JAMES H. ALLEN, editor and publisher of The Saturday Evening Supper Table, an interesting illustrated weekly published at the office No. 61 N. Main street, Washington, Penn., was born in that town, July 21, 1857. His grandfather Allen came with his family from England to this country, and to Washington county in 1829. John Allen, father of James H., was a native of Lancashire, England, and was about thirteen years old when brought to this country by his parents. In Baltimore, Md., he learned the trade of shoemaker, which he afterward followed in Washington, in connection with a shoestore. But for fifteen years prior to his death he carried on a confectionery business on South Main street, Washington. In 1845 John Allen was united in marriage with Miss Melvina Moffat, a native of this county, and seven children were born to them, viz.: William, died young; Lydia, unmarried; Jennie M., married to Robert M. Gordon, of Waynesburg, Penn.; and Ella M., James H., Clark J. and Birdie M., all in Washington, Lydia, Ella, Birdie and Clark living together. In 1871, one evening while Mrs. Allen, the mother, was preparing to go to prayer-meeting, the house was struck by lightning, and she was instantly killed in her forty-ninth year. At 5 o'clock in the evening of April 16, 1886, the father was taken ill with neuralgia of the heart, and at 10 o'clock, the same night, he expired. He was a large man, good-natured and jovial, and had a very wide circle of friends. He and his wife were members of the M. E. Church, but in his later years he identified himself with the Methodist Protestant Church, in which he held office. Socially, he was one of the oldest members of the I. O. O. F. in the county, being one of the charter members of Lodge No. 81, Washington; he had taken all the Chairs, and for several consecutive years was a delegate to various Grand Lodges. Politically, he was an ardent Republican, from the time of the formation of that party. James H. Allen received his education at the Union School in Washington, and when a lad of about seventeen summers entered the office of the Advance in the capacity of "devil." Two weeks' revelry in that Arcadian employment showed the stuff young James was made of, and he very probably received prompt promotion; a few months later we find him "sticking type" in the job-room, his banner bearing the aspiring device "Excelsior." A year or more later the paper changed hands and name, simultaneously, its new title being Observer, and Mr. Allen was further promoted to foreman of the news-room, a position he filled with characteristic ability for several years; he was also manager of the job-room for some considerable time. On May 30, 1885, he launched into the world, for weal or for woe, the interesting and neatly gotten-up, well-edited sheet, The Saturday Evening Supper Table, which has proven a marked success, and is steadily growing in patronage. At its birth it was a four-page 10x12 sheet, now it has sixteen pages, 10x14. "May its shadow never grow less!" On January 29, 1890, Mr. Allen was married to Lillian H., daughter of W. A. Bane, of the firm of Bane Bros., Washington. Politically, our subject is a Republican, and in the spring of 1892 he was elected a justice of the peace in a Democratic township, polling the largest vote of any man on his ticket. Socially, he is a member of the Improved Order of Heptasophs, and is a charter member of the Junior O. U. A. M. Mr. Allen is a great-grandson of Massy Harbison, who experienced a marvelous escape from the barbarity of the Indians in 1792, of which the following is a concise account: Massy Harbison was born in Amwell township, Somerset Co., N. J., March 18, 1770. Her father, Edward White, was a Revolutionary soldier, who after the war (in 1783) removed to where is now Brownsville, this county. Here Massy lived with her father until her marriage, which event for some reason caused his displeasure, and Massy and her husband moved to the banks of the Allegheny, settling on the headwaters of Chartiers creek, where they did extremely well from 1779 till the breaking out of the Indian war in March, 1791, when they lost all their hard-earned possessions. In about a year thereafter her husband was appointed to the dangerous post of a spy, and ordered into the woods to watch the movements of the Indians; but nothing for a long time was seen of a nature to excite alarm. The Redskins frequently visited the house of John and Massy Harbison to receive refreshments and to lodge, and all the surroundings indicated peace and quiet. On the night of May 21, 1792, two of the spies, James David and Sutton, came to lodge at the Harbison's house, and at daybreak of the following morning, when the horn blew at the blockhouse, the two men went out. Massy was awake at the time, but fell asleep again, and the first thing she realized afterward was that some Indians were pulling her out of bed by the feet. She then looked up and saw that the house was full of savages, each one having a gun in his left hand and a tomahawk in his right. She immediately jumped to the floor on her feet, with her young child in her arms, and while her assailants were busy plundering the house she made for the door and succeeded in getting outside with the one child in her arms, and another held by the hand, one little boy being still inside the cabin. By this time the blockhouse was alarmed by her screams, and a general fight ensued, during which the Indians beat a retreat; but before leaving the Harbison dwelling they dashed out the brains of the boy that was left inside, simply because he cried. Taking Massy and her two remaining children with them (one of the savages having claimed her as his squaw), the party marched to the top of the bank, where they made a halt in order to divide among themselves (thirty-two in number) the plunder which they had taken from the house. They then proceeded on their journey toward the mouth of the Kiskiminetas, Massy and her children being mounted on one of two horses which the Indians had in the meantime captured from her uncle, John Currie. When they arrived at the bank that descended toward the Allegheny, there appearing to be so much danger in descending it on horseback, Massy threw herself off the horse with her two children, and here the elder of the little boys beginning to cry, and complain of having been hurt, the Indians deliberately murdered him. At this horrible sight the mother fell to the ground in a swoon, her infant still in her arms, but after severely castigating her with rods the savages assisted her to rise to her feet. Again proceeding on their journey, crossing Little Buffalo creek at the very spot where B. Sarver's mill now stands, they finally arrived at an Indian camp at the Salt-Lick of the Conequessing, about two miles above where is now the town of Butler. Here Massy and her baby boy were closely watched and barbarously treated until Monday following, when they moved her to another camp in the same valley. Next morning, by a most heroic effort, and at the imminent risk of her own life and that of her babe, the heroine of this adventure succeeded in making her escape, taking a direction from where she knew by the sun her old home lay, and lying concealed from time to time in the woods, her couch by night being made of leaves she had gathered. Encountering innumerable perils, one night having a very narrow escape from recapture by an Indian who had succeeded so far in following up her trail, the courageous woman and devoted mother sped on her way, now in a homeward direction, till wet, weary and exhausted, hungry and wretched, she found herself on the morning of May 27 at the headwaters of Pine creek, which falls into the Allegheny about four miles above Pittsburgh, though she did not then know where she was. After some wandering about she struck a trail on Squaw run, which she followed, and just as she was about to succumb through hunger, exhaustion and exposure to the weather, her wearied eyes were suddenly gladdened by the sight of an uninhabited cabin. Presently she heard the welcome sound of a distant cowbell, and on proceeding in the direction it appeared to come from, she presently descried three white men on the opposite bank of the creek. Making her presence known to them by calling as loud as her weak condition would enable her, one of the men, James Closier, soon had her in his canoe, and ere long she found herself and infant in the willing hands of kind friends who gently cared for her and nursed her back to health and strength, and to her grief-stricken husband. The John Closier alluded to was one of her nearest neighbors, yet in the six days from the time of her capture by the Indians, she was so altered that he failed to recognize her either by her voice or countenance. The infant that shared with its mother the horrors and hardships of those six days, was John Harbison, who lived to the patriarchal age of ninety-three years, dying at Cedar Rapids a few years ago. Massy was a good rifle shot, and during the Indian fights at the block-house, she would take her rifle and bravely do her part in defending it. She died at Freeport, Penn., her husband having preceded her to the grave by some few years.

Text taken from page 127 of: Beers, J. H. and Co., Commemorative Biographical Record of Washington County, Pennsylvania (Chicago: J. H. Beers & Co., 1893). Transcribed April 1997 by Neil and Marilyn Morton of Oswego, IL as part of the Beers Project. Published April 1997 on the Washington County, PA pages at http://www.chartiers.com/.

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