Judge Porter—General Porter—Goat Island—Origin of its name—Early dates found cut in the bark of trees and in the rock—Professor Kalm's wonderful story—Bridges to the Island—Method of construction—Red Jacket—Anecdotes—Grand Island—Major Noah and the New Jerusalem—The Stone Tower—The Biddle Stairs—Sam Patch—Depth of water on the Horseshoe—Ships sent over the Falls.

In preparing this narrative, the writer has had the good fortune to listen to many recitals of facts and incidents by the late Judge Augustus Porter and the late General Peter B. Porter, whose names are intimately and honorably connected with the more recent history, not only of this particular locality but of the Empire State.

Judge Porter, after having spent several years in surveying and lotting large portions of the territory of Western New York and the Western Reserve in Ohio, came from Canandaigua to Niagara Falls with his family in June, 1806, where he continued to live until his death, nearly fifty years afterward.

General Porter settled as a lawyer at Canandaigua in 1795, removed to Black Rock in 1810, and to Niagara Falls in 1838.

In 1805, the two brothers became interested with others in the purchase from the State of New York of four lots in the Mile Strip lying both above and below the Falls.

A few years later, they purchased not only the interest of their partners in these lots, but other lands at different points along this strip. In 1814, they bought of Samuel Sherwood a paper since named a float—an instrument given by the State authorizing the bearer to locate two hundred acres of any of the unsold or unappropriated lands belonging to the State. This float they fortunately anchored on Goat Island and the islands adjacent thereto lying "immediately above and adjoining the Great Falls."

The origin of the name of Goat Island is as follows: Mr. John Stedman, who came into the country in 1760, had cleared a portion of the upper end of the island, and in the summer of 1779 he placed on it an aged and dignified male goat. The following winter was very severe, navigation to the island was impracticable, and the goat fell a victim to the intense cold. Since which the scene of his exile and death has been called Goat Island.

By the terms of the Treaty of Ghent, December 24, 1814, the boundary line between Great Britain and the United States, on the Niagara frontier, was to run through the deepest water along the river-courses and through the center of the Great Lakes. As the deepest water, at this point, is in the center of the Horseshoe Fall, the islands in the river fell to the Americans. General Porter, acting as Commissioner for the United States, proposed to call the largest one Iris Island, and it was so printed on the boundary maps. But the public adhered to the old name of Goat Island.

One of the early chronicles states that the island contained two hundred and fifty acres of land. At the present time there are in it less than seventy. A strip some ten rods wide by eighty rods long has been worn away from the southern side of it since 1818, when Judge Porter made the first road around it.

The earliest date he found on the island was 1765, carved on a beech-tree. The earliest date cut in the rock on the main-land was 1645. Human bones and arrowheads were found on the island. The Indians went to it with their canoes, which they paddled up and down in the comparatively quiet water lying on the rocky bar which extends upward nearly a mile above the head of the island.

Notwithstanding this fact, the Swedish naturalist, Kalm, who visited the place in 1750, relates a fabulous story of two Indians who, on a hunting excursion above the Falls, drank too freely from "two bottles of French brandy" which they brought from Fort Niagara; becoming drowsy, they laid themselves down in the bottom of their canoe for a nap.

The canoe swung off shore and floated down-stream. Nearing the rapids, the noise awakened one of them, who had apparently been more fortunate in learning the English language from the French than most of his tribe, for, seeing their perilous situation, he exclaimed: "We are gone!" But the two plied their paddles with such aboriginal vigor that they succeeded in landing on Goat Island. From the sequel it would seem that they must have destroyed or lost their canoe. Finding no houses of refreshment, nor cairns of stores left by former explorers, and most naturally getting hungry, they concluded it would be desirable to get back to the fort—a wish more easily expressed than accomplished.

But it was necessary for them to "do or die." So, as the story runs, they stripped the bark from the basswood trees, and with it made a ladder long enough to reach from a tree standing on the edge of the precipice at the foot of the island down to the water below.

After dropping their ladder they followed it downward. Reaching the water, and being good swimmers, they plunged in with great glee, expecting to be able to swim across to the opposite shore, which they could easily climb. But the counter current forced them back to the island.

After being a good deal bruised on the rocks, they were compelled to abandon the attempt to cross, and then returned up their ladder to the island. There, after much whooping, they attracted the notice of other Indians on the shore. These reported the situation at the fort, and the commandant sent up a party of whites and Indians to rescue them. They brought with them four light pike-poles. Going to a point opposite the head of the island, they exchanged salutations with the new Crusoes, and began preparations for their rescue. Two Indians volunteered to undertake the task. "They took leave of all their friends as if they were going to their death." Each Indian rescuer, according to the wondrous fable, took two pike-poles and waded across the channel to the island, gave each of the Crusoes a pike-pole, and then the four waded back to the main-land, where they were joyfully received by their anxious, waiting friends, after having been "nine days on the island."

Remembering that the water in mid-channel is twelve feet deep, with a twelve-mile current, we must concede this to be the most marvelous of all aquatic achievements.

In 1817 Judge Porter built the first bridge to Goat Island, about forty rods above the present bridge. In the following spring the large cakes of ice from the river above, not being sufficiently broken up by the short stretch of rapids over which they passed, struck the bridge with terrific force, and carried away the greater part of it. With the courage and enterprise of a New-Englander, the next season he constructed another bridge farther down, on the present site, rightly judging that the ice would be so much broken up before reaching it as to be harmless.

That bridge, with constant repairs and one almost entire renewal, stood firm in its place until the year 1856, when it was removed to make room for the present iron bridge. The old piers were much enlarged and strengthened, and also raised about three feet higher to receive the new bridge. As nearly every stranger inquires how the first bridge was carried over the turbulent waters, a brief description of the process may be acceptable. First, a strong bulkhead was built in the shallow water next to the shore; a solid backing was put in behind this, and the upper surface properly graded and well floored with plank. Strong rollers were placed parallel with the stream and fastened to the floor. In the old forest then standing near by were many noble oaks, of different sizes and great length. A number of these were felled and hewed "tapering," as it was termed, so that, when finished, they were about eighteen inches square at the butt, fifteen at the top, and eighty feet long. Through the small ends were bored large auger-holes. These sticks were placed, as required, on the rollers, at right angles to the stream, the small ends over the water, and the shore ends heavily weighted down.

Second Moss Island Bridge

The first stick being properly placed, levers were applied to the rollers and the stick was run out until the small end reached an eddy in the water. Then another similar stick was run out in like manner, parallel to the first, and about six feet from it. A few light, strong planks were placed across and made fast. Two men were provided each with strong, iron-pointed pike-staffs, each staff having in its upper end a hole, through which was drawn some ten feet of new rope. Thus provided, they walked out on the timbers, drove their iron pikes down among the stones, and tied them fast to the timbers. Thus the whole problem was solved. Around these pike-staffs the first pier was built and filled with stone. Then other timbers were run out, all were planked over, and the first span was completed. The other spans were laid in the same way.

The great Indian chief and orator, Red Jacket, occasionally visited Judge and General Porter—the latter then living at Black Rock. Judge Porter told this anecdote of the chief: He visited the Falls while the mechanics were stretching the timbers across the rapids for the second bridge. He sat for a long time on a pile of plank, watching their operations. His mind seemed to be busy both with the past and the present, reflecting upon the vast territory his race once possessed, and intensely conscious of the fact that it was theirs no longer. Apparently mortified, and vexed that its paleface owners should so successfully develop and improve it, he rose from his seat, and, uttering the well-known Indian guttural "Ugh, ugh!" he exclaimed: "D——n Yankee! d——n Yankee!" Then, gathering his blanket-cloak around him, with his usual dignity and downcast eyes, he slowly walked away, and never returned to the spot.

Before parting with the distinguished chief, we will repeat after General Porter two other anecdotes characteristic of him. He lived not far from Buffalo, on the Seneca Reservation, and frequently visited the late General Wadsworth, at Geneseo. Indeed, his visits grew to be somewhat perplexing, for the great chief must be entertained personally by the host of the establishment.

Of course he was a "teetotaler"—only in one way. When he got a glass of good liquor he drank the whole of it. He was very fond of the rich apple-juice of the Geneseo orchards. Having repeated his visits to General Wadsworth, at one time, with rather inconvenient frequency, and coming one day when the General saw that he had been drinking pretty freely somewhere else, his host concluded he would not offer him the usual refreshments. In due time, therefore, Red Jacket rose and excused himself. As he was leaving the room the orator said, "General, hear!" "Well, what, Red Jacket?" To which he replied with great gravity: "General, when I get home to my people, and they ask me how your cider tasted, what shall I tell them?" Of course he got the cider.

His determined and constant opposition to the sale of the lands belonging to the Indians is well known. At the council held at Buffalo Creek, in 1811, he was selected by the Indians to answer the proposition of a New York land company to buy more land. The Indians refused to sell, although, as usual, the company only wanted "a small tract." To illustrate the system, after the speech-making was over, Red Jacket placed half a dozen Indians on a log, which lay near by. They did not sit very close together, but had plenty of room. He then took a white man who wanted "a small tract," and making the Indians at one end "move up," he put the white man beside them. Then he brought another "small-tract" white man, and making the aborigines "move up" once more, the Indian on the end was obliged to rise from the log. He repeated this process until but one of the original occupants was left on the log. Then suddenly he shoved him off, put a white man in his place, and turning to the land agent said: "See what one small tract means; white man all, Indian nothing."

Colonel William L. Stone, in his "Life of Red Jacket," relates the following: In 1816, after Red Jacket took up his residence on Buffalo Creek, east of the city, a young French count traveling through the country made a brief stay at Buffalo, whence he sent a request to the sachem to visit him at his hotel.

Red Jacket, in reply, informed the young nobleman that if he wished to see the old chief he would give him a welcome greeting at his cabin. The count sent again to say that he was much fatigued by his journey of four thousand miles, which he had made for the purpose of seeing the celebrated Indian orator, Red Jacket, and thought it strange that he should not be willing to come four miles to meet him. But the proud and shrewd old chief replied that he thought it still more strange, after the count had traveled so great a distance for that purpose, that he should halt only a few miles from the home of the man he had come so far to see. The count finally visited the sachem at his house, and was much pleased with the dignity and wisdom of his savage host. The point of etiquette having been satisfactorily settled, the chief accepted an invitation to dinner, and was no doubt able to tell his people how the count's "cider" tasted.

In 1819, when the boundary commissioners ran the line through the Niagara River, Grand Island fell to the United States, under the rule that that line should be in the center of the main channel. To ascertain this, accurate measurements were made, by which it was found that 12,802,750 cubic feet of water passed through the Canadian channel, and 8,540,080 through the American channel. To test the accuracy of these measurements, the quantity passing in the narrow channel at Black Rock was determined by the same method, and was found to be 21,549,590 cubic feet, thus substantially corroborating the first two measurements.

The Indian name of Grand Island is Owanunga. In 1825, Mr. M. M. Noah, a politician of the last generation, took some preliminary steps for reËstablishing the lost nationality of the Jews upon this island, where a New Jerusalem was to be founded. Assuming the title of "Judge of Israel," he appeared at Buffalo in September for the purpose of founding the new nation and city. A meeting was held in old St. Paul's Church, at which, with the aid of a militia company, martial music, and masonic rites, the remarkable initiatory proceedings took place.

The self-constituted judge presented himself arrayed in gorgeous robes of office, consisting of a rich black cloth tunic, covered by a capacious mantle of crimson silk trimmed with ermine, and having a richly embossed golden medal hanging from his neck. After what, in the account published in his own paper of the day's proceedings, he called "impressive and unique ceremonies," he read a proclamation to "all the Jews throughout the world," informing them "that an Asylum was prepared and offered to them," and that he did "revive, renew, and establish (in the Lord's name), the government of the Jewish nation, * * * confirming and perpetuating all our rights and privileges, our rank and power, among the nations of the earth as they existed and were recognized under the government of the Judges." He also ordered a census to be taken of all the Hebrews in the world, and levied a capitation tax of three shekels—about one dollar and sixty cents—"to pay the expenses of re-organizing the government and assisting emigrants." He had prepared a "foundation stone," which was afterward erected on the site of the new city, and which bore the following inscription:

"Hear, O Israel, the Lord
is our God—the Lord is one."

"ARARAT,
A CITY OF REFUGE FOR THE JEWS,
FOUNDED BY MORDECAI MANUEL NOAH,
IN THE MONTH OF TISRI 5586—SEPT. 1825,
IN THE FIFTIETH YEAR OF
AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE."

After the meeting at St. Paul's, the "Judge" returned at once to New York, and, like the great early ruler of his nation, he only saw the land of promise, as he never crossed to the island.

The strong round tower, called the Terrapin Tower, which stood near Goat Island, not far from the precipice, was built in 1833, of stones gathered in the vicinity. It was forty-five feet high, and twelve feet in diameter at the base. So much was said in 1873 about the growing insecurity of the tower that it was taken down.

The Biddle Staircase was named for Mr. Nicholas Biddle, of Philadelphia, who contributed a sum of money toward its construction. It was erected in 1829. The shaft is eighty feet high and firmly fastened to the rock. The stairs are spiral, winding round it from top to bottom. Near the foot of these stairs, at the water's edge, Samuel Patch, who wished to demonstrate to the world that "some things could be done as well as others," set up a ladder one hundred feet high, from which he made two leaps into the water below. Going thence to Rochester, he took another leap near the Genesee Falls, which proved to be his last.

The depth of water on the Horseshoe Fall is a subject of speculation with every visitor. It was correctly determined in 1827. In the autumn of that year, the ship Michigan, having been condemned as unseaworthy, was purchased by a few persons, and sent over the Falls. Her hull was eighteen feet deep. It filled going down the rapids, and went over the Horseshoe Fall with some water above the deck, indicating that there must have been at least twenty feet of water above the rock. This voyage of the Michigan was an event of the day. A glowing hand-bill, charged with bold type and sensational tropes, announced that "The Pirate Michigan, with a cargo of furious animals," would "pass the great rapids and the Falls of Niagara," on the "eighth of September, 1827." She would sail "through the white-tossing and deep-rolling rapids of Niagara, and down its grand precipice into the basin below." Entertainment was promised "for all who may visit the Falls on the present occasion, which will, for its novelty and the remarkable spectacle it will present, be unequaled in the annals of infernal navigation." Considering that the Falls could be reached only by road conveyances, the gathering of people was very large. The voyage was successfully made, and the "cargo of live animals" duly deposited in the "basin below," except a bear which left the ship near the center of the rapids and swam ashore, but was recaptured.

Two enterprising individuals made arrangements to supply the people assembled on the island with refreshments. They had an ample spread of tables and an abundant supply of provisions. As there was much delay in getting the vessel down the river, the people got impatient and hungry. They took their places at the tables. When their appetites were nearly satisfied, notice was given that the ship was coming, whereupon they departed hurriedly, forgetting to leave the equivalent half-dollar for the benefit of the purveyors.

In after years, one of the proprietors of this unexpected "free lunch"—the late General Whitney—established here one of the best hotels in the country, and left his heirs an ample fortune.

A few geese in the cargo were only badly confused by their unusual plunge, and were afterward picked up from boats. It was noticed as being a little singular that geese which went over the Falls in the Pirate Michigan were for sale at extravagant prices all the next season.

Another condemned vessel of about five hundred tons burden, the Detroit, which had belonged to Commodore Perry's victorious fleet, was sent down the rapids in 1841. A large concourse of people assembled from all parts of the country to witness the spectacle. Her rolling and plunging in the rapids were fearful, until about midway of them she stuck fast on a bar, where she lay until knocked to pieces by the ice. From Baron La Hontan we know that the Indians went on the water, just below the Falls, in their canoes, to gather the game which had been swept over them. For more than a hundred years there has been a ferry of skiff and yawl boats at this point, and in all that time not one serious accident has happened.