I made the trip back to my small hometown recently for the annual festival known as Col. Vawter’s Day. Although smaller than I remembered from when I lived there, the main street was still lined with tables selling handcrafted knick-knacks, jewelry and food. Of course I was immediately sidetracked with classic cars on display at Bob Poynter’s Chevrolet. (Of course, my favorite was the green ’67 Mustang, among others.) We ate lunch at the Methodist church, who was selling a fantastic chicken dinner.
Although Col. John Vawter wasn’t exactly the first person to arrive in what is now known as Morgantown (located about 31 miles south of Indianapolis on St. Rd 135), he was one of the main people active in getting the town plat changed from what it was drawn previously. Most of these changes included widening streets and redrawing the lots. Normally, towns and cities were drawn near sources of water, and Morgantown residents were definitely able to sustain its crops by the creeks and streams that outlined the area. The first half of the 20th century proved Morgantown to be a bustling little town, complete with a movie theatre, car dealerships, restaurants, a bowling alley and all kinds of shops.
Col. John Vawter is an interesting character himself, having been married four times. Originally coming to Virginia from England, he then made his way to Kentucky and eventually found his way to Madison, IN, where he was the first magistrate. He was later appointed to U.S. Marshall for the state in 1810 and later served as a frontier ranger for the next few years after that. He found his way to Jennings County and founded the city of Vernon. During this time in Vernon, he was instrumental in constructing homes, the first schoolhouse and the Baptist church, for which was he a licensed Baptist preacher. He was also a member of the state legislature and a state senator as well. I was amazed to learn that Col. Vawter abhorred slavery. He would often “buy” as many slaves as he could, only to sell them back to themselves for nothing in return.
The entire day, I was constantly running into people whom I haven’t seen for years, and sometimes to my chagrin, I didn’t necessarily remember some of their names. The shops, the food, the cars, the music and even the miniature horses I saw on the sidewalk filled the air with small-town camaraderie. I accepted that while names and faces may fade over time, there is something that I did come to realize. While I was living there, I always dreamed of leaving, and at every chance I could get. And I did leave: Japan, Brazil, Chicago, Indianapolis… But I wouldn’t be the same person I am today had I not grew up in Morgantown, a portrait for any small town in America. Everything that happens to you shapes who you are, and coming back to a festival designed around celebrating its roots and beginnings made me realize that.
[Resources: Jennings County, Indiana 1816-1999, Jennings Co. Historical Society via Google Books
One Hundred and Seventy-Five Years on Main Street in Morgantown, Indiana 1831-2006, material compiled by Jeanne Weaver and Henrietta Hickman]
