| John Parker describes Ripley
in 1845.
From: The
Autobiography of John P. Parker, His Promised Land, edited by Stuart
Seely Sprague, published by W.W. Norton
This fantastic book is available for sale at the Corner Peddler in
Ripley and through bookstores.
"To give you the
real background of my activities, it is necessary to tell you about
Ripley in 1845. At that time it was busy as a beehive. There was no town
along the Ohio River except Cincinnati that was in its class. There was
a group of live men there that made it the center of industry and
finance. There was Samuel Hemphill, Archibald Leggett, the Boyntons,
Thomas McCague, James Reynolds were the leaders.
"There were the
upper and lower boatyards, busy the year round. The upper boatyard was
the oldest and larger of the two, located at the mouth of Red Oak Creek.
There was a jut of land below the creek which gave the boatyard a safe
harbor, winter and summer. One hundred flatboats were made here in one
year for Vevay, Indiana, to float hay down the river. ...
"In winter
steamboats were on the ways. The entire riverfront was filled with
flatboats loading cargoes for New Orleans and all waypoints. Winter and
summer there flowed down the river highways into the town a continuous
stream of logs night and day. Only pork was packed, as the south did not
feed beef to its slaves. The slaughterhouses were in full blast at all
seasons. Flour mills, both water and steam, ground up the grain of the
neighboring farms. ...
"All winter long the
farmer and his family were busily engaged making pork and flour barrels,
and tobacco hogsheads. There were brought to town either on sleighs or
by four-to-six horse teams. At times the farmers killed (and) packed
their own hogs. A woolen mill made most of the jeans for the town and
the flatboats....
"This little town
was so rich [that] in the Panic of 1837, it sent its funds to help New
York banks over that depression. It was as busy as a beehive and as
thrifty as it was busy."
"We knew not
what night or what hour of the night we would be roused from slumber by
a gentle rap at the door. That was the signal announcing the arrival of
a train of the Underground Railroad, for the locomotive did not whistle,
nor make any unnecessary noise. I have often been awakened by this
signal, and sprang out of bed in the dark and opened the door. Outside
in the cold or rain, there would be a two-horse wagon loaded with
fugitives, perhaps the greater part of them women and children.
--Levi Coffin, known as the Underground Railroad "president"
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