My husband, Reuben Simmons, was born in Litchfield, Conn., being left an orphan when quite young.  He served an apprenticeship as carpenter and joiner and then went to Bainbridge at the age of eighteen. Soon after this, we were married. I was born at Old Milton, in Saratoga County, N.Y.  We lived in Whitestown, that State, many years, where our five children were born, four sons and one daughter. In the fall of 1836, my husband took his eldest son Alonzo, and went to Green Bay, then Wisconsin territory. He remained there all winter, taking  contracts for building, and accumulated quite a little sum of money. Early the next spring, leaving Alonzo at Green Bay,  Mr. Simmons started for home on the steamer Hendrick Hudson, arriving in due time at Delta, Oneida County, where we then lived. We soon made preparations to move to Green Bay, starting on our journey on the 4th of July, 1837. At Rome, N.Y., my husband chartered a canal-boat, and in about two weeks we reached Buffalo, where we remained five days. We then took passage on the steamer constitution for Detroit, arriving there in safety, and remaining there eleven days awaiting a boat for Green bay.
We finally took passage on the old steamer Bunker Hill, a condemned boat. On the second day out, the steamer took fire, but by great labor and care of both passengers and crew, it was saved from burning, but it had to be continually watched during the residue of the passage. The next day, when out of sight of land, the main shaft broke, but by hoisting a jib we ran back over a hundred miles to Presque Isle, where a wooden  shaft was put in place of the broken one. By a constant application of oil, this was made to answer the purpose and we all landed safely at Green Bay, after a long and stormy passage.
We took up our residence there, keeping a boarding house, my husband working at his trade. In the fall, he, with three others, took a large log canoe and paddled up the Fox River to Lake Winnebago, carrying his own provisions and other necessaries, and camping on shore wherever night overtook him.  After traversing the shore of the lake, he finally reached the mouth of the Fond du Lac River, up which he and his companions paddled their canoe, camping near the log house which had been erected by the Fond du Lac Company in the spring of 1836, on Lot 9, Block 9, in "the town of Fond du Lac," better known as "The Old Fond du Lac House."   It was a double log house, and was quite large and roomy. In the morning, they started out, and for some days traveled over the beautiful wild prairies - all in a state of nature, covered with wild flowers in every direction. My husband and his companions returned to Green Bay safely after a very pleasant trip.
James Duane Doty was a resident of Green Bay, though no at that date a Judge;  he had been out of office for over five years.  He was, in addition to being one of the principal shareholders in the Fond du Lac Company, also the owner of much other real estate in the Territory.  After his becoming acquainted with us, he was anxious to have my husband take his farm, afterward known as the George D. Ruggles farm (south half of the northeast quarter, and the north half of the southeast quarter of Section 6, in Township 15 of Range 18 East), in the present town of Taycheedah.
Mr. Simmons entered into a contract with Doty - the latter agreeing to furnish lumber and materials for building a house on the farm, my husband to erect it at Doty’s expense.
In the winter of 1838-39, Mr. Simmons hauled all his lumber and materials for the house from Green Bay through the woods, he having, the previous fall, drawn a load of lumber up to what was to be our new home and build a board shanty, 12x16 feet, making three tiers of bunks on one side.  He put a cook stove in one corner and provisions in another. In that way he, with his three men, lived during the winter while building the house, living very warm and cozy.  My husband finished the house in the spring. It was large, and was the second frame house erected in Fond du Lac County. In March, 1839, we all came from Green Bay and moved in. Our family consisted of my husband and myself, our little daughter, eight years old, and our four sons; also, two hired men, one of whom was a Brotherton Indian. Our house had loose boards laid down for a floor and blankets hung up at the windows. Mr. Simmons afterward finished the house and we remained there until the next spring, when we moved on a larger farm of Mr. Doty’s, afterward known as the Phillips farm. It was the south half of section 7, in Township 15 north, of Range 18east, in the present town of Empire. It had a large stock of cattle, from sixty to one hundred head, where my husband, with his four boys and two hired men, carried on farming on a large scale for the then new country. All our butter, cheese, honey (which was abundant, wild in the woods) and pork he had to take to Green Bay in winter or by boat in summer, there being no nearer market at that time. These articles he traded for necessaries for the family.
His usual way was to go to Green Bay each spring and fall with a Durham Boat, taking his youngest son, Amasa P., to help guard the goods and talk to the Indians, and four Indians to propel the boat. On his return heavily loaded, arriving at the rapids, he would unload half of the goods, leaving his son to guard them, and with the Indians, who would wade by the side of the boat, lift it over the entire rapids, then unload and, remaining there himself, send the Indians back to get the remainder of the goods, and so on over all the rapids until they arrived at Winnebago Lake, then, bu coasting around the shore, he would get home, after a trip of about seven days. If the family ran short of any necessaries after that time, they had to go without until the next rip, as there were no stores nearer than Green Bay, sixty miles away.
I would sometimes run short of pins and the boys would cut thorns from the trees, which I used, making a very good substitute. On one occasion, the boys boots gave out and for a long time they had to wear Indian moccasins. Yet, in all these years, the entire family were happy, being blessed with good health, plenty to eat and plenty of work to do.
In the fall of 1841 and the following winter, my husband built a house on what we now (1879) call our old homestead, which he had purchased while we were living at Green Bay.  It adjoins the city limits of fond du Lac and is the east half of the northeast quarter of Section 23 in Township 15 north, of Range 17 east, in the town of fond du Lac. We moved on the place in the spring of 1842, where I have ever since resided - my husband dying ten years ago, at the age of seventy-three years. I am now (1879) in my eighty-fifth year.
In the fall of 1839, Mr. Simmons and our son, A.P. Simmons, went to Green Bay for their winter supply, taking four Indians along to propel the boat.  They had a quick and pleasant trip going down, loaded the boat with necessaries and started back. That night it commenced raining and rained nearly every day for two weeks. They had a hard time during the entire return trip, and when five days our their provisions were exhausted; but as good luck would have it, they found some Indians on the river bank of whom they bought some wild rice, and , by boiling it, made it quite palatable. On that the entire party lived for eight days.
There were bands of four tribes of Indians here for some years after we came: Menomonees, Pottawatomies, Winnebagoes and Chippewas. The two latter were treacherous and very troublesome at times. On one occasions, the Menomonee chief gave out that as soon as the grass grew in the spring, so their ponies could live, they would drive off or kill all the whites. This alarmed the few settlers, and a meeting was held by them and cautio9nary measures taken. Dr. M.C. Darling wrote to the Department at Washington, informing the authorities of our situation, but no reply was received.
One warm day, my husband, with all his men and boys, being down on the ridge clearing and breaking up a large piece of land for corn, saw something shining very bright below Taycheedah, at the edge of the woods, and could not imagine what it was. He took a pony and rode down to make inquiries. When he arrived where Taycheedah now is, he met Co. Worth (afterward General in the Mexican War) with a regiment of soldiers. They encamped there for the night, and, after a hearty shake, the Colonel asked Mr. Simmons if he could furnish them with some eatables.  He told him he could, and started for home; arriving there, he had the cows all driven up, twenty-two in number, and milking them, put the milk on an ox wagon, together with pork, bread, flour, butter, honey, cheese and other articles; he then started with his yoke of oxen, and when he arrived at the came a file of soldiers were detailed to guard the wagon and its contents, and Mr. Simmons handed it out to the soldiers until it was all gone.  The next day, Col. Worth moved up to Fond du Lac and then camped again, when my husband again met him with a similar load. The Colonel had come to remove the troublesome Indians west of the Wisconsin River and wanted interpreters. Mr. Simmons had a half-breed by the name of Charles Bopery working for him, who could talk good English and the four Indian languages. He let the Colonel have him, and he remained with him until the troublesome Indians had been collected and taken to the west side of the river. We were never troubled with them again.  Some months after, a band of twenty or thirty came back to Fox Lake and encamped. A Mr. Stevens, an old pioneer, the only settler in that section of the country, a brave noble man, went out alone and tore down their wigwams and drove them off never to return again.
When Col. Worth got the Indians on the banks of the Wisconsin River ready to cross, they all refused to go, saying their forefathers were buried here and they would die here too. The Colonel brought up a platoon of soldiers and (the Indians all being in their canoes) fired over their heads, but that did not frighten them. He next brought up a field piece (cannon) and fired that off; then he told them the next time he would load with grape and cannister and fire amongst them. The old chiefs talked it over and finally concluded it was too much for them, and the paddled over to their new home, adjoining the reservation of the Sioux Indians, who were their deadly enemies.
Old Father Halsted, a Methodist missionary, located among the Stockbridge and Brothertown Indians, was the first man who ever preached a sermon in this county. A good old-fashioned Christian gentleman, he would ride up here and preach to us as often as he could, say once every two or three weeks. He first preached in the house of Edward Pier and from that time, for a number of years, preached to the early settlers, speaking in different houses at different times, the people paying him in flour and other necessaries, and sometimes a very little money - little indeed, for the people had very little.
In an early day, The Government cut a military road or track through the woods from Fort Howard (Green Bay) to Fort Winnebago (Portage). It was a poor apology for a road, but could be used in winter and, in very dry weather, in summer.  That was all the road we had out here until 1841 or the next year. Some men in Milwaukee sent word they would meet the settlers at the Milwaukee River and cut a track or road through. The inhabitants accepted the offer, and one day a gang started out with a large pair of oxen owned by Mr. Simmons with ox chains and provisions for the trip.  The party consisted of Em M. Simmons, Oscar and Oliver Pier and Harvey J. Peck. They cut the underbrush, moved the logs and bridged the small streams with poles, making a passable road. The boys met the Milwaukee party at the river and camped together over night, having a big jollification. That was the first Milwaukee road, and in dry weather we could go through with teams, taking a small load of wheat, which would sell for 45 to 50 cents a bushel. The next winter, a road was cut through to Sheboygan in a similar manner and by the same parties here. A few years after emigration starting, a plank road was built in nearly the same track. Then there was an outlet for grain to the lake and people began to prosper.
The first Fourth of July celebration held in the county was in our front yard. We built a bower of green boughs, then drove stakes in the ground and laid on boards for a table. This we covered with tablecloths. The seats around the table were built in the same way. Then we took a sheet and with pieces of red and blue cloth made a respectable flag, which we attached to a long pole. One of the men climbed to the top of the tallest tree and fastened it there. It showed plainly for miles around. This was the first American flag raised by citizens in the county. Most of the people in the county, men, women and children, came, each family bringing what they could of good things to put on the table; and when all was on, it was a bountiful table, indeed, enough for all and plenty to spare. When everything was ready, they all marched and countermarched until they were all finally seated at the table. Dr. Darling delivered an address and many toasts were drank.  Taking it all together, it was a grand old time, and all went to their homes happy indeed.
The prairie fires were sometimes terrible. In March of the spring that Mr. Simmons built his house on "the old homestead" we had all the timber to build with, which had been hauled the fall and winter before.  It was piled up closely, the snow was gone and the grass dry. One day in the forenoon, we saw black smoke arising in the south, when my son, A.P. Simmons took a pail and , riding his horse as fast as possible, arrived there in time to "back fire" and save the timber; but the next thing was to save himself; he jumped on to his horse, the fire after him, leaping sometimes twenty feet, then catching again. At last, becoming cornered, he had to turn and ride through the fire with all speed, and, in doing so, burnt the hair all off where it was not covered with his cap and also the hair off the sides of his horse. He got back home nearly exhausted. It was quite common to have our hay-stacks burned. One fall, our hay was nearly all burned, and, having a large stock of cattle, my husband had to go to the woods and cut down trees and let the cattle browse off the tops. By care, he brought them through the winter without losing any.
On a certain day, some fifteen or twenty Indians came to our house. They had been having whisky from Luke Laborde’s, enough to make them ugly. All our men folks were away three-fourths of a mile, and I was alone with my two youngest children - Amasa, twelve years old, and Eliza Jane, nine. The Indians came in and demanded whisky. I told them we had none, but they would not believe me. The pantry door being open, they saw some bottles standing on the shelf and were determined to get to them, but I told them they must not. At last, they made a rush for it, and I , having prepared myself for the emergency, took a small chair in one hand, and a pair of tongs in the other, stopped them and finally drove them out. The last one I pushed out, and he fell on his back, hurting him somewhat. There were very mad, and said they were going home for their guns and left. I then sent Amasa on horseback for his father, and he came home immediately. Soon after he arrived, the Indians came back with guns, but, when they saw him, they stood around a short time and then left. The next day, the chief brought a fine, fat deer, dressed, and made me a present of it, saying I was a very brave squaw; and I never had any trouble with that band after.
The first store in this county was started by James B. Clock and George Weikert. They bought a small stock of goods and put them in the north half of the old Fond du Lac House, and, by boring holes in the logs and driving in pins and laying on slabs and pieces of boards, laid their goods on and made quite a respectable store.
The first singing school was at the little old schoolhouse, built where the city now is. A paper was circulated and each one subscribed what they could and sent to Sheboygan, and a Mr. Robinson (now living at Ripon) came and taught the school two nights each week during the winter for $3 a week, the people boarding him and his horse during his stay.
The first dancing school was taught by A. H. Clark at our house, there being no other large enough for that purpose. My husband had put up a temporary partition through the center of the house, and, by taking it down each time there was a dance, it made quite a good dancing hall, being 18x32 feet. For some years, large dancing parties were held there, until the old Badger Hotel was built, where the city now is, on the corner of Main street and Western avenue. That was the first hotel, strictly such, built in this county.