website watertownhistory.org
ebook History of Watertown,
Wisconsin
The
Burial of Thomas Bass
Written and contributed by Ben Feld
1837
The memory of any given incident lingers in our minds in a number of
forms; we recall the incident exactly as it happened, or we recall it as we
wish it had happened, or certain facts depart from our memories and that
recollection, which may have much truth to it, it presents a scenario somewhat
different from reality.
Such seems to be the case in the relating of the first death in
Watertown. The general conception of the
incident varies a bit with the teller, most of the facts being drawn from a
recounting published in the Watertown
Democrat of
According to that account, Bass was an intelligent Englishman of
about twenty-six years, with no relatives in this country and well liked by
those acquainted with him. Although The Republican does not mention his
occupation, there is reason to believe he worked as a cook for Capt. James
Rogan. Bass and his two companions lived
in a small shanty south of Main Street on the site later occupied by the Vulcan Iron Works. [Bass’ cabin was about where the Senior
Center is today}
One cold February night Bass and his companions, Charles Seaton
and Ezra Dolliver, procured a gallon of whiskey, besat
themselves in front of a roaring fire in their fireplace, and proceeded to warm
the inner man with the contents of their jug.
The combination of warmth on the inside produced by the fiery spirits
and the warmth of the fire on the outside produced the desired state of
drowsiness in the men, which prompted Seaton and Dolliver to stretch themselves
out on the floor where they fell into a deep sleep.
Bass, however, was supposed to have seated himself on a bench
before the hearth, where he became drowsy, and while helpless and insensible,
pitched head-first into the flames, and unable to make an effort to get out or
call for aid, “nothing was seen of him until the next morning, when he was
found dead by his associates -- his limbs and body scorched and mutilated by
the fire.”
In response to the fear of the community that stories about this
incident may adversely affect the reputation of this new community, Mr. L. A.
Cole, that day, walked to Aztalan where he persuaded
two men to investigate the incident, so that no blame could be attached to any one in the town.
When all the facts had been ascertained, the incident was ruled an
accident and Bass was buried in a grave under a large maple tree in the First
Ward near where the Brick School House was later constructed. [Believe he was buried in about the middle of
S. Third Street, across from Veteran’s park]
Attending the simple funeral ceremony where William Brayton
officiated, were Timothy Johnson, Luther A. Cole, John W. Cole, Amasa Hyland, Calvin Boughton, Charles Seaton, Ezra Doliver,
Philander Baldwin and Reeve Griswold. Virtually
the entire population of the village which, at the time, was yet unnamed
officially. There being no saw mills on
the Rock River at that time, the coffin was made of planks hastily hewn out of
available logs. [Mrs. Timothy Johnson
made his shroud]
However, there were those who were not completely satisfied this
death was purely accidental and Mr. Enoch Darling, of Milwaukee, had the body
disinterred. A jury was chosen, the
facts again brought out, and the verdict again rendered as “Accidental death by
falling into the fire.” The body was
again committed to the earth and remained there until it was exposed during the
grading of
Some thirty years later, in June, 1889, another version, somewhat
different, was given by Mrs. J. A. Chadwick, the daughter of Timothy
Johnson. In a letter written to be read
at the Old Settlers’ meeting on June 20th, she tells how her father,
Timothy Johnson, met her, her mother, and six more children, one only a year
old, in Milwaukee about October 12th ,1836. Jane Johnson, the writer of the letter was
nine years old at the time and had, she insisted, very clear recollections of
what transpired during those early days in what later became known as
Watertown.
She recounted how her father, Timothy Johnson, was reluctant to
leave the small log hut he had partially finished on his claim near the Rock
River. Leaving it for only one night
could easily have resulted in losing the property completely. The land, which
was, as yet, not “in the market” was always in danger of being taken by the
scourges of the frontier, the claim jumpers.
Should a settler leave his home for as little as just one night, it was
possible for one of those unscrupulous characters to occupy the dwelling and
was lawfully within his rights to lay claim to the building and land
surrounding it. Claim jumpers were
ranked one notch below horse thieves, the most detested frontier
characters.
Part of her letter revealed his anxiety:
“I have thought also that he must have felt somewhat anxious to
know if he still had a claim to come to, for in those days, “might was right,”
and if a claim was left for a night some one may have
taken possession of it, or in early days expression, have “jumped it.”
Although he was well aware that three known claim jumpers occupied
a shanty in the First Ward, his fears turned out to be groundless. Jane related no troubles in that area. However, she does refer to the death of
Thomas Bass and her recollection seems to indicate that his death did not occur
quite as reported in The Democrat in
1859.
According to her, Seaton and Dolliver came to the Johnson home during
the night requesting help. The men, she
said, explained they had been drinking, got to quarrelling and “this man was
killed.” Timothy Johnson sent them away
saying if the man was already dead there was nothing he could do about it.
The next morning, she said, Johnson and another man went to the
cabin where they found “the dead man had been left so near the fire that the
flesh was burned nearly off one side.”
Putting together the facts that the men had come for help during
the night, her statement that the men said they had been quarrelling and a man
was killed, and Timothy Johnson and his companion finding the victim near, not
in, the fire, leads one to conclude that this was indeed a murder. But that does not explain why the affair was
officially deemed an accident. Was it
just to avoid notoriety for the city?
Was it just to avoid a lot of legal machinations? Or was Jane Johnson’s (Mrs. J. A. Chadwick’s)
unreliable memory at age 62?
Whether guilty or innocent, Seaton and Dolliver reportedly became
tea-totalers and left the area. Bass was , as before recounted, buried in
a rather shallow grave on a site
described by the editor of The Democrat
in 1859 as:
“…now little removed from the center of the flourishing city we
now see. In front is the public square,
on one side of which is one of the largest churches in the city, on another one
of the finest residences in the State, near by the best school house in our
midst, where for years hundreds of children have been unconsciously playing over
the unmarked resting place of the first man buried in the city where perhaps
most of them were born.”
The
First Grave
[Recollection of first grave in Watertown]
1837
The first white man’s grave made within the limits of Watertown
was last week broken in upon and destroyed by the march and changes of time,
and its almost forgotten tenant, after resting in it nearly twenty two
years—heedless of the life and activity surging above him—removed to a spot
where his wasting remains will be disturbed no more forever by the intrusions
of the living.
We have thought a slight account of this incident, drawn from the
vivid recollections of some who were witnesses of the whole scene, might be
interesting, not only to those of our readers who will now first learn them,
but also to those who have a distinct remembrance of all that happened at that
early day in the history of the city whose foundation they were about to
commence. And as we give a brief sketch of
the first death, curious fancies more than half arise in the mind, and suggest
the question who shall record the last one, and when will it be done?
In the spring of 1837, the population of this city did not exceed
fifteen, men, women and children all counted.
There might have been standing here and there, under the shadows of the
dense and majestic wilderness, four rude and hastily built log cabins—not
dwellings, for they were supplied with too few of the conveniences and
attractions which make a house also a home.
These were the only traces then existing of approaching
civilization. Indian villages were
scattered up and down the river and this whole region—remarkable even then for
its beauty, and widely known in the East as the “Lake Country”—was the favorite
abode of the Winnebagoes. Among the new comers was Thomas Bass, an
intelligent Englishman of about twenty-six years of age. He was a young man without any relatives on
this side of the Atlantic, and made quite a favorable impression on those who
became acquainted with him after his arrival.
Sometime during the month of February, in 1837, with two other
companions, he procured a gallon of whiskey, and became involved in a drinking
frolic, in a log hut which stood on ground now occupied by the Vulcan Iron
Works. The weather being cool, the merry
party kindled a large fire, and after drinking pretty freely, two stretched
themselves out on the floor for the night, but Bass is supposed to have seated
himself on a bench before the hearth, became drowsy, and while helpless and
insensible, pitched head-first into the flames, and unable to make an effort to
get out or call for aid, nothing more was seen of him until the next morning,
when he was found dead by his associates—his limbs and body scorched and
mutilated by the fire.
The accident created considerable excitement and regret, and threw
the young community into commotion. Some
were afraid that false and exaggerated reports would be circulated abroad to
their injury. To prevent this blight on
the fair prospects and good name of the settlers, Mr. L. A. Cole, the next day,
walked to Aztalan and induced two neighbors—it seems
strange now to speak of men living twelve miles away as near neighbors—to come
and investigate the case, so that no blame could be attached to any one in the town.
When all the facts had been fully ascertained, nothing remained
but to give the unfortunate stranger as decent a burial as circumstances would
permit. There being no saw mills on Rock
River, boards could not be had, though there was plenty of timber out of which
to make them. The next thing was to cut
down growing trees and out of the logs hew thick planks for the coffin, which
was done.
A retired place, then supposed to be remote from the business part
of the unnamed village, was selected for the grave. It was well chosen, being on a slight
elevation and under the branches of an unusually large and handsome maple,
which grew where the First Ward Brick School House now stands. There he was buried, his funeral being
attended by all the inhabitants, Mrs. Timothy Johnson—the only woman then
here—did her part on the melancholy work—she making the shroud. The ceremonies on the occasion were simple,
the services short. No minister of the
Gospel being at hand, William Brayton offered up a prayer.
Those present, as far as can now be remembered, were Timothy
Johnson, Luther A. Cole, John W. Cole, Amasa Hyland, Calvin Boughton,
Charles Seaton, Ezra Doliver, Philander Baldwin and
Reeve Griswold. So ended the first
funeral.
About a week afterwards, however, Mr. Enoch Darling, now residing
at Jefferson, in this county, came out from Milwaukee to hold a Coroner’s
Inquest. The body was disinterred, a
jury chosen, the facts again brought out, and the verdict rendered was
“accidental death by falling into the fire.”
The body was again committed to the earth and has remained here
until, in the progress of improvements, it was exposed a few days ago while
grading streets. The out of-the-way spot
is now little removed from the center of the flourishing city we now see. In front is the public
square, on one side of which is one of the
largest churches in the city, on another one of the finest
residences in the state [this would be the Buchheit Home],
near by the best school house in our midst, where for years hundreds of
children have been unconsciously playing over the unmarked resting place of the
first man buried in the city where perhaps most of them were born. Mr. L. A. Cole having his attention called to
this grave, he applied to Mr. William M. Dennis, the President of the city, who had them taken up, properly coffined, and interred in Oak
Hill Cemetery, where they will probably moulder back
to dust with being troubled again. Watertown Democrat, 08 11 1859
1859
09 08 Christian Schroeder, for burying Mr. Bass, $5.00. [Common
Council] [The body of Thomas Bass, the
first death of a settler in Watertown, was exposed in 1859 while grading
streets in the area of Veteran’s Park] WD
Cross References:
Recollection
of murder, by Luther Cole
