This is a reprint of a “From the Local History Room” column that first appeared in May 2015, before the launch of this weblog.
The Illinois River ferry fights
By Jared Olar
Library Assistant
This column has previously delved into what is known of “the indomitable Jacob Funk,” a Tazewell County pioneer who settled in Fon du Lac Township in 1825. The main episode of Funk’s life involved his legal conflict with Illinois River ferry operator John L. Bogardus.
As we previously, in 1828 Funk sought to go into the ferry business, but found his ambitions blocked by Bogardus, who held exclusive rights to operate a ferry across the Illinois River in that area. Funk challenged Bogardus in Tazewell County court and lost. Joined by another early settler named Abner Eads, Funk renewed his challenge to Bogardus in 1831 and was able to convince the court to revoke Bogardus’ ferry license. Funk did not have long to enjoy his victory, however, for he died in October 1832 – Charles C. Chapman’s 1879 “History of Tazewell County” says Funk “was shot by the Sheriff.”
This dispute took place long before any bridge across the Illinois River had been built in our area. Without bridges, ferry service was necessary to transport passengers and merchandise over the river. Such an indispensable business was bound to be a lucrative enterprise, so it’s only natural that disputes and rivalry would arise.
Chapman’s account provides a decent overview of the legal battles of Bogardus and Funk, but there is much to the story that Chapman leaves out. Further background on Bogardus’ Illinois River ferry fights may be found in the May 2015 issue of the Tazewell County Genealogical & Historical Society Monthly, pages 1318-1321. Those pages reproduce an extended “Addendum” on John L. Bogardus that was printed in Charles Ballance’s 1870 “History of Peoria.” From Ballance’s history, we find that Bogardus faced challenges to his ferry business not only from Jacob Funk in Tazewell County, but also from various individuals in Peoria County.
“At the time of my arrival,” Ballance writes, “Bogardus ran the only ferry in this neighborhood. I found him in possession, by tenants, of the ferry which was then situated at the outlet of the lake, where the upper bridge now stands. . . . At that time, however, Mr. Bogardus did not personally occupy this property. He then had a small log-cabin on what is now called Mills’s Addition, in which he lived. He had rented the premises above described, with the ferry, to Samuel Chichester, for a specific time; but Chichester had recently died, and a kinsman of his, Mr. Isaac Waters, was in possession, to carry out Chichester’s contract.
“He later leased the ferry to a Mr. Leach, who, finding that Bogardus had no title to the land, repudiated his claim as landlord, and refused to pay rent or surrender. . . . Bogardus . . . in a disconsolate mood, came to me for advice. I told him the law was clearly in his favor; that whether he had title or not, his tenant, who went in under him, could not raise the question; that he would not be permitted to dispute his landlord’s title, until he had surrendered it up to him. He employed me, but apparently with but little hope of success. I sued, got judgment, and put out Leach, and restored Bogardus to the possession.”
However, Bogardus in the meantime had “made an absolute deed of an undivided two-thirds of the ferry, and the tract of land on which it was situated, to Lewis Bigelow and Samuel C. McClure,” as Ballance relates. In his account, Ballance expresses some consternation at his friend Bogardus’ predicament, suggesting that it had come about “either because of his great apprehension of losing the property, and being desirous of someone to aid him in protecting it, or because he was too much intoxicated to be fully aware of what he was doing.” At least one witness in the case claimed Bigelow and McClure had deliberately perpetrated a fraud on Bogardus, but Ballance opined “that no fraud was practiced on Bogardus, but such fraud as it is to deal with a man who is laboring under the delusions that whisky sometimes produces.”
Entangled in troubles partly of his own making and unable to afford further protracted legal proceedings, Bogardus ultimately decided to sell the property for $1,050 to Isaac Underhill, who “made the purchase with an understanding between himself and Bigelow and McClure that he and they would be equal partners; that is, that Bigelow and McClure, instead of owning two-thirds, according to their bargain with Bogardus, were to have one-half, and that Underhill, instead of having all, according to his contract with Bogardus, was to have one-half.” This was the origin of Peoria’s Bigelow and Underhill Addition.
Ballance’s “Addendum” also includes a few other anecdotes of conflict over the ferry. “No one was ever able to hold this ferry in peace,” Ballance writes. “It was constantly in law as long as it continued. Not only did opposing claimants go to law about it, but they occasionally did some fighting about it.”
One of those fights involved Bogardus and the above mentioned Abner Eads, who, says Ballance:
“. . . was conspicuous because he was one of the ‘1819’ men, and because he was naturally a very enterprising, energetic man; but he had been raised in the backwoods, had little or no education, and knew nothing of the intricacies of the law. On the other hand, Bogardus had been raised in the City of New York, and had studied law as a profession, but knew more about its intricacies than its principles. Both of these men claimed the ferry, but Bogardus had got the inside track. He had obtained possession, and, being in receipt of the profits, had had nothing to say against the law’s delays. Eads did not comprehend things mystical so well as things pugilistical. He preferred fighting to lawing, and ‘walked into’ the aforesaid Bogardus. Now it so happened, in those days, that a very thick kind of blanket was manufactured for the Mackinaw trade, called hence Mackinaw blankets, and it because the fashion in the Northwest to cut up these blankets for overcoats. Said Eads wore one of these, with great iron buttons bigger than dollars; and the said Bogardus, being afraid of mankind in general, but of said Eads in particular, carried a pair of small pocket pistols. In the melee, Bogardus was down, and Eads was on top, punishing him freely, as the bruisers would say. Bogardus, who seems to be ‘used up,’ was all the time getting out a pistol, which he placed against Eads breast, and fired. The bystanders, who were more the friends of Eads than of Bogardus, and who had not thought it necessary to interfere until the firing of the pistol, were at once greatly impressed with the duty they owed to Christianity and civilization, at once to stop the fight; and Eads, who thought he was killed, and Bogardus, who thought he had killed him, were easily separated. Eads did not wish to receive another shot, and Bogardus, believing the business sufficiently done, did not wish to spend ammunition on ‘dead ducks.’ Dire confusion prevailed. But when Mr. Eads’ wounds were examined, it was found that the ball had not entered the skin: it had spent its whole force on one of those large iron buttons, and had only been able to drive it through the thick overcoat.”
