By Louis Robert Hamill, 1917

When David Johnson's ancestors first came to America, I have no way of determining.  (As the name would imply, it is of English origin.)  His father, Arthur Johnson, was a native of New England, but moved to Virginia sometime before the Revolutionary War, settling in that part which is now West Virginia.  He was a member of the militia force of southwest Virginia, which fought the fierce Indian battle at Point Pleasant on the Kanawha River in 1774 under General Andrew Lewis when Lord Dunmore was Governor of Virginia.  He was a Revolutionary soldier and it was my mother's understanding that he fought at Bunker Hill.  How that could have been, and he in the militia of Western Virginia, I do not know, and yet it seems certain that he was one of the heroes of the Revolution.

David Johnson was born May 3, 1782, and was married at Clarksburg, Virginia, (now West Virginia) to Patsey Cutler, January 29, 1799.  He moved to Ohio, settling near Xenia in 1805 where my mother, Sarah Johnson, was born August 12, 1807.  In 1814 or 1815 he moved to Indiana Territory, settling near Washington, Daviess County.  Not satisfied there, he entered land in what is now Monroe County, near Whitehall, nine miles southeast of Spencer, and on the 20th of September 1816, he also entered the southwest quarter of Section 20, Township 10, Range 3 west, the same day on which Richard Beem entered the southwest quarter of that section.

Early in the fall of 1816 he left his family in Daviess County long enough to build a cabin on his land in Monroe County, to which he moved later in the same fall.  He was induced to settle in Monroe County, rather than on his land on White river, by dread of malaria at the latter place.  At the time of their removal from Daviess County to Monroe County, my mother was nine years old and often related to her children some of their early experiences.

When they started on the journey to their cabin home, Grandfather Johnson (David) had four horses.  He employed a man by the name of Blaine to assist him on the way.  The first night, the horses being hobbled out, two of the best ones got away.  Blaine was sent back to find the horses but never returned, leaving them to get along the best they could through the roadless forests with two inferior horses to draw a four-horse wagon.

At one point they came to a creek, swollen by recent rains, where they carried the contents of the wagon across on logs and swam the horses across with the empty wagon.  At another time they came to a steep place, which they could not avoid, and were compelled to take the wagon apart and carry it down piece by piece with the household goods to level ground.  All the family walked and those who could carried a load.

When within about twelve miles of their destination, Grandfather Johnson, growing impatient because of the slow progress they were making with the wagon, having to cut a roadway as they proceeded, took the horses from the wagon and, with such goods as they could take along, proceeded to their cabin, leaving Arthur Johnson, then a lad of eighteen years, in charge of the wagon.

When they arrived at the cabin, as no door had been made, they entered by first cutting out two or three of the logs.  There being no floor except the ground and no fireplace, a fire was made in the middle of the cabin, the smoke escaping through an opening in the middle of the roof.

Grandfather returned with the horses to bring on the wagon and grandmother busied herself by cutting poles on which to place their beds.  The first day they were there a cow bell was heard nearby in the woods, and late that afternoon a young man came along, in search of the cow, who informed them that he and his sister occupied a cabin not far away—they having come on in advance of the rest of their family to prepare for their arrival.  This was the first they knew of any neighbors for miles around.

During the first night they were there grandfather not having returned, one of the small children had an attack of croup.  Water being required, and the spring, which was the source of supply, being some distance from the cabin and surrounded by thick woods infested with wild animals—my mother (who was then nine years old) had to visit the spring for water.  Her recollection of her swift return from the spring with the bucket of water in hand, was very vivid.

They cleared about ten acres during the winter and a crop was made thereon in 1817.  In the spring of 1818, the fear of malaria probably having abated, they moved to their land on White River, locating on the same two or three hundred yards west of where the freight depot now is in the town of Spencer.  Here a very substantial one-story-and-half double-hewed log house was built for a residence.

David Johnson was a farmer by occupation and a man of great industry, economy and thrift.  He came here before any steps had been taken or organize the country or locate the county seat.  He was not ambitious for public favors and sought no office, but was public-spirited and bore a prominent part in the early enterprises of the community.  His name frequently appears in the records of the county as one of it most active citizens.

The first order made by the newly chosen board of county commissioners, March, 1819, was for dividing the county into three townships:  Washington, Franklin and Montgomery, and providing for the election of a justice of the peace in each township.  David Johnson was elected for Washington, Jacob McIntyre for Franklin and John Hudson for Montgomery.

No record is extant showing which first performed the functions of a justice of the peace but as David Johnson was elected such from the central township, containing the bulk of the population at that time, it is fair to assume that the scales of justice in Owen County were first held by him.  He continued in this office, performing his duties as such, for several years.

He lived on this farm about ten years when he acquired land about one mile and a half above Spencer, and occupied the same until about 1846.  He then moved to a farm about two miles below Freedom, in Owen County, where he died in 1854.  His life was fairly representative of that of the pioneers of this country.  While reasonably prosperous, he had his full share of the trials, hardships and privations incident to the conditions of his times, and bore them with fortitude and courage.

David Johnson was a Methodist of the strictest sort of that day.  He put his religious belief into his daily life.  He called upon the Lord at the family altar morning and evening of every day.  It was his custom to speak to everyone, as opportunity afforded, on the subject of religion, and inquire how his soul prospered.  He visited the homes of the sick with ministrations of material help and prayer.

On one occasion he was sent for to visit a man of mature years who had led a very wicked life, but was sick and alarmed at the thought of meeting death unprepared.  David Johnson prayed with him and for him and, Jacob-like, wrestled with the Lord in his behalf nearly all night.  As the result of his prayers and instructions, light came into the soul of that man.  He recovered from his illness, however, and walked with the Lord in a consistent and useful Christian life for more than forty years thereafter.

Once when I was about seven years of age, Grandfather Johnson came to our house on a week-day, probably on some matter of business.  It chanced that father and mother were both away, leaving the house in the care of five or six of us children.  Before his departure, he called us all into the living room of the house, got us down on our knees in the middle of the floor and prayed.  Although I do not remember a word of the prayer, it was doubtless an earnest petition to the God of Heaven to protect, guide and save his grandchildren.  The circumstance made a deep impression on my mind and heart.

As indicating the difference between the views and practices of professing Christians of that time and church members of the present day, I remember my Grandfather Johnson's manner of observing the Sabbath.  Before the close of Saturday of each week, every preparation that could be made to avoid manual labor on Sunday was made.  The wood for fuel was cut and placed by the door, the baking was done and even the stock was so placed as to require the least possible care on the sacred day.

I had several uncles who were young men living at home when I can first remember.  They were expected to go to church on Sunday, but were admonished to shave and black their boots before retiring Saturday night, otherwise they would have to go to preaching in an unkempt condition, for these things were on no account to be done on the holy Sabbath.

Grandfather Johnson's first wife died at Spencer August 1, 1823.  He was married to Fannie McDaniel, daughter of the pioneer, Reuben McDaniel, February 29, 1824.  He (David) was the father of eighteen children, all of whom have long since gone on to join the silent majority.  Most of them lived to have families who, as well as their descendants, are widely scattered up and down upon the earth.

The last one I had the privilege of seeing was my uncle, Freeborn Wesley, who died in 1910.  I visited him at his home in Osceola the year before his death, then in his eighty-ninth year.  He informed me at that time that he had thirteen children, all of whom he survived except one, but he then had living thirty-three grandchildren, sixty-six great-grandchildren and five great-great-grandchildren.

Of the large number of David Johnson's descendants, none now live in Owen County except those of my mother.  Most of them living moved to Clark County, Iowa, some sixty-odd years ago, but are now scattered far and wide over the land.