MySource:Cos1776/Cooke, Joseph. A Grandfather’s Story and Family Record by One of the Family

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Per Rootsweb (last updated Mar 2005/last accessed Oct 2014): "Kindly donated by Russell Miller, who originally found the autobiography in an 1896 booklet which was authored by Joseph Cooke. Feel free to contact Russell (RMille9601(at)nwi.net) if you would like to exchange information concerning Joseph Cooke or his ancestors."

Transcript

A Grandfather’s Story and Family Record by One of the Family - by Joseph Cooke

Seattle Washington
September 1896

My Dear Grandchildren

It is my desire to tell you a story, and if it does not interest you now the time will come when it will probably be of interest to you, for I am going to tell about our ancestors and every one should know something of their grandfathers, as so I want to tell you all I can of ours. I have no record of the Cooke family farther back than my grandfather’s birth; what else is told is from what I have myself known or have been told by my father, grandfather, or other members of the family.

My grandfather Joseph Cooke was one of five brothers: Samuel, Amasa, Asaph, Joseph, and Charles. Their father was one of two brothers: Amasa and Asaph. It is claimed for them by those of the family who have had better facility for knowing than I, that they were descendents (sic) of the Cookes, who were of the Mayflower pilgrims; while of this I have no record I have no doubt but that it is true.

One of these brothers (Asaph I believe) was killed by an indian and left no children. I do not know the date of this homicide but will tell the story as I used to hear grandfather tell it. This uncle of grandfather’s was a young man and had been but a short time married; it was winter, he had been a short journey and was one his return and when but a few miles from his home, had stopped for a night at a village inn, and as was always the custom then, a liquor bar was a prominent feature of the house, and among its patrons that night was an indian who lived near by, who after being filled with rum became boisterous and quarrelsome, and the landlord wanted Cooke to help to put him out, but he advised the landlord not to attempt it as he thought the indian would go of his own accord if left to himself, which in fact he soon id (sic); but in stead of going home as an honest indian hould (sic) have done, he lurked about the door waiting for the landlord. Soon after Cooke, on going out, received a fatal blow on the head from the point of an old flat-iron which the indian had armed himself. The indian fled, pursuit was made, and his house searched; his squaw said he was not a home and had not been that night; but as the pursuers were about to leave the house she asked, “Is that man dead?” and then they knew that she had lied to them and upon a more thorough search the indian was found, tried, condemned, and hanged for the crime. He said he was sorry he killed Cooke, it was the landlord he meant to kill. Asaph Cooke’s death left his older brother, my grandfather the patriarch of the family so far as this story is concerned.

Besides the five sons that I have named there were two or three daughters. One married a man named Meacham, who lost his life in the battle of Bunker Hill. When the Americans were driven from the field he was seen by his comrades sitting under a tree with one of his thighs badly shattered by a musket ball. When they wanted to help him away he told them to leave him and save themselves. His people supposed that he either died there or in a British hospital, for that was the last they ever heard of him.

Another daughter married a man named Merrick. I remember seeing her, when she made grandfather a iasit (sic) when I was six or seven years old. I think grandfather had another sister who married a man by the name of Haight.

Upon the outbreak of the Revolution, grandfather then about eighteen years old, enlisted in the patriot army in which he served until the end of the war. It was a great pleasure to me when a boy to hear him tell his old war stories, or when two or three of his compatriots would chance to meet, to listen to them as they would “fight their battles over again.” He was with Gen. Arnold, in 1776 on his memorable march through the woods of Maine, and the following winter, suffered from smallpox which in a malignant form afflicted the American army at Quebec that winter. One morning when the doctor was making his daily round, of the hospital, he said to the nurse, as he was leaving grandfather’s bed, “Cooke will march up the hill tomorrow dressed in a wooden jacket.” This rough speech of the doctor was overheard by the patient, who immediately replied, “No I will not, I am going to home to see my mother first.” He kept his word, but the next summer, after an absence of two years when permitted to visit his home, he was so changed his mother did not know her boy.

In the spring of 1777, Gen Burgoyne came up the St. Lawrence river with a large army, and forced the American army to evacuate Quebec. It chanced that at this time grandfather with two comrades in arms, had been put on picket guard, at a distance from the camp. The time came that they should have been relieved but no relief came; they waited from morning until noon, still no relief; and as the afternoon dragged its slow and weary hours along, they began to know there was something wrong, so at last they decided to leave their post and go to camp, well knowing the penalty they incurred in so doing. They found the camp deserted, the army had left in the night, and in the hurry and confusion of a hasty retreat their guard had been forgotten. The army was fifteen hours ahead of them and the British vanguard was in close pursuit, and held the road between them and their friends. So they took to the fields and woods, and after three days of untold toil and privation, weary and starved, they overtook the army. When they passed through the deserted camp grandfather took from a table, a pint flask that prove to be filled with rum. This with a loaf of bread and a pan of sour milk was all the food the three men had for three days, as they did not dare to shew (sic) themselves to the inhabitants of the country, lest they would betray them to the enemy. The invasion of Canada having proved a total failure, the little army made haste to leave that country. The story of this campaign, and retreat, furnished a most interesting chapter of history.

At this time grandfather’s parents were living in the town of North Adams, in the north west corner of Mass. And when on their retreat the army reached a point near there, grandfather obtained a furlough and went home. He had been there but a few days when Burgoyne sent a detachment under Col. Baum to Bennington to capture a quantity of military stores the Americans had collected at that place. The militia of the surrounding country was called to the defence (sic) of Bennington, and grandfather was anxious to go, but his father told him he could not, Amasa and Asaph were going, but he wanted him to stay at home and work. He then sent him to drive up and yoke the oxen but watched him as he went threshing the thistle heads with his goad, until he saw him stop and begin to madly whip an old stump, then he called to him; “Here, Joe if you are so anxious to fight, take your gun and go.” When Baum found the stores would not be given up without resistance, he entrenched himself and sent back to Burgoyne for reinforcements.

On the 16th of August Gen. Stark, with an army of four hundred “Green Mountain Boys” and militia took Baum and his host. In the morning of that day Gen. Stark called for a company of volunteers to open the battle by an attack on the enemy’s rear, grandfather was one of this company which was led by Gen. Stark, and to whom he made that little speech, that will be quoted as long as the story of the battle of Bennington is told. When he had got his little company ready to start, pointing to the enemy he said: “Boys you see those redcoats over there, now we will have them before night or Molly Stark will be a widow.”

In gaining a position in the rear of the enemy, the Americans passed through a piece of woods, soon after which, they came within range of the British, and they fight commenced. Only a few shots had been fired when a man at grandfather’s side fell by a shot from the rear, and then a ball hit the tip of his ear and another cut his hatband on the opposite side of his head, all coming from the rear; then his and two others who stood by him faced about to watch from whence they came; they soon saw an indian look out from behind a tree in the woods they had just passed, they all fired at him, and had nor more trouble from that direction, and when they looked there the next day, they found a “good indian.” The British being attacked in front and rear were soon defeated and made prisoners. But a few hours had passed and the prisoners just marched off, when a reinforcements from Burgoyne appeared on the field, but they they soon met the fate of the friends they were sent to relieve, and were marched off prisoners of war. I cannot follow grandfather’s career through the war as I would like to do, but must hasten on. After the war - through which he served with honor to its end - grandfather married Rachel Langdon and settled in the town of Granville Washington Co, New York where I think all his children were born.

Of grandmother’s family I know but little; there was one - I think it must have been her greatgrandmother of whom I have heard tell- who when a girl was living with her parents in London, during the great plague of 1665, The next spring she married and left London, for the West Indies. The voyage across the Atlantic in those days was long, and before they reached their destination the husband sickend and died. The young widow having no friends in the West Indies, left the ship at Philadelphia where she afterwards married Langdon.

In 1806 grandfather moved to Adams Jefferson Co, where with the help of his two boys Charles L. and Chauncy, he cleared up a farm from the dense forest that then covered the country. For several years almost their only resource for obtaining money was from potash which they made from the ashes of the wood they burned in clearing the land. Forest game furnished them with meat, as deer and bear were plenteous in the woods.

In the war of 1812 father did service in the militia, was at the battle of Sackets Harbor, and was in the field three or four months that year. 1813, serving as Regimental Adjutant. Father and Uncle Chauncy, continued to occupy, and improve the farm in grandfather’s old age, he making his home with uncle Chauncy. Grandmother died, in the spring of 1833. She was confined to her bed for near three years before her death, from an injury received by a fall she had while walking in the yard one morning; by making a misstep she fell breaking her thigh close to the hip joint; the fracture never healed so as to permit her to walk or stand.

In the Spring of 1838 father and uncle sold the old homestead and dividing their interests removed to Ohio and settled at what is now North Monroeville but was then, and for more than half a century, known as Cooke’s Corners. It was here in a most beautiful and desirable country, that Asaph Cooke and his family made their homes soon after the war of 1812.

I was twelve years old when we went to Ohio; we make the journey of nearly five hundred miles in wagons starting in April and arriving at the place of our destination in five or six weeks. Father here bought land for a farm which he improved, and on which in 1841 he built a comfortable residence where he and mother made their home for the remainder of their lives.

Mother was born in Harrington Conn. Her father William Benton, followed the business of contractor and builder. He moved to Adams about the same time as did grandfather Cooke, where for some years he ran a hotel. He had two sons, Pomeroy and Wells and four daughters, Lois, Maria, Nancy and Julia.

Pomeroy went to Canada near the time of his father’s death, and for many years his people heard nothing from him, but a few years ago I heard he married there and raised a family.

Wells lived in Adams and was for many years a Justice of the Peace, and later sheriff of Jefferson County. He had two daughters, Sarah and Augusta, of whom I know but little.

Mother’s sister Maria married a man named Smith; they lived in Adams and raised a large family.

Nancy married T.C. Chittenden a lawyer who served one or two terms in Congress, and I think was afterwards Circuit Judge.

Julia married John Fay who for a number of years was sheriff of Jefferson County. Both Nancy and Julia raised families of sons and daughters, but I have no record of their names, and could recall but a few of them.

Grandfather died in 1830. I remember him quite well although I was scarce five years old at his death. Grandmother lived several years after grandfather’s death; she had two brothers, Jacob and Abijah Kellogg, living in towns adjoining Adams.

I know but little of the Benton family, more than that they were of “the old New England stock,” who must have settled in that country in an early day.

I have but little to say of myself as my life has not been an eventful one and would furnish but little of interest for a story, and I would pass it without comment, but that perhaps some of my greatgrandchildren of the fourth or fifth generation, if this record shall chance to fall into the hands of such, may want to know something about its compiler. It is for such an one then that this page is written. I was born, as you may see in the record, in Adams Jefferson County N.Y. Nov. 14th 1825, where I lived until father moved to Ohio in the spring of 1838, and there my youthful years were spent; years full of interest to me as the years of youth are to every one, for them we owe the formation of character thought and habit that govern all out after lives.

I lived the life of a farmer boy until I was eighteen when I left the farm for the carpenter’s bench, and in that business in some of its forms I have spent the most of my life. My school days were mostly passed within the walls of the country schoolhouse. I attended school one winter in the Norwalk Academy, and in forty six and forty seven I was a year in the Oberlin Institute. At that time Rev. Asa Mahan was President of the Institute, and Rev. C G. Finney Professor of Theology, and I used to hear one or both of them preach every Sunday while I was there.

In the early days of 1851 I decided to come to the Pacific coast. The journey then could not be made in four or five days as it now can, for there was then not a mile of railway west of the Mississippi river. The journey had to be made by water from some Atlantic port via, Panama or Cape Horn, in from six weeks to six months, or it might be made across the continent with ox wagons in five or six months. I chose the latter route. I left home the last week of February by rail to Cincinnati, and thence by steamer down the Ohio and up the Mississippi to St. Louis, and on up the Missouri to Weston, Platt Co.; here we left the river and bought oxen and continued our journey by land up the Missouri to Council Bluffs. Our company to this point was Hiram Smith and family, Israel Cooke, myself and four or five more young men. At Council Bluffs we met more of Smith’s company, E.N. Cooke and family and some others who had made the journey to that place by land during the winter. Our train was here made up of about fifteen or twenty wagons drawn by from two to four yoke of oxen to each wagon, and three or four family carriages usually drawn by horses or mules. Our company now numbered from twenty-five to thirty “able bodied men besides women and children”. We were well supplied with provisions, such as flour, cornmeal, bacon, dried fruit and beans; and the cows we drove, furnished milk, and sometimes a little butter.

On the 6th of May we crossed the Missouri river at where is now the city of Omaha but was then only the site of an Indian agency, surrounded by scores of wigwams full of Indians. Here began what has been so often described as “that long wearisome, and dangerous journey across the plains.” Long it was, and to the oxen that hauled the wagons it was no doubt a weary one indeed as very many of them fell by the way; to me it did not prove particularly wearisome, but a pleasure trip I greatly enjoyed, and I have ever counted that Summer as among my “red letter days.” We went by the way of Salt Lake where we stopped four weeks and gave the teams a much needed rest, and Smith and E. N. Cooke traded with the Mormans for stock, giving in exchange dry goods which they had brought for that purpose.

I arrived in Portland Oregon the middle of October, there I stopped until the first of December and then went to Salem where I made my home. At this time Oregon included all the country west of the Rocky Mountains from British Columbia to its present southern boundry (sic). It was but ten or fifteen years since the first permanent settlement had been made. Portland was a village in the woods with more big fir stumps than houses, and there was but one brick building in the then broad Territory of Oregon; that was a small store at Oregon City and it was washed away by the flood of December 1861.

The early settlement of the country is often spoken of as a time of great privation destitution and suffering, but I doubt if there was then really as much want and hunger in this land as there has been during the past two or three years. I know we were then without many luxuries of food, raiment, furniture, houses, and equipage, that some now consider necessaries. Many of us have continued without these things to this day, without being counted as suffering privation or hunger. There was at times much suffering in “crossing the plains.” Many spent their all for team and outfit, then if their oxen died, or sickness came upon them there was trouble such as try men’s souls, but when once the Willamette was reached the weary and hungry found food and rest, and those without money could get plenty of work at big wages. Then Oregon was a land where a poor man could live with less worry and toil than he can today; then all stood more nearly on a social level, and money had not the power as a social factor has now.

I must now draw my story to a close, I have already made it much longer than I had intended. If any of you to whom it is addressed want to know more about its compiler your can ask your father or mother to tell you. A grandfathers life is but short and soon mine will be only a memory, I have tried to live it so as to pass the name down to you unstained and honorable as I received it from my fathers. When I commenced the foregoing pages I did not think to make so long a story but only to write three or four pages and then a record from grandfather’s family down; but becoming interested I began looking for material and finding much more than I had expected, it has already outgrown my first design. I also find that I should have spent six months or a year on what I have attempted to do in a few days. I might then have avoided some errors I have fallen into., I will give some extracts from a letter from my brother Charles now living at “the Corners” near the place where many of the family are “sleeping with their fathers.”

He writes: “Shortly before father’s death he received several letters from a man who was gathering material for a history of the Cooke family. He said he had collected a large amount of facts, and it would be one of the most interesting family histories ever written. He claimed that all the New England Cookes were descendants of two brothers who came over in the May Flower. “I think you are mistaken in the name of the one killed by the Indian, I tkink (sic) it was Moses. I remember hearing father say he left no children but that was a mistake. He left one or more daughters and I think a son but of this am not positive. Several years ago I met a man in Norwalk whose name I can not now recall, who claimed to be a descendant of this Cooke that was killed, and I think he told me he left a son. One of the last times I saw old uncle Charles, grandfather’s brother, he told me of a minister that once preached at Sackets Harbor who was a great-grandson of the man killed.” Quite sufficient proof I think to establish the fact that this Asaph or Moses Cooke did not die childless.

I have also reviewed since commencing this little history some pages of a similar record begun by E. N. Cooke which I very much regret he did not finish. He made no mention of the man killed by the Indian, and he gave the name of our greatgrandfather as Asaph which I have been taught was Amasa. He also names but four brothers in grandfather’s family omitting Samuel. I have often heard father speak of his “uncle Samuel”, but I know nothing more of him or his family, but from hearing father speak of him as I have, an impression is on my mind that he lived in Washington Co., New York.

And now if my narrative thus far is faulty and disconnected I hope it may stimulate some one who is better qualified to take it in hand, who will produce a better narrative than I have done. I will give as full a record of the family from my greatgrandfather down, as I am able; in many cases all I can give will be the names, and many families of the later generations I have no data whatever.