Capt. Ben Woodworth
Something about His Early Life in Detroit.
A few days ago this paper chronicled the death of Benjamin Woodworth at St. Clair, but the old man deserved more than the mere passing notice which the death of the obscurest citizen obtains. He came to Detroit in 1806, and would have been, had he remained in Detroit until his death, the veritable "oldest inhabitant." During the year preceding his arrival, the city had been completely destroyed by fire, and being a builder, he did much in the work of reconstruction. The first brick building constructed in this city, or in the State, was a residence for Gov. Hull, of the territorial government, built on the site of the present Biddle House by Capt. Woodworth in 1807. He was a man of undaunted courage, and, for that early period, great enterprise and public spirit. In the war of 1812, he got up a company of artillery in this city, of which he was elected captain, and the title stuck to him to his death. In 1810 he built the first public market Detroit ever had, on Woodward avenue, below Jefferson. He afterwards built, and for many years conducted, the steamboat hotel, familiarly known as "Uncle Ben's," which was for many years the principal and best hotel here. It went down with the Holt residence and nine acres of other houses in the great fire of 1848. He established the first stage routes from this city into the interior portions of the State, and kept them going for many years, at a loss.
He was a hard-headed, practical man, with but little sentimental nonsense about him, which was illustrated in 1828 or '29, when he was coroner. The murderer Simmons was to be executed in front of the jail—which then stood where the new library building is soon to be erected—and the sheriff was so squeamish that, rather than perform his duty, he resigned his office. As coroner, the duties of sheriff devolved, of course, on Woodworth, who believing that no good citizen should shirk duty, sent his man to eternity on short notice. Pity the good old custom of those days is not in vogue now, and that a few Ben Woodworths are not left to practice them—we would hear less of "insane impulses" and other "dodges," by which murder is made a safer crime to commit than petty larceny.
He lived to a good old age—91 years— and had the happiness of seeing the city whose first brick house he had built, grow to a metropolis of one hundred thousand inhabitants. At the dedication of the new city hall, a few years ago, the old pioneer was present, the honored guest of the city, in spite of his long life, his great industry, and his early opportunities and enterprise, he died by no means rich, but happily found a quiet and comfortable home during his last years in the house of a granddaughter, on the banks of the St. Clair. Kalamazoo Daily Telegraph November 23, 1874
Something about His Early Life in Detroit.
A few days ago this paper chronicled the death of Benjamin Woodworth at St. Clair, but the old man deserved more than the mere passing notice which the death of the obscurest citizen obtains. He came to Detroit in 1806, and would have been, had he remained in Detroit until his death, the veritable "oldest inhabitant." During the year preceding his arrival, the city had been completely destroyed by fire, and being a builder, he did much in the work of reconstruction. The first brick building constructed in this city, or in the State, was a residence for Gov. Hull, of the territorial government, built on the site of the present Biddle House by Capt. Woodworth in 1807. He was a man of undaunted courage, and, for that early period, great enterprise and public spirit. In the war of 1812, he got up a company of artillery in this city, of which he was elected captain, and the title stuck to him to his death. In 1810 he built the first public market Detroit ever had, on Woodward avenue, below Jefferson. He afterwards built, and for many years conducted, the steamboat hotel, familiarly known as "Uncle Ben's," which was for many years the principal and best hotel here. It went down with the Holt residence and nine acres of other houses in the great fire of 1848. He established the first stage routes from this city into the interior portions of the State, and kept them going for many years, at a loss.
He was a hard-headed, practical man, with but little sentimental nonsense about him, which was illustrated in 1828 or '29, when he was coroner. The murderer Simmons was to be executed in front of the jail—which then stood where the new library building is soon to be erected—and the sheriff was so squeamish that, rather than perform his duty, he resigned his office. As coroner, the duties of sheriff devolved, of course, on Woodworth, who believing that no good citizen should shirk duty, sent his man to eternity on short notice. Pity the good old custom of those days is not in vogue now, and that a few Ben Woodworths are not left to practice them—we would hear less of "insane impulses" and other "dodges," by which murder is made a safer crime to commit than petty larceny.
He lived to a good old age—91 years— and had the happiness of seeing the city whose first brick house he had built, grow to a metropolis of one hundred thousand inhabitants. At the dedication of the new city hall, a few years ago, the old pioneer was present, the honored guest of the city, in spite of his long life, his great industry, and his early opportunities and enterprise, he died by no means rich, but happily found a quiet and comfortable home during his last years in the house of a granddaughter, on the banks of the St. Clair. Kalamazoo Daily Telegraph November 23, 1874
Capt. Ben Woodworth
Something about His Early Life in Detroit.
A few days ago this paper chronicled the death of Benjamin Woodworth at St. Clair, but the old man deserved more than the mere passing notice which the death of the obscurest citizen obtains. He came to Detroit in 1806, and would have been, had he remained in Detroit until his death, the veritable "oldest inhabitant." During the year preceding his arrival, the city had been completely destroyed by fire, and being a builder, he did much in the work of reconstruction. The first brick building constructed in this city, or in the State, was a residence for Gov. Hull, of the territorial government, built on the site of the present Biddle House by Capt. Woodworth in 1807. He was a man of undaunted courage, and, for that early period, great enterprise and public spirit. In the war of 1812, he got up a company of artillery in this city, of which he was elected captain, and the title stuck to him to his death. In 1810 he built the first public market Detroit ever had, on Woodward avenue, below Jefferson. He afterwards built, and for many years conducted, the steamboat hotel, familiarly known as "Uncle Ben's," which was for many years the principal and best hotel here. It went down with the Holt residence and nine acres of other houses in the great fire of 1848. He established the first stage routes from this city into the interior portions of the State, and kept them going for many years, at a loss.
He was a hard-headed, practical man, with but little sentimental nonsense about him, which was illustrated in 1828 or '29, when he was coroner. The murderer Simmons was to be executed in front of the jail—which then stood where the new library building is soon to be erected—and the sheriff was so squeamish that, rather than perform his duty, he resigned his office. As coroner, the duties of sheriff devolved, of course, on Woodworth, who believing that no good citizen should shirk duty, sent his man to eternity on short notice. Pity the good old custom of those days is not in vogue now, and that a few Ben Woodworths are not left to practice them—we would hear less of "insane impulses" and other "dodges," by which murder is made a safer crime to commit than petty larceny.
He lived to a good old age—91 years— and had the happiness of seeing the city whose first brick house he had built, grow to a metropolis of one hundred thousand inhabitants. At the dedication of the new city hall, a few years ago, the old pioneer was present, the honored guest of the city, in spite of his long life, his great industry, and his early opportunities and enterprise, he died by no means rich, but happily found a quiet and comfortable home during his last years in the house of a granddaughter, on the banks of the St. Clair. Kalamazoo Daily Telegraph November 23, 1874
Something about His Early Life in Detroit.
A few days ago this paper chronicled the death of Benjamin Woodworth at St. Clair, but the old man deserved more than the mere passing notice which the death of the obscurest citizen obtains. He came to Detroit in 1806, and would have been, had he remained in Detroit until his death, the veritable "oldest inhabitant." During the year preceding his arrival, the city had been completely destroyed by fire, and being a builder, he did much in the work of reconstruction. The first brick building constructed in this city, or in the State, was a residence for Gov. Hull, of the territorial government, built on the site of the present Biddle House by Capt. Woodworth in 1807. He was a man of undaunted courage, and, for that early period, great enterprise and public spirit. In the war of 1812, he got up a company of artillery in this city, of which he was elected captain, and the title stuck to him to his death. In 1810 he built the first public market Detroit ever had, on Woodward avenue, below Jefferson. He afterwards built, and for many years conducted, the steamboat hotel, familiarly known as "Uncle Ben's," which was for many years the principal and best hotel here. It went down with the Holt residence and nine acres of other houses in the great fire of 1848. He established the first stage routes from this city into the interior portions of the State, and kept them going for many years, at a loss.
He was a hard-headed, practical man, with but little sentimental nonsense about him, which was illustrated in 1828 or '29, when he was coroner. The murderer Simmons was to be executed in front of the jail—which then stood where the new library building is soon to be erected—and the sheriff was so squeamish that, rather than perform his duty, he resigned his office. As coroner, the duties of sheriff devolved, of course, on Woodworth, who believing that no good citizen should shirk duty, sent his man to eternity on short notice. Pity the good old custom of those days is not in vogue now, and that a few Ben Woodworths are not left to practice them—we would hear less of "insane impulses" and other "dodges," by which murder is made a safer crime to commit than petty larceny.
He lived to a good old age—91 years— and had the happiness of seeing the city whose first brick house he had built, grow to a metropolis of one hundred thousand inhabitants. At the dedication of the new city hall, a few years ago, the old pioneer was present, the honored guest of the city, in spite of his long life, his great industry, and his early opportunities and enterprise, he died by no means rich, but happily found a quiet and comfortable home during his last years in the house of a granddaughter, on the banks of the St. Clair. Kalamazoo Daily Telegraph November 23, 1874
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