Norman C. Clinton

The first settlement made at Clintonville was in the middle of March, 1855, by Norman and Lydia Clinton, of Menasha.

Norman C. Clinton was born in Ferrisburg, Vermont, December 29, 1796. He was of Yankee origin, and sprung from the great family of Clintons, who are scattered all over the Eastern, and many of the Western states. He was more religiously inclined than many Clintonville residents of today, and from boyhood till death was a member of the Baptist church.

His religion was not of the funeral type, however. On the contrary, he was of a very jovial disposition, and enjoyed a joke or ludicrous situation immensely. His honesty was unquestioned.

For many years he was a great sufferer from the disease known as 'gravel.' He took great quantities of medicine, and had a terrible operation performed upon himself by the famous Milwaukee surgeon, Wolcott; but his case was a hopeless one, and September 22, 1868, he passed away, leaving an enviable record.

Lydia Clinton was also born in Ferrisburg, Vermont, in 1800, being of Quaker parentage. She was a woman of muscular form; and possessed of great endurance. Labor was a pleasure to her. She was greatly devoted to her husband and family. During the latter years of her life she was injured somewhat in a runaway accident, and that, together with the effects of years of very active life, told heavily upon her, and June 7, 1875, she breathed her last. Many of the early settlers will recognize her portrait printed herewith, and will call to memory acts of kindness performed by this Christian woman in days when a friendly act was appreciated.

This worthy couple raised to maturity four children, three boys and a girl, Urial, Luman, Boardman, and Amanda.

They came west and finally located at Menasha, where they resided for several years. Mr. Clinton was a carpenter by trade, and engaged somewhat in saw-milling.

In 1855 Urial Clinton visited a lumber camp on the Embarrass River, and noticed in passing this point the chance for a water power, and also the magnificent bodies of timber, excellent soil, springs of water, etc., and upon his return to Menasha imparted his discoveries to his father. The land at that time belonged to the Government, and was easy to obtain, and the description so favorably struck the elder Clinton, who was desirous of acquiring more landed possessions and engaging in lumbering, that he and his youngest son, Boardman, made a pilgrimage to The Pigeon, as this locality was at that time designated. After a thorough cruise along the river, the Clintons were captivated, and returned home and consulted with the elder son, Urial, as to the feasibility of a removal here; but no definite conclusion was arrived at. However, The Pigeon, with its wealth of pine, was in the mind of the old gentleman by day, and filled his dreams with promises by night. During the absence of Urial, the father loaded a sleigh with a little lumber, household goods and provisions, and, in the vernacular of Young America, 'skipped,' accompanied by his faithful wife and a hired man, the latter to drive the team back to Menasha.

The trip through the woods was made without accident, and one Friday afternoon in the middle of March the party arrived at its destination. There being no habitation here, they went on to Matthew Matteson's, between the Pigeon and Embarrass rivers, and stayed there until Monday, when they returned to the site of Clintonville, and constructed a house, such a house as ye Clintonvillians who barely manage to exist in substantial buildings with double doors and windows, warmed with coal fires, will shiver to think of. This first residence was made of very little lumber and a great deal of hemlock brush, and traditions vary as to whether it contained a window or not. The door was a blanket. It was located near the Alexander Bucholtz residence. The spring that bubbles up in the rear of the lot where Madel's saloon now flourishes furnished to the first settlers their strongest beverage. Here they set up their household gods and were happy.

The towering pines almost turned day into night; the deer dashed by the cabin unmolested, and the wolves woke the echoes with their mournful music. An occasional Indian, riding over the trail, stopped his pony and grunted as he surveyed these bold intruders who, although nearly three score years of age, were trying to crowd the wild man out and build a home upon his domains. Later, their son Urial learned of the hegira of his parents, and before the sleighing disappeared he hastened to their relief with a couple of loads of lumber and provisions.

No lumbering had yet been done on the Pigeon River. The country was a virgin wilderness, undisturbed by the hand of man, and the early settlers tell us that it was a very pretty locality. The river obtained its name from the fact of its timbered banks being the roosting place for myriads of pigeons.

The first land entered was by land warrant, April 15, 1856. The warrant was obtained from the Government by Rhoda Petree, the widow of one Joshua Whitehurst, who served as a private in Captain Harrison's company of Virginia militia in the war of 1812.

The land was the ne¼ of the sw¼ of Section 23, Township 25 north. Range 14 east. Norman Clinton and sons soon acquired title to twenty-nine forties of land lying near here.

Norman Clinton, soon after settlement, built a commodious log house, and by force of circumstances was soon a full-fledged landlord, and it is safe to say that no hotel in Clintonville was ever better patronized or the cause of so little complaint as this. Stopping places in those days were like oases in the desert. Sometimes the caravansary's supply of provisions gave out, and as the nearest store was at New London, and the nearest mill at Weyauwega, or Hortonville, the landlord and landlady had to resort to curious shifts. On one occasion, after feeding a large crew of explorers and lumbermen, they discovered that all the flour and meal was gone, and still another party were arrived and clamoring for food. Here was a predicament, surely; but the host was equal to the occasion. An old coffee mill was hunted up, and corn enough ground for Johnnie cake to appease the appetites of the hungry guests.

Mr. Clinton was a great bee hunter. After discovering many bee trees along the banks of the little stream that empties into the Pigeon within the present limits of the city, he called it 'Honey Creek,' by which name it has since been known.

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