city also boasts a rich musical history—one that began when a cornet player, C.G. Conn, injured his lip. As a result of this injury, Conn invented the rubber mouthpiece. He began selling them in 1873. This sparked Elkhart’s musical instrument industry, which led to the city being known as “The band capital of the world.” At one time there were eleven Elkhart factories manufacturing band instruments. Today there are approximately eight involved in the manufacturing of woodwinds, brass instruments, and pianos.
At one time Elkhart manufactured more than twenty makes of automobile, second in the state only to Indianapolis. Elkhart is also known as the “recreational vehicle capital of the world,” with approximately two hundred firms manufacturing mobile homes, campers, or other recreational vehicle-related products.
Another Elkhart resident who would become notorious, Dr. Franklin Miles began marketing his home remedy, a sedative known as Dr. Miles’s Restorative Nervine, in 1884. The company achieved fame in the 1930s as the producer of Alka-Seltzer. Several years later One-A-Day vitamins and S.O.S steel wool pads were added to its product line. Miles Laboratory since has been purchased by Bayer AG of West Germany, the developer of Bayer aspirin. The billion-dollar, high-tech Miles Laboratory headquarters are still located in Elkhart.
In front of the Greek Revival-style courthouse at the northwest corner of Main Street and Lincoln Avenue sits an octagonal limestone structure. Built by the Work Progress Administration (WPA), the structure was erected across the street from the town’s bank—a highly guarded location following the notorious Dillinger gang’s widely publicized bank robberies in neighboring cities. The police manned the bullet-proof enclosure around the clock from 1939 to 1969.
The 155-acre Bonneyville Mill County Park is of historical interest. The state’s oldest continuously operated gristmill is located here. In 1832 Edward Bonney constructed a dam on the Little Elkhart River and erected the water-powered mill. The Bonney Mill is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.
Bonney led a colorful life. He was arrested in 1842 for counterfeiting. He managed to escape from prison, and he and his family moved near the Mormon community of Nauvoo, Illinois.
In a published autobiographical account of his life, The Banditti of the Prairies or The Murderer’s Doom: A Tale of the Mississippi Valley, he told of working for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. During his tenure there, he led a thirteen-month chase after nine thieves and murderers across a four-state area. He also served in the 127th Illinois infantry during the Civil War. After his death in 1863 at age fifty-nine, his body was returned for burial near the mill.
A Tree with Spirit
A few miles southwest of Elkhart on County Road 19 is the village of Jimtown (Jamestown). It was laid out in 1835 by James Davis, for whom it was named. The village has remained just that—a village—a quiet and comfortable place to live. Like in many other small communities, everybody knows everybody. In such a peaceful environment, a visitor passing through would feel certain there was nothing to fear. But those who live in and near the community know the truth.
Some time back, a terrible auto accident occurred just west of Jimtown on Cable Line Road (County Road 26). The driver died on the spot. No one recalls the exact date of the accident or even the name of the driver, but nearly everyone in the area agrees the accident did happen. It left a legacy—a terrible legacy.
As the story is often told, it began on a moonless night. A cold mist hugged the ground. An eastbound car traveling much too fast on County Road 26 was nearing the intersection at County Road 11. Suddenly the driver lost control. The vehicle crashed headlong into a large tree just off the side of the road. On impact, the driver was thrown through the windshield, crashing into the tree.
A nearby family heard the crash and called the sheriff’s office. People watching the wreckage cleanup commented that they could see the exact spot where the man’s body had hit the tree. Curiously, his body was never found.
Some believed he had survived the crash and in shock had wandered into the woods where he died. Others had a different theory. They believed the force of the impact was so great that the tree had actually captured the man’s body—and his spirit!
As time passed the tree became diseased and was cut down. The road, however, is still haunted. Today, the thing that remains to haunt Cable Line Road is said to be a monster.
Traveling at night, you may see in your headlights the man’s head floating above the road searching for its body or a headless creature standing at the edge of the road.
The legend has been so much a part of Jimtown’s culture that when the town celebrated its 150-year anniversary, the Cable Line Monster was honored with its own float!
Fun-Loving Nellie
A lively and fashionable young woman, devoted to her family and husband, Nellie Knickerbocker, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Winchester, was said to be the subject of more talk than anyone who ever lived in Elkhart. Although she’s been dead for nearly fifty years, she’s still the topic of conversation. There is “evidence” that she possibly still exists—at least on some level.
When William H. Knickerbocker met the diminutive blue-eyed beauty he fell in love. Although he was ten years older, Nellie’s father gave them his blessings. They were married on November 29, 1882.
Charles Winchester built a mansion at 517 South Second Street where the Winchesters and Knickerbockers lived together. At the time it was considered one of the best-built homes in the city. Air spaces between the inner and outer walls acted as insulation against outside noises.
The couple hosted many lavish parties with Nellie, a talented pianist, entertaining the guests. She was a very modern and independent young lady. The petite Nellie was often seen driving her 1914 electric Milburn around town.
For Nellie, however, it wasn’t all parties, music, and driving about town. There were times of sadness and desolate loneliness. Nellie and William had one son, Howard, who died in infancy. Shortly afterward, she lost her father and, then her mother passed away. Ultimately, Nellie was left completely alone when her husband passed away four years later.
During the years before her own death, she became a reclusive eccentric. She no longer drove her beloved Milburn. Her chauffeur would drive her to the Hotel Elkhart where she’d have her meals. She was known to the staff for her generous tips.
As the years passed, she adopted what some called a “fetish” about cemeteries. She spent a great deal of time at Grace Lawn Cemetery tending the family plot. She became obsessed with her own burial arrangements. She wanted to make sure her coffin was as good as her parents’ and husband’s. Afraid her surviving relatives (her husband’s nieces) would slight her in death and bury her in a cheap coffin, she purchased a seamless, solid copper casket and stored it in her dining room.
Stories about the coffin began circulating around Elkhart. It was said Nellie actually slept or at least rested in it to be certain that she would be comfortable during her eternal rest. Although this was a popular belief, no one knew for certain. In 1944 the house was sold to a couple from Goshen, with the understanding that Nellie could remain there until her death.
In 1947 Nellie died—alone. Her house attendant found her sitting in a chair. Again the rumors circulated. Some believed she was found lying inside the coffin,
