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(Expanded Version) Mid-Week Historical Newsbreak -- Tragedy at the Stanton Crossing

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After a short absence, the Mid-Week Historical Newsbreak is back, with a story about a holiday season tragedy in Stanton. This one is interesting because it started out as just a short posting, but the more I found out the more I'm thinking that it might have had repercussions that are still evident today. I found several similar but slightly different newspaper accounts of the incident, each one providing a bit more of the story. The one seen above gives the short version of it, being that three people (well, two and a third assumed) were killed when they were struck by a train in Stanton. Sadly, it's a story that you can still see in the paper once or twice a year nowadays it seems, but this one may have a little more to it, I have a hunch.

For a longer version of the story, the December 24, 1897 edition of the (Washington, DC) Evening Star (in the upper left) gives a lot more (and a lot more graphic and gory) details. Very early on the morning of Christmas Eve 1897, T(homas) Wesley McBride, his wife Jennie, and their six year old daughter Carrie were on their way to the Wilmington market. They weren't regular attendants to the market, but this day they had some poultry and eggs they wanted to sell, maybe for some money for a Christmas feast. I'm not absolutely sure where they lived, but it may have been on the family farm formerly belonging to Wesley's father, William McBride. Ironically for a story about physical injury, the McBride farm seems to have been located at the present site of Christiana Hospital. If they did live there or close to there, it would make sense that they would be coming up the road toward Stanton, on their way (via today's Route 4) to the city.

It was a cold, blustery morning as the McBrides reached the Philadelphia, Wilmington and Baltimore Railroad tracks (now the Amtrak line) south of Stanton. It must have been a little past 2:30 in the morning when they arrived at the crossing, unfortunately at the same moment as the Washington and New York Express (due into Wilmington at 2:55 AM). Due to the conditions, the family had their wagon closed up as much as possible and apparently didn't hear or see the oncoming train. You can read the Evening Star report for more details of their injuries, but suffice it to say that in train vs. wagon, train wins.

However tragic it is, the story (at least in my mind) probably would have ended there except for the last (so far) newspaper report I found about the accident. It can be seen below, and comes from the January 2, 1898 edition of the Wilmington Sunday Star. When I first read the original story I had, it didn't specify exactly where the collision occurred, only that it was at the crossing at Stanton. I assumed they meant the B&O crossing of Limestone Road, where the bridge now goes over the tracks between the middle school and Kirkwood Highway. Then I saw it was actually the PW&B tracks, but even then it didn't quite register. Finally I read the story below and saw what was being implied -- a lawsuit.


It was really only then that it occurred to me. Today, and for quite a long time before, you'd have to work pretty hard to have your wagon (or car for that matter) hit by a train at this particular crossing.

The Stanton Crossing of the (then) PW&B tracks
Except for the station that's no longer there, this is still (more or less) what the Stanton crossing of the PW&B tracks looks like. It's the infamous Stanton Underpass. The photo above was taken sometime soon after the turn of the century, probably before 1910. I wonder (and maybe someone out there knows more and can confirm or deny this) if due to a real or threatened lawsuit by the McBride's family, the railroad decided to put in the underpass and take away this potentially dangerous at-grade crossing. Perhaps the reason the picture was taken was to show off the new underpass. Maybe all the cars that stalled in the water under that bridge over the years did so because a family lost their lives on a cold and windy Christmas Eve morning.

McBride Tragedy at Stanton Crossing -- Follow-Up

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In the last Mid-Week Newsbreak post we got the sad story of the McBride family, and the possible eventual consequences from the incident. To quickly summarize the tale, early on the morning of Christmas Eve 1897 T. Wesley, Jennie, and young Carrie McBride were on their way from their White Clay Hundred home into the market in Wilmington. While crossing the PW&B (now Amtrak) tracks south of Stanton, the family's wagon was struck by a train, killing Mr. and Mrs. McBride and severely injuring six year old Carrie. There was then one last article that mentioned a possible lawsuit against the railroad, which I hypothesized might have lead to the building of the underpass at the crossing, still present today.

Now, thanks to some typically marvelous research by Donna Peters, we do have a little bit more information about the family and the after-effects of the accident. None of it substantially changes anything about the story, but it does help to flesh it out a good bit. Frustratingly though (for me, at least), we still don't have any concrete evidence to support my claim about the underpass.

First up we have some more background about the McBride family, prior to the accident. It comes from a Christmas Day article in The [Philadelphia] Times, from which the portraits included here also come. (The complete article can be found at the bottom of the post. You should be able to click on it for a larger version if it's difficult to read.) Oddly, it gives Mr. McBride's name as George, although from primary sources we know it was Thomas Wesley. Maybe he went by George for some reason? Anyway, it says Wesley (I'll call him that, as that's how he's referred to in other articles) was born in Christiana, but I think it was on a farm located exactly where Christiana Hospital is now. From a 1937 aerial picture, it looks like the house may have been in the middle of the main parking lot in front of the main hospital entrance. [I was over there a few times last month and probably parked right where he played as a child.] Sometime in the mid 1870's Wesley "was seized with the gold fever and went West." He ended up in Colorado and "amassed a small fortune". When his father died in 1893, Wesley returned home to Delaware.

Thomas Wesley McBride

After coming back east, McBride met a young widow named Jennie Bradley. Four years earlier, in February 1889, Jennie Donoho married an Irish-born Brandywine Hundred farmer named Bernard Bradley (they may have wed at the Mt. Pleasant Methodist Church on Philadelphia Pike near Bellevue). In August 1891 the couple had their first child, a girl named Carrie Rose. Carrie would also be their last, as only a month later Bernard succumbed to typhoid fever. Jennie remained a single mother for a little more than three years, until her marriage to Thomas Wesley McBride on January 23, 1895. Sadly, bride and groom would have less than three years to live. Carrie, though, was a different story.


As the Times article covers in more melodramatic detail, Jennie McBride was more or less killed instantly when the train struck, and Wesley was mortally wounded, dying a short while later. The articles written that first week all say that Carrie's injuries were severe, and they say or imply that she was not expected to live. They were wrong.

After recovering from her injuries, Carrie Bradley ended up living with an uncle in Wilmington, according to the 1900 Census. In 1910 she was in the household of another uncle (or so it says, although he may have been an older step-cousin). There she met a man named Edgar V. Sheldon, who (at least as of the 1910 Census) was also living there as a boarder. On June 28, 1911, Carrie and Edgar were married. Two years later, June 9, 1913, their first child (Edgar, Jr.) was born in their home near 30th and Washington Streets in Wilmington. As best as I can tell (and thanks to more finds from Donna) the Sheldons had six children, equally divided between boys and girls. One son died in Alaska in 2009, and another in Delaware in 2012. The second one, Cifford M. Sheldon, was the owner of Brookside Lanes bowling alley in Newark. Carrie Rose Bradley Sheldon died in August 1978, more than 80 years after the newsmen had predicted her demise.


The last little tidbit we have (seen above) is regarding the lawsuit that was hinted at in the earlier article. We still haven't found anything to say what the eventual outcome of the case was, but this report shows they weren't fooling around. That $45000 suit in 1898 would be worth well over $1 million today. It may very well be that as a condition of the lawsuit, or as an attempt at mitigating it, the railroad constructed the underpass so as to remove the dangerous crossing for future travelers.

Mid-Week Historical Newsbreak -- Death from the Skies!

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Juniata Sentinal, July 24, 1872
This week in the Mid-Week Historical Newsbreak we have a story of equine death from the heavens. Or just horses in the wrong place at the wrong time. It comes to us from the Juniata Sentinal, dated July 24, 1872. The story was a little old by then, but on Independence Day evening two of Joshua barker's horses were killed by lighting.

Joshua Barker (1811-1891) lived with his wife Martha and their children in a stone house on the east side of Barley Mill Road, just north of where it crosses Red Clay Creek. The house is still standing, and is seen in the picture below.

The Hollingsworth Case and Wild Wooddale -- Part 1

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The (Phil.) North American - June 16, 1896
As we've seen in previous posts, Mill Creek Hundred was home to a number of communities mid-sized and small in the 19th Century, places like Stanton, Hockessin, Corner Ketch, Milford Crossroads, Milltown, and Marshallton, to name a few. Some have survived the years in one form or another, while others have disappeared in all but name. But for at least a few decades in the late 19th and early 20th Centuries, one of the largest communities in the hundred was quite different from the rest, and for a combination of reasons has pretty much disappeared from history -- until now. The community in question was Wooddale, and I don't feel exaggeratory (yeah, it's a word) in calling it Sin City, MCH.

In a couple of previous posts we've alluded to this community, but only recently did I become aware of its true nature. Wooddale got its start (and eventually, its name) from the Delaware Iron Works, located at the top of the oxbow on the Red Clay north of Lancaster Pike. When the Wilmington & Western Railroad was built in 1872 and needed a name for the station at the factory, it was named after Alan Wood, owner of the iron works. Not long before that, a quarry was begun just north of the iron works on the west side of Red Clay Creek, south of where Barley Mill Road crosses over it. Between the iron works and the quarry there were quite a few laborers, many of them single men. What grew up around them was what you'd expect of a community of single, working men. It just may not be what you think of when you picture the Victorian and Edwardian Eras.

We'll get to the community itself in the next post, but first a century old cold case. My knowledge of and interest in this aspect of Wooddale came about from a newspaper article given to me by current residents of Wooddale (thanks, Jane and Chris!). It concerns the unsolved murder of a local farmer who appears to have been caught up in the dark side of Wooddale. The story appeared in the Sunday Morning Star on September 21, 1924, although the events recounted took place some 28 years before. For a full account, read the whole story here. For our purposes I'll recap the tale in brief.

On the morning of Sunday, June 14, 1896 (although I'm thinking they mean late Saturday night/early Sunday morning), 27 year old local farmer Abner Hollingsworth and his friend Patrick Thornton arrived at Wooddale after a successful day at the Wilmington market. They probably had some money in their pockets and were looking to spend it the way twenty-something men often are on a Saturday night. Wooddale at that time provided ample opportunities to do so, but more on that in the next post.

In the course of the morning Hollingsworth had run-ins with several Italian-born Wooddale residents, one of whom ran one of the saloons. Both had tried to separate the inebriated Abner from his money in less than honorable ways, and the young farmer was none too pleased. Or to put it another way, they tried to rob him and he fought back. Thornton tried to keep him out of trouble, but the two got separated somewhere along the way. The next time Thornton saw his friend, Hollingsworth was lying in a drunken stupor behind a shack. Thinking he would be fine, Thornton left him there. The next person to see Abner Hollingsworth was John Connor, the station agent at Wooddale, when he found Hollingsworth's dead body in a clump of bushes near the tracks.

Two Italians were arrested at the time for Hollingsworth's murder but both were subsequently released. More than a year later one of them was rearrested, but a Grand Jury failed to indict him. To the best of my knowledge, no one was ever tried or convicted of the murder of Abner Hollingsworth. His case, though, opens up a whole slew of questions, only some of which I can answer at this time.

Wooddale area 1893

I can tell you a little more about Abner Hollingsworth, who was probably not the first or last person to meet an untimely end around Wooddale. He was born on August 15, 1868 to John J. (1824-1871) and Hannah (Pyle) (1826-1902) Hollingsworth. Originally from Christiana Hundred, sometime in the 1850's the family moved into the farm formerly owned by Rev. Patrick Kenney on Lancaster Pike, just a short walk from Wooddale. At the time of his death, Abner was still living there running the farm (destroyed in a 2010 fire) with his widowed mother. In the next post, we'll take a closer look at the community in which Abner lost his life.

The Hollingsworth Case and Wild Wooddale -- Part 2

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[Philadelphia] Times, June 22, 1896
In the last post, we took a look at the unfortunate case of Abner Hollingsworth, a Mill Creek Hundred farmer murdered (most likely) in Wooddale in 1896. Several men were arrested, but ultimately no one was ever indicted for the crime. Just this case itself would have made for an interesting post, with many unanswered questions still lingering more than a century later.

The real and fascinating questions, however, (in my mind, at least) concern the community of Wooddale itself. We first ran across it in the post about the Delaware Iron Works, at which time I assumed that "Wooddale" was comprised of only the iron works and the workers housing directly around it. Then, while researching the Spring Hill Brewery (and here) nearby, I was reminded of the quarry on the west side of Red Clay Creek and the Wilmington & Western tracks. At the time I speculated that perhaps much of the brewery's output was sold very locally to workers at the quarry and the iron mill. After learning more about Wooddale, now I'm sure of it.

If you go back to the article about Abner Hollingsworth, this is what it has to say about Wooddale:
At that time Wooddale was known as a quarry town and was notorious for its gambling "joints" and "speakeasies". No restrictions were placed upon saloons being open upon the Sabbath. In fact, Sunday was a day of riot and debauchery. Since the majority of the town's inhabitants were quick-tempered, fights and bloody quarrels were not uncommon sights. Farmers who lived near the place have been known to drive many miles out of their way to keep from passing through it. 
From that description, Wooddale sounds like one of those little Wild West towns that you'd picture springing up near a mining camp. I think that's basically what it was, except instead of being out west it was on the eastern edge of Mill Creek Hundred. And while the name came from the iron mill, I think the bulk of what was referred to as Wooddale was actually centered around the quarry. The 1900 Census gives an idea of what and who was there. This page shows seven Italian families containing 35 people, including merchant Raffaele Julian, or Julian Rafelo as he's called in the article, the first guy who tried to scam Hollingsworth.

The next page lists 49 male Italian laborers, with Louie Tange (Tong in the article) as the head of household. Tong was one of the men arrested for the murder but released. The group contains both single and married men, but no families. Since they're all listed as one household, it must have been a company dormitory of some sort. The quarry continued to operate for several more decades before shutting down. One question I have is what became of the workers? Did some or most stay local, perhaps moving into Wilmington? Is there anyone around (maybe reading this) who is descended from some of these Italian stone workers, and might have family stories about Wooddale?

The biggest question, though, is just where all of this was located. Between the quarry and the iron mill, there must have been well over 100 people in the area. We have a good idea where the iron mill's worker housing was. Some of it is still there, and there's evidence of where other houses were along the same lane. As far as I know, however, nothing remains of the quarry's housing, like the 49 man dorm. All of the saloons, gambling houses, and "speakeasies" are gone as well. Where were they? After looking at the aerial photos taken in 1937 (not long after the quarry closed), I have a guess.

Wooddale in 1937
In the picture above, the quarry is the white area just above center, the Wood mansion and iron works site is in the lower right, and the Hoopes Reservoir dam is in the upper right. Red Clay Creek, the railroad, and Barley Mill Road all run between the quarry and the reservoir. To the west (left) of the quarry can be seen the remains of several small roads. These lie in the area now called Spring Valley. The lane on the right which appears to lead to a cleared area more or less tracks along the present course of South Spring Valley Road. The lane to the left is still partially present as a long private drive. My guess is that this is where the bulk of Wild Wooddale was. Very near to the quarry, but only a short walk from the iron works.

The housing and structures built there were probably rather flimsy and temporary in nature, and likely disappeared soon after the workers did. If there were any remains of foundations or the like, they were probably removed in the late 50's/early 60's when the area began to be developed. Of this community that once had to have numbered at least 150 or more, I'd be surprised if anything remains.

This brings us to the final unanswered question -- Why did this Wooddale community vanish not only physically, but also pretty much historically? To be fair, other small villages like this have come and gone, some leaving little if any trace. But with Wooddale, I think two things come into play that erase its memory even more effectively. First, as the newspaper reports indicate, this rowdy village (maybe not much more than a large encampment) was not exactly one that locals would brag about. Once the workers left, I'm sure the remaining neighbors were more than happy to try and forget they were ever there. Secondly, I think it may have to do with the workers themselves. Remember, almost all the quarry workers were Italian immigrants. Before that, many of the iron mill workers were also transplants, albeit native born ones. That fact that this community was populated by "outsiders" probably lead to it being largely forgotten once those workers left.

I know I'll keep looking for more information about this unique community (as will others), and if anything else pops up I'll be sure to pass it along. The subject has interested me enough that I'm frustrated not to have more, outside of a few random tidbits, such as the fact that at one time the Wooddale Station mistress (and Post Mistress) was also known as the local prostitute. If enough additional facts emerge, I'll write another post about Wild Wooddale. I'm sure they'll be entertaining, if nothing else.

Mid-Week Historical Newsbreak -- Wooddale's Dynamite Goat

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For this week's Newsbreak I couldn't resist using a story that not only ties directly into the community of Wooddale, topic of the last two posts (one and two), but also happens to be one of the most amusing ones I've seen. There's also an interesting phrase that may give a little insight into Wooddale, or at least how it was perceived from the outside. It comes to us from the pages of the Chicago paper The Inter Ocean, dated August 28, 1904. It's simultaneously funny, frightening, and discomforting on several levels.

As the story goes, there was a community-owned goat who lived among the quarry workers at Wooddale. And as we've all seen in numerous old tv shows (I'm looking at you, Brady Bunch and MASH), goats will eat just about anything. In this case, there was reason to believe that the goat feasted on two sticks of dynamite, the type regularly used by the quarrymen in blasting out the rock. After learning of this, the locals gave the animal a wide berth, not wanting to get caught in any sort of goatsplosion (goatastrophe? goataclysm? I can go on if you'd like). As the article below from the Alexandria (VA) Gazette noted, the goat was "struting around the neighborhood like a king".


I've not found any follow-up to the story to know if the goat ever blew up, or if everything, um, came out ok. And while there's no denying that for the most part this is a pretty funny story -- one that almost sounds like a cartoon -- in a way it does point out the dangerous conditions under which these immigrants worked. There are numerous stories about workers either being buried in rockfalls or blown up in explosions, like the article mentioned in the Spring Hill Brewery post update. In the pre-OSHA days jobs like this were often very hazardous, probably one reason why it was done largely by immigrants (that and the Italians' stoneworking experience).

The final little thing I'd like to point out is the way in which Wooddale is described in both articles -- as an "Italian colony". This fact was pretty obvious from the Census records, but to see it described this way is interesting. I think it shows that Wooddale was really seen as a foreigners community, possibly one reason why its memory has faded so much over the past century. But all seriousness aside, how can you not chuckle at the thought of that goat wandering around the village?

Mid-Week Historical Newsbreak -- A Buzz About Horses

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Wheeling Daily Intelligencer, Sept. 15, 1852
For the Newsbreak this week we have a bit of apian-on-equine violence at a place not specified, but I think deduced. The story comes to us from the September 15, 1852 edition of the Wheeling Daily Intelligencer. As it states, a horse belonging to a Mr. Hoopes was stung to death by a hive of bees, before the bees moved on to another horse. While attacking the second horse they were dispersed by (presumably a bucket of) water, at the suggestion of "a lady". I'll leave it to our female readers to expound upon the virtues of having a clear-headed woman around in a crisis.

As I mentioned, the story doesn't specifically say where this took place, but I think the real clue is in the owner of the second horse. The 1850 Census shows three Hoopes men living in Mill Creek Hundred -- Thomas, Jonathan, and William. Thomas and Jonathan both resided near Loveville, in the area around Lancaster Pike and Old Wilmington Road just below Brackenville Road. While both of them owned their own farms and William didn't, I think it was almost certainly William's horse that succumbed to the angry bees.

The reason for this is the identity of the second horse's owner -- Dr. McCabe. Dr. Robert McCabe lived along the south side of Little Baltimore Road, just east of the Mitchell farm now known as the Woodside Creamery. Not too far south of them, along North Star Road, lived Abner Woodward. In the household of Abner Woodward was a carpenter named William Hoopes. Hoopes was Woodward's brother-in-law, as Abner and William's sister Julia Ann Hoopes were married in 1839[thanks to Delaware21 for the info]. While it's not out of the realm of possibility that Dr. McCabe could have been making a house call a few miles east at Loveville, I think it's much more likely that the unfortunate horse belonged to William Hoopes.

And by the way, if you like horses and think this story was bad, don't even bother to read next week's.

The Yarnalls and Their Tavern

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The Yarnall Tavern, circa 1895
We've featured several taverns and inns in previous posts, either directly or indirectly, such as the Riseing Son and the Stanton Hotel in Stanton, the Brackenville Inn, Polly Drummond's tavern, and even the resort hotel at Brandywine Springs. This time we'll look at one that could be called a predecessor of Brandywine Springs. One that we unfortunately don't have a whole lot of information on, partially because its tenure of operation was not all that long. And in the next post we'll also note another inn that we know even less about, and that may have been a successor to the original tavern. This first inn was known as the Conestoga Wagon, but is more commonly referred to as the Yarnall Tavern.

As you probably could guess, the Yarnall Tavern was owned and operated by the Yarnall family, and any discussion of the establishment cannot be separated from a discussion of the family that ran it. The Yarnalls' story in America began with Philip Yarnall (1664-1734), who in 1683 emigrated from Worcestershire, England to the new colony of Pennsylvania. He and wife Dorothy had 10 children, the seventh of whom was Nathan Yarnall 1707/8-1780. Nathan Yarnall lived and died in Edgemont Township, Chester (now Delaware) County, PA, but several of his children would later move south to Delaware.

One of these children, his first by his first wife (of three), was Ephraim. Ephraim Yarnall (1733-1793) was born in PA and married Dorothy Yarnall, who I believe was his cousin. More importantly for our story, in 1761 Ephraim purchased 147 acres of land in Mill Creek Hundred from Jeremiah Wollaston. The property sat on the north side of what is today Faulkland Road, and was more or less bisected by Newport Gap Pike. It can be seen in the picture below, which is courtesy of Walt Chiquoine. (In fact, pretty much all of the property information here has come from the fine work he's done in tracking it all down.) Dorothy died in 1766, and later that year Ephraim remarried to Sarah Houlton (or Holton).


The land on which Ephraim and Sarah were living was originally warranted to Bryan McDonald, Sr. in parts, in 1689 and 1703. After passing to Bryan, Jr., Wollaston sold it to Yarnall in 1761. (The northern part was sold in 1757 to George Robinson, and later became the site of the Henry Clark Woolen Mill.) An old, possibly 18th Century, house still stands on the property, and may have been constructed by either Wollaston or Yarnall. The exact dating of it is as of yet incomplete.

The next real estate move by Ephraim Yarnall is the one that directly pertains to the story of the Conestoga Wagon. In 1783 he purchased 256 acres from Archibald Gardner, land that sat on the southern edge of his original property. This new acquisition contained all of what is now Brandywine Springs Park, and even extended as far west as the border of the Delcastle Recreation Area. Yarnall would turn around and immediately sell the western portion of the land, but he held on to the 250 acres centered around the intersection of Newport Gap Pike and Faulkland Road.


Now that we have the background of the Yarnall family, we can move to the tavern itself. Very little seems to have been written about it, and most of what is relates to the end of it, and the sale of the property that became Brandywine Springs. Pretty much most of what is said of the establishment boils down to, "It was a Colonial Era tavern run by Holton Yarnall, and catering to the teamsters traveling with their wagons along the road that would become the Newport and Gap Turnpike." I have no doubt that the parts about the clientele and the proprietor are correct, but the "Colonial Era" phrase I continuously see, I believe, is misleading if not outright incorrect.

Nowhere (yet) have I ever found a construction or opening date for the Yarnall Tavern. The tavern stood on the east side of Newport Gap Pike, just below Faulkland Road, on ground that's now part of the park. There is a flat, level area still evident, and ground penetrating radar results (done about 20 years ago by the Friends of Brandywine Springs) confirmed the location. The tavern can be seen in the photo at the top of the post. But as we've seen, Ephraim Yarnall didn't buy that property until 1783. To the best of my knowledge, there is no evidence that any of the previous owners of the land ever operated a tavern or inn. For that matter, there's no mention of Ephraim Yarnall being anything but a farmer.


The man normally given as the owner of the Conestoga Wagon was Holton Yarnall, the fifth child (and third son) of Ephraim and Sarah. Holton was born in 1774, so it's fairly unlikely that he was running a tavern in the Colonial Era. I think that phrase has just been passed along because he was known to be the owner by the early 1800's, and historians didn't know how long he'd been running it or how old he was. The term was probably used just to mean "old", but I think it implies that it was older than it really was. If Holton Yarnall was the innkeeper, then the Yarnall Tavern probably didn't open before the mid-1790's. One possibility is that Holton and/or his mother Sarah started keeping the tavern shortly after Ephraim's death in 1793. Holton would have been 19, and maybe they were setting him up for a career, since his older brother Nathan seems to have inherited the home farm.

The age of the actual tavern structure, though, is another matter. Like with most other points here, there's not much in the way of concrete evidence. Even if the tavern wasn't opened until circa 1793, the house may have been older. After Bryan McDonald, Sr.'s death about 1707, at least five other people owned the property on which the tavern stood, before Ephraim's 1783 purchase. As far as I know there are no better photos of the house than the one here, and the tavern was torn down in the early 1900's. The best image of the tavern is actually the painting seen below, of the Brandywine Springs Hotel. The Yarnall Tavern can be seen in the foreground, along the road. I think it's very possible that Holton Yarnall inherited the stone house along with his portion of his father's land, and decided to take advantage of its location right on a heavily traveled road.


This takes us up to the early 1800's and the "heyday" of the Conestoga Wagon tavern, such as it was. In the next post we'll take a look at the end of the Yarnall Tavern, and at another inn about which even less is known. Yes, that's possible.

Mid-Week Historical Newsbreak -- Who's Got Your Tongue?

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Two weeks ago in the Newsbreak story about the horse killed by bees, I promised an even more gruesome story to come. Well, here it is. This story comes from the Juniata Sentinel and Republican, dated January 02, 1878. It relates an incident where a horse owned by a Hockessin man became spooked by an oncoming train. The farm hand who was working with the horse tried to get it to come forward, for some reason, by grabbing its tongue. The horse was so scared that it continued to back off, not stopping until it had torn out its own tongue!

To answer your first question, no, I don't know why I would post something like this. I just had it is all. The second question as to why the man would grab the horse's tongue -- I have no idea. Maybe that's a thing. I don't know. I'm not really a horse guy. Seems kind of odd to me, though. I can, however, at least somewhat clear up a few things from the newspaper story.

Only some really deep research could hope to turn up the name of the tongue-pulling farmhand, but I can correct the name of the horse's owner. I'm honestly not quite sure exactly what the name is supposed to be here. Garghm? Garghun? Well, I think it's pretty likely that the name should actually be Hamilton Graham. Graham ran one of the kaolin mines in Hockessin and owned a house just east of town, between Lancaster Pike and Old Wilmington Road. The house is now facing Yorklyn Road, although that portion of the road was only a private lane at the time. The property also happens to run along the Wilmington and Western tracks. It would have been a WWRR train that spooked the unfortunate horse.

I can also fill in who the "Mr. Bergh" mentioned at the end of the article was. Henry Bergh was the founder of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (ASPCA). The organization was formed only 12 years earlier, and the name probably would have been more recognized then than now. The reference seems spot on, and unless the whole incident was just a tragic accident, I'd tend to agree.

The Yarnalls (and More) and Another Inn

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The Conestoga Wagon, or Yarnall Tavern
In the previous post, we looked at the early history of the Yarnall family, their acquisition of land around the area now known as Brandywine Springs, and the opening of the Conestoga Wagon inn, often called the Yarnall Tavern. In this post we'll take the story forward, focusing on the end of the Conestoga Wagon and on another "Mystery Inn" that may have been a successor to it.

As noted in the first post, it's unclear exactly when the Conestoga Wagon first opened. My hypothesis was that Sarah Yarnall began keeping the inn soon after her husband Ephraim's death in 1793. New information has called that theory into question, quite possibly moving the date of the house and tavern significantly forward. This new idea will be dealt with more fully in another post to come.


Although there's uncertainty as to when the tavern began, Holton Yarnall's financial situation seems painfully clear. Not very long after taking control of the property south of Faulkland Road, Holton was deep in debt. According to C.A. Weslager in his book Brandywine Springs: The Rise and Fall of a Delaware Resort, by 1802 James Gibbons held a mortgage of 600 pounds on the property. The mortgage was transferred to James Robinson, a neighboring blacksmith, in 1807. Robinson in turn assigned the mortgage in 1818 to Jane Wilson, "a single woman of Wilmington". What Yarnall needed this money for originally is unclear. He may have assumed debts from his father, he may have amassed his own, or he may have needed funds to build or rebuild the home on his property.

Whenever Yarnall began keeping his tavern, by 1814 he was looking to sell it and the rest of his tract. He took out a newspaper ad then (it didn't sell) and again in 1816. Both ads referred to the property as "Yellow Springs" in reference to the mineral spring that would ultimately be its savior. The tract was 80 acres, containing a well finished stone house (the tavern) 33 feet square and two stories, a good frame barn, and other various outbuildings. Unfortunately there were again no takers, and the property was put up for sale in 1822 for at least the third time. This time Yarnall also offered to sell only a few acres (containing the springs and the tavern), if the purchaser did not wish to buy the farm (in the literal sense).

From the American Watchman, Sept. 11, 1816

The luckless Yarnall was again unable to find a buyer, and his time was just about up. In 1827 Jane Wilson died, and her executor (MCH native) Washington Rice was pushing for settlement of the debt. Rice went to court and won a $3200 settlement which Yarnall was unable to pay. In July the Yellow Springs property, including the Conestoga Wagon tavern, was sold for $2805 to a Wilmington businessman who was probably acting as a front for the group who wanted to build the Brandywine Springs resort hotel. And thus ended the Yarnall family's tenure as innkeepers in Mill Creek Hundred -- or so I thought until recently.

After the Wilmington investment group purchased the property, it's not clear what the old tavern was used for. Probably it served as living quarters for one or more of the hotel's employees. I had always just assumed that the Yarnalls moved out of the area after the tavern's sale. This, as it turns out, was far from the truth. In fact, it seems that they not only stayed very close, they stayed in the same line of business!

From the 1849 Rea and Price Map

The evidence had been staring me in the face, but I always overlooked it. On the 1849 map, on the northeast corner of Newport Gap Pike and Faulkland Road, there lies an inn and a store. As it turns out, this lot happens to be a four acre plot given to Ann Yarnall in 1829 as a widow's dower, after the death of her husband Holton Yarnall. A DelDOT report contains a chart (page 22 of the PDF) showing Ephraim Yarnall (Ann's son, Holton's brother) and Ann Yarnall as innkeepers in 1834 and 1843, respectively. This is obviously after the sale of the Conestoga Wagon, so they must have been operating the tavern/inn on that northeast corner! Nowhere have I ever seen another reference to this inn -- not even its name. The 1850 Census (seen below) does show us who was running the inn and the store at that time, and who owned them.

1850 Census

The Innkeeper was Jacob Foulk, one of the sons of William Foulk, the former owner of the mill down the hill that would become the Fell Spice Mill. Jacob had married Edith Yarnall, daughter of Holton and Ann, in 1823. Although Jacob's occupation is listed as Innkeeper, if you look closely you'll see that it was Ann (Yarnold instead of Yarnall) who actually owned the property. The Storekeeper was a man named William Cullins, about whom I've not found any other data. He seems to have lived in the same household as Jacob and Ann, so the assumption is that he resided in the inn and that Ann owned the store as well. The 1849 map shows two buildings, so it looks like the store was a separate structure next to the inn.

As little information as we have about the earlier Conestoga Wagon, we have even less abut this later inn. There are no pictures of it I'm aware of. We don't even know what its name was. The evidence seems to indicate it was in operation as early as 1834 and as late as 1849, but was gone by 1868. In fact, the Foulks seem to be gone from the area by 1860, and the property was sold to Irish farmer Charles Ferguson, who also owned a farm just north on the Pike. The house eventually went to his widow, Margaret Ferguson, who may have owned it until her death in 1902. An old house was present on the corner until about 20 or 30 years ago, but I'm not sure if it was the same one used by the Foulks/Yarnalls or if it was a later construction.

Even though we know little about this second tavern, its existence does make sense when you think about it. Although the grand Brandywine Springs Hotel was in some ways the successor to the Yarnall Tavern, it catered to a very different clientele. The guests at "The Springs" were wealthy out-of-towners who came for weeks or months at a time, quite different from the hard-driving teamsters who parked their wagons and themselves at Holton Yarnall's establishment. By the 1830's railroads and canals were beginning to divert some of the traffic that used to ply the turnpikes, but there still could have been the need for an inn along the road. They certainly never got rich from it, but Ephraim Yarnall, Jacob Foulk, and family still would have provided a needed meal and bed to many a man who could have only dreamt of staying at the big, elegant resort. Yarnall and Foulk were more of a Motel 6 to Brandywine Springs' Club Med on the Red Clay.

I very much hope to eventually come into some more information about this second tavern, but for now there are more questions than answers. One question about the original Conestoga Wagon Tavern may be close to being answered, however. More about that in the next post...

When Did the Yarnall Tavern Open?

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I hope I'm not boring anyone with this, now the third post related to the Conestoga Wagon Inn, also known as the Yarnall Tavern. It was truly a minor establishment with a short lifespan, important more for what came after it (the Brandywine Springs Hotel and then the amusement park) than for its own sake. But one of my first gateways into local history was Brandywine Springs Amusement Park, so things related to it have a special place for me. This whole investigation was originally just supposed to be a quick mention of the mysterious second tavern, covered in the last post, which I only became aware of (and its connection to the Conestoga Wagon) recently. Then Walt Chiquoine had to go and do some great work piecing together the early history of the Yarnall family in MCH and of property ownership in the area, so I had no choice but to do a separate post covering that and the founding of the first tavern. (Just go with me on the "no choice" thing, OK.)

Then, while putting the pieces together for that, a few things seemed like they just didn't fit. After consulting with Walt again, I decided that the conventional wisdom about the Conestoga Wagon was almost certainly not correct. I don't mean to harp on this again, but if you'll recall there was very little if anything ever written about Holton Yarnall's tavern that didn't have to do with its final years, the sale of the property in 1827, and the coming of the big, new hotel. Just about the only thing ever said about Yarnall's establishment was that it was a "Colonial Era tavern". As we saw, just going by Holton Yarnall's birth year (1774) should tell you that he didn't run a tavern in the Colonial Era. But there were other things, too....

I probably should preface this (and hedge my bet) by saying that this whole thesis could be upended by one solid account of the Conestoga Wagon being in operation prior to about 1810. However, I've not yet seen any such thing. Lots of circumstantial evidence and extrapolating the inn back in time, but no direct evidence that it was open then. To the contrary, we have several points that all seem to indicate that Yarnall's tavern didn't open until at least about 1810.

One clue comes from the sale ad seen below, published in the Delaware Gazette in late 1814. In the ad, Holton Yarnall describes the property and at the bottom it states, "The house is now occupied as a public inn." But the more pertinent part for us now is further up, where he writes, "There is on the premises a new stone house [emphasis mine], 33 feet square, 2 stories high, and well finished...". It's obvious that this new stone house he's refering to is the tavern. I know that "new" is a relative term (especially in advertisements), but I don't think Yarnall would say that if the house was 30, 50, or more years old. This seems to indicate that the house (and therefore the inn) had not been around for too long before 1814.


And as it turns out, there's a good reason why there was probably not an inn at this location too much before 1814 -- there wasn't really a road there! As noted in the post about the Newport and Gap Turnpike, the turnpike company was incorporated in Delaware in 1808. Construction started soon thereafter, but wasn't completed until ten years later. Parts were done earlier, and the section near Yarnall's property was probably completed sometime between 1810 and 1813. Common sense would say that Yarnall wouldn't open an inn until there was a need for one, meaning travellers, meaning a road.

Now, the turnpike didn't come out of nowhere. There would have been a reason why it was placed where it was, and there certainly could have been a small country lane running approximately where the turnpike is now. However, there is good evidence that prior to the construction of the Gap and Newport Turnpike, the main north-south road in the area was situated just west of there. Much more about this idea can be found in the next post (yes, one more, but this one is Walt's fault work). But even if there was a small lane there before c.1810, I don't think there would have been enough traffic to justify an inn being there.

This is not to say that house couldn't have been a little older. Holton Yarnall did take a 600 pound loan in 1802 for some reason. It's not out of the question that he may have taken the money to build a new home, maybe with the idea that a turnpike would be built, maybe not. Again, the "new" in the ad could easily be stretched to cover a 10 or 12 year old house. Perhaps the lengthy delays in the construction of the road lead to some of his financial problems and to his desire to sell his land and new house.

The final piece of evidence I'd lay out for the idea that the Conestoga Wagon had a c.1812 opening is more a lack of evidence to the contrary. I'm aware of the concept that "an absence of evidence is not evidence of absence", but here it's just one more point. Later historians knew that Yarnall was running a tavern by the mid-1810's and that his family owned the property for several decades before that. I think those points just eventually ran together into the idea that he had been running the tavern for a lot longer than I think he did. I'm perfectly willing to change my thinking if I see concrete evidence that a Yarnall was operating an inn prior to 1810, but as of yet I've not. For now, I'm putting the opening of the Conestoga Wagon Inn, aka the Yarnall Tavern, at approximately 1812.

Mid-Week Historical Newsbreak -- Osage You Can See

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Delaware State Reporter, Aug. 24, 1855
I realized it's been a while since we've had a Newsbreak wherein someone or something didn't perish in a fairly gruesome manner, so here's a story about plants. It comes from the August 24, 1855 issue of the Delaware State Reporter and has to do with a new type of plant introduced into Corner Ketch. It says that Samuel Loyd started growing osage orange trees about ten years earlier, and now has a nice grove and over a mile of hedge.

The Samuel Lloyd of the article ran the store at the corner of Corner Ketch Road and Doe Run Road, and was the first Postmaster of the Pleasant Hill (Corner Ketch) Post Office. The osage orange is a small tree/large shrub often used in hedges. It has a round, bumpy, green fruit roughly the size of a softball, sometimes called horse apples or monkey balls.

I no longer have the email in which Donna Peters originally sent me this story, but I think she said that this type of tree can still be found in and around Corner Ketch. If so, these trees are no doubt descendants of the originals planted by Lloyd in 1845. Something cool to think about the next time you drive through the area.

Delaware Brewing History Lecture -- Tonight!

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Sorry this is pretty last minute, but if anyone is looking for something to do tonight -- Wednesday, February 19, 2014 -- there will be a lecture that might be of interest. John Medkeff, Jr. will give a talk about a subject that he's done quite a bit of research on -- Brewing in Delaware. Yes, beer and history! Two great tastes that...oh, never mind. The lecture will take place at the New Castle Court House Museum in Old New Castle, and will begin at 7:00 PM. Admission is $5 (free for New Castle Historical Society members). More information about the NCHS can be found here, and for the Court House Museum, here. I'm going to try to make it down there (I don't even think there's any snow in the forecast for the next 12 hours!!!). If you don't have any plans, stop on by. I'm sure it will be a very interesting and informative talk.

Duncan Road: A Colonial Highway

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As promised, here is the fourth and (for now) final post relating to the Conestoga Wagon, aka, the Yarnall Tavern. In the last post questioning the original opening date of the tavern, one argument I made for a post-1810 timeframe was the fact that the road that became the Newport and Gap Turnpike more or less didn't exist before then. Here now is Walt Chiquoine, who has much more to say on the topic.

The historical importance of roads is their role in commerce – getting products from here to there. The colonial roads through MCH needed to get local farm products to market, but more significantly, they allowed products from Lancaster and Chester Counties to reach the mills and wharves at Stanton, Newport, and Wilmington. This was as true of beaver pelts and tobacco in 1650 as it was of grain, dairy, and produce in 1750 and 1850.

Many historians attribute early roads to the pre-existing American Indian trails. While in many cases this is probably true, it is also a trap. No one has a 1637 map of the old Indian trails, so there is no hard evidence of those trails, only stories. Any road could be claimed to follow an Indian trail, and none of us would be the wiser.

But there are characteristics of the early roads that may help us understand them. First is grade; that is, how steep was the road? Second is the number of streams to cross, since every ford was a hassle. Third is the drainage of the road. Nobody wanted to go through a swamp or down a muddy lane. So the early roads tended to follow contour lines, avoided creeks when possible, and generally tracked high ground. Possum Park, Polly Drummond Hill, Limestone, and Old Wilmington Roads are good examples – get to the top of the hill and stay there.

Duncan Road runs from McKennan’s Church Road, just below (now) Red Clay Creek Presbyterian Church, down to Hersey’s Bridge below Marshallton. From there, it bears the name Newport Road and connects with Kiamensi Road close to Newport. McKennan’s Church Road ran from Milltown to the road to Hockessin. Today, Duncan Road seems like just another secondary suburban road, only useful for getting from one subdivision to another. But Duncan Road played a very significant role in the commerce of the 18th century.

Duncan Road may not have been a highway as we think of one today, but it was the main road that moved people and product between Newport, Hockessin, and Pennsylvania. It served this function until the construction of the Gap Newport Turnpike around 1810.

Many historians assume there was an early version of the Gap Newport Turnpike in this area, similar to its current path that took travelers to Newport. But there isn’t much hard evidence of this trail in the 18th century. I would suggest it may have been a few farm paths and a trail to the Yellow Springs (later known as Brandywine Springs), but not much more. This trail has to cross RCC, go up and down two steep hills, and ford Hyde Run twice…not exactly an ideal dirt road.

On the other hand, the parallel path from Newport up Duncan Road via Hersey’s Bridge is a mild climb. There is a bridge over RCC, and the road takes the high ground between Calf Run (to the west) and Hyde Run (to the east), thereby avoiding the major streams. Travelling further up McKennan’s Church Road is also a modest grade. It would seem all downhill from Hockessin to Newport. On paper, it looks like the best route available. And as noted, it still retains the name “Newport Road” at the southern end.

There is evidence for the path of Duncan Road in early deeds. The first appears in a deed from 1763, calling it the “the Great Road leading…to Newport”. It became the boundary between William Foot to the north and Richard James to the south. When Richard James sold his property to William Renfreu in 1767, the same northern line is described as “the Great Road to Newport”. This is along the northern boundary of today’s Delcastle Recreation Area.


Then in 1783, the road to the south became a boundary between Ephraim Yarnall and James Robinson, where it was called the “road leading from Newport to Ocasson”. This was the intersection with what would become Faulkland Road. In 1816, the location would be surveyed to the sons of Ephraim Yarnall Sr., calling it the “Ocasson Road to Newport.” I’ve even wondered if Ephraim Yarnall Sr. ran a tavern at that intersection, where his former dwelling house is noted on the survey. Perhaps it was a precursor to his son Holton’s “Conestoga Wagon” tavern, built later on the Gap Newport Turnpike just ¼ mile to the east. Just speculation.


This is clear evidence that Duncan Road was known as the road from Hockessin to Newport. But there is more evidence from a map made in August, 1777 for General George Washington by James Broom, after Gen. William Howe and the British army landed at Elk Neck. Broom’s goal must have been to lay out the main roads and bridges. But the work is more a schematic than an accurate layout, and is difficult to interpret. Part of a tracing of that map is shown below.


The Broom map shows a road (31) leading north from Newport (30), crossing RCC (22) at a bridge (32), and then proceeding to an intersection labeled “James Walker” (J) in Washington’s own hand. This second road runs south to Milltown (K). [James Walker was a Lieutenant in the Company of Evan Rice of the Delaware Line, serving in the Continental Army.] Recently I located the property of James Walker at the intersection of McKennan’s Church Road and Newport (or Duncan) Road, and put the two together. The road on this map from Walker’s to Newport was Duncan Road, crossing RCC at Hersey’s Bridge.


Ultimately, I assume Duncan Road was a victim of its own success. After 50 or more years moving wagons and livestock to Newport on a dirt track, it was probably worn out by the turn of the 19th century. Wheel ruts, washouts, and overgrowth took their toll, since there was no formal effort to keep the road maintained. This would have been the case on the entire road, into Chester County and beyond.

By 1800, commerce was expanding in our new nation, and it had become clear that new and better transportation was necessary. State governments were experimenting with turnpikes, built and maintained by independent companies that would collect tolls from the travelers thereon. In 1807, Pennsylvania approved a Company to build a turnpike from Gap, PA to the Delaware line; Delaware passed a corresponding bill in 1808 that authorized the turnpike from Newport to the Pennsylvania line near Hockessin. The Gap to Newport Turnpike was completed by about 1815, and remains a major highway today. But it was Duncan Road that literally carried the load in the 18th century.

John Quill and the Craig-Quill House

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A couple of years ago I wrote a post about the Walter Craig House, or at least what's left of it. I was taken to it by nearby resident Roger Suro, who had come across the ruins on some of his frequent hikes in the area. While today the house and barn are nothing more than a few low, ruined walls, for at least the better part of a century this now wooded locale was a thriving farm. In the post I was able to cobble together the framework of a story for the house, from its ownership by Walter Craig to its sale and ownership by John Quill. From census and map data I came up with a few general facts for each owner, but not really a whole lot, to be quite honest. Now, thanks to one of those beautiful out-of-the-blue emails I get from time to time, we have a bit more concrete information about the second owner of the house, John Quill, and his family.

The information comes to us from Chris Haugh, the great-great-grandson of the Irish immigrant Quill. Chris forwarded to me a very helpful heap of genealogical information about the Quill family, as well as three deed records that deal with John Quill and the land under and around his home. Oh, and some pictures, too. I do love old pictures.

Since our main focus was on the house and property, I guess the best place to start is with some information to be found on the oldest of the trio of land records, this one dating to 1871. It's a record of the sale of the property and home formerly of the late Walter Craig, sold by his widow Lydia to John and Julia Quill. The Quills purchased the tract of slightly more than 57 acres for $4938 on March 23, 1871. This record also answers another question for us, which I could only guess at before -- When did Walter Craig buy the property? My hunch of sometime in the early 1840's was correct, as the transcript states that the tract being sold in 1871 is the same one purchased by Craig on April 22, 1843. If that earlier record could be found, it might tell us whether the stone house was present at that time or if it was built later by Walter Craig.

The other two records are a bit harder to figure out precisely, but they are both additional purchases of land by John Quill, both adjoining his original tract. The first is from December 1880, when Quill bought about 37 acres from Henry E. Shimp, then of Pocopson Township, Chester County. Without tracing all the twists and turns of the tract's borders, it appears that this new parcel was generally west of the original property, and extended all the way to White Clay Creek. It had formerly belonged to Elizabeth Little, whose home is shown on the 1868, 1881, and 1893 maps. The 1880 transfer, which was made for the sum of $1314.11, also included a house. Since Mrs. Little continued to live "next door", this was probably a tenant house that John Quill acquired, I would assume.

From the 1893 Baist Map

The final of the three documents is a record of another land acquisition by John Quill, this one in August 1903. That year he bought 16 acres from the heirs of another Irish immigrant, John Desmond. To my untrained eyes this one is even harder to pin down exactly, location-wise speaking. From the names of the adjoining properties, though, (John Aiken and Edward Collins) it seems as if this tract was on the south side of Thompson Station Road, if that was what was meant by "the Public Road from Corner Ketch to Thompson's Bridge". The purchase price was $800, which included paying off the $200 remaining on the Desmonds' mortgage.

These transaction records are very interesting, and definitely give us a better picture of how and when some of this land changed hands. There's certainly a good amount still to find, however. For example, the 1893 map shows Quill as owning 150 acres. That's approximately another 46 acres more than the two pre-1893 records above detail. It seems that Quill was quite busy in enlarging his holdings. This is really not that surprising when you look at the details of his life, which thanks to Chris again, we can now do.

John and Julia Desmond Quill

John Quill was born in Ireland (probably in County Cork) in 1839 to Timothy and Hannah (Sullivan) Quill. After surviving the horrors of the Great Famine, John left home and arrived in New York in December 1855. He soon made his way down to the MCH/Chester County area. Over the next ten years three of his siblings (Daniel, Cornelius, and Johanna) would join him here, all of them settling in MCH or southern Chester County. By 1860 Quill was working on the farm of Joel Walker Hoopes, not far over the line in PA. Hoopes' farmhouse and remains of his barn are still standing, among new houses in the middle of the Hartfeld National Golf Course.

Sometime in the next few years, John met another Irish immigrant, Julia Desmond. Like John, Julia also hailed from County Cork, and arrived in New York two years after he did, at the age of eighteen. Julia arrived with her two sisters and also made her way to Delaware. If the name Desmond sounds familiar, I think it's likely that the John Desmond whose land Quill would buy in 1903 was his brother-in-law, Julia's brother. The families joined on February 23, 1867, when John and Julia were married at St. Joseph on the Brandywine Roman Catholic Church. (What, you thought they were Greek Orthodox or something?) They would ultimately have seven children, four girls and three boys.

L-R: John and Mary (Quill) McTague, John Quill,
Hannah (Quill) Lambert, Charles Lambert

In the 1870 Census, the Quills (including the first two girls, Hannah and Mary, seen above) were listed directly after David Eastburn, implying that John was working for Eastburn. This fits neatly with a Quill family tradition that says that local Quakers were very helpful to John in his early years in the area, helping him earn enough to eventually buy his own farm. I think it's unlikely that John Quill arrived in America with very much money in his pocket, but through his hard work we know that in 1871 he did, in fact, have enough money to purchase his own land. His farm was located between Eastburn's land and the farm on which his brother Daniel (incorrectly identified by me as John in the original post -- hey, they were both Irish Quills married to Julias) had worked.

Julia Desmond Quill passed away on August 20, 1892, and was buried at St. Mary's Cemetery in West Grove, PA. From the 1903 transaction record we know that John remained on his farm at least that long, but exactly when he sold it is still unclear. I think it's fair to say he'd sold it (or, at least, moved off and leased it) by 1910, as the census that year finds the 71 year old Quill residing on Lancaster Pike in Hockessin with his daughter Margaret and granddaughter Agnes Montague (the name had formerly been McTague). Among other reasons, I'm comfortable saying Hockessin because further down on the same page is Frederick E. Gebhart. Gebhart was then just a clerk, but from 1918-1943 he owned Gebhart's Store, located in the Odd Fellow's Hall in "downtown" Hockessin.

John Quill died on January 19, 1919, and was buried along side his wife at St. Mary's. Most (if not all) of John and Julia's children and their families would remain in the New Castle County/Chester County area for decades to come. The family information sent to me by Chris Haugh contains much more than I could get to in this post, especially along the line of the second Quill daughter, Mary, from whom Chris is descended. Mary married John McTague in 1891 at St. John's RC Church in Hockessin. And though the house Mary grew up in is now little more than a few piles of stones in the woods, the strong-willed and hard-working men and women who plowed its fields deserve to be remembered as important pieces in the history of Mill Creek Hundred.

Mid-Week Historical Newsbreak -- Merestone Sales Ad

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Mixed in amongst the old newspaper clippings of fires, horrid deaths, animal abuses, train wrecks, and
murders (guess what -- there never was a "peaceful good old days") that have been forwarded to or found by me, there are also a fair number of real estate sales ads. Depending on how old they are and how good your knowledge of the area is, for many of them you can determine exactly where the property is that's for sale. If you can, the ad can be an invaluable resource, giving you a heaping portion of information about the property and what it consisted of at the time. The ad seen to the right is is an example of one whose identity was not all that difficult to discern.

The ad comes to us from Philadelphia's Public Ledger, dated December 16, 1844. It tells of the upcoming sale of 216 acres belonging to John M. Beeson of Mill Creek Hundred. The ad lists, among other things, a part stone and part frame mansion house, a 70 x 40 foot three story stone barn, wagon house, spring house, tenant house, corn crib, and other out-buildings. The property also had a "thriving young apple orchard" which also had pear trees, cherry trees, and other fruit. All in all sounds like a nice property, and one I should have written about. Turns out, I did!

The house that John Beeson was trying to sell that December is the home now known as Merestone, on the DE/PA state line on Yeatmans Mill Road north of Corner Ketch. Since (if you recall) much of the historical significance of Merestone is due to its 20th Century restoration by an important architect, this sale ad gives us a nice glimpse into the state of the property in the mid-19th Century.

The John Beeson (1802-1869) of the ad was the son of William Beeson who built the stone barn mentioned, in 1806, and probably the stone section of the house. William's father John had purchased the property from George Evans in 1776. And unless the 1849 map is hopelessly wrong, John M. Beeson was unsuccessful in selling the house in 1844, despite stating that it would be "positively sold". Although to be fair, he didn't say when. Beeson did eventually sell the house to Halliday Hoopes, sometime after 1849 but prior to 1865, when Hoopes sold it to Thomas G. Seal. The house itself was enlarged numerous times over the years, and this ad gives a neat snapshot of what was around it 170 years ago.

MCHHB on the Road -- The McComb-Winchester House

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The McComb-Winchester Mansion
Since it's been a while since we've done this, I thought we'd take a trip beyond the borders of Mill Creek Hundred to visit one of my favorite of the lost houses of Wilmington. On the north side of Rodney Square today stands the Classical Revival building erected in the 1930's as a federal building, courthouse, and post office. In recent decades its public duties have gone elsewhere, and now it serves as the headquarters for Wilmington Trust, now a subsidiary of M&T bank.  But for about 20 years, this block bounded by 11th, 12th, Market, and King Streets was owned by one of the wealthiest men in the city - Henry S. McComb.

On the southwest corner of the block stood the site of the once majestic Henry S. McComb Mansion. The space that's now the west end of the old Federal Building was formerly home to one of the most impressive examples of early Victorian architecture in Wilmington. Built in the Second Empire style imported from France, the McComb Mansion displayed the style’s typical mansard roof and turrets. In addition to the front of the house facing Eleventh Street, there was an extensive wing along the Market Street side. Built of brick and rising to three stories, the house was as powerful as the man who built it.

Henry S. McComb (1825-1881) rose from very humble beginnings to become one of the wealthiest and most powerful men in Delaware. The second of five children, McComb’s blacksmith father died when the boy was only seven. Consequently, young Henry spent little time in school, as he was forced to find a job to help support his family. After working for a couple years in a newspaper office, Henry was apprenticed to a tanner. Being a bright boy, he picked up the trade quickly. He also spent much of his free time making up for the schooling he missed as a young boy. In fact, he so impressed his teacher, Judge Willard Hall (Federal Judge, head of Wilmington schools, and school namesake, among many other things), that Hall gave him a personal loan to start his own leather business.

Henry Simpson McComb

This, it seems, was all McComb needed to get him started. He began his business at age eighteen, and by twenty-five was one of the leading businessmen in the city. This is reflected in the fact that in 1853, McComb married Elizabeth Bush, daughter of Charles Bush, the part-owner of Bush and Lobdell, the largest manufacturer of railcar wheels in the country at the time. By age thirty, Henry McComb had one of the largest leather companies in the country. At the outbreak of the Civil War, he was able to land several lucrative government contracts for items such as tents, knapsacks, and leather goods. Because of the exemplary manner in which he fulfilled his contracts, he secured the admiration and friendship of many high officials, including Secretary of War Edwin Stanton and even President Lincoln. When a military governor was suggested for Delaware, the position was offered to Henry S. McComb. He advised against the idea, and the proposition was dropped. Instead, McComb raised and equipped at his own expense the Fifth Delaware regiment, which he commanded as Colonel.

After the close of the war, through his military and political connections, McComb was pulled into the construction of the Union Pacific Railway, part of the Transcontinental Railway. He took part in the infamous Credit Mobilier scam, one of the biggest scandals of the Grant presidency (and that's saying a lot). If you like reading about corporate/political scandals, this is a good one. McComb, though, was unhappy with how the spoils were divided, and ended up leaking documents to a newspaper, leading to the public disclosure of the massive fraud.

McComb's Mansion in 1872

After this affair, McComb turned his sights on broken-down Southern railroads looking to recover from the war. He first acquired the Mississippi Central Railroad and greatly expanded it, even founding the new railroad town of McComb, Mississippi. He went on to purchase several other small lines, and for a time served as the president of the Southern Railroad Association. Unfortunately for him, his ventures turned sour during the Panic of 1873, and all were absorbed by larger railroads.

He did have one more railroad venture in him, though, and in 1880 purchased the struggling eight year old line known then as the Delaware Western Railroad. It's better known by it's original name, the Wilmington & Western. (This was not his only investment link to MCH, as we'll see in an upcoming post.)  Henry McComb was briefly involved in the high-stakes negotiations between the Pennsylvania and the Baltimore & Ohio Railroads (and others) to build a second East Coast Corridor line. The former leather merchant's part ended with his death in 1881, just as things were heating up.

By the late 1850's Henry McComb was already quite wealthy, and he decided that he should have a home befitting his stature in the community. In 1859 and 1860 he purchased his property, which had on it a large home built some thirty years earlier by Dr. George Stephenson, a prominent physician from Pittsburgh. McComb moved into the house and in 1865 (presumably after the war) began a major renovation of it. The renovation took more than seven years, completely changing the look of the mansion, bringing it "up to date" with the newest Second Empire style. According to an article from 1934, McComb's architect may have been the same one who designed Philadelphia's City Hall.

Looking west along 11th St. towards First & Central Presbyterian Church

As noted, Col. McComb (as he was referred to) owned the entire block, which in addition to the house contained large stables, a milk house, and even a one cow dairy. During most of McComb's lifetime the house overlooked not Rodney Square, nor even the old courthouse, but instead faced the Market Basin reservoir. The new courthouse opened in January, 1881 -- McComb died in December of that year. After his passing the house went to his daughter Elizabeth and her husband, James Price Winchester. The Winchesters owned the home for more than 50 years.

In 1933 the Winchesters sold the property to the US Government for the (then) princely sum of $500,000. That would amount to more than $8.5 million today. The house was soon razed (as seen below) and construction of the new Federal Building began in 1935. It was completed in 1937.

Demoliton, with the DuPont Building in the background
 
 
For a number of reasons, including the strong Quaker influence upon the city, Wilmington was never host to many large, opulent mansions. It did have some -- in my opinion -- very beautiful, elegant homes, though. For my money (OK, for far more money than I'll ever have), few homes in Wilmington said "Wealthy Industrialist" better than the Henry S. McComb Mansion.

The St. James Church Road Bridge

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SJCR, looping north and west past the church, 1881
Sorry this is a bit longer than normal, but I wanted to write everything up.

As some of you may recall from recent comments, a few weeks ago I went on a very nice walk in the woods with two guys who both had personal connections (unbeknownst to each other until we started walking and talking) to the area in question -- Bill Saadeh and Bill Harris. We met along the short stretch of Old Milltown Road behind the Harlan-Chandler Mill, just west of Limestone Road and south of Milltown. While I believe it's still technically a public road, it's really now a de facto private drive for the several houses along it. While we were standing there getting started one of the homeowners came out to see what these three men were doing standing around. We explained why we were there, and she was very nice and helpful (although I think the Bills' local connections helped ease any concerns she may have had).

We took a look at the old Harlan Mill (now apartments, I think), the old course of Milltown and Limestone Roads, and some of the old water features of the area. As we made our way south along Mill Creek, we found the old stone remains mentioned by Bill S. in one of his comments. There's not much there (in fact, you really have to look hard to see that it's man-made and not just an outcropping of rock), but we agreed that it probably was some sort of springhouse, quite possibly dating back to the Harlan Era (early 19th Century).

Scott and the Bills (which really sounds more like a description of me checking my mail) then worked our way back towards the creek, after a brief swing by Bill S.'s childhood home and a few sledding and playing stories. Our next destination was our main one of the day, a tad south along Mill Creek. After passing behind Bill H.'s wife's childhood home, we continued on to the general area where St. James Church Road (SJCR) would have crossed the creek. For those unfamiliar with the area, SJCR starts a bit south of its namesake, as a northerly split off of Telegraph Road. The road, once a continuous one from Telegraph Road to Milltown Road, is today split into two separate sections. The southern section goes only as far north as Kirkwood Highway. The northern section, which many probably don't even realize is there with that name, is located in the Village of Lindell and runs approximately from the old Lindell House over to Milltown Road.

SJCR 1868 -- Middle and northern sections
shown as a private drive

In between these two existing roads is a section of the old road that was abandoned sometime in the last century. Towards the northerly end of this abandoned stretch the road crossed over Mill Creek somewhere, making a left turn after hugging the creek for a few hundred yards. We were in search of evidence of the location of this missing crossing, and any remnants that might remain from the bridge. Bill S. recalled seeing a large timber sometime in the not too distant past that might have been a part of the bridge. When we made our way to what (according to the old maps) was the right place -- directly down from the Lindell House where there are about two empty lots -- we unfortunately could find no trace of the old timber.

The Dirt "Ramp"

What we did find, though, was a large outcrop of dirt on the east bank of the creek that looked like it was pointed across the (that day, at least) lazy stream. It was evident that the banks of the creek had eroded back significantly, and probably relatively recently, at least after the abandonment of the road. It was tempting to see this dirt mound as the lead-in to a bridge, but everything on the other side seemed to indicate that the bridge was a few yards farther up. What this might have been is just the last remaining part of the original roadbed, which due to the surrounding topography had to have been very close to the creek at that point. In fact, the rather steep hillside gets very close to the creek just beyond this point, so it's plain to see why the road turned to cross here.

So after what was a very enjoyable walk, we were frustratingly no closer to an answer regarding the bridge. The maps show it must have been right in that area, but there was no visible evidence as to exactly where. The following weekend Bill S. and I went for another scouting mission, this time attacking it from the south. We parked at the Oakwood Valley Swim Club, whose access road is actually the only remaining part of the "missing" middle section of SJCR, and headed north. Partway up, Bill found something that unbelievably managed to confuse us even more.

Wooden Planks in Mill Creek

Somewhere about halfway between the pool and the presumed bridge site, Bill found some concrete, stonework, and planking in and around the creek. This surprised us, because we didn't know of anything that should be in that location. The planks on the creek bed could have been washed down from farther upstream, but the concrete and stonework were both definitely in the banks. Two possible explanations came to mind, one immediately and one later, but neither one seems right.

What appears to be man-made stone work in the creek bank

First, we thought that maybe we'd found the remains of a later (early 20th Century) bridge, one not shown on the 19th Century maps. Maybe the Lindells had a new, lower bridge built in the early automobile era. However, nothing in the evidence (1937 aerial photo or 1940's map) shows a second bridge. They both still show the road hugging the creek and crossing near the Lindell House.

Concrete pieces on either side of the creek

The second theory occurred to me after looking again at the 1881 map, seen at the top of the post. If you'll notice, there's a house (S.D. Newlin) shown along the middle part of the road, between the road and the creek. Thinking more of the stonework and planking, I thought that maybe this was the remains of the house, and that Mill Creek at some point changed course and rerouted itself along a more easterly course, ending up running right through the house site. After looking at it all again, though, I think the house was a little further south, perhaps about where the swim club is now. Plus, the concrete pieces don't really look like what you'd expect to find in a house construction.

So the bottom line is that after all this exploring, nosing around, and thinking, not only do we not have a better answer to the first question (Exactly where was the bridge?), we now have a second question for which we have no answer (What is the "southern debris"?). If anyone has any better ideas, I'd sure love to hear them.

Yet Another Spring Hill Brewery Update

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Spring Hill Brewery (courtesy John Medkeff, Jr.)
Almost a year and a half ago I wrote the first post about the Spring Hill Brewery, which was located on the north side of Barley Mill Road, just east of Barley Mill's crossing of Red Clay Creek. For a full refresher I suggest going back to review the original post, but the short story is that it was a brewery run by the Biedermann family for about 30 years, from 1881 until the early 1910's. I was able to piece together a good part of the Spring Hill story, but a few holes still remained.

Since I never consider any topic ever "Closed", the discovery of a few more pieces of information prompted the first follow-up post several months later. Most of this post covered the August 1909 explosion at the Wooddale Quarry, which I thought had marked the end of the Spring Hill Brewery. Also included were bits of aerial photos from the 1930's that I speculated might be of the Biedermann property, or what was left of it by then. Still, though, there were three main questions that were not sufficiently answered, at least in my eyes. When did the brewery truly cease operation (and why)? Where exactly was it? And what did it look like? I'm very happy to say, that with a huge assist from a new friend and fantastic resource, I think I have pretty good answers to all these lingering questions.

A couple months back you may have noticed that there was a comment on the brewery post from a man named John Medkeff. John is a Delaware beer historian, and has done years of research on the 300+ year history of brewing in the state. He runs a FaceBook Group on the subject, has his own website (still under construction, but already looking great), and is working on a book due out next year (2015). Turns out he was thrilled to find that someone else had heard of Spring Hill, a topic he himself had done a fair bit of digging into. I contacted him and he was gracious enough to share with us some of what he's found. John also arranged for us to explore the property where the brewery was located, but more on that in a moment.

July 9, 1911

The first thing John told me seems likely to be the answer to the first of our queries: When and why did the brewery finally close? I had speculated that the 1909 explosion was the ultimate demise of the brewery, partly because I could find no record of it any later than that. I just hadn't looked in the right place yet. As it so happens, Herman Biedermann did in fact rebuild Spring Hill after the disastrous explosion of 1909. Unfortunately for him, though, misfortune did not stay away long. As the article above states, a fire in early July 1911 destroyed the brewery and did some damage to the house as well. Even though it's a little difficult to get a sense of depth and distance in the top picture, you can see that the whole complex (brewery and residence) was pretty compact. According to John's research, this 1911 fire does seem to have been the end of Spring Hill's operational life.

As to the second question -- the exact location of the brewery -- John and I may have found the answer during a recent "recon" mission to the area. The old Biedermann property is now owned by the Mt. Cuba Center, and through a contact he has there John was able to get us permission to walk around the site and take a look. We went out on a soggy Saturday morning (although the rain let up for most of our walk) to see if we could find any evidence of the location of the house or brewery. We ended up finding two locations where something definitely once stood.

Likely remains of Spring Hill, 1933

The first site was a couple hundred yards north of Barley Mill Road, and consisted of a few ground-level stone foundations. They weren't much to look at, but they were certainly the remains of something. As hard as we tried to match up the site to the picture, nothing really jumped out at us as being definitive proof that this was the spot. After poking around that location for a bit we made our way back to the road, and while on our way back stumbled upon another site.

In addition to some stone foundations of something, we found a stone-lined well and several small pieces of what had to have been walls. Nothing very impressive in their own right, but significantly more than the first site. After looking at the site as a whole and consulting the old maps and aerial photos (links to the two pictures here and here), I'm convinced that this second location -- not far from the road -- is where the Biedermann's home and brewery once stood.

George J. Biedermann  (courtesy John Medkeff, Jr.)

The final lingering question (in this list, at least), what did Spring Hill Brewery look like, is obviously answered by the picture at the top of the page. It's a pretty significant photograph, and one we should all thank John for tracking down from a descendant of the Biedermanns. As I figured and John confirmed, Spring Hill was the only commercial brewery in the county located outside of Wilmington, at least until the 1990's. This picture is the only one we know of showing the brewery. And as a bonus, John also found a photograph of George J. Biedermann (1866-1905), the second operator of the brewery. The Biedermanns' family history is an interesting one, very entwined with the close-knit German community of the time. For the full story, be sure to keep an eye out for John's book next year. I know I will. In the mean time, if any more information comes to light I'll be sure to add it to the story.

The Justis-Jones House

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The Justis-Jones House
In the recent post about the McComb-Winchester House I teased about a link between its most prominent owner, Henry S. McComb, and Mill Creek Hundred. That link comes in the form of the house seen here, the Justis-Jones House. It's situated on the west side of Newport-Gap Pike, just south of and up the hill from Brandywine Springs. It's one of those houses that lots of people probably see and think, "Gee, that's got to be an old house," but know nothing about. Although not the most flashy of homes in the region, to me it has its own air of dignity. It also happens to be somewhat unusual for the area in two major respects.

First, unlike most of the remaining houses from the first half of the 19th Century, it was never the manor house of a large farm or estate, and was only ever briefly occupied by its owner for much of its first 60 or 70 years. The second difference is in what is known about it. Whereas it seems with most sites that we're digging to find a scrap here and there about any owners we can, much research was done into the ownership history of the Justis-Jones House. This is one of the last sites in MCH listed on the National Register of Historic Places that I've gotten to here on the blog. It's NRHP nomination form has an almost mind-numbing amount of information about the various owners of the house. Needless to say, I'll just do a brief overview of its history, hitting the major points. Later on I'll provide a link the the NRHP form if anyone wants the whole story.

The story actually begins with a member of a very prominent local family covered in several earlier posts (here and here) -- the Justis family. David Justis (1797-1843) was the youngest of three brothers, sons of Jacob Justis. About eight years after Jacob's death in 1802, his estate was divided between David, Joseph, and Justa. At that time the Justis land stretched from Red Clay Creek on the east, from Hyde Run south to the Philips (Greenbank) Mill property, and westward a ways down Milltown Road. Joseph's part is not clear, but Justa (later builder of the original Brandywine Springs Hotel) received land to the west of the (then proposed) Newport and Gap Turnpike, while David inherited the core of the homestead to the east of the road.

David Justis was still a boy when his father died, and was subsequently cared for by a series of relatives and family friends, including for a time Thomas Justis at his house just to the west. Eventually he moved into what was probably his father's log home and sometime between 1828 and 1837 added a stone section to it. This house was located very near (if not exactly on) the site of today's White House B&B (an early 20th Century home) south of the Cedars. Sometime before 1836, and maybe as early as the early 1820's, David purchased from his brother Justa six acres on the west side of the turnpike. It would be on this tract that the Justis-Jones House would be built.

The house was not built right away, however, and tax records indicate that as late as 1837 it was still not present. Sometime in the next few years -- and certainly prior to his death in 1843 -- Justis had the house constructed. The original section of the house is a two-story, two-bay stone home measuring about 22 feet wide by 25 feet deep. Today stucco covers all of the house except for the front of the second floor, but evidence seems to show that originally the entire house was exposed stone. The stucco was likely added in the 1860's by an owner we'll get to shortly. Several additions were added in the early 20th Century, including an enclosed front porch, a two-story frame rear addition, and a two-story bay window covered with fishscale shingles.

Some of the underlying stone visible from the side

Now that we've covered the "What" of the house, we get to the "Why". The National Register of Historic Places form, completed in 1998, contains a great deal of detail about the architecture and features (inside and out) of the house, often comparing them with similar houses in the area. You're more than welcome to peruse the entire thing, but the gist of it is that the house David Justis built was a good, upper-middle class home. It had some of the features of the larger homes nearby, but not all of them. It's nice, but not overly fancy. The reason for this is probably that Justis wanted a house that reflected well on someone of his standing, but it didn't have to be spectacular because it was never meant for himself or his family. It was strictly a rental house, one that may have been built with a particular person in mind.

The small, six acre lot on which the house stood meant that it was never going to be a profitable farm property, but that was fine because the next owner was not a farmer. In 1843, shortly before his death, David Justis sold the new stone house and six acre lot to Thomas W. Jones for $600. Jones was a cordwainer (shoemaker) most recently residing in Stanton. Three years earlier Jones and wife Hannah purchased a brick and frame house* in the village for $800 from John Foote (mentioned in the post about his family). He sold it in 1842 for $1000, then bought this house from Justis in 1843. There is good evidence that the three men (Justis, Jones, and Foote) all knew each other (possibly from attending St. James Episcopal Church), and that Justis may have built the house with Jones in mind.

There is some speculation that Justis may have built the house as a farm tenant's residence, or that Jones may have worked in a mill, or that it served as a toll house. There doesn't seem to be any evidence, however, that it was meant as anything other than a place for Jones to live and carry on as a shoemaker. He even did work for Justis himself, as a $7.60 shoe work debt to Jones, submitted to Justis' estate, shows. Thomas Jones even bought several items from Justis' estate sale, and probably moved into the house about the same time.

After moving in, Jones modified the interior layout of the first floor, changing it from a double-cell to a side-passage plan, which was more in style at the time. Unfortunately for the shoemaker, he wasn't in the house to enjoy it for long. Whether he overextended himself on the renovations or just hit a patch of bad luck, by 1849 Thomas Jones shows up on a list of delinquents in MCH. Not only did he owe money to Justis' estate, Jones also still owed money to John Foote for the Stanton property. The Sheriff seized the property and it was sold in October 1850 for $1100, to Henry S. McComb. Thomas W. Jones may have moved then to Wilmington, but sadly there's not much information to show he ever got his situation turned around.

McComb owned the property for 18 years, but of course did not live there. While he resided in his mansion at 11th and Market Streets in Wilmington, the house on the turnpike was just one of many real estate investments for the leather manufacturer and railroad entrepreneur. In addition to the Justis-Jones House, McComb owned numerous other properties including a large estate in Claymont, later to be the site of the Brookview Apartments and now (eventually) Darley Green.

It's not clear who lived in the house during McComb's ownership, although further study could provide some clues. It may have been an artisan like Thomas Jones, a worker in one of the local mills, or a farm hand on a nearby property. Interestingly, in several tax assessments during the period, the house is described as being of frame construction. This is likely due to confusion stemming from the new stucco covering applied by McComb in an attempt to make the house more "modern".

The next owner of the house was George M. Bramble, who bought it for $1850 in 1868. Bramble lived in Christiana Hundred at the time, a self-professed "cooper and farmer", but appears to have moved into the Justis-Jones House around 1870 for a few years. The 1870 Census finds him here, as does an 1871 assessment. His occupation is listed as "trucker", which could explain his interest in a house situated on the turnpike. Bramble didn't stay here long, though, and seems to have moved permanently back to Christiana Hundred by 1873.

The house was undoubtedly rented out for the remainder of George Bramble's life, which came to a close in 1890. After his death, the house returned to the McComb family, as Henry's widow Elizabeth recouped the property because of debts owed to her by the late Bramble. After reacquiring it in 1892, McComb sold the house in 1893 to John O. McFarland. He, too, eventually fell behind on his debt, and in 1901 Jane McComb Winchester (Henry's daughter and then owner of the Wilmington mansion) again acquired the property.

1912 Plan for The Cedars and Hilltop

The McCombs finally unburdened themselves of the property later that year, when it was sold to George F. Thorp. Thorp sold the house in 1904 to Harry W. Sherman, who would live there until 1915. Sherman would change the property forever. For one thing, about 1907 he added the first frame wing (one story) on the rear, the bay window, and the front porch. More importantly, Sherman divided up the property into smaller lots. With The Cedars selling lots as early as 1901 across the road, Sherman may have had this in mind as a real estate venture from the beginning. In 1907 he began selling lots, at first empty but later with homes already in place. The lefthand (unnumbered) larger lot contained the Justis-Jones House, next to the rest of what Sherman called "Hilltop".

The lot containing the house was sold by Sherman in 1915 for $2900 to Lida Reynolds of Wilmington. It appears Reynolds rented out the home for her 9 years of ownership, as she and her husband continued to reside in Wilmington. She sold it in 1924 for $5000, the higher price probably reflecting the additions of the second floor on the rear wing, a newly-installed bathroom, and the garage.

The house went through a number of different owners during the 20th Century, including the Wilkinsons, Smeads,  Smiths, and several others. Although its parcel has shrunk, the house itself continues to look much as it always has. One of the recent owners removed the stucco from the front of the second floor, which even though it's the only place with exposed stone gives the appearance that it all is when you drive by. Even though it's not the only historic house in the area, the fact that it was mostly used as a rental house and that it was owned by an artisan (as opposed to a farmer) does make it somewhat unique. It appears to be in very good condition, and stands as a link to the changing nature of Mill Creek Hundred in the mid-1800's.




Additional Facts and Related Thoughts:

  • As seen in this DelDOT report (Page 17 of the PDF), the lot Jones purchased in Stanton was on the northwest corner of Limestone Road and Main Street, where St. Mark's Methodist Church is now.
  • Thomas W. Jones' son, Thomas W. Jones, Jr., went on to become a miller. He owned a farm near McClellandville north of Newark, and also later purchased the England (Red) Mill on Red Mill Road. It was he who built the tall addition to the mill in the 1880's. He may also have been the resident miller at the Stanton Mill around 1860.
  • Again, here is the link for Nation Register of Historic Places nomination form. Here are the photographs.
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