Riley Wilkins

Riley Wilkins Tells How Carter Creek Community Got Its Name Tells of Days When Indians Were Still in This Area and Bears Were Roaming Around the Country

“I was born on this farm 80 years ago last March 2, that is, in 1870,” said Riley, “J. R.” Wilkins when we called on him at the Wilkins family home, 3 ½ miles south-east of St. Marys on the Aqueduct Road (some call it the Carter Creek Road), which runs off highway 29.  And no sooner had he said it than we began to learn things.  “Carter Creek,” he informed us “is named after a Mr. Carter who was the first settler in the community.  He was buried near our house, in the gravel bank, but the exact location of his grave was not known.  But many years ago when they were hauling gravel for building the mud road which has since become Highway 29, into a gravel pike, Mr. Carter’s skeleton came tumbling forth as the gravel bank slid down.  They then took the skeleton and buried it in a country cemetery.”

“Highway 29 was originally an Indian Trail extending all the way from Piqua or Sidney to Fort Wayne, Indiana.  The Indians traveled it originally and it seems to have run over the highest ground.  When the white man came they gladly followed their trail instead of blazing their own.  The fact that it followed the highest ground on where there were natural paths, no doubt accounts for some of the curves and twists in Highway 29 today.”

Mr. Wilkins great-grandparents on his mother’s side came from Liverpool, England.  His great-grandfather came to America in 1817 and settled near Dayton, Ohio.  He was a young man, seeking his fortune.  His parents continued living in Liverpool.  One day he received a letter from a lady in Liverpool saying in essence;--“Wouldn’t you like an English bride?  We know of your parents, but have never met them.  We have just learned that you have gone to America and are single, and that you are an industrious and conscientious young man.  Our daughter wants to come to America very badly.  But of course she cannot come unless some one will look after her.  WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO MARRY HER,--i. e. if she is suitable?”  Of course, there was also a description of the young lady and her virtues.  How long he pondered that letter is not known.  But when he did answer he stated in essence “Send her over!”

In course of time the young lady bade good bye to her kin and home-land and embarked upon her adventuresome journey.  She was to arrive by boat in Cincinnati on a certain date and they arranged for a signal whereby they would recognize each other.  His name was James Kay.  Her name was Rebecca Newton.

“Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen!”—saith the Good Book.  So as the date neared, the prospective bridegroom set forth to meet the substance of her who was being hoped for, and to get evidence of what had been written by her mother but which he had not yet seen. And he acted in both faith and good faith.  He went on horseback from Dayton to Cincinnati, but took another horse, with empty saddle, along with him.  What his thoughts were, and what he pictured in his mind as he looked at the empty saddle, was unfortunately not recorded for posterity.  When he arrived at his destination,--lo the boat had arrived earlier than anticipated,  the passengers had disembarked, and Rebecca was nowhere in sight.  And nobody at the wharf could give him any information.  So he thoughtfully climbed back into the saddle and rode around the neighborhood.  Not far from the station he spied a young lady with baggage and a flicker of hope rose in his heart.  He rode up to her, dismounted, and asked if she were by any chance Rebecca Newton.  Yes indeed she was, and he was James Kay.  They looked each other over, the flicker of hope burst into the flames of love at first sight, they were married that very same day and started for Dayton, Rebecca occupying the empty saddle.  Was their marriage a success?  Indeed it was.  They lived to celebrate their golden wedding anniversary together, raised 2 sons and 3 daughters, and acquired a young fortune.  He himself built their home, a brick structure with walls 18 inches thick, and he burned the bricks himself.  The house is still standing.  And incidentally—the surviving Kays of this area have an annual Kay Family Reunion, held at the Legion Hall, New Knoxville, but there are only two people by the name of Kay left in the big relationship.  (Andrew Kay does not believe that he is related to the James Kays!)  At the Wilkins home is a sampler made in 1847 upon which, in needlepoint, appear the names and the birthdates of James and Rebecca Newton Kay.

Riley Wilkins’ grandfather on his father’s side went all through the Civil War, was in Sherman’s army while on the march to the sea, and was sent to Texas where he was to be mustered out of Service.  He wrote his family saying, “Children, the war is over, but I am not feeling well.”  That was his last letter and they still have it in their possession.  Soon thereafter they received a letter from a comrade in arms informing them that he had died of cholera.  Riley Wilkins’ grandmother died a few days later, here in Ohio, and of the same malady.

His father’s name was Calvin M. Wilkins and his mother, Abigail Ramsey.  When his father was a lad, the country around here was quite wild.  As a tot of a few years he was in front of their house one day and exclaimed at the “doggie” that was seen approaching.  His mother looked at the “doggie” and quickly grabbed the little fellow and pulled him into the house and bolted the door.  It was a bear, and it had been wounded. 

A little later two men, a Mr. Longsworth and a Mr. Lucas came through.  They had wounded the bear and were following it.  In those days the Indians were still here.  “They must have had their camp site on the back of our farm because we have found so many arrows there.  Once also we found an Indian pipe, a queer looking thing, but we don’t know what ever became of it.  But the whites were on good terms with the Indians.  A neighbor, the Senior Mr. Longsworth, once was invited to a venison feast by the Indians.  He attended, but reported the venison so unsavory that he could hardly eat it.  But his presence was a mark of good will.  I also remember hearing my folks tell that there used to be a spring just a short distance from our house and that an Indian squaw would come there every morning to bathe her baby.  Only once, in those early days, did the Whites around Carter Creek have an Indian scare.  One night an Indian came running and reported that he was their friend, that he had come to tip them off that the Indians were going to massacre all the white folks.  But the next morning they learned that that Indian had committed a crime, that members of his tribe were after him, and that he had hoped thereby to cause the whites to fire upon his pursuers.  Fortunately for all concerned, his deception was discovered before a shot was fired.”

“But tell us about yourself, Mr. Wilkins,” we requested.  “There’s not much to tell,” he answered.  “Being a bachelor, who would be interested?”  (You never can tell, Mr. Wilkins!)  He attended the school a half a mile from his home.  The building is today the granary on the Vernon Fledderjohann farm.  “I had lots of teachers.  We had two terms of school each year, and usually had a different teacher for each term.  We used McGuffeys Readers, Quackenbusch Histories, Rays Arithmetic, Harvey’s Grammar.  He also attended St. Marys High School one year, took the teachers examination (58 years ago at Wapakoneta), failed in Grammar, studied two months and then took a second examination.  This time he passed in everything and the following Fall started teaching in his home school with many of his former schoolmates as pupils.  Among his pupils who are still living were—his own relatives and others including the Wilkins, Pierce, Estella, Louise, Charles, Ford and Maud, Mrs. Clara Teeters, Bert and Gordon Miller, Mrs. Rita Whetstone, and Bart Campbell, Jesse Hudson, Mae Yingling, Louis Maneke, Mrs. Albert Rodeheffer, George, Leonard and Herbert Meyer, A. J. and Sam Longsworth, Bert and Mrs. Maud Kohlhorst, Louis Rohrbach, Mrs. Margaret Hartman, Mrs. Matilda Badertscher, Mrs. Emma Morris, Mrs. Minnie Schneider, Mrs. Mollie Metzger, Mrs. Mollie Dorley, Mrs. Ida Dorley, Walker Whetstone, George Boltz, Frank and Jess Kohler, “and others that I can’t think of right now.”  He taught there two years and then an additional year at the Oak Grove school near Wapakoneta.  His eyesight now failed him and he quit teaching and worked on a farm.  There after he worked at the Barrington saw mill (on the site of Memorial Park, St. Marys) and at various other jobs, he and his brothers taking over the home farm thereafter.  They farmed till last September.  I asked if he had been in good health most of his life and he answered, “I had typhoid fever when I was 24.  But the last 50 years I have been in good health!”  And he still is.  He could pass for 65.  While standing on their lawn as he pointed out various spots of interest in the neighborhood he recalled that over 3,000 loads of gravel were hauled out of their gravel bank for the construction of Highway 29, and that in recent years 145 truck loads of fill dirt had been hauled into the old gravel pit.

His brother Pierce lives at home and his brother Ford died last September 12.  His sisters Estella and Louise are also at home and his sister Maud (Mrs. Markus) lives on Aqueduct Road.

The conversation drifted to the world situation and Mr. Wilkins remarked, “All nations have become neighbors.  But not good enough neighbors.  Some neighbors can’t be trusted with the modern deadly weapons.  If we could only make people good enough to be trusted with them!”

NOTE: The Wilkins farm was located at what is now 05558 Carter Creek Road, St. Marys

NOTE: Mr. Wilkins full name was John Riley Wilkins, thus the nickname “J. R.)