 3

July 1-31– July Storywalk Book:

“Beyond the Pond” by Joseph Kuefler. The

Storywalk is free and self-guided.

Saturday, July 29 – Gala in the Garden,

6-9 p.m. Celebrate the Institute at their

largest fundraiser of the year, formerly

known as a Latesummer Night’s Green.

Aug. 1-31 August Storywalk Book:

“Berry Song” by Michaela Goade. The

Storywalk is free and self-guided.

Tuesday, Aug. 1 – No Family Left

Indoors: Play off the Beaten Path, 6-

p.m. Play outside with yard Yahtzee,

Bocce ball, minute-to-win-it games and

explore the natural world with bark rub-

bings and DIY nature journals. This

week’s free No Family Left Indoors event

is organized by the Hastings Public

Library and will be held at Riverside Park

in Hastings.

Wednesday, Aug. 2 – Dog Days of Sum-

mer: Doggy Party on the Trails, 6:30-8:

p.m. Institute members may participate in

the dog hike for free; non-members must

pay $8 to register.

Thursday, Aug. 3 – Field station end of

summer celebration, 6:30-8:30 p.m. Writ-

ers’ readings will take place at 7 p.m. This

event is free to all.

Those interested can register for these

events and find more information at cedar-

creekinstitute.org/events.html.

Scratching the itch

Why do we get rashes on our skin?

Claire, 9, Va.

Dear Claire,

I’ve been allergic to fleas ever since I was

a kitten. Flea bites give me an itchy, red

rash.

I talked about why that happens with my

friend Bevan Briggs. He’s a nurse practi-

tioner and professor at Washington State

University. Nurse practitioners are nurses

with advanced training. They diagnose ill-

nesses, order tests and prescribe medicine.

Briggs told me that often rashes happen

when the immune system gets turned on.

The immune system is the body’s defense

system.

“It’s the way our body tries to protect us

from germs and poisons,” he said. “Rashes

happen because your immune system iden-

tifies something as foreign–either an infec-

tive agent or some kind of toxin.”

When a flea bites me, it punctures my

skin with its sharp mouthparts. Then, it

feeds on my blood. A little bit of the flea’s

saliva drips into my body.

My immune system knows that flea sali-

va isn’t part of my body. It’s an invader–and

invaders could be dangerous. So, my

immune system sends out special cells and

chemicals to deal with it.

Some of the chemicals my immune system

activates are called histamines. They do a

couple things. They send signals to rev up my

immune response. It’s like screaming, “Over

here!” Histamines also cause my blood ves-

sels to become a little bit leaky. Both those

things help my immune system get special

cells and chemicals to the right place. They

also cause symptoms like my rash.

So, my rash isn’t caused by fleas directly.

It happens when my immune system

responds to the flea saliva.

Sometimes invaders–like some viruses–

damage cells before the immune system

gets there. That can cause a rash, too. The

immune system will sense the damage. It

will send immune cells and chemicals to

fight the virus and fix the damage.

Most of the time, the immune system

works well. Without it, we would be sick all

the time.

But sometimes it gets a little overeager.

That’s like my flea allergy. Flea saliva isn’t

going to kill me. But my immune system

launches a huge response anyway. That

can happen if someone is allergic to a

medicine, too.

Sometimes the immune system gets con-

fused. It may recognize the body’s healthy

cells as invaders and try to fight them.

That’s called autoimmunity. It can also

cause rashes.

Briggs told me that rashes often get better

on their own–but it’s a good idea to talk to

a nurse practitioner or other healthcare pro-

vider if you have a rash. They’ll help you

figure out what’s causing the rash and how

to treat it.

That’s awe-flea good news if you’re

itchy.

Dr. Universe

Do you have a question? Ask Dr. Uni-

verse. Send an email to Washington State

University’s resident scientist and writer at

[email protected] or visit her website,

askdruniverse.com.

Thursday, July 27 – Movie Memories &

Milestones will enjoy a double feature start-

ing with a 1948 film starring Kristine Miller,

Arthur Franz and Ross Ford and followed by

a 1945 film starring Tom Neal, Ann Savage

and Claudia Drake, 4:30 p.m.; Useful Plant

Walk at Bliss Park and Food Forest, 7 p.m.

Friday, July 28 – Friday Story Time, 10:

a.m.

Monday, July 31 – Crafting Passions, 10 a.m.

Tuesday, Aug. 1 – Baby Cafe, 10 a.m.; mah-

jong and chess, 5 p.m.; No Family Left

Indoors at the Thornapple Plaza, 6 p.m.

Wednesday, Aug. 2 – Itsy Bitsy Book Club,

10:30 a.m.; Writers’ Night, 6:30 p.m.

More information about these and other

events is available by calling the library, 269-

945-4263.

HASTINGS PUBLIC

LIBRARY SCHEDULE

The above half tone of “Yankee Bill

Lewis,” as he was familiarly known, was

taken from a daguerrotype taken in

Detroit in 1846, when he represented

Barry and Allegan counties in the state

legislature, Detroit then being the Capitol

of the state.

The above cut was taken from a Main Street scene in Hastings in the early 1850s.
The gentleman in the buggy is the late Henry Hoyt of Kalamazoo. The second one
from the left is said to be the late Dr. Wm. Upjohn, while the one with the plug hat was
the late Alvin Bailey. The mother of the pony shown in the picture was the one upon
which Mrs. Wm. Lewis rode into Barry County.