griffing@fnal.gov

Trustin Brown Kinder

On a cold, blustery February evening, a train from Madison, Indiana, chugged into the Union Depot at Indianapolis. Almost before it had come to a complete stop, the passengers sprang from its doors in tightly huddled masses seeking shelter from the bone-chilling wind that swept through the long, low building. One passenger, in a long gray overcoat and slouched hat pulled low against the collar, seemed to move more slowly than the others -- as if uncertain where to go. In one hand he carried a badly worn valise, its leather handle ripped and secured with wire; in the other, a walking stick. A satchel, bulging at the seams, was thrown over his left shoulder, which caused him, when walking, to lean right and forward in a most awkward manner.

Angling his way northward to Washington Street, uncertain of his destination, the lonely figure traversed the wide thoroughfare—its large lumps and ruts of frozen mud making the walking difficult—and began to look for a place to spend the night. In the window of a pale yellow, three-story brick building on the south side of East Washington Street, the stranger noticed a sign that read, “ROOMS.  RESPECTABLE GENTLEMEN AND LADIES MAY INQUIRE WITHIN.”  Upon noticing the sign, he paused, lowered the weighty satchel from his shoulder, and turned to look up and down the street. The sun was setting and the gas street lamps were being lit. The wind was diminishing but tiny snowflakes were beginning to fall. As he looked skyward, he noticed the streams of hot smoke rising from each rooftop chimney and he longed for a warm hearth and a hot bowl of soup. The image was overpowering. Without waiting a moment longer, he ducked into the entryway and into the warmth of the boarding house.

The next evening, secure and warm in his new surroundings, James Griffing wrote to his sweetheart Augusta Goodrich, living in Owego, New York:  

Indianapolis [Indiana]
February 9, 1854

[Dear Augusta]

It seems so good to find myself in a permanent boarding place [1] in a comfortable room where I can devote much of the days to study and again feel myself at home. I have been here now about twenty-four hours and already begin to like the place right well. It may well be one of the great railroad cities of the West. [2] Already there are seven railroads passing out from here, which makes a daily ingress of many thousand strangers—giving great life and activity to the place. It is just about the size of Hartford [Connecticut], but surpasses it in the width of its streets, number of its railroads, the inferiority of both its public and private dwellings, its benevolent institutions, and lethargy and want of forecast among its inhabitants. If you should put all the energetic Yankees of old Hartford here—imagination would fail to depict the startling improvements that could be seen in one short year. It only wants energy, combined with good taste, education, and a faithful application of its use to make the Great West surpass the East in every respect.

In one respect, the West is acting quite judiciously —I.E.— in endeavoring to have its morals keep pace with its growing strength. You would hardly believe it if I should tell you that Indianapolis, with its fifteen thousand inhabitants, already numbered twenty-four churches. And I have been informed that many of them are well filled. In this respect, however, it exceeds many western villages. There is often a great laxity of morals.  And even in the churches, too often sound is substituted for sense —excitement for piety— and a great want of practice to correspond with the abundant preaching. I am almost sure you will not like society here at first. You will think there is a great want of cultivation. You will see young men whose parents are worth their thousands that have very rarely seen the inside of a schoolhouse — who go dressed as if they were depending upon the very charities of the people for a livelihood. Ask them if they would like to procure a map of their state, [and] they will tell you they would like to, if they had ever “larnt” such things. They have quite a good knowledge of horses and fat cattle, of rough and smooth land — yet, Oh Folly! -- the very best of their life has been spent in hard toil in the cultivation of their land whilst their deathless, immortal part has hardly been worthy of a thought. And so they have grown up [to be] great awkward, boorish boobies — just fitted to associate with their horses.  Such a state of things is quite prevalent among farmers [here].

The district school, in many places, is hardly worthy of the name. I was into several not long since where the young ideas were permitted to roam almost at large. A huge fireplace extended across nearly one end of a twenty-foot square log house in which were crowded about fifty scholars. The slab benches with out back supports extended parallel about two feet apart across the room. One day, I remember, it was quite cold and the body of the scholars were crowded towards and upon the end of the benches nearest the fire. And in turn, the one upon the end nearest the fire would go around to the other end of the bench and give room for his next nearest friend to warm himself and follow suit.  The teacher — Oh “horribili dicta” — used the schoolhouse door to “larn the bigguns to make figgers on.” Said he “haddent nun larnin grammer, but he had a few bigguns just larnin to sifer in figgers.” The big board over the fireplace was full of all kinds of imagery and every log as far as the [little boys] could reach with their big knives were haggled full of idlers marks. And these schoolhouses were located in communities where many of the farmers were worth their tens of thousands. Oh shame! Where is thy blush! If this was an isolated case, it might do. But if such schoolhouses are frequent along the principal roads, what must they be in the backwoods!

It is strange that there should be such a decided contrast between the country and village schools. I have been in many of the latter where many of [the young] masters might sit at their teacher’s feet and learn many profitable lessons. Many of the farmers [must] send their sons for improvement [to these village schools]. If some method could be adopted to equalize matters and awaken an interest in the country upon the subject of education, it would be a most excellent thing. But this is a reform that cannot be worked in a day. It will take long years.

I was glad to receive a letter from Mr. [James E.] McIntyre, [3] the secretary of our class in college, with a report of each member. Already nine out of the twenty-four are married. One, my friend [John Gifford] Parsons, [4] has entered the spirit land and engaged in the employ of angels. He was married but two days prior to his death — was sick but a short time. Yet without a doubt, it found him ready. He was quite exemplary in his life at college. Immediately after leaving it, he commenced preaching near New Haven and was the first among us to reach the better home. I suppose his obituary was published in the Hartford papers, which I would like much to procure. Sleep on and study on my good brother. May it be the lot of all of us to finally greet thee. Please write soon. Direct to Indianapolis, Indiana. If convenient, please send an Owego paper.

Indianapolis, [Indiana]
Day after St. Valentines [Feb. 15] 1854

Beloved Augusta,

Your kind letter has just been perused with the greatest pleasure, doing one as much good as any epistle received for a long time. And I don’t see why you offer any apology for its appearance as that will only tend to make me more ashamed of any I send. It not only relieved my mind from a [certain] degree of anxiety but came freighted with the latest news from the vicinity of [Owego, New York,] my childhood home. My good friend Harriet [Warring] was so kind as to let me read several of her letters from Owego which, with the Owego papers, gave me a very correct idea of the doings about there for months back.

I don’t think friend Hancie [Abbey] treated you hardly fair. I suppose, however, the fact of her marriage did not startle you very much. It certainly would have been pleasant to have attended the celebration of the nuptials. Was there a regular wedding? And did they go off on a wedding tour? But I am sorry for Juliet and Mr. Denton. I do think theirs a very unwise course. I cannot make it such that the future has for them many joyful and happy hours. I hardly know what my feelings would prompt me to do under similar circumstances. Yet I do think I should never allow them to have the mastery over my better judgment. Have you heard from them yet? Whose daughter was Louise Sebring? And whose daughter was Cornelia Stratton? And who is cousin S. Wells?

You will notice that I am now at the great point in the West from whence so many railroads radiate. Already eight [railroads] go out from this place and others are in the process of construction. This makes it a place of great life, giving Main Street the appearance of belonging to a city of much greater size. Thousands of strangers pass here every day. Well there! In writing the last few lines, I had [completely] forgotten that I [already] wrote you from this place a few days ago and told you about the city.

Well, did I say anything of my visit to the Insane Asylum? Precisely at two o’clock on Saturday last, a gentleman rooming with me — a member of the law school here [5] — accompanied me to this fine building a little over two miles out of the city. A fine maple grove extends for a long distance in the background [behind the building which is] interspersed with walks. [These] furnish a most lovely place for these unfortunates to rove about in the warm summer time. The building itself is of brick and I should think a third more ample than the one at Hartford [Connecticut]. [It is] situated on somewhat elevated ground but does not command a view of much scenery. We found one hundred and sixty occupants classed off in different wards very much as at Hartford. Many, from their appearance, you would hardly have guessed them insane. One grey-headed man seemed enjoyed to see us and ready to squeeze me to death in his great joy.  One beautiful black-eyed girl followed us all about twirling over her finger a ribond of blue silk paper and pressing us with every variety of questions as to our business, residence, etc. [She] finally concluded by saying, “Oh, every body comes here but my parents to take me away.” I am sure no body can ever visit such a place without going away a better person. Hardened indeed must be the heart who does not find, after such a visit, renewed cause for gratitude to that Being whose superintendence we are continually beneath, for permitting us to enjoy that richest, brightest, sweetest boon of Heaven — Reason. The superintendent [of the asylum] is a most excellent man.

Indianapolis Insane Asylum, Gleason's Pictorial ~ April 22, 1854

Last Sabbath [February 12, 1854], I had the pleasure of hearing Bishop [Edward R.] Ames preach a most excellent discourse—the best I have heard for a long time. [6] Two services are held every Sabbath at half past ten and evening. The Sabbath School met at precisely two o’clock, and such a school! Why you could hardly believe so much interest could be awakened. There were present two hundred and thirty scholars there and were plenty of teachers. And what was best of all, a class of about thirty young men in a bible class. I was invited in to hear the juveniles sing which was truly delightful. Did you ever hear about fifty between the ages of three and six try to sing “The Happy Land?” [7] If so, did it not approximate very dear to your ideas of the innocent music of that bright world? A gentleman from Philadelphia named Jackson made some remarks to the school, which were very appreciated and seemed to be well received. Among other things, he mentioned a plan adopted in the city of Philadelphia which had been accompanied with the most blessed results—and that was for every teacher to write off the name of his scholars on a small card and enter into some secret place each day where, in the presence of God, [each teacher would] read over the names of these pupils and pray for them individually.

Tomorrow forenoon, I expect to visit the Deaf and Dumb Asylum. This morning I received another good letter from [my] sister Mary speaking of her good health. Mother is somewhat troubled with one of her feet but is very contented and seems to enjoy herself right well. [My brother] John has become the father of a little bright-eyed girl [8] whose health, with its mothers, is very good. John is in good spirits and is the same identical fellow. Have you spoken with him lately? I received a letter from [my brother] Daniel yesterday saying that his wife was complaining at times. Otherwise, all were well. At present, I am boarding in a building fitted upon on purpose for a boarding house. Several law students are boarding here with many other gentlemen and ladies, about thirty in all.  I find it a very pleasant place.

I have directed my attention to book keeping for the last few days. If you get news of the family and have not answered my last letter to this place, please answer [this letter] here as I think of remaining until near the last of the month. If you do not write me here, please send [your next letter] to Chicago as I go there next where I shall probably remain a few days. Where about the West does John Searle think of going? What is the condition of the churches there [in Owego] this winter? Who are the teachers in the several schools about? Be sure and give all the news. I hope to have the pleasure of a visit home sometime in the spring should nothing happen [to me]. Would it be favorable? How I would like to spend this cold evening in your own family around the pleasant fireside. Such thoughts only increase a desire to have a fireside I can call my own. When, Oh when, shall it be? And by it enjoying your own pleasant society — before another years expires I hope. What hopes thou, my dearest A? Can so desirable an object be accomplished in so short a time? Truly, I must close. Until I hear from you, believe me as ever your, -- James

Indianapolis [Indiana]
February 22, 1854

My dearest Augusta,

Your very good long letter reached me this morning. [It] has been carefully perused and re-perused and I only wish I could manage to make my letters as interesting to you as yours to me. But the very nature of circumstances seems to forbid. I was not obliged to stretch my imagination much to be right there among you and participating with you in all the pleasures of the evening fireside. I have often been so presumptuous as to wish for the powers of swift migration that I might come have a good visit with you and find myself back again at its terminus. But as this cannot be, I can only use two substitutes, poor as they are — imagination and the pen.

I am right glad that the friends of education are bringing into requisition all the aid they can to make these associations interesting. I do not think, Augusta, I would not decline serving although Miss [Jane A.] Humphrey [9] should. Even if your mind, in your opinion, did not dwell upon a chain of thought apparently appropriate, others might think it much more so than yourself. Besides, every succeeding effort will be so much easier than the first and then the exercise or discipline will prove to be very serviceable to you. At any rate, I would write [an essay] that I would not be ashamed to read even if I [were not called upon to] read it. Besides, only listen to the echo of the sound when your names are read by the society for an essay, “Miss Humphrey — not prepared, Miss Goodrich — not prepared.” Cause why? Cause Miss Humphrey was not. [Just] think of its [bad] influence upon the other young lady members of the Institute or association. They will all crawl behind your exercises to shield themselves when called upon and the result will be that the association must droop and die owing to an unwillingness on the part of its members to discharge duties imposed upon them... [And think] of the great advantages to the association if duties are discharged. You know they never expect a person to go beyond their ability. I do hope both of you will be on hand, do the best you can (gratuitous advice), and most certainly I would give my old boots just to be there and hear them.

With regard to my [deceased] friend Parsons, he was preaching near New Haven [Connecticut]. I know not whom he married. I was grieved to hear of the conduct of the scholars in those districts. How much I wish some moral influence might be brought to bear upon them so that they could clear as sunlight witness the result of their present conduct. I have not become acquainted with any of the New England teachers sent out....[I understand that] 69 have already been sent to this state. But last Saturday, I found one I would much rather see who is teaching one of the public schools of this city — a Mr. Conger [10], one of the graduates at Middletown during my stay there. He is quite a companionable kind of a fellow and already I have had quite a pleasant time with him. Did you ever see the Annual Report of the Board of Popular Education for the West? If you have not, I will send you one in my possession made in ‘52 which contains many interesting facts.

I sent you a report of the Asylum for the Deaf and Dumb for this state, a place that I like dearly to visit. Already I have been up there twice. I don’t know whether I wrote my last letter since my first visit there or not. Yesterday morning I attended prayers there.  Nearly two hundred were present and I could not help feeling grateful that these unfortunate ones had some means through which they could acquire a knowledge of their Creator and hold such intimate converse with Him. You will have a very correct representation of the building upon the outside. The inside corresponds well. The rooms are all spacious and airy and furnished in the very best of style. Do you notice that cupola on the top? You can’t begin to think what a pleasant half hour a friend with myself spent there a half hour before prayers. You can have but little idea of the beauty of the scenery that falls within the range of the eye even at this season of the year. If so, what must it be in the sweet and pleasant days of summer? I would tell you about the countless manipulations of the pupils whilst engaged in their exercises but as you have so often visited them at Hartford [Connecticut], it will be useless.

Deaf & Dumb Asylum, Gleason's Pictorial ~ April 22, 1854

Tomorrow, I expect to visit the Blind Institute and if I do not send this [letter before then, I] will tell you about it.

Should I introduce you to my boarding place? Well, when you come to Indianapolis you will find that Washington Street [11] is the great business thoroughfare of the city. As you come along up the street wondering what public doings are taking place in town today that should call in so many people, you will be astonished to learn that it is an every day occurrence. After elbowing your way along to No. 79, a three story, straw colored brick house, [you should] ascend the first flight of stairs, rap at the first door on the right, and you will be escorted to the parlor by my hostess with her very appropriate name, Mrs. [Maria] Kinder. [12] You will find her, in every sense of the word, not only kind, but kinder. She is just about the age of my good old mother and very much liked by all the boarders. If you ascend another flight of stairs, enter the second door on the left (No. 3), [and] you will find a room about twice the size of the rooms at Middletown, well carpeted, containing 3 beds and, part of the day, 4 inmates — two members of the commercial college [13] in this city, another a graduate of Princeton College spending a few weeks in the city, [and] the other, your humble servant. We have a very pleasant time together and seem to enjoy each other’s society right well.  I devote about two thirds of the day to reading, writing, and study. Am situated pretty well to suit me and shall remain longer than I anticipated doing at first.

[click on image to enlarge]
Portion of lithograph by James T. Palmatary
showing East Washington Street in Indianapolis as it appeared in 1854

The Kinder Residence & Boarding House is the three-story, yellow brick structure
half-way between Scott's Commercial College & the three-story hotel
with the large American flag flying from the rooftop.

At noon [each day], several passenger trains come and go at which time I go down [to the Union Depot [14] and supply any wishing it with Ensign and Thayer's “Travelling Map of the Western States,” issued by the firm for which I have been engaged. It takes but a short time, is a good exercise, and furnishes me an average of about a dollar a day over and above my expenses. To day the profits were two dollars and forty cents but I was more successful than usual. I can carry along in my big coat pockets all [the maps] I wish to sell any one day. I merely am thus minute as to my situation and business [so] that you may know that I am not wasting my time.

Ensign & Thayer's 1852 "Map of the Western States"

When I may come east, I can not now certainly tell. But probably not before I go to bring away the choice of my life in which I shall be much influenced by your wish in this matter. I do think that probably it would be better for both of us if it should be the coming summer or, at the farthest, a year from the coming Spring. Certainly by that time, arrangements might be perfected satisfactory to both [of us].

Evening—have just returned from church, “Robert’s Chapel” [15] where a series of meetings is going on. About twenty have united with the church and a very good state of feeling seems to pervade the large audience every evening. I am so glad to have some stationary place for attending meetings and identifying myself with a particular portion of Christ’s church. Getting acquainted with society and enjoying some of the sweets of life.

Looking north on Pennsylvania Avenue from Washington Street. Robert's Chapel at right center. The Blind Asylum is on the horizon at left above the rooftops.

I received a letter from [my brother] Daniel this week speaking of the continued ill health of his [wife,] Eliza. They have changed their physician and the present one thinks he can cure her. I shall feel anxious to hear from them again. Had I received my last letter from [sister] Mary when I last wrote, speaking of their enjoying themselves so well and the privilege they have of trotting on their knees a little black-eyed niece? I hope to get some letters from [brothers] Osmyn, Henry, or Samuel as I have written them all recently. If they only knew how gladly any thing would be received, I know they would not refuse to write.

I had a long conversation with Mr. McIntyre, President of the Deaf and Dumb Asylum, concerning Mr. Stone and his success at Columbus [Ohio] as he is well acquainted with him. He says he is well received but is obliged to breast a continued torrent of difficulties as the Asylum there is completely under the influence of party faction. And new teachers are appointed and dismissed as new parties come in power. He was obliged to commence there with almost an entire set of new teachers and his labors have been very arduous.  Besides, the legislature have been very meagre and shortsighted in making appropriations for the institution. I think Mrs. McIntyre one of the very best women I ever knew.

Mr. Thomas MacIntyre, President of the Deaf & Dumb Asylum

When you write to Connecticut, be sure to remember me to your cousins Maria and Hancie. Please tell when you shall probably go there. Please answer soon as convenient and direct to this place. Did you answer my last at Chicago? That you may ever dwell beneath the brightness of the Divine Countenance is the prayer of your, -- James 

Illustration Credits

[1]    During 1853 and 1854, Indianapolis was experiencing "boom town" growth.  It was hard to get a room in a boarding house due to the large number of would-be settlers looking for temporary housing while their homes were being constructed.  Reports from the period suggest that sawmills hummed and hammers rang all day to meet the housing demand.

One of the best accounts of Indianapolis in 1854 was penned by the famous revolutionary Carl Schurz when he visited the city for a week in September and wrote his wife of his observations. It reads, in part: 

... I now know the city fairly well. Although it has at present only eighteen thousand inhabitants it covers a very extensive area. The great "Main Street," with its stores, allows no doubt that Indianapolis is a state capital. It presents an extremely lively appearance, not like any one of the leading business streets of Philadelphia or New York; rather it bears a rural character. With its confused mass of farm wagons and equestrians (also equestriennes) it looks more like a permanent annual fair. There is much horseback-riding here. No farmer comes into the city afoot, and the women and girls mount their horses in their everyday clothes just as they are. Since there is much breeding of horses here, about half of the riders are followed by young colts. These gambol about in the street as if they were at home. Thus the beautiful broad street has an animated appearance and you hardly realize that you are from seven to eight hundred miles west of the Atlantic coast. Private dwellings, at least the more elegant ones, now begin to leave the innermost portion of the city and to move toward the outskirts, and charming rows of nice cottages are seen toward the ends of the business streets, which run out from the middle point of the city ten or fifteen minutes' walk into the forest. You might say, indeed, that the outermost houses of the city are in the woods. The Germans, who number about two thousand, dwell mainly together in their own part of the city, as in Cincinnati. The public buildings of Indianapolis, among them a school for the blind, an insane asylum, and a school for the deaf and dumb, concede nothing in external magnificence or in solidity of construction to the best eastern establishments. The railroads, with the exception of two or three, are all combined in one general depot and between twelve and one o'clock in the afternoon you can see, leaving the Union Station, six trains at once moving in different directions. So far I have not heard anything of accidents. To be sure, cows sometimes get on the tracks, but as soon as the engineer sees them he lets the locomotive whistle loud and long; whereupon the cows are generally frightened and hasten away. The roads are well built....

[2]    James' source of information was probably the local newspapers.  The February 4, 1854, edition [Saturday] of The Locomotive featured an article on Indianapolis as a railroad center of the West and reported that "60 trains of cars per day arrive and depart" from the city.  It further reported that there were "15,000 inhabitants" in the city and that the railroads brought in "800,000 strangers per year."   Not to be "scooped" by its competitor, the February 9, 1854, [Thursday] edition of Chapman's Chanticleer carried a front-page story on the subject of Indianapolis' importance as a railroad center also.  The story was accompanied by a large map of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois showing the network of railroads centering in Indianapolis.

[3]    The Post Office was not located at the corner of East Market and Pennsylvania Streets, across from Robert's Chapel, until 1855. Prior to that time, it was in various buildings located close to the Circle.  The Locomotive, a weekly local newspaper, ran a column for the Post Office announcing the names of individuals who had letters waiting to be picked up.  The February 4, 1854, edition shows a letter for "Griffin, J. S."  This must have been the letter from James E. McIntire.  Mr. McIntire went on to earn a law degree after graduation from Wesleyan University and practiced law in Springfield, Massachusetts.

[4]    Rev. John Gifford Parsons.

[5]    The would-be lawyer and roommate may have been 23-year old Kilby Ferguson from Wayne County, Indiana. The 1855 City Directory indicates that he'd been admitted to the bar and was practicing out of an office in the Odd Fellow's Hall, just across the street from Kinder's Boarding House where he still resided. Two years later, he'd become junior partner in the firm Wapole & Ferguson with an office at 25 East Washington Street, 2nd floor. Kilby's parents, Micajah Ferguson (born 1784) and Frances Isbell (born 1791) were natives of Wilkes County, North Carolina. They had emigrated to Wayne County, Indiana sometime prior to 1840 where they found prime, cheap farmland. Kilby would move out of Kinder's Boarding House when he married Martha J. Sinks in January 1859. 

[6]    James does not mention which Methodist church he attended.  By 1852, there were already six Methodist churches within the corporate limits of the city. It is likely that he attended one of the two largest churches -- Wesley Chapel or Roberts Chapel. Wesley Chapel was the first Methodist church to be established in Indianapolis and was located at the southwest corner of Meridian and the Circle. Roberts Chapel was constructed by a congregation that broke away from Wesley Chapel in 1842 because of differences in opinion as to the appropriateness of using musical instruments in church services. Roberts Chapel was located on the northeast corner of Market and Pennsylvania Streets, only a couple of blocks from Kinder's boarding house where James was boarding at the time. Mrs. Kinder was a long-standing member of Robert's Chapel.

[7]    The words to "Happy Land" were written by Andrew Young in 1838. It was put to music in 1850 by Leonard Breedlove by adapting an Hindustani air.

There is a happy land, far, far away,
Where saints in glory stand, bright, bright as day.
Oh, how they sweetly sing, worthy is our Savior King,
Loud let His praises ring, praise, praise for aye.

Come to that happy land, come, come away;
Why will ye doubting stand, why still delay?
Oh, we shall happy be, when from sin and sorrow free,
Lord, we shall live with Thee, blest, blest for aye.

Bright, in that happy land, beams every eye;
Kept by a Father's hand, love cannot die.
Oh, then to glory run; be a crown and kingdom won;
And, bright, above the sun, we reign for aye.

[8]    Mary I. Griffing, born January 20, 1854, died January 1, 1874. Union Springs, New York.

[9]    Jane A. Humphrey was an Assistant Teacher of Mathematics and General English at the Owego Academy in Owego, New York in 1853-54. Apparently she also participated in a Ladies Literary Association with Augusta.

[10]    David N. Conger was a fellow Wesleyan University graduate -- the Class of 1848. He was born on 30 July 1825 in Danbury, VT. He taught school in Mississippi (1849), then in various schools in the Midwest, including Ohio, Wisconsin, Indiana and Missouri, before serving two years in the U.S. Army during the Civil War. While in Indiana, David Conger taught in the Third Ward of the public schools. Based upon the diary of Calvin Fletcher, who played a significant role in the creation and oversight of public schools in Indianapolis, Conger was not highly regarded by some parents and school officials who had an unjustified bias against Eastern-educated teachers. When David Conger whipped a boy in his classroom named McChaffee for disobedience, Calvin Fletcher sided with those who favored Conger's dismissal. Apparently Conger announced that he would resign if convicted of abusing the student but the Mayor ruled in favor of Conger and he was retained. See The Diary of Calvin Fletcher, Vol. V, page 165.

Like James Griffing, David Conger taught select schools while attending college. Here is a letter written in 1845 by Frank Otis Blair to Daniel Hitchcock of Southwick, Massachusetts, recommending David N. Conger as a teacher. 

Wesleyan University
Sept. 18th 1845

Dear Sir,

I have neglected to answer yours of the 12th until the present time, partly because I have been absent a part of the term thus far and business has pressed hard upon me, and partly because I did not succeed immediately in finding a suitable person to accept your offer, and I did not wish to write until I could write something definite.

I have found a young gentleman Mr. David N. Conger, to whom I stated your conditions as near as I could recollect them, and he thinks he will accept. I stated to him that you would pay a teacher $18 per month for 6 months, boarding him, doing his washing, furnishing him with a room in which to study, as we talked of, &c. &c.

He wished to know particularly respecting the declamations and compositions, concerning which I told him that I understood you, that you took the whole charge of the compositions, and on the day set apart for declamation you would require little or nothing from him. These with some minor points were the conditions on which you expected to obtain a teacher, as I stated to him, which, so far as I can recollect, are what you stated to me. I told him as I was authorized only to find some one for a teacher; I would have you write to him, stating more fully the conditions and what you expected of him and close the bargain.

Mr. Conger is a fine young man, and I think well qualified to give satisfaction to you both in school and in the family. Of his ability as a teacher I cannot speak, only knowing that he has had some experience in teaching a district school, but I think you will find him fully qualified. He intends teaching the coming winter, and says he must hear from you within ten days or a fortnight or he shall look elsewhere.

Yours truly,
F. O. Blair

Daniel Hitchcock, Esq.

[11]    When the National Road was laid out through Indiana in the 1830's, Washington Street was widened to 120 feet and covered with crushed rock and gravel. The maintenance of the well-traveled road, however, was difficult and often the object of ridicule by local citizens. The following description, written within a month of James' arrival in Indianapolis decries the street's condition: "We are in hopes that as soon as the weather will allow, we shall see a gang of hands under the supervision of the Street Commissioner busily engaged in removing a portion of the surplus mud and dirt which now covers Washington Street. We would like to see the bottom of the mud, if there is any, as it would be some sort of relief to know that there is a bottom beyond which there is no fear of sinking down. After the street is scraped, we hope there will be no more gravel placed at the different crossings. The gravel makes a very good crossing for a short time but after two or three rains, being higher than the street, it spreads over it and is soon buried so deep in the mud that from sympathy, it becomes the same soft substance."  Source: Chapman's Chanticleer, March 2, 1854.

[12]    The proprietor of the boarding house was 54-year-old  Maria W. [Brown] Kinder who, with her husband Isaac, came to Indianapolis in 1821 from Piqua, Ohio. Census records suggest they were both natives of Delaware and family records indicate the couple were born and raised in or near the village of Concord, Sussex County, Delaware. Their marriage date is given as 29 April 1819 in Pickaway County, Ohio, however, suggesting that both parents' families relocated to south central Ohio in the early 1800's -- perhaps making the trek together.  Isaac's parents were Jacob Kinder (1770-1837) and Rachel Owens (1770-??). Maria's parents were Peter Brown and Mary Polk.

Isaac and Maria Kinder reared at least twelve children, six of whom were still living with Maria at the boarding house in 1850 -- all girls. Her husband died of a stroke on 4 December 1849 at the age of 57.  Maria would reside in Indianapolis until her death on 19 March 1885 at the age of 84. Isaac and Maria lost their eldest child, Captain Trustin Brown Kinder when he was killed in the Battle of Buena Vista on February 23, 1847 while leading Company B, Second Indiana Regiment. His company -- called the "Hoosier Boys" -- consisted primarily of soldiers from Orange County, Indiana, where Trustin had worked as an attorney prior to the Mexican-American war. The Captain's body was retrieved from the battlefield in Mexico by his father and returned to Indianapolis where a large funeral ceremony was conducted. The body laid in state in the old Statehouse rotunda where thousands of mourners came to pay their respects to the fallen soldier. He is considered to be the city's first war hero. 

The suggestion that James stumbled into the landlord-renter relationship with Mrs. Kinder is pure speculation. Ironically, the 1850 census reveals that the Kinder's lived immediately next door to Rev. William H. Goode and his family. It is pretty clear that James was not previously acquainted with Rev. Goode, who had left Indianapolis between the time of the 1850 census and James' arrival in 1854.

[13]    Scott's Commercial College -- a business school -- was located on the southwest corner of East Washington Street and Pennsylvania, a couple of doors down from Mrs. Kinder's Boarding House.

[14]    The Indianapolis Union Depot was a long, low, steep-roofed brick building with towers, gables, and high arched windows. There were five railroad lines entering and exiting the station at either end; the names of each railroad line were freshly painted over each entrance. The station was built by Thomas Armstrong Morris and the Union Railroad Company and was first opened for use on September 30, 1853.

[15]    "Robert's Chapel" was named in honor of Bishop Robert Roberts, who had died in 1834 and was the first Methodist bishop to live in Indiana. He was born in Maryland in 1775, was ordained by Bishop Francis Asbury in 1804, was elected to take Asbury's place in 1816, and came to Indiana in 1819. He is buried at Greencastle, Indiana. Robert Roberts ordained James' father, John Griffing, as an "Elder" in the Methodist Episcopal Church in 1818.

griffing@fnal.gov