While the evidences of hopes deferred and visions ruptured were only too numerous during the early settlement of the new diggings, still all who came and went out from the mines were not failures. Many succeeded in business beyond their most sanguine expectations and others arose from the humble occupation of miners to fill the most responsible and exalted positions in the land. Many were in affluent circumstances and from the first ranks of society and came here for the purpose of extending their business and adding to their wealth.
     A well preserved and fine example of the latter class who engaged my respect and admiration, thirty years ago, was Maj. John R. Coons - a man who derived his patent of nobility from the hand of nature. He hailed from the "Blue Grass State" - the land of Henry Clay, of Prentice, the Breckenridges, the Marshalls - those men of giant intellect and universal fame, the home of heroes and some of the fairest speciments of the "gentler sex" that ever came from the hand of a Divine Creator. Springing from such a source, the Major was no exception to his race, or disparagment to his kind. His gentlemanly bearing - his pleasing conversation - his generous nature and abiding friendship - bespoke the true Kentuckian - and the truer man. He was no adventurer or common fortune-hunter, but with good business qualification, a sound constitution, and a will to encounter and overcome all difficulties, he sought to win his way by true merit and probity alone. Coming to St. Louis in 1808 while yet a boy and while it was but a small French village, his chances for education were limited, though he became an adept in penmanship, a good calculator, and stored his mind with useful miscellaneous reading. The French patois of the place he spoke with the glibness and familiarity of his mother tongue. At this time the old French habitues who were gathered in and around St. Louis and Carondolet, in their modes of living, habits, customs and social intercourse, were a peculiar people, and in all things a law unto themselves. Hunting and fishing was their chief employment in summer, and the winter season was one unbroken round of gayety and fun. The sound of the festive violin filled the air; and the Creole girls, dressed in their gauzy robes of pink and white tarlatans, the sweet carnation of the rose glowing on their warm, olive cheeks, and love beaming from every nook and corner of their "soft, dark eyes," moved with angelic grace through the "mystic mazes of the dance" and led captive many a willing heart. The quaint gable roofs of their houses - their vine-covered balconies and jessamine wreathed windows that greeted the first glow of morning and around which tenderly lingered the last beam of the evening sun, reminded the elders of the sunnier skies of their once beloved France, and made the life of the younger float like an idyl set to the sweet, monotonous melody of whispering trees and the still music of the ceaseless flow of the mighty river. In heavenly scenes like these, what cared they for the grosser things of life? The earth, air and waters yielded the supplies of nature without coaxing or cultivation; and Eden, before the fall, was not a happier place - "Mirth, with thee I mean to live" was their motto and they forgot it not. Little dreamed these light-hearted, fun-loving Frenchmen of the great change that was so soon to be wrought in their vine-covered gardens and primitive cabins. And yet many of them are still living, to look abroad upon a vast city, its streets surging with the ever restless throng of trade and the mighty river, on whose beautiful moon-lit banks they danced the gay quadrille, converted into the mart of a continent and the highway of a nation's commerce. Gigantic steamers now moor in the place of the frail bark canoe and rough bateaux, in which the hardy voyageurs of fifty years since, pursued their dangerous travels; the lightning-winged train usurps the paths of the patient mule across the plain, instead of peltries and robes from the mountains, bringing the exhaustless treasures of a then unknown land, and teas, spices and the golden products of Far Cathay. Such has been the change witnessed by a generation still living, and in place of the rude hamlet, a city has sprung up, rivaling in wealth, influence, potency and importance, many of the most renowned cities of the old world. While a young man dwelling here, Maj. Coons witnessed these gay scenes and the rapid changes taking place around him, and became imbued with the spirit and enterprise of its people. For a long period the American Fur Company made St. Louis one of the principal points of its extensive business; and from here in the spring, annually went forth the long wagon trains of supplies, to the plains, the mountains, the head-waters of the majestic rivers that lave this inland city, to the remote trading-point of Santa Fe, and returned again in the fall, laden with fur, peltries, silver and the rich spoils their emissaries had gathered in.
     Of this wealthy and widely influential company the Major became a trusted employe, and, in the year 1827, was sent to the Upper Lead Mines and assigned to a clerkship with Gratiot, Choteaux & Co., a branch of this famous house, located at Gratiot Grove, Wis. Their business was smelting, selling goods and trading with the Indians for furs and Uncle Sam's annuities, and no doubt, at this period of uncertain values, it was found a very profitable one.
     Nothing occurred to interrupt their prosperous trade until the spring of 1832, when rumors of an advance of the warlike Sauk (or Sac) Indians, up the valley of the Rock River, became rife in the settlements, and soon culminated in the Black Hawk war. At this critical juncture, no one knowing the magnitude or proximity of the danger that surrounded them, the peaceful pursuits were neglected, and every precaution for safety and defense was taken. Block-houses were constructed, forts built and the women and children hustled into them, and the men organized and armed, ready at a moment's warning to ward off or go in the pursuit of the wily foe. In all these preparations and forays, Maj. Coons took an active part, and, although his valorous deeds were not recorded in every bulletin from the field of battle, as were those of some others less worthy, his services were untiring and highly appreciated by his superiors. His family being removed to safer quarters, the house they occupied at Old Shullsburg - strongly built log house one and a half stories high - was converted into a place of defense and garrisoned with soldiers. When peace was restored, the family returned, and his eldest son, Henry (the amiable and gentlemanly Town Clerk of Potosi), well remembers playing soldier when a boy and shooting out of the port-holes from the chamber. He was braver then than he is now. Several guns were left by its heroic defenders, and, in handling them afterward, one was accidentally discharged, the contents going through the floor and lodging in the bed beneath, luckily unoccupied, or Henry might have become a "poor motherless boy" for his carelessness.
     Maj. Coons was one of a detachment sent out by Col. Gratiot in search of the Hall girls, two beautiful young ladies who were spared at the dreadful massacre of their father's family and neighbors, on Rock River. They were taken captives by one of Black Hawk's roving bands, and a reward of $2,000 being offered for their rescue, by Gen. Atkinson, they were afterward brought in to the fort at Blue Mounds, by three Winnebago Indians, who received the reward, but being suspected as spies, were ordered from the fort and to proceed at once north of the Wisconsin. The girls were in a most destitute and forlorn condition, but received the warm sympathy of the ladies in the fort, by whom they were properly clothed and soon after restored to their friends.
     Peace being finally restored by the capture of Black Hawk and the destruction of his band at the bloody battle of Bad Ax, Maj. Coons was relieved from further duty and returned to private life. He soon after obtained what was called a "smelter's grant" from the Government and removed to Dubuque, which, though not open to settlement, was fast being filled up with miners, tradesmen and adventurers. He built his furnace on the Catfish, near the present site of the Rockdale Mills. Here he enjoyed the confidence of the miners, and did a lucrative business, though paying thousands of dollars to the Government in the shape of rent. His tax rule was afterward reversed and the money refunded, but unfortunately for the Major, he did not give the matter his prompt attention, and to the extent of his loss the Government profiteth.
     Belmont, the once famous capital of Wisconsin, next attracted his attention, and here we find him running one of the largest dry goods stocks in the West. During his absence from home, on one occasion, his shrewd and far-sighted wife, took it into her head to visit the land office at Mineral Point, and when the Major returned he found himself the owner of some of the finest farming lands in this section of the country. The strangulation of the young city in its infancy, by the removal of the seat of government to Madison, blighted its future hopes, and determined the Major to find a place of brighter prospects and more commercial importance. That place was Potosi. And thither he came, like Joseph of old, out of the land of Egypt, with his family and his fortune. Hooper, Peck & Scales were then heavily engaged in the mercantile business at Galena, and with them an alliance was formed and a branch house established, under the firm name of Coons, Wooley & Co., in that part of the village of Potosi then and still known as Lafayette. Here, in 1836, the Major erected the first frame store building in Potosi, shipping the material for its construction from Cincinnati by the way of the Ohio River. It stood immediately above the residence of the late James F. Chapman, though now reduced to the menial grade of horse stable on the farm of Nick Bonn. Its internal arrangements and finish were a marvel of beauty and elegance. Piles of valuable goods adorned its shelves and counters, and its capacious cellar and wareroom were plethoric with staple groceries and choice liquors. But, alas! for things material as well as things spiritual! The disease of debt was already fastened upon the vitals of the parent house, and the offspring was not exempt from its taint. The credit system predicated upon the inflated, worthless currency of the Illinois banks, had collapsed. Gen. Jackson had issued his famous specie circular, and down to this rock basis all must come. No man or firm in business could withstand the wild tempest of bankruptcy and disaster that swept through the length and breadth of the land. All toppled and many went down. Hooper, Peck & Scales tried to weather the storm, but it was of no use. The proud firm and its dependences were taken from their anchored foundations, twirled in the air, and dropped in one common wreck. Some of the members emerged from the ruins with a few dislocated joints and bruised limbs, but poor Maj. Coons was a cripple for life, and almost a penniless man. He never overcame the shock or recovered from the deep injuries. Quietly and unostentatiously, he pursued the even tenor of his life, gaining, as best he could, a livelihood and an education for his little family - till, wearied at last with the unequal struggle, he bent his proud form and "slept with his fathers." Well do I remember the hour and the event; and when they told me the old man had passed from his humble home to his heavenly rest, I said within myself, It is well - a true, a warm and generous heart hath ceased to beat; a kind, a just and upright soul has burst the prison bars of death, overcome the rough and rugged storms of life, and found a shelter in a happier home.

This biography generously submitted by Roxanne Munns.