Picture the American frontier in the early 1800s: homesteaders chopping down trees and hunting wild animals. But one of the most beloved figures on the frontier never did either. He wandered the wilderness, sleeping in hollow logs and caves, or at the home of whatever pioneer welcomed him in.
His name was John Chapman, but Americans at the time gave him a different name. They called him Johnny Appleseed.
The name came from the pouch of apple seeds he always carried with him, and the many orchards he planted in the American Midwest—over a hundred thousand square miles of apple orchards from Pennsylvania to Ohio to Indiana.
Why did Chapman choose such a strange life for himself? Nobody really knows. Some say he was jilted by a girl he loved. Some say he simply had an entrepreneurial spirit.
But others say John Chapman was inspired to spread his beloved apple blossoms across the country by nothing less than a message from an angel.
Like many things considered American today, apples originally came from somewhere else. Early immigrants found only crab apples growing in the New World. So they brought apples from England. Most of the early orchards in America produced very few apples, until the European settlers imported something else from home: honey bees.
By the time John Chapman was born in Leominster, Massachusetts, in 1774, New England was buzzing—literally—and the apple trees were blooming. John used to say that the first thing he ever saw were the pink blossoms of the apple tree.
A lot was happening in the colony of Massachusetts when young John was born. His father, Nathaniel, a carpenter and farmer, was a Minute Man who fought at the Battle of Bunker Hill.
When John was 24 he left home for Pennsylvania with a bag full of apple seeds he had gotten from a local apple press—and a pretty good idea of what his life’s work would be. Four years later, he bought sixteen bushels of seeds, loaded them into two canoes lashed together and took off down the Ohio River.
Soon John had a system for planting his orchards—and a thriving business as well. He traveled down river and over land, often carrying heavy bags of seed on his back, in search of rich, fertile land where he thought pioneers might settle.
He planted his trees in a straight line and built a fence to keep animals away. Then he hired a local boy to look after the saplings and continued on his way, returning regularly to check on his work. Within a few years he had saplings to sell to arriving families.
When he ran out of seeds he returned to the East Coast and started all over again. He became so well-known amongst both the pioneers and Indians that they renamed him Johnny Appleseed.
This very successful businessman had a knack for predicting where pioneers would settle and how popular his apple trees would be.
But when Johnny Appleseed’s legend grew, it wasn’t tales of money or power that people shared, but stories of his faith and charity and his love of God’s natural world. For all the trees he grew, he couldn’t abide the cutting of one down.
By all accounts—and there were many, because everyone seemed to know Johnny Appleseed—he was an odd-looking fellow. Small and energetic, with long dark hair and bright black eyes, Johnny traveled the wilderness with nothing but his bags of seeds and a Bible.
Some said he didn’t even carry a gun or a knife—a dangerous gamble in the American wilderness. But Johnny never got into trouble. He befriended everyone: pioneers, Indians, even wild animals.
One legend had it that during a snowstorm Johnny took shelter in a fallen tree. Once inside the tree, he discovered it was already being used by a mother bear and her cubs. Instead of driving Johnny away—or worse—the mother bear welcomed him as her guest.
One thing that’s for sure: Johnny never hurt an animal. A strict vegetarian, he refused even to ride a horse. He often used the profits from his apple trees to buy lame horses from their owner to save them from being killed. He bought mistreated animals for whatever amount the owners asked, then found the animals a kind home.
Johnny’s compassion and generosity extended to people as well. He gave away trees when necessary, or traded them for food or clothing. He lent a hand with the chores when he came upon settlers in need.
However, he wore no shoes, summer or winter. That was no easy feat in the deep snows of the frontier. In fact, he often entertained little boys by pressing hot coals or needles into the soles of his feet, which had grown tough and leathery in his travels.
For clothes he wore whatever anyone was willing to trade—that made for some pretty strange outfits.
However little Johnny Appleseed cared about his own personal adornment, he delighted in covering the American landscape with pink apple blossoms. And those weren’t the only seeds he sowed. A devout believer, Johnny loved to share his faith with everyone he met. He became a messenger of sorts himself; his angel had chosen wisely.
One can just imagine being a little boy or girl living on the frontier. Sun is setting. Chores are almost done. Then over the horizon a man appears. No ordinary man. He wears no shoes, and his long hair brushes his shoulders.
Perhaps he wears an old shirt a size too small, or a pair of pants several sizes too big. Perhaps he isn’t wearing a shirt at all, but an old coffee sack with holes cut out for arms and a tin pot on his head instead of a hat. Imagine the excitement as the child realizes who it is: the famous Johnny Appleseed.
He’s invited to stay for dinner. When the meal is ready everyone gathers round. Johnny refuses to eat until all the children have been served—that’s not something frontier children usually experienced! Over the meal, Johnny shares stories about his life in the wilderness.
After dinner Johnny sits by the fire. He reaches into his coffee sack and pulls out an old, dog-eared Bible. “Who’d like to hear the good news?” he asks. “News fresh from heaven?”
Then Johnny Appleseed begins to read, perhaps from the Sermon on the Mount, some of his favorite passages, it is said.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” he begins in a voice one frontier housewife described as being “loud as the roar of the wind and waves, then soft and soothing as the balmy airs that quivered the morning-glory leaves about his gray beard.”
In 1845, when he was 70 years old, Johnny Appleseed arrived at the door of his friend William Worth in Fort Wayne, Indiana. Of course, William was glad to see him. They shared a simple meal of bread and milk. Johnny read from his Bible. Then Johnny stretched out on the floor and went to sleep. He never woke up.
When the news reached Washington, US Senator “Texas” Sam Houston said, “This old man was one of the most useful citizens of the world in his humble way. Farewell, dear old eccentric heart. Your labor has been a labor of love, and generations yet unborn will rise up and call you blessed.”
A true American legend had died. Many of the apple trees growing from Pennsylvania to Ohio today are descended from the very seeds he planted, barefoot, all those years ago.
The seeds planted by John Chapman—on the advice of an angel— bloom in America to this day. As does the faith he helped spread throughout the land.
View our slideshow of Johnny Appleseed images.
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