County Recorder Regales Audience with History Lesson
August 3, 2017 by Diane Ryder

When most people hear the term “indentured servants,” they think about Europeans agreeing, or being forced, to serve someone for seven years in return for their passage to America 200 years ago, but the term meant something entirely different in 19th century Geauga County, according to County Recorder Sharon Gingerich.

When most people hear the term “indentured servants,” they think about Europeans agreeing, or being forced, to serve someone for seven years in return for their passage to America 200 years ago, but the term meant something entirely different in 19th century Geauga County, according to County Recorder Sharon Gingerich.

She spoke July 26 at Newbury Schools auditorium as part of the township’s bicentennial celebration, to a crowd of about 50.

Gingerich said she recently discovered a book of records at the county archives dating back to the early 1800s that chronicled indentured servant contracts in what was then Geauga County.

To her surprise, the contracts appeared to show a social welfare system that allowed local citizens of good standing to take in orphans or apprentices as young as 3 years old, raise them decently, teach them a trade, and provide for their re-entering society when they reached adulthood and could provide for themselves.

“The contracts were usually signed by a township trustee, judge or justice of the peace, the master and the servant, and recorded in the county,” Gingerich explained, adding the records seemed incomplete.

“Some of the contracts may be in township archives or may not have been recorded,” she said.

As an example, Gingerich told about Willard Mastick, 16, of Burton, who was apprenticed to local farmer Orrin Dayton in 1830. Dayton was to teach the boy farming and provide him with food, clothing and housing, and arrange for a basic education, until he reached the age of 21. At the end of the indenture, he agreed to provide Willard with two suits of clothes and a Bible.

She told of Phoebe Galloway, just under 7 years old, whose parents, Daniel and Mehitabel, could not support her, so they indentured her to farmer Solomon Moore of Chagrin Falls in 1831.

“How awful,” Gingerich said. “How do you explain that to a 6-year-old? It’s a long way from Mentor to Chagrin Falls. Would she be able to see her parents?”

Phoebe’s indenture agreement specified she was to serve Moore until she was 18, at which time she would receive two suits of wearing apparel and a Bible.

Gingerich said township trustees were in charge of the welfare of the citizens in their community and another of their duties included “warning out” a resident who would be asked to leave the township if they could not support themselves.

She found a history book entry for May 13, 1843, warning Phoebe’s father, Daniel Galloway, to shape up or leave.

“This was done to prevent vagabonds and paupers from living in the community,” Gingerich said.

She told of Francis Billette, who indentured himself in 1825 to Eber Howe, of Painesville, for four years to be taught the printer’s trade. In return for his promise not to embezzle or reveal any secrets, he was to have comfortable boarding, good food, medicine and clothing, and be allowed to sit at the table with the rest of the family.

In 1852, Souisa Thayer, a pauper from the Geauga County Infirmary (now the Pleasant Hill Home), would be indentured to a local family and taught “the art of doing housework” until she was 21 years old. At the end of her indenture, she would receive a Bible, a good cow, a good feather bed and two suits of clothing, Gingerich said.

“Those are just a sampling,” she told the audience, adding she has put the contents of the book on the county recorder’s website under the heading “Historical Information.” The county website is www.co.geauga.oh.us. The County Recorder’s office is listed under “Departments.”

She also discussed Newbury pioneer Lemuel Punderson, credited to be the township’s first prominent settler. In 1806, Punderson walked from New Haven, Conn., to Burton, where he married Sybil Hitchcock in 1808, had six children and left Burton in 1810 to claim the “big pond” now known as Punderson Lake.

Between 1813 and 1814, he bought 700 acres of land that is now known as Little Punderson. When his heirs sold off the lots in the 1930s, there were deed restrictions that specified which races and religions would be prohibited from occupying the land.

“Obviously it was discriminatory and no longer legal,” Gingerich said.

She described a recent lawsuit that would mandate all county recorders to redact all evidence of discrimination from their county archives.

“We’re not allowed to alter records,” Gingerich said. “We’re supposed to keep the records, not change them.”

She said the case had been thrown out but is now under appeal.

Gingerich also showed an old brochure from Oceana Park, which operated on Music Street in Newbury during the 1960s.

“It was one of my best childhood memories,” she said.

Three partners, Hungarian immigrants during the refugee period of the mid-1950s, invented and patented the first wave machine and built a water park with four huge pools in 1961.

“It included a 180-foot wave pool, fields for (sports), 200 picnic tables, grills, and food stands,” she told the audience.

“Everyone was shocked that they did this in such a short time. It opened on Memorial Day in 1961 and advertised modern toilet facilities, waves that were four-and-a-half feet tall and memberships,” she said.

The park was popular with families, church groups and for company picnics. Admission was $1 for adults and 75 cents for children on weekends, and 75 cents and 50 cents respectively during the week.

But when a dead body was found at the bottom of one of the pools, despite the presence of many lifeguards, the resulting lawsuit, it was rumored, led to the demise of the park.

In 1995, the land was eventually sold, the pools filled in and a private home was built on the site, Gingerich said.

“It was a magical place for us kids back in those days,” she said. “The arch stayed up a long time in the driveway and it was sad to see it.”