NORTHFIELD

     This township, originally called Town Five, Range Eleven, was one of the equalizing townships of the Reserve. As has bees explained in previous sketches, the original proprietors, to make the different townships of the standard value, cut up some, and attached parts of such equalizing townships to the poorer town­ships to make them equal to what were called average townships. There were four townships that were called superior to the aver­age, and each proprietor was anxious to have a portion of them—of these four Northfield was one. It, as well as the other three, was laid out into quarter sections of 160 acres each, so as to give each of the original proprietors a share. The proprietors, living in New England, and looking upon these shares as better invest­ments than those made in their other lands, were not anxious to part with them. Some of the proprietors died leaving their shares to minor heirs, and thus the land was kept out of market; and the fact of its being one of the best townships on the Reserve, tended to keep it from sale and retard its growth. The first set­tler in the township was Isaac Bacon. He was born in Boston, Mass., in 1772 and when quite young, prompted by that active energy that actuated the pioneers of the Reserve to break away from the crowded coast of the Atlantic, he left his native city, and removed to Genesee in the State of New York, where he pur­chased some land on which he commenced his improvements. In 1801 he married Nancy Cranmer, a sister of Jeremiah and Abra­ham Cranmer, long known as residents of Northfield.

     But, for his active and enterprising spirit, even Genesee was too much cramped—and in 1806 he exchanged his farm there with Judge Phelps, for 320 acres in the Western Reserve; 160 acres of which lay in Northfield—being lot 63—on to which he removed his family in April, 1807. Zina Post of Hudson, and a family by the name of Noble, at Tinker's creek, in Cuyahoga county, were his nearest neighbors. His family, consisting of himself, wife, a brother of his, and three children, had no shelter but their wagon, until he could erect a cabin. It being nearly impossible to procure help to raise a house, he resolved to attempt it alone, which he did by placing skids on which to roll up the logs, and then, by ropes, fastened to the ends of the legs and thrown over the house, he drew them up by the help of his oxen. In this manner he raised a house, in five days, and had it covered with bark ready for his family. It stood on the lot, and near the spot, where his oldest son, David C. Bacon, now lives.

     For three years he had no neighbor nearer than Tinker's creek, and Mrs. Bacon often remarked that for six months after her arri­val in Northfield, she did not see the face of a white woman, except her own when looking in a pool of water, the only looking-glass of that day.

     At that time Indians were very plenty in Northfield—there being three wigwams on the farm of Bacon, all well filled. Shortly after he built his cabin, a committee was sent out to survey and lay a road from Hudson to the old Portage road, as it was called, to Cleveland. The committee had surveyed to with in about 80 rods of Bacon's cabin before they were aware there was a settler in the township. Hearing some one chopping, the committee went to the spot and found Bacon clearing up his farm. To ac­commodate him they made an angle in the road to get to his house, and then turned out West to the old Portage road. North­ampton Mills, fourteen miles distant, were then the nearest mills. It generally took two days to go to the mills and back, as the roads were as bad as can well be imagined. From Hudson to Newburgh was an almost continuous bed of clay mud, almost deep enough to mire a team. Teamsters used to say there were but two mud holes, and Tinker's creek bridge separated them. From Post's, in Hudson to Bacon's farm, was known as the musquito swamp, and well did it merit its name.

     For several years after Bacon settled there, bears and wolves were as thick as pettifoggers, in a country village, and almost as troublesome.- One day, while Bacon was from home, a bear came within three or four rods of the house, and caught and carried off a large hog. On another occasion a-pack of wolves got after Baleen's sheep, and having chased them several times round the house, they saved their bacon by bursting the door open, and seeking protection from the family.

     The perils and trials of early life in the woods cannot be fully understood-by persons at the present day—but incidents in the life of Mrs. Bacon, the female Boone of Northfield, will convey a slight idea of them.

     One day while Mr. Bacon-was absent from home, a company of Indians went into the house and called for fire-water. Mrs. Bacon denied having any in the house. The Indians went to a cupboard, where a bottle of it was kept, and on her attempting to oppose them they drew their knives, and compelled her to give up the whisky.

     At another time a suspicious looking man called in about the middle of the day, and enquired for Mr. Bacon—and when she expected him home—how far it was to the nearest neighbor and if she was not afraid to stay alone? She replied her husband would be at home the next day—and that she was not afraid while she had that trusty old friend (pointing to a large dog lying on the hearth, with his eyes on the stranger). He remained until it was getting near night, and she told him as she had no accom­modations for keeping strangers, he had better be going, as it was several miles to any house. He, however, hung round till about dark, when he asked one of the little boys to turn the grind-stone for him to sharpen his knife—showing an instrument similar to an Indian scalping knife. Mrs. B. now began to pre­pare for evil—and took her position in one corner, while the stranger sat is the other, and the dog took his post between them. In this manner they sat without exchanging a word till near mid­night, when he asked her why she sat up so late, and then asked her why she did not turn that dog out of doors? She told him the dog always slept in the house when his master was gone. He, then ordered her to turn him out, when she opened the door and told the dog to go out. The dog looked up and wagged his tail, but would not go. She spoke to him again, when he growled, but kept his position. The stranger then got up and ordered him out, but the dog rose up and growled defiance at him. The stranger, seeing he was an ugly customer to handle was glad to resume his station, and the dog took his. In this manner the group remained till morning, when the stranger left.

     In 1808 Bacon lost an infant daughter, which was the first death of a white person, in the township. Zina Post of Hudson, and Noble of Tinker's creek, the only neighbors, came and buried the dead.

     Having lived thus solitary and alone for four years, their soli­tude was relieved, in June 1810, by the arrival of Jeremiah Cran­mer, a brother of Mrs. Bacon, who settled on Lot 72 and built a cabin half a mile from Bacon's.

     In 1812, soon after the surrender of Hull, news came that the British had landed at Cleveland and were going to march through the country. Noble, Bacon, and Cranmer, resolved to remove their families to Hudson. The families got together at Bacon's and began to load their furniture on to their wagons, while Bacon started for Cleveland to ascertain the truth of the report.

     While loading the wagons an Indian was seen skulking round, the woods, when Cranmer advised him to be off as his scalp would be the forfeit if he was found there an hour later. As he was never afterwards heard from it is very doubtful whether he got out of the township.

     The wagons were loaded with such articles as they could carry, and the balance buried in the earth. The teams, and families started and got about three miles towards Hudson, when Bacon returned and overtook them, with the intelligence that it was the American prisoners, surrendered by Hull, that the British had landed at Cleveland. The teams then returned to Northfield.

     Soon after the surrender of Hull a draft was made for mil­itia to protect the frontier from the expected attack of British and Indians. Bacon was drafted, and in September ordered to Cleveland, where he was soon after discharged and returned home. Soon after he return he was taken sick, and on the sixth of Nov­ember 1812, he died, and was buried on the top of Tinker's creek hill, near where George Comstock formerly lived.

     In the Spring of 1813 Abraham Cranmer came into the town­ship, and purchased the North half of Lot 72, and formed a per­manent settlement.

     In June 1813 Henry Wood married Esther Cranmer, a daugh­ter of Jeremiah Cranmer, being the first couple married in the township.

     In 1814 George Wallace, of Cleveland, built a sawmill at Brandywine, in the North part of Boston, a few rods from the town line. The mill tract has since been added to and now forms a part of Northfield. In 1814 Wallace built a grist-mill, at the same place—and in the fall of that year he built a distillery, half a mile Northwest of the mill, which like other shrubs of that genus, budded, blossomed and brought forth the fruit of intemperance in abundance.

     In the winter of 1815-16, Wallace brought on an assortment of dry goods, and established a store in his mill.

     In March 1817 Henry Wood, John Duncan, Morris Cranmer, and several other families moved into the township, and located in different parts of it. In the fall of 1818 George Wallace moved into the township and settled on lot 60 near his mill.

     The township, was organized in 1821; previously to which Boston and Northfield composed an election district, holding elec­tions, musters, and other public meetings at Brandywine. At the first election in Northfield, George Wallace was elected Justice of the Peace, which office he held for many years. At the first election it took every qualified inhabitant of the township to fill the offices.

     In July 1826 one of those singular affairs occurred in this township which has a rival only in the celebrated case of the Bournes in Vermont. An Englishman by the name of Rupert Charlesworth who was boarding with Dorsey W. Viers, suddenly and strangely disappeared. He was traced to Viers' house the night of the 23d of July, and a constable, who went on the morn­ing of the 24th, before daylight, to arrest him, found he was gone, and no trace of him could be found. On his arrival he found Mrs. Viers moping up the floor. Viers told contradictory stories about his leaving—once saying he jumped out of the window and run, and that he tried to catch him, but could not. At another time that he went off when Viers was asleep, and he knew noth­ing about it. Some one heard a rifle in the direction of the house of Viers that night—and some one saw blood, the next morning on some bars that led from Viers' house to the woods.

     Years rolled on, and the excitement grew stronger with age, till, on the 8th of January 1831 complaint was made before George Y. Wallace, Justice of the Peace, that Viers had murder­ed Charlesworth. Viers was arrested and a trial of eight days followed. Not only the circumstances I have mentioned were proven, but also, by a hired girl of Viers, that a bed blanket, used by Charlesworth, was missing from the house of Viers on the day Charlesworth's disappearance, and that it: was afterwards found hid under a hay stack, with large black spots on it resem­bling clotted blood.

     It was also proven that Charlesworth had a large amount of money, and that Viers was, previously to this, poor, but imme­diately afterwards flush of money—and to complete the, chain of proof—a skeleton had been found hid under a log in the woods, in the direction of the path from Viers' house to the bars.

     Matters stood in this shape when two men unexpectedly appear­ed from Sandusky, who swore they had seen Charlesworth alive, though passing under an assumed name, after the time of the supposed murder. On this testimony Viers was acquitted, but his acquittal did not change public sentiment as to his guilt. It was generally believed that it was only adding perjury to mur­der.

     Viers commenced a search for the missing man, with a perse­verance that would have done honor to a blood hound. He visited all parts of the Union, and after a search of years he went into a Tavern in Detroit, and in presence of a large company, in the Bar­room enquired if any one knew of a man by the name of Charles-worth. All replied no. When about to leave, a man stepped up to him and taking him one side enquired if his name was Viers, front Northfield, Viers said it was. The stranger said, I am Ru­pert Charlesworth—but I pass here under an assumed name. Charlesworth returned to Northfield with Viers and on a full, meeting of the town, and a thorough investigation, it was, with one, exception, the unanimous vote that he was the veritable mur­dered man.

     It appears that he had passed a counterfeit $10 bill to Deacon Hudson, and fearing an arrest (to make which the constable went in the morning) he ran away—went to England and remained two years—returned under an assumed name and went into the wilds of Michigan, where his real name, former residence and history were unknown.

     A more tragic affair occurred in this town, on the 24th of July 1837. On the night of that day some person, or persons entered the house of Robert McKisson, a respectable citizen of the town, and with a common axe, struck Mrs. McKisson as she lay in a bed, with the edge of the axe splitting, or rather hewing the right side of her head nearly off, and leaving the brains entirely exposed. Lucinda Croninger, a daughter of Mrs. McKisson by a former husband, lying in an adjoining bed, raised up and screamed, when she was knocked down, senseless, with the head of the axe. The alarm was given by some of the other members of the family, and the neighbors collected to witness the remains of the tragedy. Mrs. McKisson lived long enough to tell them the deed was done by Samuel McKisson, the father of Robert. This was the dying declaration of the murdered woman, and the testimony of the daughter on trial. The old man was arrested that night at his own house.

     Suspicions immediately attached to David McKisson, a brother of Robert, who was paying his addresses to the daughter, but who had heed refused admission to the house by the mother.— He had been lurking round for several days, during which he had several interviews with Miss Croninger, in one of which they ex­changed rings.

     A few minutes after the murder, a person was heard running past a house from the direction of the murder towards the canal! —the next morning, at day-light he was seen about three miles from the place, on the canal, getting a passage to Cleveland.-- He was arrested a few days after, on the Government works, at the mouth of Maumee Bay, with the blood still on his shirt sleeves.

     They were both indicated for the murder, at the September term 1837, and tried. The old man was acquitted. David was convicted of murder in the first degree, and on the ninth of Feb­ruary 1838 was executed at Ravenna.

     This was the second execution in Portage county. Henry Unkks having been hung at the same place, in 1816—and human­ity would hope it might be the last. Besides its uselessness, and inhumanity, it seems like mighty small business for all the officers of the law, with a Regiment of Militia, to be engaged in killing one poor mortal, and even he with his hands and feet tied. The ridiculous contrast exhibited on such occasions strikes every re­fined mind with disgust. While the officers of the law are killing him, because he is unfit to live in this wicked world, the ministers of religion are fitting him, and usually give him a pass from the gallows to the immediate society of angels and the spirits of the Just, in Heaven !