The Old Pike / A History of the National Road, with Incidents, Accidents, and Anecdotes Thereon

by Thomas B. Searight

In September, 1844 or 5, my father came home from Uniontown late at night, and woke me up to tell me that there had been a big break in the Pennsylvania Canal, and that all western freights were coming out over the National Road in wagons. The stage coaches brought out posters soliciting teams. By sunrise next morning, I was in Brownsville with my team, and loaded up at Cass’s warehouse with tobacco, bacon, and wool, and whipped off for Cumberland. I drove to Hopwood the first day and stayed over night with John Wallace. That night Thomas Snyder, a Virginia wagoner, came into Hopwood with a load of flour from a back country mill. When we got beyond Laurel Hill, Snyder retailed his flour by the barrel to the tavern keepers, and was all sold out when we reached Coonrod’s tavern, on Big Savage. I was a mere boy, and Snyder was especially kind and attentive to me. After we pulled on to Coonrod’s yard Snyder told me to unhitch and feed, but leave the harness on. At midnight we rose, hitched up, Snyder lending me two horses, making me a team of eight, pulled out, and reached Cumberland that night. On leaving Coonrod’s the night was dark, and I shall never forget the sounds of crunching stones under the wheels of my wagon, and the streaks of fire rolling out from the horses’ feet. In Cumberland, we found the commission houses, and the cars on sidings filled with goods, and men cursing loudly because the latter were not unloaded. Large boxes of valuable goods were likewise on the platform of the station, protected by armed guards. After unloading my down load I re-loaded at McKaig & Maguire’s commission house for Brownsville, at one dollar and twenty-five cents a hundred. We reached Brownsville without incident or accident, made a little money, and loaded back again for Cumberland. On my return I found plenty of goods for shipment, and loaded up at Tuttle’s house for Wheeling, at two dollars and twenty-five cents a hundred. In coming back, it looked as if the whole earth was on the road; wagons, stages, horses, cattle, hogs, sheep, and turkeys without number. Teams of every description appeared in view, from the massive outfit of Governor Lucas down to the old bates hitched to a chicken coop. The commission merchants, seeing the multitude of wagons, sought to reduce prices, whereupon the old wagoners called a meeting and made a vigorous kick against the proposed reduction. It was the first strike I ever heard of. Nothing worried a sharpshooter more than lying at expense in Cumberland waiting for a load. Two of the “sharps,” unwilling to endure the delay caused by the strike, drove their four-horse rigs to a warehouse to load at the reduction. This excited the “regulars,” and they massed with horns, tin buckets, oyster-cans and the like, and made a descent upon the “sharps,” pelting and guying them unmercifully. An old wagoner named Butler commanded the striking regulars with a pine sword, and marched them back and forth through the streets. Finally the police quelled the disturbance, and the “sharps” loaded up and drove out sixteen miles, to find their harness cut and their axles sawed off in the morning. In this dilemma an old regular, going down empty for a load, took the contract of the “sharps,” and made them promise to never return on the road, a promise they faithfully kept.

Yours truly,JESSE J. PEIRSOL.

Many old wagoners wore a curious garment called a hunting shirt. It was of woolen stuff, after the style of “blue jeans,” with a large cape trimmed with red. It was called a hunting shirt because first used by hunters in the mountains.

The origin of Pennsylvania tobies is worth recording, and pertinent to the history of the old wagoners. The author is indebted to J. V. Thompson, esq., president of the First National bank of Uniontown, for the following clipping from a Philadelphia paper concerning the “toby:” “It appears that in the old days the drivers of the Conestoga wagons, so common years ago on our National Road, used to buy very cheap cigars. To meet this demand a small cigar manufacturer in Washington, Pennsylvania, whose name is lost to fame, started in to make a cheap ‘roll-up’ for them at four for a cent. They became very popular with the drivers, and were at first called Conestoga cigars; since, by usage, corrupted into ’stogies’ and ‘tobies.’ It is now estimated that Pennsylvania and West Virginia produce about 200,000,000 tobies yearly, probably all for home consumption.”

JAMES SMITH,
OF HENRY.

It is probable that the manufacturer referred to in the above was George Black, as that gentleman made “tobies” in Washington at an early day, and continued in the business for many years, and until he became quite wealthy. In his later days his trade was very large and profitable. Old wagoners hauled his “tobies” over the road in large quantities, as they did subsequently the Wheeling “tobies,” which were, and continued to be, a favorite brand. Many habitual smokers prefer a Washington or a Wheeling “toby” to an alleged fine, high priced cigar, and the writer of these lines is one of them. As has been noted, the “rubber,” called brake at this day, was not in use when the National Road was first thrown open for trade and travel. Instead, as related by John Deets, sapplings, cut at the summit of the hills, were shaped and fashioned to answer the ends of the “rubber,” and at the foot of the hills taken off and left on the roadside. E. B. Dawson, esq., the well known, well posted and accurate antiquarian of Uniontown, and, by the way, deeply interested in the history of the National Road, is authority for the statement that one Jones, of Bridgeport, Fayette county, Pennsylvania, claimed to be the inventor of the “rubber.” He, however, never succeeded in obtaining letters patent, if, indeed, he ever applied. There were other claimants, among them the Slifers, of Maryland, mentioned elsewhere in these pages. The real and true inventor seems to be unknown, and yet it is an invention of vast importance, and with legal protection would have yielded the inventor an immense fortune.

Old wagoners, as a class, were robust, hardy, honest and jovial. But one of the long list is remembered as a criminal. His name was Ben Pratt, and he belonged to Philadelphia. He turned out to be a counterfeiter of coin and currency, and suffered the punishment that all counterfeiters deserve. Many old wagoners were fond of fun and frolic, but very few of them were intemperate, although they had the readiest opportunities for unrestrained drinking. Every old tavern had its odd shaped little bar, ornamented in many instances with fancy lattice work, and well stocked with whiskey of the purest distillation, almost as cheap as water. In fact all kinds of liquors were kept at the old taverns of the National Road, except the impure stuff of the present day. The bottles used were of plain glass, each marked in large letters with the name of the liquor it contained, and the old landlord would place these bottles on the narrow counter of the little bar, in the presence of a room filled with wagoners, so that all could have free access to them. None of the old tavern keepers made profit from the sales of liquor. They kept it more for the accommodation of their guests, than for money making purposes. There was probably a tavern on every mile of the road, between Cumberland and Wheeling, and all combined did not realize as much profit from the sales of liquor in a year as is realized in that time by one licensed hotel keeper of Uniontown, at the present day.

When, at last, the Conestoga horse yielded up the palm to the Iron horse, and it became manifest that the glory of the old road was departing, never to return, the old wagoners, many of whom had spent their best days on the road, sang in chorus the following lament: