ONE OF THE MEANEST THINGS, in the estimation of the pioneers, a white man could do was to "enter out a settler."
The first settlers were usually squatters, holding their claims by what they termed "squatter rights"
until the land on which they squatted became subject to entry from the government. Sometimes, in those hard wilderness
days, the settler's little ready money was soon exhausted, and when the time came for entering the land which he
had settled and improved, he found himself without the money necessary for such entry. Greedy and unscrupulous
individuals sometimes took advantage of this predicament of the settler and entered the settler's squatter claim,
thus depriving him of his hard-earned improvements and even of the very house in which his family lived. This was
called "entering out the settler."
This practice of "entering out" always demanded the attention of the Regulators, the early vigilance
committee of the valley. A man by the name of Alexander Wheeler, who married Elizabeth, a daughter of the Bealls,
thus entered out a Kentucky settler by the name of Tolbert Hite, who came with the first Elledges to the vicinity
of present Winchester, and who appears to have been related to Neddie Elledge or his wife. Archibald Tolbert Hite
built the first house where Winchester now is and named the town that later was laid out to embrace his cabin-site.
The Winchester Independent (an early Scott county newspaper), in an issue dated December 10, 1870, contains the
following with reference to Hite and the town of Winchester:
"A. T. Hite, who sold drygoods and whisky on Big Sandy, east of Winchester, dealt over a plank across a corner
of the room. Glass tumblers being out of the question, he used a common tin pepper-box which he sold the full of
for 6 1/4 cents. Later he built a house where Winchester now is, on the road from Jacksonville to Meacham's Ferry
(now Montezuma). He and Casebeer (David Casebeer, an early settler in that part of Old Morgan and an early-day
landowner in eastern Pike county) conceived the idea of a town. It was agreed that the man who would treat to a
gallon of whisky should be allowed to name the town. Hite accepted, sent for the whisky, and after all hands had
taken a ‘bumper,' named the town Winchester, after Winchester, Clark county, Ky."
A souvenir edition of the Winchester Times, March 5, 1897, contained the following additional statement as to A.
T. Hite, who "came from Winchester, Clark Co., Ky., and named Winchester, Scott Co., Ill.":
"When civilization became too rife for him here he (Hite) emigrated and afterward laid out Winchester, Clark
Co., Mo." (Note: The present writer has been unable to verify this statement from the records or recollections
available in the Missouri town of Winchester.)
Most of the early Kentucky settlers east of the river were supposedly members of the "Regulators of the Valley,"
a secret and masked band which was organized by the first comers to protect the border from the outlawry of the
ruffians who then infested it. The Elledges, Scholls, Cowhicks, Philipses, Norrises and other early comers were
believed to be members of this law-enforcement band. Hite also probably belonged to the Regulators and when he
was entered out by Wheeler the latter was promptly waited on by the band and after a speedy examination was given
100 lashes by them. Records in the settlements of estate, on file at Jacksonville, show that Wheeler and his brother-in-law,
Michael Flynn, with their families, then went to Monroe county, Indiana. Following the punishment of Wheeler, the
term "to Wheeler a man" came to have a sinister meaning along the border. When a man had been "wheelered"
he was understood to have been waited upon by the Regulators of the Valley.
The Regulators reached their extreme power in the years preceding 1825. After that, their sway over the valley
began to dwindle. Originally composed of the best citizen, the organization later fell into the hands of the reckless
and violent, and partook more of the character of a mob. The death struggle came in the latter 1820s, although
for a number of years thereafter there were isolated cases of "regulating" in the valley.
The Regulators were still a power when Edward (Neddie) Elledge, one of their number, was "entered out."
It was the "entering out" of Neddie Elledge, son of Charity Boone, that led to the death struggle in
the valley and the breaking of the Regulators' power.
Major James B. Young, the man who stood accused by the Regulators in the Neddie Elledge case, refused to be "regulated."
Major Young, besides having a reputation for "fighting at the drop of a hat," was also numbered among
the jolly fiddlers of the olden time. It was said of him that he could scatter "Natchez Under the Hill"
or "Sugar in the Gourd" all over an old log cabin, keeping time with his foot as "regular as the
saw-gate of a water- mill."
It appears that the Major bought a piece of land, about four acres of which had been improved by Neddie Elledge,
who was unable to raise the money to enter it. Custom required the party who entered land to pay the "squatter"
for the improvements thereon, but in this case the land had been transferred two or three times before it came
to the Major, who claimed he was under no obligation to pay for what he already had paid for once and that the
squatter should go to the first purchaser with his claim.
At this time the Regulators took a hand. Neddie Elledge, one of their number, then on his death bed, was being
"entered out." His wife would soon be a widow, with minor children to keep. The wolf was at the door.
The stricken family needed every cent they could get. The squatter who had made the improvements must be recompensed,
according to border custom.
The usual meeting was held and the Captain of the Regulators was authorized to notify the Major that unless he
complied with their notions of justice in the matter he "would be waited upon." The old Captain met the
Major in the woods southwest of present Winchester and discharged his duty by giving him the notice. The Major,
whittling a little black hickory, about the size of a walking stick, without manifesting any concern, listened
quietly to the serving of the notice.
"So you are going to force me to pay that, are you?" inquired the Major. "Yes," the Captain
responded. "And if I don't, you intend to ‘Wheeler' me? Well," exploded the old Major, with an oath,
"here goes!"
As the Major spoke, he lunged for the Captain, at the same time reaching for him with his hickory. The historian
of the encounter relates that the Captain, a considerably older man (the late Samuel Peak believed him to be old
Jesse Scholl) was dumfounded by the suddenness of the attack and although "as brave a man as ever set foot
in the Sangamon county," he was forced to retreat. Just as he sprang around a sapling, the Major got in a
"winder" where the pants were tightest, which terminated the battle.
Each, after the battle, repaired to his own house, the Captain to summon the Regulators and acquaint them with
the state of affairs, the Major to prepare for attack. Cleaning up his guns, the Major barricaded his cabin door
and remained up, listening for approaching footsteps, most of the night. Just about daylight, he heard them coming.
Taking his guns, he planted himself at the door, dropped upon one knee, unstopped a port-hole (a hole in the logs
used for reaching inside to open the door), and awaited the attack.
The Major soon imagined he descried a man in the bush. "Who are you?" he demanded. No answer. "Speak
or I shoot," said the Major. "A friend," came the answer. "If a friend, come into the house,"
invited the Major. Whereupon, in stalked the local constable with a warrant for the Major's arrest. It then developed
that the Major had come near shooting the constable's old white horse, which he had caught a glimpse of in the
brush.
The idea of the Regulators appealing to the law struck the Major as a trifle funny. The constable fed his horse
and ate breakfast with the Major and his wife, after which he paroled his prisoner, who agreed to appear before
the Justice at the hour named.
Anticipating that numerous of the Regulators would be in court, the Major mustered his friends to a considerable
number, as the popularity of the Regulators was then waning. After a patient hearing, the Justice decided the Major
owed the People $3 and costs, amounting to $5 and a "bit." The Justice allowed it was hard to be fined
for defending one's self on one's own land, but held that the Major had no warrant to regulate the Regulators.
Upon application of the Major, the Justice in turn issued a warrant for the Captain of the Regulators, who thereupon
found himself in the hands of the law. The equal-handed Justice straightway proceeded to mete out the same penalty
to the Captain. The Captain not having the ready wherewith to pay his fine, the Justice informed him he would have
to go to jail. A friend, however, lent the money and the fine was paid.
Neddie Elledge, however, was not the only Boone grandson who figured in the story of the Regulators. Neddie's cousin
and brother-in-law, Jesse Bryan Scholl, also was linked with the strange events that shaped the destiny of the
border vigilantes. Jesse Scholl was variously related to the Elledges. He was a son-in-law of old Jesse (Preacher)
Elledge, having married Jesse Elledge's daughter Charity. He was a brother of Neddie Elledge's wife, Malinda. He
was a son of Mary Boone, the sister of Charity Boone, who was Neddie Elledge's mother. He and Neddie Elledge were
cousins, and both were grandsons of Edward (Neddie) Boone, brother of Daniel.
Jesse Bryan Scholl and his wife Charity came to this region with William and Edward Elledge and their families,
early in 1822. At the same time came Nimrod Philips, who gave his name to early Philips Ferry, and his wife, who
had been Nancy Norris, along with various members of the Philips and Norris families. Jesse Elledge, in Kentucky,
had married as his second wife, Elizabeth, eldest daughter of Nimrod Philips. Jesse Elledge was also a brother-in-
law of Solomon Hornback, Sr., who about 1806 or 1807 married Nimrod Philips' daughter Sally, whose first son was
the noted Derry township pioneer, William Hornback, who carried the mail between Atlas and Rock Island through
the great winter blizzard of 1830-31. Elledge also was a brother-in-law of George Bickerdike, first English Bickerdike
in America, who married Nimrod Philips' daughter Ann. However, the Philips Ferry family is a story in itself, to
be related in a subsequent chapter.
Old Jesse Scholl and old Jesse Elledge are reputed to have been leaders of the early-day Regulators in what is
now Scott county. They served well in that period before the regularly constituted authorities were able to grapple
effectively with the lawlessness that arose among the wild elements of the first settlement. As already stated,
this organization at first a power for good and composed of the best citizens, later, with the ascendency of the
courts, fell into disrepute and into the hands of mob elements.
The late Samuel Peak of Winchester, in an interview on July 21, 1936, related many incidents handed down by his
ancestors relating to the last days of the Regulators. Peak, in his boyhood, knew many of those who belonged to
the organization. He was born in Scott county in 1840, being 96 years old at the time of his death in November,
1936. Peak knew old Jesse Elledge and old Jesse Scholl well. The term "old" is always used by Scott county
pioneers in referring to these two men.
Mr. Peak told of one occasion when a man had been found guilty by the Regulators of some breach of the pioneer
code and had been strung up and subjected to a lashing. Among the layers on of the lash was old Jesse Scholl, who
was armed with a stout peach sprout. Scholl, raising his voice unguardedly, exclaimed: "Let me to him; I'll
give him a taste of this peach juice!", and proceeded to lay on unmercifully. The victim recognized old Jesse
Scholl's voice, which came near costing Scholl his life.
Mr. Peak thus related the story: "Old Jesse Scholl was a great coon hunter and one night he set forth alone
for the Illinois bottoms to hunt coons. The man whom he had whipped had somehow got wind of his plans and trailed
him with a gun. In the bottoms, far from any human habitation, Scholl, while flat on the ground crawling under
a rail fence, was shot by the man trailing him, who, believing him dead, then fled the country, never to be heard
of afterwards."
Fortunately, Scholl, though grievously, was not fatally wounded. He succeeded in dragging himself to a lone hunter's
cabin, where his wounds were crudely dressed; he eventually recovered. Mr. Peak related that this episode marked
the beginning of the end of the Regulators. The identity of one of their leaders becoming known throughout the
settlement, the power of the secret confederacy was broken. For eight years the organization was all-powerful in
the maintenance of order; with its mission performed, it passed into history.
Meanwhile, the law had come to the valley. In 1821 (Jan. 20), Greene county had been erected out of Madison; eleven
days after Pike county was erected out of Madison, Bond and Clark, the county's present boundaries having lain
wholly within Madison. In 1823, Morgan county was erected out of Sangamon and the unorganized territory attached
to Greene, and included the present counties of Morgan, Cass and Scott. In the fall of 1823, the first circuit
court in Morgan county was held on Olmstead's Mound, about one and one-half miles northwest of Present Lynnville,
near the eastern border of present Scott and just south of the Mauvaisterre, where, in a former chapter, we have
seen the settlement early in 1820 of Stephen M. Olmstead and his wife, the latter the first white woman in the
Sangamon country.
Here, on the high mound that lies to the north of U. S. 36, between Riggston and Lynnville, was established the
first county-seat of Old Morgan; here, the early Elledges, Scholls and Philipses attended court in the fall of
1823. So scarce were settlers that it was necessary to call almost every eligible settler within the territory
to complete the grand and traverse juries. Here, to this humble seat of justice in the fall of 1823, came Justice
John Reynolds of the supreme bench of Illinois, to hold court. Justice John Reynolds, later governor of Illinois,
we have already seen in early chapters of this history presiding over the pioneer Pike county courts at Coles'
Grove and Atlas. We saw him at Coles' Grove in 1821, holding the first circuit court in all that vast territory
of Illinois lying north and west of the Illinois river. Before Reynolds at Coles' Grove in 1821, appeared the two
Indians, Shonwennekek (Spice-bush) and Pemesan (Traveler), charged with murder, the first murder case in Pike county,
which then included 32 present counties and six parts of counties.
Let us look in on that early court-room on Olmstead's Mound in the fall of 1823, where are assembled numerous of
the Boone line as spectators or officers of the court. From this court-room scene we may gather something of the
atmosphere of those pioneer days.
Stephen Olmstead, as we have seen, built a shanty on this high mound in March, 1820. The shanty stood at a point
of timber on the mound, afterwards called Swinnerton's Point. In this shanty the first circuit court in Morgan
county was held. Gen. Murray McConnell, a frequent practitioner in the early Pike county courts, has left an interesting
account of this first Morgan county court:
"There was but one building at the place, that was made of round logs, a single room of about 16 feet each
way, with an addition leaned up against one side, about half as big as the main building. This was the dwelling
house of Mr. Olmstead and family, who turned out, lived in a camp, and gave up his house to the court. In that
camp, by a big log-heap fire, the females of Mr. Olmstead's family cooked for the judge and lawyers, and other
attendants upon the court, and set the table, barbecue fashion, between the camp and the house, and all slept on
a bed made on the floor in the room where the court was held. This was called field-bed - sleepers laid across
the bed, not lengthwise.
"There was about room enough in the house for the court, clerk, sheriff and lawyers, and one jury at a time.
The grand jury was called in and sworn and sent out to deliberate under some forest trees near-by. The by-standers
gathered around the jury and all hands took part in the proceeding. The traverse jury, when trying a case, was
accommodated with seats, made of split logs, inside the house, and when the trial closed, they were sent out into
the grove, under the charge of a constable, to make up their verdict, and the constable often had much trouble
to prevent the parties and witnesses from participating in the deliberations.
"On one occasion he entirely failed, and the contending parties got into a row and a terrible fight, and the
constable called on the jury to aid in keeping the peace, and on their attempting to do so, all parties, jury,
by- standers and constables got into a general row, the lawyers and people left the court, and the grand jury left
their shade trees, and all ran to the scene of action; several fights were going on at the same time, and all this
increased the confusion, which grew hotter and louder, until the judge himself and the sheriff also repaired to
the jury room, alias the field of battle, and by an effort quelled the fray.
"The idea of imprisoning the offenders was out of the question, as there was no prison within 80 miles, and
to punish them by a fine would have been fully as useless, as in nine cases out of ten, the offender had no property
but a gun, and as the law then was, that could not be taken for a debt or fine any more than you could lawfully
take a piece of the owner's ear for the same purpose."
Another incident of this same term of court is also related by pioneer General McConnell, as follows. "A newly
made justice of the peace, claiming the right to call upon the judge to advise him in the line of his duty as a
squire, came bolding into the court room, saying, ‘Mr. Judge, I am a squire and I want to ax you a question about
the law.' The Judge said to him, ‘Why sir, you had better inquire of some of these lawyers, or Mr. Turney, who
is the state's attorney.' ‘Oh! Shaw, now judge,' said the squire, ‘I know about as much law as any of them ar fellers,
and I begin to find out I don't know much, and now I want you, old feller, to tell me if a squire can divorce a
couple?' ‘Why no,' said the judge (this was Judge John Reynolds, justice of the supreme court and afterwards governor),
‘a justice of the peace has no jurisdiction over such a case.' The newly-made justice then, stretching out his
big fist towards the judge, and with a stentorian voice, said, ‘Now looky here, old feller, I know better nor that
myself; I know a squire can divorce a couple, for I done did it yesterday, and the woman has gone back to her mammy
and the feller started to Packinsack this mornin, so he did.' Judge Reynolds at once submitted to the superior
experience of the squire, and admitted that he must be wrong in his law, and the squire right."
Early writers relate many other amusing stories of the pioneer justices. One of them, Esquire Fanning, a justice
of the peace for a number of years, was said to keep his docket on separate scraps of paper which he struck under
the laps in the board roof of his cabin. Summonses, warrants, estray notices and docket entries were thus kept
on file. When he was at last succeeded in office by Squire Manning Mayfield, the ousted justice made up his records
to turn over to his successor. Cleaning out the "laps" in his roof, he dumped them all into a two-bushel
gunny sack and laid the sack at his successor's door. "Now," says he, "here's my docket, all made
up and in good shape."
