Tag Archives: indiana

Between a Rock and Some Family Members

Elias Arvin – Old Union Cemetery – Alfordsville, Indiana

I spent much of September exploring southern Indiana during our annual trip back to the region where Theresa and I were born and raised. Theresa was born in Evansville, and I was born in Washington.

One of my lifelong hobbies has been researching family history. Over the decades, I’ve built a sizable family tree, with plenty of names, dates, and places.

But something has changed.

Over the past several years, I’ve become less interested in simply adding more names to my family tree and more interested in discovering the stories behind those names.

Who were these people? How did they live? Why did they leave one place and settle in another? What routes did they travel? What opportunities, hardships, and circumstances influenced the decisions they made?

In other words, I’m becoming more interested in their lives than in their names.

One of those names is Elias Arvin, my third great-grandfather on my dad’s side of the family.

Elias is buried in Old Union Cemetery near Alfordsville, Indiana. I discovered that he was born in Maryland and served as a soldier during the War of 1812. His older brother, Henry Arvin, also served during that war.

Henry Arvin, St. Rose Cemetery – Mount Pleasant, Indiana

Following the war, both brothers and their families left Maryland and moved to Kentucky, where they lived for several years before eventually receiving land grants in southern Indiana.

And that got me wondering.

How did they get from Kentucky to Indiana?

Today, we simply get into our cars, enter a destination into our GPS, and follow the directions. But in the early 1800s, getting from one place to another was a very different undertaking.

What roads existed? Were they really roads, or simply trails through the wilderness? How did families transport their belongings? Where did they cross the rivers? And why did they choose to settle where they did?

Those questions led me to begin researching the early roads, trails, and river crossings of southern Indiana.

And that led me to a fascinating place called Hindostan, an early settlement along the East Fork of the White River.

The Flat Rock at Hindostan Falls, Indiana

Hindostan has a history of its own, involving early settlement, transportation, commerce, disease, and eventually the disappearance of a once-promising community.

But what especially caught my attention was the landscape itself.

The river, the exposed bedrock, the surrounding hills, and the natural features that influenced where people traveled and settled.

Suddenly, I wasn’t just researching my ancestors. I was exploring the relationships between people and the natural world they inhabited.

And I began to realize that the same questions I was asking about my ancestors could be asked about almost any community, landscape, or place we encounter today.

Why is it here? How did it get this way? What natural and human-created systems influenced its development? And what can we learn by paying attention?

What began as a search for a name on a family tree has become an exploration of history, geography, nature, and the decisions people made more than 200 years ago.

It’s both an old story and a new adventure for me.

And I’ve discovered something else along the way.

The more I discover, the more I discover there is to discover.

I suppose that’s what happens when you start paying attention, asking questions, and following your curiosity wherever it takes you.

And, in my case, it sometimes takes me right back to where I started.

Only now, I see the place a little differently.

I Hope Someone Buys Mason’s

During my recent stay in southern Indiana, I spent an afternoon walking up and down Main Street in Washington.

I was pleased by what I saw.

A number of years ago, some of the empty storefronts had been nicely decorated to make them look as though businesses were operating inside. It was certainly better than staring through dusty windows into empty buildings, but they were still empty buildings.

This time, many of those storefronts were actually occupied.

There were new businesses offering a variety of products and services. We were there after hours, so most of them were closed and downtown wasn’t particularly busy. But it still made me happy.

When I was a kid, going downtown in Washington meant places like Ted’s Bakery, Donaldson’s Toggery, The Bell and the Spudnut Shop. Those places are long gone.

But downtown isn’t.

And a couple of businesses I remember from those days are still chugging along. The Indiana Theater is still there. So is the White Steamer, still selling hamburgers beneath that wonderful old Coca-Cola sign.

I think a thriving downtown is—or at least should be—the heart of a community.

Not a mall. Not a Walmart Supercenter.

An actual downtown.

But there was another Washington business I wanted to visit while I was back. It isn’t downtown, but it has an even more personal connection for me.

Mason’s Root Beer.

Mason’s opened in 1951. Their sign this year proudly announces their 75th season.

I spent two great summers working there when I was young, cooking food and washing root beer mugs.

And yes, they were actual mugs.

So, naturally, I had to go back.

I ordered one of Mason’s foot-long coneys.

It was still great.

There is something comforting about returning to a place you knew more than half a century ago and discovering that you can still walk up to the window and order something you remember eating when you were young.

I don’t expect everything from my childhood to still be there. Most of it isn’t. Nor should everything remain exactly as it was. Communities change. Businesses come and go. People come and go.

That’s life.

But places like Mason’s become something more than businesses. They become part of the collective memory of a community—and part of the individual memories of people like me.

Now I hear Mason’s is for sale.

I hope someone buys it.

Not because Washington should somehow be frozen in the 1960s. The new businesses I saw downtown demonstrate exactly the opposite. A healthy community needs new people, new ideas and new ventures.

But it also needs people willing to carry some good things forward.

Seventy-five seasons is a pretty good run.

I’d like there to be a 76th.

And whoever buys the place can change whatever they think needs changing.

Just don’t mess with the coneys.

Hindostan Indiana

There are several places around the Dodson Family Camp that we try and visit each year that we are in the area. Most of them are places that my Dad and Mom also liked to visit often and when there were living, we all went together each visit to see if everything still looked the same from year to year and to think back about days long gone. It is interesting to think about how important nature was to those frontier people when they were settling America. And back then the “highways” toward progress always were connected with rivers.

One of those places has always been fascinating to me. I have often thought that the story of Hindostan, Indiana could form the foundation for a great novel. I know that there have been many booklets written about the place, but as far as I know, there has never been an actual novel about the place or the people who lived there.

Hindostan was founded at the falls of the East Fork of the White River in 1816. The settlement sat along the original stagecoach route between New Albany and Vincennes and was one of the only roads in the new state of Indiana, which had been a territory until 1816. By 1820, it was the largest community in what was then still Daviess County and the most promising town on the White River. The town was named “Hindostan” by a soldier, Captain Caleb Fellows, an English immigrant who had served with the British East India Company in India before he came to the United States and invested in land along the still raw Indiana frontier.

When Hindostan was “booming” there was a large mill located directly on a rock outcropping in the river. And when the water is low one can still see where the posts that supported the mill were located. Over the years this stretch of the river has always been a popular fishing spot too.

However, by 1820, about 1,200 people lived in the new town, making it one of the largest settlements in frontier Indiana. Many lived on houseboats on the White River. The surge of the population toward new land on the Indiana and Illinois frontiers, as well as Hindostan’s location along the stagecoach route, meant that it was constantly open to carriers of the disease. The disease eventually destroyed the town.

An epidemic of yellow fever or cholera broke out in Hindostan in 1820. Water- and insect-borne illnesses were the bane of many towns on the Midwestern frontier. Situated along rivers for the purpose of easy transportation, towns were often built on flood plains that bred insects in huge numbers. The ferocity of the epidemic that struck Hindostan, however, caused the population to succumb to disease or abandon the area. By 1824, less than half the population remained in Hindostan, though many seem to have stayed in the county.

An economic depression around 1820 worked alongside the epidemic to drive people away. Some families who had bought land on credit defaulted and fled the area. Hindostan may have lost as many residents to the economic depression as to sickness. Residents who remained were unable to pay their taxes and county and local creditors foreclosed on their property.

According to rumor, a county tax collector had several thousand dollars of revenue in his possession when he fell ill during the epidemic. He was thought to have buried the money (gold and silver coins) in an iron pot for safekeeping until the illness passed. When he died, the money’s location was lost forever.

Faced with the gradual desertion of the town, the post office, which was established in 1819, was discontinued on December 29, 1830. The site of the prosperous town eventually became farmland.

In 1828, the county seat was relocated to Mt. Pleasant, several miles away. The townsite was then abandoned by most of its residents in 1853 for a nearby site, now called Loogootee, four miles from Hindostan. The county seat, however, was moved to Trinity Springs, a health spa, then to Shoals in 1871. Shoals today has a population of around 800 which puts it at about 400 people less than Hindostan before it vanished.

Fishing near Hindostan Falls has always been a popular pastime. And the State of Indiana has created a boat launch above the falls so that boaters and people who enjoy fishing can easily access the water.

 

 

I think the video below that someone did a few years back gives a pretty good overview of Hindostan Falls and the general area around the falls today.

 

 

 

Dinky’s Auction Center

Most of the posts on this blog are about nature and nature-oriented places. This post is a bit different in that it is focused on more of a human nature-oriented place. Just a few miles from the Dodson Family Camp in Loogootee, Indiana is a remarkably interesting and entertaining place. Every Friday night hundreds and sometimes even thousands of people descend on a large gravel parking lot that surrounds a couple of large metal pole buildings. The first thing that a person notices upon arrival is the fact that there are a huge number of horses and buggies tied up around one side and the back of the parking lot. Yep…we have arrived at Dinky’s Auction Center.

During our annual visit back home again in Indiana, we usually try and make it to Dinky’s at least one time. We very seldom buy anything, but it is a real hoot to see what they are auctioning off on any given Friday night.

The wind blows hard over the corn and soybean fields of southern Indiana where straight dusty roads lead to Dinky’s Auction Center. The Montgomery institution sells everything from steel-wheeled farm machinery to LED lights for buggies. Each spring Dinky’s puts on a massive three-day event selling draft horses, carriages, and antiques.

Amish travel from all over the country to attend and bid against each other. Six auctioneers warble their way through rows of antique plows, hand crank washing machines, saddlery, and maybe even a few lobster traps.

It all started nearly 25 years ago when John Lengacher had a vision. Lengacher, the owner of Daviess County Metal Sales, noticed that his employees would disappear on certain afternoons. The story goes that Lengacher found out they were going to an auction barn in Mitchell, Indiana. They sold everything, calves, goats, antiques, etc. There was no auction house in the Montgomery area, and he thought it would be nice if we had an auction in Daviess County too.

What I have been told is that the “place” all started with a fellow by the name of Jake ‘Dinky’ Stoll, a Mennonite man with two daughters (his nickname came from a creek that ran through his property). The girls got married and “Dinky” died. His 40 acres were dead center in the middle of the Amish community, but not for sale. Lengacher made arrangements to meet with the girls. They showed interest in the auction idea and it was not long before the daughters sold Lengacher the acreage. When we put the word Dinky’s on the building, and it was instantly a household name and they did not even have to put an ad in the paper. A few years ago, Lengacher sold the auction business to Raber Auctions.

And from a simple idea, a global enterprise has grown. It is not unusual to have people from over 30 states and from the United Kingdom and Saudi Arabia attend the Friday night auctions. Economically it has been quite a boon for the local community. Some area hotel rooms book up six months in advance, particularly for the horse auctions.

Dinky’s takes consignments Thursday and Friday, with hundreds of owners selling their horses, antiques, and tractors, hoping some of the thousands of people that show up to the auction house on any given Friday night will bid on their items.

Starting at 6 p.m., on Friday the auction goes until everything is sold, which might be midnight. In an era of Amazon and online shopping, the auction center in the middle of Daviess County makes its name off what it has continued to do for decades: entertain the community and beyond with merchandise, animals, and old-fashioned socialization.

This year has been a strange year indeed. We decided to drive over to Dinky’s one Friday night this year and walk around the parking lots. We took a quick peek into one of the metal buildings where the auction was already taking place. However, we did not see anyone in the building who was wearing a face mask. We have been taking the Corona Virus very seriously, so we decided to not go into the building this year and just enjoy the horses for a change. And now I do not even know if the Friday night auctions are even taking place or not.

Under non-pandemic conditions and for those looking for something to do on a Friday night, in the middle of Daviess County, Indiana, Dinky’s might be a good place to start.

I think the video below which was created in 2016 is interesting.

 

 

 

Birdhouse Paradise of Bill Larkin

August 2020 – Loogootee, Indiana

Bill’s “yard”

Just a short drive down the road from the Dodson Family Camp in Loogootee is quite an interesting place and person to visit. Bill Larkin lives in a geodesic dome house and absolutely loves to build birdhouses, and I mean LOVES to build birdhouses.

The yard around Bills home is literally covered with birdhouses of all shapes and sizes and those are accentuated by loads and loads of brilliantly painted rocks and various sorts of statues. It is an annual field trip for us when we are back home again in Indiana. This year, Eric, Jody, Jude, and Brody went along with us. I think the grandboys were overwhelmed, to say the least.

In addition to the huge display around the outside of Bill’s house, the inside is also festooned with birdhouses and thousands of twinkling Christmas lights. Bill always gets a kick out of watching the kid’s eyes light up when he claps his hands loudly and the house is filled with the sounds of chirping birds coming from hundreds of mechanical birds spread throughout his house.

Bill hosts visitors to his small home on a nearly daily basis, including busloads of tourists who have heard about his display somehow. He not only does not charge a penny to visit, but he also gives all his visitors a small hand-painted birdhouse to take with them as a memento of their visit.

I would say that Bill Larkin is certainly a “one of a kind” fellow. At least I do not know of anyone else who is so steeped in a similar life mission and he seems happy about life in general.

(I enjoyed this video that someone put together a couple of years back and posted on YouTube.)