Ludlow Family
Among the names which appear frequently in the history of the Miami purchase, and upon the land records of Hamilton county, is that of Ludlow. The brothers, Israel and John Ludlow, were prominent men in their day. Israel Ludlow became surveyor, and a joint proprietor, in place of the unfortunate Filson, with Denman and Patterson, in laying out the village of Losantiville. He was captain of the Cincinnati militia in 1790-1, and .his descendants are widely and reputably known. John Ludlow and family came from Buffalo to Cincinnati in November, 1789, occupying first a double-roomed log cabin on the northwest corner of Front and Main streets. The following year he became the first sheriff of the county, and in 1798 was elected to the first territorial legislature. The first execution was done by Sheriff Ludlow, James Mays being the condemned man, and costs were allowed him by the commissioners, for "gallows, coffin, and grave-digging, fifteen pounds, eight shillings and nine pence." William D. Ludlow, son of Sheriff John Ludlow, comrnunicated to the writer of this, two or three incidents of early life, which are here given:
I came to Cincinnati in 1789, when a boy five years old, and soon became used to the hardships, the frights, the incursions of savages, and the tramp of soldiers, who were either drilling, going to, or returning from war. All persons were obliged in those days to be industrious, and I learned to work when quite a little boy. Sometimes I went to school, and the first master I knew was an Irishman by the name of Lloyd. His school-house was on the river hank, now the public landing, near Main street. We children were sent to school on the safest side of the village. One day in the spring of 1791 the Indians came over the hill-tops right down in sight of the fort, and fired away, killing Henry Hahn, a Pennsylvanian, who was clearing a lot. My uncle Israel gave chase with his militia company but did not overtake them. Hannar's expedition did not intimidate the Indians, but made them worse; and while I was a boy in Cincinnati I saw armed men and soldiers every day, and heard Indian stories every night.
When there was service in the village church I went with my parents, and every man was obliged to have his gun by his side. I remember once my father's colored man was sent up over the hills to look for our black mare, which had strayed away. The Indians had taken her from the outlot, and got away with her as far as where Ludlow grove now is. The thieving fellows had taken the bell from her neck to decoy those who should be sent after the mare. The darkey was led on and on by the tinkling bell, for he was one whom they would rather capture than kill. Feeling sure of him, they put the bell on the mare's neck, tethered her and secreted themselves. Just as he walked up the Indians jumped out after him, and the race began. The darkey was a good runner, and kept ahead of them to the top of Vine street hill, where the Indians gave up the pursuit. The darkey, however, improved his chances un til he reached our house, where, pale with fright and gasping for breath, he shouted, " De black mare gone, gone! Massa John, you neber see dat black mare any more, suah 1 De Injuns got her!"
I do not remember St. Clair's start on his campaign in 1791, but remember the return, the arrival of the wounded, and the funeral of Captain Eraike who died of his wounds in Isaac Martin's house, next to my father's. The turnout of the soldiers, the black pall, the coffin, the slow pace of those who carried his body, and the dead march sadly and solemnly affected me.
The Indians were continually hanging 'around, watching along the Miamis, stealing from cabins and horse-lots, from Columbia to North Bend, and back in the country from the river, wherever any one had ventured to fix a stopping place. Once our horses were missing from the wood-lot. Pursuit was given at once by four men, Jobn and James Spencer, John Adams, and Peter Cox. These were known as the " northwestern spies. "Cox had a new rifle, and as they started Cox called out to my father: "'Squire John, the Indians shall never get this rifle unless they kill me at the first fire." These men found the horses and Indians just north of Spring Grove cemetery, near Platt Evans' house, and fired into them, killing two. The Indians returned the fire, disabling Cox. Knowing he could not escape from the twenty or more who came after him with a veil, Cox told his companions to go and save themselves. The last seen of Cox was with the muzzle of that new rifle in hand smashing it to flinders against a tree, as the savages closed upon him. In my school-boy days I used to pass that sugar tree and look upon the mutilated hark, where poor Cox had smashed the stock and lock of his gun the moment before the tomahawk fell upon him. While General Wayne was drilling his troops at "Hobson's Choice," preparatory to his campaign against the Indians, I was a frequent witness of camp and field proceedings under the iron-countenanced old general, and on Sundays I used to perch myself in the top of a beech tree and look down upon the sham battles below.
General Wilkinson usually commanded the riflemen, who, as whooping Indians, filled the woods, while Wayne directed our soldiers. These sham battles were often exciting, and I shall never forget old Wayne's appearance, his warlike manner, and his stentorian profanity, which could be heard above the noise whenever anything displeased him. This year (1794) Wayne's army left the town, going up Main street, over the hill and up the Mill Creek valley, the footmen and horsemen crossing the central parts of Mill Creek and Springfield townships, the left wing passing over the present sites of Cumminsville, Spring Grove, Carthage, and Springdale. (pg 335)
Soon after the army left, my father moved his family out to the country, at what is now known as Ludlow Grove, where my brother John so long resided. The ford here became known as Ludlow's ford, or the " Crossing of Mill Creek," as Wayne's army crossed here on the route to the "Third Crossing," at White's station, in northern Carthage. I was ten years old when we came to Ludlow's place, and soon learned that we were in an lndian country. Captain Jacob White, Thomas GAudy, Sarah Freeman, Abby Cochrane, riding horseback, and several wagons came with us from town. These pushed on towards White's station, two miles above. In less than an hour we heard the cry, " Indians! Indians!! " and soon came those on horseback, together with some running on foot. Thomas Gaudy, the lawyer, and the ladies mentioned, rode on by to Cincinnati, but Captain White swung his hat, hurrahed for White's station, and left with a fighting party to attack the Indians. They reached the station, however, without seeing anything of the savages. In this affair two of our men were killed at the first fire, the Indians shooting from behind some burr oaks which stood on the west side of the road, close to a run, not many feet from the brick school-house which stands there now. The two men were buried just south of the stream, near Allen Huffman's present residence, and my father called the stream "Bloody Run,' which name it bears to this day. The Indians were only stragglers who did not care to meet General Wayne. Like other guerilla parties, tbey preferred to straggle about and steal, watch the roads to the mills, fire into a station from safe distance, kill men, women, or children, pick up what the armies might have lost or thrown away, and make themselves troublesome generally without getting killed or hurt. At one time they came to my father's house in the middle of the night, and tried to force an entrance. Our seven men inside stood ready, with weapons in hand to receive them; our dogs outside attacked them, dividing their attention and skill. After failing to pry open the doors, they left.
Shortly after this they stole our only good horse and five broken-down pack-horses. One afternoon the men had been rolling up log-heaps for burning, which my father and I fired in the evening. After the men had gone up the ladder to bed in the loft they saw seven Indians about the log-heaps, but a rifle-shot among them sent them off in a hurry.
Notwithstanding Wayne's victory in August, 1794, these depredations continued for months afterwards. A party attacked White's station and were repulsed, leaving several of their dead in sight of the station. I saw some of their swollen bodies on the north side of Mill creek, soon after the fight. They lay in the bottom land west of the Miami aqueduct, near the ford, and were partially covered with stalks, weeds, and earth. One lay with his head pillowed on the root of a tree; by his side was a new rifle, and on his bosom was tipped up a piece of looking-glass, reflecting his dead face. Few persons of today can form any just conception of our constant apprehension, our constant sense of danger in those days. My father made it a rule for each of his men to have his rifle loaded and in hand on going out in the morning, and the supply of ammunition was to be constantly attended to. The plowman carried his gun on his back; the man with the hoe placed his gun from time to time against the first tree ahead, and when engaged rolling or raising logs, sentinels were placed in the outskirts to prevent surprises.
The narrator of the foregoing was one of the best men that ever lived -- truthful, honest, kind and obliging. In early life he was united in marriage with an estimable woman, Charlotte Hand, by whom he had twelve children, but few of whom are now alive. His wife dying in 1846, he was afterwards married to Mrs. Abigail Bonnell, one of the pioneer women who came to Columbia in early days. With Abigail he lived happily during the remainder of his life. William D. Ludlow was industrious until the infirmities of age forbade longer labor. His last years were devotedly given to work in the Christian church at Carthage, where, by pastoral work, by prayer and exhortation, he endeared himself not only to the congregation, but to all who knew him. He fell dead on a street of Carthage in 1863, aged seventy-nine years. His last words were spoken to Mrs. Elizabeth Bonnell, a moment before he fell "Good morning, Sister Elizabeth," said he; " just taking a morning walk -- never felt better, and enjoy the sunshine. My work for life is about done; my house is in order, and I am ready to go whenever the Master shall call." A moment after, he fell dead. His remains lie in the cemetery at Reading, close to the grave of his friend and Christian brother, James Dill. They had previously chosen their last resting- places, and now sleep together. Among the earliest to break the forest in Mill Creek township were the Columbia schoolmaster, John Reily, and his companions. He bought his tract of land, comprising part of the present site of Carthage, in 1791, but did not associate himself with Pryor and others for improvements in this region until 1793.
From History of Hamilton County, Ohio, Henry & Kate Ford, L. A. Williams & Co., Publishers, 1881