James Kinkead, Jacob Sides and Abraham Russell put on the first line of passenger coaches west of Cumberland, and as early as 1818 John and Andrew Shaffer, Garrett Clark, Aaron Wyatt, Morris Mauler, John Farrell, Quill and Nathan Smith, and Peter Null, were drivers on this line. The Smiths and Null drove in and out from Uniontown. One of the Smiths subsequently became the agent of a stage line in Ohio. James Kinkead, above mentioned, was the senior member of the firm of Kinkead, Beck and Evans, who built most of the large stone bridges on the line of the road. This early line of stages was owned and operated in sections. Kinkead owned the line from Brownsville to Somerfield; Sides, from Somerfield to the Little Crossings, and thence to Cumberland Russell was the proprietor. Kinkead sold his section to George Dawson, of Brownsville, and Alpheus Beall, of Cumberland, bought out Russell’s interest. This line was subsequently purchased by, and merged in, the National Road Stage Company, the principal and most active member of which was Lucius W. Stockton. The other members of this company were Daniel Moore, of Washington, Pennsylvania, Richard Stokes and Moore N. Falls, of Baltimore, and Dr. Howard Kennedy, of Hagerstown, Maryland. After the death of Mr. Stockton, in 1844, Dr. Kennedy and Mr. Acheson were the active members of the firm. John W. Weaver put a line of stages on the road at an early day, known as the People’s Line. After a short run it was withdrawn from the road east of Wheeling, and transferred to the Ohio division. Previous to 1840, James Reeside put on a line which Mr. Stockton nick-named the “June Bug,” for the reason, as he alleged, it would not survive the coming of the June bugs. Mr. Stockton subsequently bought out this line and consolidated it with his own. There was a line of stages on the road called the “Good Intent,” which came to stay, and did stay until driven off by the irresistible force of the Steam King. This line was owned by Shriver, Steele & Company, and was equal in vim, vigor and general equipment to the Stockton line. The headquarters of the Good Intent line at Uniontown was the McClelland house. There passengers took their meals, and the horses were kept in the stables appurtenant. The “old line” (Stockton’s) had its headquarters at the National house, on Morgantown street, now the private residence of that worthy and well known citizen, Thomas Batton. This little bon mot is one among a thousand, illustrative of the spirit of the competition between these rival lines. There was one Peter Burdine, a driver on the Good Intent line, noted for his dashing qualities, who was accustomed to give vent to his fidelity to his employers, and his confidence in himself in these words:
“If you take a seat in Stockton’s line,
You are sure to be passed by Pete Burdine.”
And this became a popular ditty all along the road.
On authority of Hanson Willison, the old stage driver of Cumberland, the first line of stages put on the road east of Cumberland, in opposition to the Stockton line, was owned, from Frederic to Hagerstown, by Hutchinson and Wirt; from Hagerstown to Piney Plains, by William F. Steele; from Piney Plains to Cumberland, by Thomas Shriver.
Thomas Corwin, the famous Ohio statesman and popular orator of the olden time, was not a stage driver, but he was a wagoner, and one of the rallying cries of his friends, in the campaign that resulted in his election as governor, was: “ Hurrah for Tom Corwin, the wagoner boy.” The introduction of his name, in connection with stages and stage drivers, becomes pertinent in view of the following anecdote: Corwin was of very dark complexion, and among strangers, and in his time, when race distinction was more pronounced than now, often taken for a negro. On one occasion, while he was a member of Congress, he passed over the road in a “chartered coach,” in company with Henry Clay, a popular favorite all along the road, and other distinguished gentlemen, en route for the capital. A chartered coach was one belonging to the regular line, but hired for a trip, and controlled by the parties engaging it. The party stopped one day for dinner at an old “stage tavern,” kept by Samuel Cessna, at the foot of “Town Hill,” also known as “Snib Hollow,” twenty-five miles east of Cumberland. Cessna was fond of entertaining guests, and particularly ardent in catering to distinguished travelers. He was, therefore, delighted when this party entered his house. He had seen Mr. Clay before, and knew him. The tall form of Mr. Corwin attracted his attention, and he noted specially his swarthy complexion, heard his traveling companions call him “Tom,” and supposed he was the servant of the party. The first thing after the order for dinner was a suggestion of something to relieve the tedium of travel, and excite the appetite for the anticipated dinner, and it was brandy, genuine old cogniac, which was promptly brought to view by the zealous old landlord. Brandy was the “tony” drink of the old pike—brandy and loaf sugar, and it was often lighted by a taper and burnt, under the influence of a popular tradition that “if burnt brandy couldn’t save a man” in need of physical tension, his case was hopeless. When the brandy was produced, the party, with the exception of Corwin, stepped up to the bar and each took a glass. Corwin, to encourage the illusion of the old landlord, stood back. In a patronizing way the landlord proffered a glass to Corwin, saying: “Tom, you take a drink.” Corwin drank off the glass, and in an humble manner returned it to the landlord with modest thanks. Dinner was next announced, and when the party entered the dining room, a side table was observed for use of the servant, as was the custom at all old taverns on the road at that time. Corwin, at once recognizing the situation, sat down alone at the side table, while the other gentlemen occupied the main table. The dinner was excellent, as all were at the old taverns on the National Road, and while undergoing discussion, Mr. Clay occasionally called out to the lone occupant of the side table: “How are you getting on, Tom?” to which the modest response was, “Very well.” After dinner the old landlord produced a box of fine cigars, and first serving the distinguished guests, took one from the box and in his hand proffered it to Mr. Corwin, with the remark: “Take a cigar, Tom?” When it was announced that the coach was in readiness to proceed on the journey, Mr. Clay took Corwin’s arm, and, approaching the old landlord, said: “Mr. Cessna, permit me to introduce the Hon. Thomas Corwin, of Ohio.” Cessna was thunder-struck. His mortification know no bounds. Observing his mental agony, Mr. Corwin restored him to equanimity by saying: “It was all a joke, Mr. Cessna; do not, I beg you, indulge in the slightest feeling of mortification. I expect to be back this way before long, and will call again to renew acquaintance, and take another good dinner with you.”
John Ritter, affectionately and invariably, by his acquaintances, called “Johnny,” was noted for his honesty and steady habits. For many years after staging ceased on the road, he was a familiar figure about Washington, Pennsylvania. He assisted Major Hammond for thirty years in conducting the Valentine house, and acted as agent for Brimmer’s line of mail hacks, and other similar lines, after the great mail and passenger lines were withdrawn. He was a bachelor, and a soldier of 1812, and drew a small pension. He died at the Valentine house, in Washington, on January 28th, 1879, in the eightieth year of his age, leaving behind him a good name and many friends.
The first line of passenger coaches put on the road between Brownsville and Wheeling was owned, organized and operated by Stephen Hill and Simms and Pemberton. This was in 1818, and a continuation of the early line before mentioned from Cumberland to Brownsville. Stephen Hill, while a stage proprietor, was also a tavern keeper in Hillsboro, Washington county, a small town, but an old town, which probably derived its name from his family. Under the inspiration of modern reformation, so called, the name of this old town has been changed and languishes now under the romantic appellation of Scenery Hill. When it was Hillsboro, and a stage station of the old pike, it was a lively little town. Under its present picturesque name it remains a little town, but not a lively one. The change of name, however, has not yet penetrated the thinned ranks of the old pike boys, and they still refer to it as Hillsboro.
