MOUNT VERNON — A. Banning Norton’s History of Knox County, Ohio, from 1779 to 1862 Inclusive is a storyteller’s dream and a historian’s nightmare.
Anecdotes from early county history are often included, but they typically lack precise detail of who, where, and when. A particularly vague story is one that Banning included as his last chapter, as a sort of dessert to follow the slightly better documented pages that preceded it.
Norton tells of local character Seeley Simpkins, whom he identifies as being born in 1799 in “West Jersey” (whether part of the state of New Jersey or the actual Jersey Islands in Britain, Norton doesn’t tell us), and resident of central Ohio by 1804. He was still alive at the time of the book’s publication.
According to Norton’s retelling of Simpkins’ stories, there were still a lot of American Indians passing through the area in his childhood, and they often stopped at a sulphur spring near Captain Walker’s cabin.
Simpkins was very popular with the natives because he had an unusually acute ability to whistle music. He could whistle fiddle tunes like nobody’s business, could imitate all the birds and many other animals besides, not to mention a whole range of human noises.
Whenever a fiddler couldn’t be found for a dance, Simpkins would be hired to whistle away the evening. When a militia was formed and no bugle player emerged, Simpkins whistled up muster. When militia from four counties was gathered for a yearly event, Simpkins challenged any man present to out-whistle him. A few tried, but they failed.
In those early years, Simpkins walked everywhere he went in Knox County, because he didn’t own a horse. Eventually, he decided that he had a practical alternative. Norton tells us that Simpkins owned a bull — and he specifically identifies it as a bull and not an ox. Oxen are a little more sedate and useful as beasts of burden or plow animals, because they are bulls that have had a certain pair of anatomical parts removed.
But Simpkins did no surgery and trained his bull to be so well-behaved that not only could he plow with it, it became his means of transportation. Seeley Simpkins and his bull could be seen plowing in the field, or pulling his grain down the road to the grist mill for processing, or even just walking out for a leisurely stroll through town, with Seeley whistling as his bull ambled along.
On one occasion — Norton gives us no date — Simpkins brought a load of grain to Norton’s Mill, along the Kokosing River in Mount Vernon, for processing. While he was waiting for his grain to be ground, a couple of farmers also waiting proposed a race between Simpkins’ bull and Tom Irvine’s horse, with the owners riding, of course.
Judges were set up, bets were placed, and a bunch of Creek Indians passing through town joined the locals to watch the spectacle. Right as the start was declared, someone — Norton doesn’t say who — reached out and gave the bull’s tail a mighty yank. The bull bellowed furiously, pawing the ground, and the crowd roared in hilarity, the whole melee causing Irvine’s horse to shy back in fright.
Simpkins dug in his heels and commanded the bull onward, and the bull charged up the race track and over the finish line, snorting the whole way. The race was declared valid, and Seeley Simpkins, who had confidently bet on himself, rode home on his snorting charger, pockets stuffed full of money.
As it turns out, Simpkins was not only still alive when Banning’s history was published, he was still above ground when the next major county history book was written, N.N. Hill’s History of Knox County. According to Hill, Simpkins was actually born in 1791, not 1799, making him 90 years old at the time of publication. He was identified as the oldest of 12 children, and the father of 12 himself.
After the family lived in Mount Vernon during Seeley’s earliest years, his father, John Simpkins, set up a farm in northern Monroe Township, near Jelloway, on Schenck Creek, which Seeley took over after his father died in 1809. Seeley soon married Christina Dial, and after she died, his second wife was Luvina Durham.
Simpkins didn’t pass away until just two years shy of his 100th birthday. He’s buried in the graveyard of the Ebenezer Methodist Church, at the intersection of Carson Road and Ohio Route 3 in Monroe Township. If you get a chance, stop by and whistle him a tune.
But don’t challenge him to a race. Seeley and his bull will leave you behind in the dust, particularly if a hand should reach out of the crowd and give that tail a tug.
