Lucas County Biographies
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HEYERMAN, Charles Ferderic, real estate and mortgage loans; born, Toledo, OH, (Lucas Co) Mar. 24, 1874; son of Commander Oscar F. Heyerman, U.S.N., and Rebecca K. (Webster) Heyerman; educated in public and high schools, Detroit: Stevens' Preparatory High School, Hoboken, N.J., 1891-93; Stevens' Institute of Technology, Hoboken, 1894- 95; Cornell University, College of Civil lEngineering, 1895-97; married at Detroit, June 6, 1901, Elizabeth Hosie. Served in Naval Reserve during Spanish-American War, returning to Detroit after being mustered out of service, fall of 1898; connected with Deep Waterway Surcey, United States government, 1898-99; has engaged in reals estate business under own name since 1899. President Blome Bros. Co., wholesale and retail photographic supplies. Member Detroit Real Estate Board. Republican. Episcopalian. Member Gilbert Wilkes Naval Command, No. 142, United Spanish War Veterans, Sons of American Revolution, Michigan Cornell Alumni Association, Chi Phi. Club: Detroit Boat. Recreation: Boating. Office: 22 McGraw Bldg. Residence: 83 Forest Av. E. Source: The Book of Detroiters Edited by Albert Nelson Marquis 1908, Transcribed by Christine Walters ARNOLD, Samuel George Arnold, Samuel George, journalist, publisher, government official, was born Feb. 15, 1806, near Utica, N.Y. In 1838 he established the News of Brooklyn, N.Y., which ultimately was merged into the Brooklyn Eagle. For several years he was editor of the Toledo Blade of Ohio. In 1869-91 he was connected with the United States treasury department in Washington, D.C. He died May 3, 1891, in Washington, D.C. Herringshaw’s National Library of American Biography: Contains Thirty-five Thousand Biographies of the Acknowledged Leaders of Life and Thought of the United States, by
William Herringshaw, 1909 – Transcribed by Therman Kellar.
Mrs. Hannah Davidson occupies two rooms in a home at
533 Woodland Avenue, Toledo, Ohio. Born on a plantation
in Ballard County, Kentucky, in 1852, she is today a
little, white-haired old lady. Dark, flashing eyes peer
through her spectacles. Always quick to learn, she has
taught herself to read. She says, "I could always
spell almost everything." She has eagerly sought
education. Much of her ability to read has been gained
from attendance in recent years in WPA "opportunity
classes" in the city. Today, this warm-hearted,
quiet little Negro woman ekes out a bare existence on an
old age pension of $23.00 a month. It is with regret
that she recalls the shadows and sufferings of the past.
She says, "It is best not to talk about them. The
things that my sister May and I suffered were so
terrible that people would not believe them. It is best
not to have such things in our memory." "My father and mother were Isaac and Nancy
Meriwether," she stated. "All the slaves went
under the name of my master and mistress, Emmett and
Susan Meriwether. I had four sisters and two brothers.
There was Adeline, Dorah, Alice, and Lizzie. My brothers
were Major and George Meriwether. We lived in a log
cabin made of sticks and dirt, you know, logs and dirt
stuck in the cracks. We slept on beds made of boards
nailed up. "I don't remember anything about my
grandparents. My folks were sold around and I couldn't
keep track of them. "The first work I did out from home was with my
mistress's brother, Dr. Jim Taylor, in Kentucky, taking
care of his children. I was an awful tiny little
somethin' about eight or nine years old. I used to turn
the reel for the old folks who was spinning. That's all
I've ever known—work. "I never got a penny. My master kept me and my
sister Mary twenty-two long years after we were supposed
to be free. Work, work, work. I don't think my sister
and I ever went to bed before twelve o'clock at night.
We never got a penny. They could have spared it, too;
they had enough. "We ate corn bread and fat meat. Meat and bread,
we kids called it. We all had a pint tin cup of
buttermilk. No slaves had their own gardens. "The men just wore jeans. The slaves all made
their own clothes. They just wove all the time; the old
women wove all the time. I wasn't old enough to go in
the field like the oldest children. The oldest
children—they worked. After slavery ended, my
sister Mary and me worked as ex-slaves, and we worked.
Most of the slaves had shoes, but us kids used to run
around barefoot most of the time. "My folks, my master and mistress, lived in a
great, white, frame house, just the same as a hotel. I
grew up with the youngest child, Mayo. The other white
children grew up and worked as overseers. Mayo always
wanted me to call him 'Master Mayo'. I fought him all
the time. I never would call him 'Master Mayo'. My
mistress wouldn't let anyone harm me and she made Mayo
behave. "My master wouldn't let the poor white
neighbors—no one—tell us we was free. The plantation
was many, many acres, hundreds and hundreds of acres,
honey. There were about twenty-five or thirty families
of slaves. They got up and stood until daylight, waiting
to plow. Yes, child, they was up early. Our folks
don't know how we had to work. I don't like to tell you
how we were treated—how we had to work. It's
best to brush those things out of our memory. "If you wanted to go to another plantation, you
had to have a pass. If my folks was going to somebody's
house, they'd have to have a pass. Otherwise they'd be
whipped. They'd take a big man and tie his hands behind
a tree, just like that big tree outside, and whip him
with a rawhide and draw blood every whip. I know I was
scared every time I'd hear the slave say, 'Pray,
Master.' "Once, when I was milking a cow, I asked Master
Ousley, 'Master Ousley, will you do me a favor?' "He said in his drawl, 'Of course I will.' "'Take me to McCracken County,' I said. I didn't
even know where McCracken County was, but my sister was
there. I wanted to find my sister. When I reached the
house where my sister stayed, I went through the gate. I
asked if this was the house where Mary Meriwether lived.
Her mistress said, 'Yes, she's in the back. Are you the
girl Mr. Meriwether's looking for?" My heart was in
my mouth. It just seemed I couldn't go through the gate.
I never even saw my sister that time. I hid for a while
and then went back. "We didn't have any churches. My master would
come down Sunday morning with just enough flour to make
bread. Coffee, too. Their coffee was parts of meal, corn
and so on. Work all week and that's what they had for
coffee. "We used to sing, 'Swing low, sweet chariot'.
When our folks sang that, we could really see the
chariot. "Once, Jim Ferguson, a colored man, came to
teach school. The white folks beat and whipped him and
drove him away in his underwear. "I wanted so hard to learn to read, but I didn't
even know I was free, even when slavery was ended. "I been so exhausted working, I was like an
inch-worm crawling along a roof. I worked till I thought
another lick would kill me. If you had something to do,
you did it or got whipped. Once I was so tired I
couldn't work any more. I crawled in a hole under the
house and stayed there till I was rested. I didn't get
whipped, either. "I never will forget it—how my master always
used to say, 'Keep a nigger down' I never will forget
it. I used to wait on table and I heard them talk. "The only fun we had was on Sunday evening,
after work. That was the only chance we got. We used to
go away off from the house and play in the haystack. "Our folks was so cruel, the slaves used to
whisper 'round. Some of them knew they was free, even if
the white folks didn't want 'em to find out they was
free. They went off in the woods sometimes. But I was
just a little kid and I wasn't allowed to go around the
big folks. "I seen enough what the old folks went through.
My sister and I went through enough after slavery was
over. For twenty-one long years we were enslaved, even
after we were supposed to be free. We didn't even know
we were free. We had to wash the white people's feet
when they took their shoes off at night—the men and
women. "Sundays the slaves would wash out their
clothes. It was the only time they had to themselves.
Some of the old men worked in their tobacco patches. We
never observed Christmas. We never had no holidays, son,
no, sir! We didn't know what the word was. "I never saw any slave funerals. Some slaves
died, but I never saw any of them buried. I didn't see
any funerals at all. "The white folks would come down to the cabins
to marry the slaves. The master or mistress would read a
little out of a book. That's all there was to it. "We used to play a game called
'Hulgul'. We'd
play it in the cabins and sometimes with the white
children. We'd hold hazelnuts in our hands. I'd say 'Hulgul'
How many? You'd guess. If you hit it right, you'd get
them all and it would be your turn to say 'Hulgul'. If
you'd say 'Three!' and I only had two, you'd have to
give me another to make three. "The kids nowadays can go right to the store and
buy a ball to play with. We'd have to make a ball out of
yarn and put a sock around it for a cover. Six of us
would stay on one side of a house and six on the other
side. Then we'd throw the ball over the roof and say
'Catch!' If you'd catch it you'd run around to the;
other side and hit somebody, then start over. We worked
so hard we couldn't play long on Sunday evenings. "School? We never seen the inside of a
schoolhouse. Mistress used to read the Bible to us every
Sunday morning. "We say two songs I still remember. "Then there was another: "And as soon as we got through singing those
songs, we had to get right out to work. I was always
glad when they called us in the house to Sunday school.
It was the only chance we'd get to rest. "When the slaves got sick, they'd take and look
after themselves. My master had a whole wall of his
house for medicine, just like a store. They made their
own medicines and pills. My mistress's brother, Dr. Jim
Taylor, was a doctor. They done their own doctoring. I
still have the mark where I was vaccinated by my master.
"People was lousy in them days. I always had to
pick louses from the heads of the white children. You
don't find children like that nowadays. "My mistress had a little roan horse. She went
all through the war on that horse. Us little kids never
went around the big folks. We didn't watch folks faces
to learn, like children do now. They wouldn't let us.
All I know about the Civil War was that it was goin' on.
I heard talk about killin' and so on, but I didn't know
no thin' about it. "My mother was the last slave to get off the
plantation. She travelled across the plantation all
night with us children. It was pouring rain. The white
folks surrounded her and took away us children, and gave
her so many minutes to get off the plantation. We never
saw her again. She died away from us. "My brother came to see us once when slavery was
over. He was grown up. My master wasn't going to let him
see us and he took up his gun. My mistress said he
should let him see us. My brother gave me a little coral
ring. I thought it was the prettiest thing I ever saw. "I made my sister leave. I took a rolling pin to
make her go and she finally left. They didn't have any
more business with us than you have right now. "I remember when Yankee soldiers came riding
through the yard. I was scared and ran away crying. I
can see them now. Their swords hung at their sides and
their horses walked proud, as if they walked on their
hind legs. The master was in the field trying to hide
his money and guns and things. The soldiers said, 'We
won't hurt you, child.' It made me feel wonderful. "What I call the Ku Klux were those people who
met at night and if they heard anybody saying you was
free, they would take you out at night and whip you.
They were the plantation owners. I never saw them ride,
but I heard about them and what they did. My master used
to tell us he wished he knew who the Ku Kluxers were.
But he knew, all right, I used to wait on table and I
heard them talking. 'Gonna lynch another nigger
tonight!' "The slaves tried to get schools, but they
didn't get any. Finally they started a few schools in
little log cabins. But we children, my sister and I,
never went to school. "I married William L. Davison, when I was
thirty-two years old. That was after I left the
plantation. I never had company there. I had to work.
I have only one grandchild still living, Willa May
Reynolds. She taught school in City Grove, Tennessee.
She's married now. "I thought Abe Lincoln was a great man. What
little I know about him, I always thought he was a great
man. He did a lot of good. "Us kids always used to sing a song,
'Gonna hang
Jeff Davis to a sour apple tree as we go marchin' home.'
I didn't know what it meant at the time."I never knew much about Booker T. Washington,
but I heard about him. Frederick Douglass was a great
man, too. He did lots of good, like Abe Lincoln. "Well, slavery's over and I think that's a grand
thing. A white lady recently asked me, 'Don't you think
you were better off under the white people?' I said
'What you talkin' about? The birds of the air have their
freedom'. I don't know why she should ask me that
anyway. "I belong to the Third Baptist Church. I think
all people should be religious. Christ was a missionary.
He went about doing good to people. You should be clean,
honest, and do everything good for people. I first turn
the searchlight on myself. To be a true Christian, you
must do as Christ said: 'Love one another'. You know,
that's why I said I didn't want to tell about my life
and the terrible things that I and my sister Mary
suffered. I want to forgive those people. Some people
tell me those people are in hell now. But I don't think
that. I believe we should all do good to
everybody." Taken
from "Men
of William
Henry Scott, deceased,
was at the time of his death one of the oldest and most influential of Toledo's pioneer citizens, and
in his demise the community lost a citizen who was a
blessing in his spirit of loyalty to public interests
and in his generosity to public objects one whose leadership in good works was an inspiration
to all and an occasion of progress in all helpful
institutions. He
was indentified with nearly every bit of progress made
by the city
from the time that he was old enough to think for
himself, and many
of the institutions in which Taken
from "Men
of Harvey
Scribner inherited
a logical turn of mind from his father, the distinguished lawyer and judge, Hon. Charles H.
Scribner,
now deceased. It was in his father's office that Harvey
Scribner
studied and afterward practiced law in Taken
from "Men
of Louis
Montville, deceased,
was a pioneer resident of the East Side, Taken
from "Men
of Carl
F. Braun, the
subject of this biography, was born at Taken
from "Men
of Charles
F. Curtis, deceased, was born at Taken
from "Men
of James
Melvin, deceased, was a native of the State of Taken
from "Men
of Peter
Hoffman Birckhead, deceased, was a native son of the
State of Taken
from "Men
of Selah
Reeve Maclaren, deceased, was for many years one of
the leading men of affairs of the city of
PETER
KEEGAN was born in Ireland February 1, 1833. He
emigrated to America in 1851 and engaged in the shoe
business in Natick, Massachusetts. His marriage with
Miss Bridget Killen, also of Ireland, was solemnized in
1853. Four children have been born to them, named: Elsie
E., William F., Schuyler C. and Cordelia M. From Natick
he went to Toledo, Ohio, and remained one year. In 1857
he came to Peru. August 11, 1862, he enlisted in Company
C, 87th Regiment Indiana Volunteers, and was placed in
the Army of the Cumberland. He took part in the
following noted battles: Perryville, Hoover's Gap,
Chickamauga, Mission Ridge, Resaca and Kenesaw Mountain.
At the last battle of Nashville he went with his command
to Washington and took part in the Grand Review. He was
mustered out in June, 1865. After his return from the
war he settled in Bunker Hill. His early recollections
of this vicinity are good. Mr. Keegan is a Republican,
and has held the office of Justice of the Peace for
twelve years. He is now notray public and also engaged
in the shoe business. He is a member of the I. O. O. F.,
and identified himself with the M. E. Church in 1852. BECKWITH, Mrs. Emma, woman
suffragist, born in Cincinnati, Ohio, 4th December,
1849. Her maiden name was Knight. She graduated at the
age of seventeen years from the high school in Toledo,
Ohio, whither her parents went when she was four years
old. At the age of nineteen years she was married to
Edwin Beckwith, of Mentor, Ohio. After residing in
Pleasantville, Iowa, a number of years, they removed to
Brooklyn, N. Y. Her sympathies with women have always
been on the alert. Upon locating in the East she began
to put to practical use her knowledge of bookkeeping,
after obtaining the permission of the owner of a
building in Nassau street, New York, by promising to be
good and not demoralize the men. She began work in
April, 1879. She was the pioneer woman bookkeeper in
that part of the city, and established a reputation for
modesty and uprightness that has helped many another to
a like position. Her business education of five years'
duration gave her an insight into many matters not
general among women. Since leaving business life she has
urged young women to become self-supporting. Disgusted
with the vast amount of talk and so little practical
work among the advocates of woman suffrage, she felt
that Mrs. Belva A. Lock wood had struck the key-note
when she became a candidate for the presidency of the
United States. Her ambition was aroused to the point of
emulation; hence her candidacy for the mayoralty of
Brooklyn. The campaign of ten days' duration, with but
two public meetings, resulted in her receiving fifty
votes regularly counted, and many more thrown out among
the scattering, before the New York "Tribune"
made a demand for her vote. Mrs. Beckwith has compiled
many incidents relating to that novel campaign in a
lecture. She has entered the lecture field and is an
able and entertaining speaker, enlivening her
earnestness with bright, witty savings. FRAY, Mrs. Ellen Sulley, reformer,
born in the parish of Calverton, Nottinghamshire,
England, 2nd December, 1832. She is descended from both
Huguenot and Danish ancestors. Her mother was a near
relative of Lord Denman, Chief Justice of England, and
from both sides of the house she inherited intellectual
qualities. Her father was Richard Sulley, who married
Elizabeth Denman in 1827, and of their six children
Ellen was the third daughter. When she was but a child,
Mr. Sulley moved with his family to the United States,
and after some years located in Rochester, N. Y. During
those early years of her life, while they were traveling
from place to place, opportunities for education were
limited so far as books were concerned. Her father
thought that it mattered little, as all that girls
needed was to write and read, with a little knowledge of
arithmetic added. Ellen became a reader and a student of
history. Her father was a well-known writer upon social
and economical questions, and had distinguished himself
at the time of the repeal of the Corn Laws in England.
As a young girl Ellen heard such subjects discussed
constantly and became deeply interested in all reforms
of the day. In 1848 she first became roused upon the
question of woman suffrage, through attendance upon a
convention held in Rochester and presided over by
Abigail Bush, with Lucretia Mott, Mrs. Stanton and
others of the earlier agitators as speakers. That marked
an epoch in her life. She had learned of woman's
inferiority through the religious instruction which she
had received, but henceforth she felt that something in
it was wrong. She was advised by her Sunday-school
teacher carefully to study and compare passages in the
Old and New Testaments. That she did thoroughly, and
became satisfied that Christ nowhere made any difference
between the sexes. Henceforth her work lay in the
direction thus given, and she has labored faithfully to
promote political equality for woman and to advance her
rights in the industrial fields. In 1853 she became the
wife of F. M. Fray, and made her home in Toledo, Ohio,
where she now lives. It was a happy union, lasting for
twenty years, until the death of Mr. Fray. Her two
children died in childhood, leaving her alone and free
to devote herself to those things which she felt were of
a character to help humanity. She has formed suffrage
clubs in several different States and in Canada, and has
been repeatedly a delegate to National councils, giving
her time and money without stint. She has been foremost
in testing woman's eligibility for various positions. In
1886 Mrs. Fray entered into a political canvass in
Rochester to put a woman upon the board of managers of
the State Industrial School. With Miss Mary Anthony, the
sister of Susan, she worked for three weeks and gained
the victory. Mrs. Fray is still full of vigor and energy
in the cause to which she has given the best of herself
for so many years. At present she is one of the district
presidents of the Ohio Woman’s Suffrage Association
and a prominent member of several of the leading clubs,
literary, social and economic, in Toledo. BLACK,
Maurice, merchant;
born at Toledo. O.,
(Lucas Co)
Sept. 30, 1873; son of Alexander and Theresa
Black; educated
at Leland Stanford University and at Massachusetts
Institute of Technology, graduating, 1896; married at
Manawa, Wis., Aug. 18, 1906, Elizabeth Van Adestine.
President treasurer
and manager The L. Black Co., optical photo and jewelry
goods, wholesale and retail. Club: Detroit Yacht.
Office: 156 Woodward Av. Residence: 655 2nd Av. CARTWRIGHT, Charles E., born,
Toledo, O., (Lucas
Co)
May 17, 1877; son of
Isaiah D. and Ida M. Cartwright; educated in Toledo High
School and University of Michigan, 1899; unmarried.
Entered real estate business at Toledo, 1899; became
identified with coal business, 1901, in connection with
A.G. Blair & Co., Toledo; came to Detroit, June,
1904, as general sales agent Youghiogheny Gas Coal Co.,
miners and shippers of coal. Presbyterian. Member
Masonic order, Knights Templar, Shrine. Club:
Fellowcraft. Recreations: Tennis and general outdoor
sports. Office: 705 Hammond Bldg., Detroit. Residence:
Oriental Hotel. DONOVAN, Joseph Wesley,
jurist; born, Toledo, Ohio
(Lucas Co) educated
in public and union schools, graduate of Jonesville
Academy; took lectures at Hillsdale College, Ohio Law
School and Commercial College; later studied
in office of Hon. Fred A. Baker; admitted to the bar by
the Supreme Court, 1870; married at Waterville, Ohio,
Nettie L. Brainard. Began practice in Detroit, 1870;
upon bench of Circuit Court since 1894. Office: 305
County Bldg. Residence: 32 Bagley Av. O’HARA, Charles J.,
machinery; born, Toledo,
O., (Lucas
Co) May
7, 1854; son of Charles and Elizabeth (Knaggs) O’Hara;
educated in public
school, Christian Bros. College, Chicago, and at
Farmer’s College, College Hill, near Cincinnati, O.;
married at Greenwich, R.I., Oct. 23, 1889, Jane Way
Howland. Has been identified with machinery business
since he was 17 years of age; came to Detroit, 1887;
treasurer C.C. Wormer & Co. since its organization
in 1889. Member Detroit Board of Commerce. Office:
99-101 Woodbridge, W. Residence: 73 Delaware Av. RHINES, Edward H.,
insurance; born at Toledo,
O., (Lucas
Co)
May 2, 1868; son of Capt. James and Margaret
(Curran) Rhines; educated
in public and high schools of Detroit; married at
Detroit, 1897, Marie Luella Bowen. Began active career
in wholesale chemical house, continuing until he entered
employment of the Standard Life and Accident Insurance
Co. in 1890; appointed state agent of the casualty
department of the company in Michigan, 1902. Clubs:
Fellowcraft, Detroit Athletic. Office: 35 W. Fort St.
Residence: 211 Palmer Av., E. |