Capt. Ulysses Steen(died 1873)

STEEN

Posted By: Anne Hermann (email)
Date: 5/24/2008 at 02:41:06

Sabula Gazette
September 12, 1873

OBITUARY.

Died, at his residence in Sabula, on the morning of September 3d, 1873, Capt. Ulysses Steen, aged 67 years, 4 months and one day.

It is seldom that our pen is called upon to chronicle the departure of one so intimately and familiarly known as the subject of this notice. Occupying no prominent political position, yet his name was familiar from St. Paul to New Orleans, from the States to the Canada’s.

Captain Steen was born in the town of Romney, in the State of Virginia. He was left an orphan at the early age of three years, and became the adopted son of a Mr. Wm. R. Thompson a short time afterward. With Mr. Thompson he moved to Ohio in 1813, where his life was spent in active farm labor, until, at the age of 14, he was apprenticed to a Mr. Chapman, to learn the trade of brick layer and plasterer. Seven long years he wielded the trowel under his master’s guidance, and when at that age of 21 he stepped forth a perfect master of his trade. He remained in Ohio, working zealously and assiduously at his trade, full of life and vigor, a future before him, and a mechanic’s record bright in the “work done,” until Dec. 1832, when he united himself in marriage to Miss Lucinda Wood, daughter of James Wood, and sister to Dr. E. A. and Capt. Jerry Wood of this city, and took a short respite from active labor until the spring of 1833. Young and ardent in his hopes for the futures, he again resumed his trade, and worked with a will, acknowledged by all the master of his chosen trade. In 1835 he united himself with the Masonic fraternity, thus fulfilling the cherished desires of his heart, to be with those of the craft of which his chosen trade was so peculiarly emblematic. In the fall of 1835, with his young wife he moved to Michigan, where, by active industry he accumulated a few hundred dollars, and then started westward with wife and child, crossing the Mississippi river at this point, March 10, 1837. Here with his brother-in-law, Dr. E. A. Wood, he really began life in earnest. Of an industrious habit, he immediately set about preparing himself a home on the banks of the beautiful river, and entered a claim for 240 acres of timber and prairie land adjoining the town, which he commenced improving as fast as his limited means would allow. Ever at work, to day at his trade, to-morrow overseeing the improvements on his farm, attending to the delivery and sale of wood of which he was furnishing vast quantities, watching with careful eye the operations of the sawmill in which he had an interest. Mr. Steen was the veritable man of action, life and progression.

Sabula, then known as Carrol Port, afterwards Charlestown, began to grow, and Mr. Steen, with that eye to future business so characteristic of the man, purchased of the proprietors of the town plat, some eligible property, on which he erected in 1838 the “Tremont House,” a hotel known far and wide. This, his exemplary wife took charge of, while he delved still deeper into the mysteries of hard work, on farm, at mill, and at his trade. In 1840, he was appointed agent for the steamboat lines, a position he held until the day of his death, and at one time held the responsible position of postmaster, the duties of which he discharged with fidelity. Active, ever busy, and kindly encouraged by his noble wife, his efforts met with success, and the ground-work of future wealth was to all human ken positively secured, but alas! it was not written that Mr. Steen should retire from active life, or at once reap the golden harvest. Adversity, stern and grim, laid her hand upon him, entered his abode. Twenty-seven years, he and his beloved wife had struggled with the world; children had been born unto them, of whom Luther H. was the first white male child born in Jackson county – the cares and anxieties attendant upon life in a new country, the manifold duties of a household, the gradual accumulation of property, had all gone on in love, health and harmony, until in 1859, when Death knocked at his door and removed his wife, she who had been his companion and advisor for over a quarter of a century. Prostrated with grief at his loss, yet with true heroism, he called his little circle around him, and with his adopted daughter Aermenia – than whom a better woman never lived – he set out single-handed to battle with life for his children. Time flew on, and the over active step and cheering voice of Mr. Steen was heard on the street, encouraging, assisting, laboring for family and the interests of the town, until 1860. Misfortune again overtook him, and his magnificent hotel, the special pride of his heart, for which he and his wife had labored so faithfully to erect and furnish was swept away by fire. Any other man than Ulysses Steen would have succumbed at this severe stroke, but he, rising above all worldly misfortune, again called his little flock around him, and from the remnants saved from the fire, recommenced housekeeping, and boldly struck out for a competence. Cool, undaunted and persevering, he was making rapid strides toward the recovery of his loss, when an accident occurred, resulting in the fracture of his leg, thereby rendering him powerless for months, and blasting many of his well laid plans. Recovering at length, he again set out to build up, and had so far succeeded as to free himself of debt, and the rightful owner of a portion of this world’s goods, when a railroad accident rendered him once more a cripple. From this, he never fully recovered, although for years crippled and lame, he was the same active, buoyant business man as of yore, until stricken down with the last and final sickness. In 1871 disease marked him as her victim. Science and skill were brought to bear to overpower the ell decree, and all that love or affection could do was freely given, but all availed naught except to ward off for months the mandate written. When informed by his physician that his disease was incurable, that it was but a question of time as to his stay on earth, he murmured not, and although his sufferings at times were intense, yet he ever maintained the same hopeful spirit, the same native interest in family, friends and the town he had seen grow up, that characterized his former life. He was often heard to express his gratification at having been permitted to live to see the grand and glorious developments of his adopted State and town, only regretting that he had not done more.

But Ulysses Steen is no more. He has gone to the home “appointed for all the living,” and the immense throng that followed his remains to their last resting place, dropping the silent tear of love and sympathy over his grave, spoke in unmeasured terms of the respect in which he was held. He was of a social nature, generous and kind, and among his brethren of the “mystic tie” he was truly beloved for his seal, consistency, and Masonic worth. Masonry, its principles and its teachings he loved, and the esteem of his brethren, was truly made manifest in the numbers present, and the sublime rendition of their beautiful burial service. Dead and yet he liveth. He was not cut off in the full bloom of youth, while yet the vigor of manhood flushed his cheek, and the harvest of life ungathered, but he had lived to enjoy some of the blessings earned by his labor, and to realize some of the hopes desired.

The last of life stole slowly and silently upon him. In peace, in the bosom of domestic affection, in the hallowed reverence of his children, save one, in the full possession of his faculties, he wore out the remains of life.

Gone! And all we can say is Hail! Hail! My friend, and farewell!