Historic markers can be confusing

Editor’s note: This column is being reprinted from Sept. 29, 2004. Like many journalists, Jack had an affinity for history. Though he questions some accuracy here, his musings might remind some folks about an aspect of Jay County’s history that they forgot, or never knew about.

Ideally, a historic landmark ought to provide future generations accurate information about the past.

But sometimes, they only add to the confusion.

That thought drifted across my mind Saturday afternoon as I sat in the sun on the porch of the Balbec cabin, watching the tractor pulls and eating a bowl of ham and beans.

Jay County’s track record when it comes to historical landmarks is a little spotty.

Most of the landmarks — usually a rock or boulder with a plaque attached — date from a flurry of historic enthusiasm on the part of the Daughters of the American Revolution in the late 1920s.

The D.A.R. raised the money and installed a number of historic markers at various spots in the county.

In Portland, you’ll find a stone marker at the southeast corner of the courthouse lawn honoring the late John P.C. Shanks, who served his country both as a general and in Congress. You’ll also find a marker on North Wayne Street which denotes the site of the first school.

And if you drive south on U.S. 27 a ways, you’ll find another marker on the east side of the highway. That one, at Treaty Line Road, marks what was believed to be the boundary established by the Treaty of Fort Wayne between the U.S. government and the Indians. That treaty, which followed the Treaty of Greenville, gave the U.S. additional land — including parts of what is today Pike and Madison Townships.

But there are a couple of historic markers that sometimes confuse as much as they enlighten.

One marks the site of Liber College, a short-lived educational institution in the little settlement of Liber, southeast of the county seat.

The marker is accurate enough, but because it also bears the date that it was installed by the D.A.R., some folks jump to the conclusion that Liber College existed into the 20th century and the 1920s.

That’s simply not the case. The college was strictly a mid-19th century phenomenon and was followed by other local attempts at higher education like Eastern Indiana Normal College, which was located near Arch and Middle streets on Portland’s west side.

Even greater confusion is to be found at Balbec, where I was enjoying that lunch in the sunshine Saturday.

There a stone marker rightly denotes the Balbec cabin, restored and maintained by Bill and Jan Hurst and volunteers who help with Balbec Days, as a stop on the Underground Railway.

Fugitive slaves made their way up from the Deep South through Cincinnati to places like the Levi Coffin house in Fountain City, then up to Balbec as they moved north in search of freedom.

But the Balbec marker goes one step too far, suggesting that Eliza in the book “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” stayed there.

Since Eliza was a fictional character in a novel, that falls short of any test for historical accuracy. It’s possible that some of the fugitive slaves that Harriet Beecher Stowe used as models for her fictional Eliza did pass through Balbec. Some of them might even have been named Eliza. But it’s a real leap to suggest that the Eliza, a product at least in part of a novelist’s imagination, stopped there.

Does it matter? Maybe not. History — particularly local history — tends to get blended with folklore over the years.

And it sure didn’t have an impact on the quality of the ham and beans.