Old Settlers’ Re-Union

Last Thursday was the day set for the old settler’s re-union.  It was not the best day that could have been chosen as the air was raw and chilly, yet notwithstanding the weather; the old settlers gathered from near and from far in goodly number.  The hall was nicely decorated, with flags and the tables were profusely decorated with flowers.  Among the decorations of the hall was a flag closely identified with the early settlement of this section.  It was made for and used at a celebration on the Fourth of July, 1874 at the residence of J. D. Wicker, some three miles south of this village, where J. D. Wicker, jr., read the Declaration of Independence and J. D. Wicker, sr., the late “Judge,” delivered an oration.  The flag has since seen service as the first flag, hoisted on the pole at Unity and was the first to be flung to the breeze from the large pole in this village.

The date set which should designate an old settler was Jan’y. 1^st 1876, and 58 families who came previous to that date were represented at this reunion, a roster of which will be found with this article.

The exercises at the hall opened with “Auld Lang Syne,” by a choir of old Settlers consisting of Messrs. G. J. Walbridge, Howard Wicker, Percy Woodbury, Mrs. C. F. Grow, Misses Laura Gotchy, Carrie Wicker, and Delia White, after which Chas. F. Grow was introduced, though Charley did not need much of an introduction.  He made a few remarks regarding the occasion and the days that are gone, then said he did not think a set speech could be made satisfactorily and, by leave of the assemblage, would read a poem handed him by one Smith Wilkins, who was once an old settler in this section.  The poem following is the one read and gives evidence that the writer knew something about the early days here, and it was greatly applauded as the reader proceeded:

Oh, the days that have gone since Colby was young,

And in Nature’s grand forest her banner first flung;

Where the porcupine’s yell and the growl of the bear,

Told the wandering intruder their flag was still there.

As I stand here to-day and look back o’er the past,

To the time when a forest , unbroken and vast,

Held magnificent sway, where there now stands a town,

My mind wanders over the things jotted down

(On the tablets of memory) while I took a part,

In the work that accomplished this village of art.

Those were days to remember, so happy and free,

When Spafford sold whiskey and Blanchard “cold tea;”

When Budd was a druggist and Ghoca’s hotel

Furnished hash, for the many who came there to dwell;

When frequent commotion the town used to fill,

Because H—l had let loose up at Edminster’s mill.

Those were days to remember, their loss I deplore,

Like my youth and my beauty, you see them no more,

They have gone to the past, whose unlimited sea

Is forever encroaching on time yet to be.

I can see the town now, as in days long of yore,

With the stumps in its highways the mud spattered o’er,

Its buildings unpainted and standing askew,

So that where were the streets one scarce ever knew.

There was Prosser’s hotel (with its beds that were soft)

Where I bunked with the boys, in the School Section loft;

And Ike Gotchy’s store, that stood out near the track,

Like someone at watch for the train to come back;

Then Wilms’ drug store, that stood high out of mud,

And Norton’s old stand, that was rented by Budd.

Dan Diamond’s saloon, on the corner below,

Where, “after a hooker” the boys used to go;

But, why an endeavor to mention them all,

They are most of them standing, the great and the small,

‘Though changed in appearance and beautified more,

Than when I first saw them in seventy-four.

Not alone, do the buildings and streets up and down,

Furnish all that is needed to make a good town;

You may build it of stone and crown it with steeple,

But what is a city if it hasn’t the people.

When we visit the homes, or walk in the street,

How changed are the persons we once used to meet,

Some faces look older, some heads have less hair,

Some shoulders more stooping, some beauty less fair,

Some places are vacant, left for others to fill,

By those who sleep over west on the hill.

As we meet here to-day, to talk the past o’er,

And gain wisdom and pleasure of things gone before,

I wonder, if somewhere, from regions more dear,

The ones who have left us come down to us here,

And join in our meeting, with memories green,

All our acts seen by them while they are unseen.

It maybe – we know not – some things seem to show

There are lands beside this where our spirits may go –

Yet, it may be this life, with its hoping and fear,

Is all that’s vouchsafed to the poor sinner here;

But, if that be the case, and existence has end

In the cold silent grave, where our travels all tend,

And there is no hereafter – No home of the good,

Let’s believe that there is, ‘though belief would delude,

For our happiness here, is made of a kind,

That simply depends on the state of the mind.

And if we believe there’s a home upon high,

Where the justified meet with their Lord by and by,

For our purposes here it don’t matter a jot,

Whether such is the case, or whether ‘tis not;

Then away with all sorrow and doubting and fear,

Let us think ‘tis all right and be satisfied here,

And joining to-day in the revel and mirth,

Find more pleasure here, than is usual – on earth.

And now, my good friends, as we talk of the days

When we all lived in Colby, and followed our ways,

And how this one and that looked when first they came here,

Let me give you a caution and please lend your ear.

When you hear a bland Frenchman – Ike Gotchy, I mean,

Tell how I was dressed and how wonderful green

I looked, when I landed, in three freet [sic] of snow

And asked him, quite modest, for some place to go;

Where a bed I might find, in which I could sleep,

And something from starving, my body to keep.

Don’t believe him – He’s telling an out and out lie,

And this is his motive – I once chanced to spy,

As I went in the building, he used for a store,

How he had a grass widow, behind the back door,

And was hugging and kissing her trembling form,

As she laid in his arms, with her hair that was warm,

So I beat a retreat, with more haste than I came,

And left him alone with the beautiful dame.

But soon he came over and wanted to buy

A silence from me, which of course I priced high,

And he offered to pay me, two dollars,  or more,

If I never would peep of the scene at the door.

But, we ne’er made a bargain, and ever since then,

He has slandered me most of all the mean men.

And that is the reason he talks about me

And pictures me out as quite frightful to see.

Then don’t you believe him, though his accents are mild,

And his looks free from guile, like an innocent child;

He is not an example for age or for youth,

For his stories are fishy and wanting in truth.

And there’s just one thing more, I ought to tell how

A man that is here, sold a very poor cow,

To a Unity gent, who was left in the lurch,

But I hear that the matter has got in the church,

And, as to character I’m no vandal,

I’ll leave it there – with the Greenwood scandal.

Oct. 13, 1887                                        Smith Wilkins

After the reading of the poem the choir sang Home Sweet Home with the word Colby in place of the word home.  Dinner was then announced and over two hundred persons were fed.  The dinner was all that could be wished for, the tables were loaded with tempting viands of which there were enough and to spare, and, by the way, we wish to say right here, that there never was a better town, anywhere, for getting up a picnic dinner, no matter how large the crowd there is always enough.

After dinner the old settlers and children were marshalled [sic] out side of the hall and were photographed by M. Danks who took a very fine picture.

In the evening some sixty couples took in the dance, which was kept up by the young folks until the wee sma’ hours of the next morning.

Taken all in all the gathering was one of the  most enjoyable, and everybody had a good time and it was with saddened hearts that all bid adieu to their many old time friends and seperated [sic] to go to their several homes.

Following are the names of those who registered, with their present address and the date of their arrival at this point:

I. C. Gotchy, village, settled in Clark county in 1865, was married in Loyal 1867 and came to the present site of Colby shortly after but did not move here until ’72 or ’73.

Report of Old Settlers’ Reunion Committee:

RECEIPTS.

Sale of 55 tickets………………....$27.50

   “  at Lnch Counter.………………..4.80

   “  at Pop Stand………………...….1.65

Rec’d next day from an old settler……..50

Total                      34 45

DISBURSMENTS.

Paid Band……………………...…$20.00

   “   Caller…………………………..3.00

   “   for Job Printing………………....4.50

   “   for Portage……………………..1.50

   “   for Hall………………………....3.00

                                                                -------$32 00

                Balance on hand                  2 45

I. C. Gotchy,

C. R. Taylor,

H. J. Blanchard,

G. J. Walbridge,

                                -Com.

The picture taken of the old settlers, by M. Danks, is pronounced by all as one of the very best group pictures ever photographed.  There are over one hundred and seventy faces on the picture and every face is clear and perfect.  Mr. Danks sells the pictures at the very moderate price of 50 cts each, without frame and will give you the frame, of which he has several designs at cost.  He is now located in the Odd Fellows building.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

Contributor: Cheryl Janowiak

Source: The Phonograph (Colby, Clark Co., WI) Thursday, 20 October 1887, fp.