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The Janesville Gazette

August 14, 1985; p. 2E

Janesville, Rock County, Wisconsin

Yesteryears, 1835-1985 - Janesville Sesquicentennial
 
[Photographs; caption reads: Janesville has evolved continually over the years, and the changes on Main Street are indicative of its evolution. South Main Street is shown in the inset at the turn of the century and in the lower photo as it appears in 1985.]
 
Prologue
Try to imagine.
It's 1835.
Your name is John INMAN, formerly of Pennsylvania, now living in Milwaukee.
Through vague reports originally obtained from Indians, you heard of a land to the southwest with
beautiful, flower-decked prairies and grass six feet high. There are few trees, it is said, but swift, sparkling streams wind like silver threads through the area.
Though a Frenchman settled nearby in 1824, the area mostly is occupied by Indians.
They had found the area "well watered... containing a broad expanse of prairie upon which grazed
the herds of game."
You heard the story of the two white women who traveled in the area against their will.
They were kidnapped from their cabin in Illinois after Indians broke in and, in less than 10 minutes,
killed and scalped 11 people, including six children.
"As soon as the massacre was over, three Indians seized and dragged me from the bed," one of
them reported. "We were taken by four Indians - two having hold of each - and hurried off on foot... as fast as we could run for about two miles."
The women were placed on horses and rode for a night and a day. Stopping to eat at noon, the
women noticed the Indians dressing the scalps they had taken at the cabin.
"Among them I recognized, by the color of the hair, my own mother's," one of the women said.
And you had heard recently of the warrior Black Hawk and his fellow Indians being pursued to the
area by the Army.
In 1833, the government surveyed the land.
So, in June of 1835, you and William HOLMES put your supplies on two ponies, grab your rifles
and start the three-day trek.
Camping the night at the Yahara River, you wake to see your ponies gone. Carrying the supplies
on your shoulders, you follow the river southward until you camp again on the point of a bluff.
Looking out, you see a prairie stretching into the distance until it mingles with the blue of the horizon.
You see an ocean of waving grass and blooming flowers and only a few trees near the river's edge.
A big rock, crowned with trees, stretches 70 feet above the water.
This, you decide, is where you want to live.
Returning to Milwaukee, you set out again in the fall, along with your companion HOLMES and
two others. With an ox team and wagon, you arrive on Nov. 15, stopping at the south bank of a river.
The biting frosts of winter are at hand. The banks of the river on either side are lined with oaks,
maples and ash, from which you build a home.
In December, close quarters become closer with the arrival of another man, Samuel ST. JOHN,
and his family of five.
So nine of you crowd into a single cabin to spend the winter.
At the time, you could never dream that 150 years later the more than 50,000 residents of a city
called Janesville would celebrate your arrival.

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