In Frontier Days
Experiences of Charles W. Olendorf's Grandparents with Indian Captors
Chenango Union, December 13, 1906
To the younger generation [in 1906] which is growing up to know only the luxury of the twentieth century it may be interesting to listen to an experience of the grandfather and grandmother of the hale and bluff old gentleman who died last week, Mr. Charles W. Olendorf.
His grandfather, Daniel Olendorf, was one of the farmers on the frontier between the Colony of New York and the Indians, who, like many of his neighbors, found it necessary to become a soldier to protect his home.
Many of the present generation probably do not know that the Unadilla River, eight miles east of Norwich [Chenango Co., NY], was part of the famous boundary line between the settlers and the Indians. All west of that boundary line, which was known as "The line of property," was Indian country and avowedly in the undisputed control of the Indians and consequently without Revolutionary history. East of that line the Colony was supposed to provide protection for and to collect taxes of the settlers, and the settlers could buy and develop land there, provided they were strong enough and shrewd enough to cope with the Indians, and provided they not only "kept their powder dry" but also had it with them all the time.
When the Revolutionary war broke out the Indians generally sided with the English, which was also true of many of the whites--Tories, they called them.
The result was that more than in any other part of the Colonies, the settlers of the New York Frontier (The Mohawk Valley, Schoharie and Otsego Counties, or the territory then known as Tryon County) were compelled to bear the brunt of civil or internal war. Their portion was not to meet a foreign enemy, but to be constantly on guard against the raids of hostile Indians and still more bitterly hostile white neighbors.
Many historians have written of this frontier; and amongst others Jeptha B. Simms, who many years ago collected under the title "The Frontiersmen of New York" the priceless stories of those heroes who actually participated on this frontier in the struggle of the Revolution. From him I am permitted to quote the story of Daniel Olendorf and his wife, the grandparents of Charles W. Olendorf.
H.D.N.
"Captivity of Daniel Olendorf and his wife: This couple who had then been married about a year were also among the prisoners made August 2, 1780, near the Geisenberg. Olendorf was John Hother's miller at this period, and when surprised they, himself and wife, were engaged in a barn, he in pitching wheat from a wagon, and she in mowing it away; a duty that often devolved on women during the war. When he, before the muzzle of a gun, was ordered down from the wagon, she was not in sight, and on being asked if anyone else was in the barn, he replied in the negative, thinking thus to save his wife from captivity One of the enemy suspicious he was not alone, said to him; "If anyone else is in the barn, call them out, for we are going to burn it." True to their word they did burn it, and after it was set on fire she was called down from the loft. They also burned their dwelling after plundering it of all they desired.
The little settlement at Geisenberg, usually pronounced Guaznberg--called after the was Hallsville (after Robert Hall and early merchant there) was ravaged and burned; and with other prisoners, the Olendorfs were hurried off to Canada; suffering in common with their captive neighbors on the way, from privations and excessive fatigue. Soon after his long journey began, the Indians asked Olendorf if he could run pretty well, and he replied in the affirmative. He was then required to take a foot race with an athletic Indian, being assured that if he could beat his competitor he should be set at liberty. He easily won the race to be rewarded by treachery, and found when too late why his pedestrian powers had been teased; for instead of being liberated, he was securely bound every night after the race, until he arrived at the end of his journey. During the long and dreary march he once came near losing his life by incurring the displeasure of his red masters in a frolic, and a tomahawk hurled at his head sunk deep into a tree behind which he sprang for shelter; when an old Indian interfered and saved his life.
On reaching Canada Olendorf and his wife were separated, he being imprisoned with many others. After some weeks imprisonment, not finding an opportunity to escape, he agreed to list into the British service--resolving to embrace the first opportunity to desert. He was of German descent. While on his way with the enemy in force to the frontier settlements of New York--under Sir John Johnson--two prisoners were brought in by a party of the enemy Being near them, Olendorf overheard one ask the other in German, if he had any tobacco. He replied in the negative. The former [Olendorf] chanced to have a small hank of pigtail, and unwinding a coil or two, he found opportunity unobserved to place it in the hand of its seeker. The latter turning to his fellow prisoner with an expression of joy said of the donor: "Ar is an Dutchman!" Olendorf shook his head significantly, saying in effect, caution, you may be overheard.
When encamped in the evening, Olendorf, he was a sergeant in his new position, found opportunity to speak with the prisoners. He inquired if they dared attempt their escape, and being answered in the affirmative, and also that they could find their way back to the place of their capture,he bade them to be in readiness that very night, and he would fly with them, for he was determined not to war against his friends. It became his official duty that night to post sentinels, which favored the design; and after stationing the most distant one, he took occasion while returning to lop several twigs, that he might past the outer watchman unobserved. Securing what provisions he could, he went to those prisoners about midnight, and conducted them in silence without the camp; when, by observing great caution, a part of the time crawling upon their hands and feet, the trio found the broken boughs and passed all the sentinels in safety. "Now" said the sergeant, "If you know the way to the settlements, lead on, for we have not a moment to lose." One of the liberated captives became pilot, and in a few days the trio reached Fort Plain in safety, where they were joyously welcomed by their friends--whom they forewarned of the invader's approach.
Mrs. Olendorf, then most delicately situated, feared longer to remain in an Indian family, to which she had been taken, and watching her opportunity, when the family were all drunk, to which condition so far as possible she had contributed by freely passing them liquor, she fled to the residence of an English officer for protection. The family were at first afraid to conceal her, fearing the revenge of the savages, who they rightly inferred would look for her there; but her condition excited their pity, and when the Indians approached she was concealed in a closet, and they left without finding her; and soon after they were paid a ransom for her. On the birth of her little son, two English gentlemen acted as sponsors, from whom she had a certificate of his birth, etc. She was finally taken to Halifax, exchanged with other prisoners, and reached Fort Plain some thirteen or fourteen months after her captivity; presenting her husband, on her return with a little namesake about nine months old. This Daniel Olendorf, Sr., was one of the scouts that shot Walter Butler subsequent to his return from captivity...Daniel Olendorf, named as having been born among the Indians long known as an inn keeper at Cooperstown, died at his residence in Hartwick, N.Y. in March, 1847. He also had a brother, Peter, once an innkeeper at Fort Plain. It was the writer's (Simms) fortune to be well acquainted with the Olendorf brothers from whom these facts were obtained.".
[Jeptha R. Simms, The Frontiersmen of New York Vol. II (Geo. C. Riggs, Publisher, Albany, NY, 1883) pp 362-364].
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