CHAPTER XV

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EARLY LIFE IN "THE FORKS."

    History naturally divides itself into two classes—written or authentic and unwritten or legendary. The early history of the older nations was purely legendary, as at that time man hand neither the ability nor the means for making records; and, necessarily, he had to depend upon memory for preserving the facts, and upon tradition for passing them on to succeeding generations. While this is not true of modern times, yet there is much in the history of every community that must be recorded in memory, if retained at all, as it is considered of too little importance to form a part of the written history of its day, although it proves to be of no little interest to the people of a later period.

    THe people of every community have a certain interest in the events and conditions that influenced the early growth of their town or city and in the domestic and social life of the early settlers, and as such material seldom forms a part of their records, they must depend upon memory or tradition for this information. In order that such facts may be reliable, they should come, so far as possible, from someone closely associated with the period of which he writes, and not from a source so far removed in time that much has been lost in transmission from generation to generation. And so this chapter of reminiscence is presented to the reader, with the hope that it may afford some interest to the people of today and tomorrow, and recall to the minds of such of the early settlers as still linger about the place, some of the events, pleasures and hardships of pioneer days in and around "The Forks."

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    In the early days of Montgomery County, when the little city of Villisca was only a promise on paper and a dream of the future, a little colony had started between the Middle and West Nodaways, which was known for miles around as "The Forks," a name given it on account of its location near the junction of the two streams and as a designation from other neighborhoods such as "Ross Grove," "The Valley," "The Ridge," "Hungry Hollow," etc., names that have long since become practically obsolete. Colonization in this locality began early in the fifties and its progress was slow indeed until the coming of that period when the railroad, the harbinger of development, came in across the "Lime Kiln ford," and brought with it new enterprise and a new people, and destroyed many of the old landmarks and customs of its earliest days. This chapter deals with the history, the social and domestic life, and the growth and development of this little community for the decade just prior to the incoming of the railroad—the decade from 1859 to 1869. Most of the people living in the community at that time had come via the "Prairie Schooner" line from Highland County, Ohio.

    In June of 1859, a little company of people, attracted from their homes in Ohio by the glowing accounts of the new country in southwestern Iowa, arrived on the bank of the Nodaway, just south of where Villisca now stands. They unhitched their horses from the wagon, turned them loose to graze on the prairie, crossed the "river" on the big drift that for many years served as the connecting link between Ross Grove and The Forks, followed a foot path through the woods and hazel brush, and came out into a bit of open country that had just been selected for a new town. THe Burlington & Missouri River Railroad Company had contemplated a line through the state and had sent its agent, D. N. Smith, ahead to locate the townsites, one of which was located between the Nodaways and named Villisca. The log cabin built by George West, the

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original owner of the townsite, and a little frame house built by a man named Scott, were the only residences in the town, and they were occupied at that time by the families of Anderson Moore and Aaron Penwell. There was a small frame building north of the square, used at that time for a store building, in which Thomas Moore kept a small supply of such merchandise as the few settlers must necessarily have and for which they could raise funds to purchase.

    These three buildings were all that constituted the town of Villisca at that time except the red stakes that marked the corners of the lots and that had just been driven for that purpose. They were painted red as the result of a misinterpretation of the letter of instructions to the men who were to make the stakes. The letter stated that they should be "nicely pointed," but it was read "nicely painted," so the new town stakes were all treated to a coat of bright red paint, which made them look rather conspicuous in contrast to the green of summer and the white of winter, during the many years they did duty as sentinels on guard duty. This was the first time that the town was literally "painted red," but, as many of the older inhabitants will remember, it was not the last, figuratively speaking. "Uncle Jimmy" Carlisle, "Aunt Miralla" Lightbody—the old people were uncle or aunt to everybody then—Anderson Moore, Ed Moore, Sr., Thomas Moore and their families, constituted the population of "The Forks" at that time, but there were other settlements down the Nodaway toward Clarinda, over on East River, and up the West Nodaway. The Wests, Dunns, Gourleys, Meanses and Bakers were among the earliest settlers. Villisca—in one particular, at least—was like Rome: It was not built in a day. Red stakes did not make a town and the promises on paper were slow in realization.

    The great Civil War came on, and the "Western Fever" abated for a time. The young men of the Nation put on the blue uniform, shouldered the musket, and went to Dixie to

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defend the Nation's honor instead of seeking homes in the West, so the broad acres of Nodaway prairie and the corner lots of Villisca were doomed to a period of waiting for purchasers. An occasional prairie schooner drifted in on its western voyage, finding a safe harbor in some bend of the Nodaway, where it anchored and added one more family to the population. In the spring of 1861, Elijah Overman, Elizabeth Davis and Charles G. George, with their families, became a part of the society of The Forks and vicinity.

   In the fall and winter of 1861-2, a steam sawmill was brought overland from Chariton, Iowa, and located in the southern part of Villisca. This marked a new era in the development of the country, and board fences and frame houses and barns began to appear. The old watermill on the Middle Nodaway, known from its successive owners first as the McMillen Mill and later as the Van Horn Mill, had been in operation for some time, but its old "up-and-down" saw was exceedingly slow as compared with the "chip-chip-chip" of the engine and the "z-e-e-e" of the bright circular saw, as it cut rapidly through the logs which were brought from miles around to be converted into boards, and we thought that we had made a remarkable stride in the progress and growth of a new country. Cottonwood, elm and linden were the principal kinds of timber used in those days, and many of the older farm houses still standing in the country are the monuments of this old mill. E. A. Munn, the man who brought the mill from Chariton, and who was its first architect, did not live to see it in operation. He was among the first to hear the call of "Old Abe" for help to save the nation; he went out in Company F, 23rd Iowa Infantry, and never returned. He sleeps in a grave in Dixie. A Mr. Taten bought the mill, put it into operation, and managed it for several years. It changed hands frequently, but continued to do duty until the pine lumber brought in by the

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railroad took the place of the native lumber, when the old mill was obliged to "move on" and has long since disappeared.

    The close of the year 1865 found Villisca containing two stores, a blacksmith shop, a doctor, and four or five dwellings. Philip Pargur, known as "Uncle Doc," had built a shop near the southwest corner of the square, where for several years he had a monopoly on shoeing horses, sharpening plows, and making linch pins for farmers. Dr. Huntsman was located at the southwest corner of the square, with residence and office combined, and was ready at all times to set broken bones or prescribe quinine for the "fever and ager," the principal and fashionable diseases of the time. Morgan Thurman had a general store at the southeast corner of the square, and John Swingle kept drugs and groceries at the northwest corner. At about this time or a little later, Jasper Wallace engaged in the business of making shingles from native timber and had a mill in operation. It was run by a one horse power, but made remarkable speed as compared with the old drawing knife. In the spring of 1867, the railroad surveyors came through the county, locating the line and setting grade stakes. This produced great excitement and people begin to think that the time for which they had waited so long was near at hand. Immigration began at once and every few days saw some new building erected or some new business enterprise started. THe work of grading the line and laying the track proceeded as rapidly as possible and in the fall of 1869, Villisca was no longer a dream, but a reality; trains were passing through the town; the click of the telegraph was music to the old settlers, and strangers had ceased to be a curiosity.

    We have reached the time limit of this chapter and must now return to the main purpose—the recollections of the life and society of those days. As we view the condition of the country today, and contrast it with that of its pioneer days, we marvel at the changes that can take place in a few years when

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the enterprise of man is assisted by the energies of Nature. Most of the actors of the early days of this community have gone to their rest, but their children's children and the newer generations will find some interest in the story.

    Coming from a wooded county, the people who first settled along the Nodaway naturally dreaded the prairie, and, requiring logs for their houses, settled along the streams. Here they built log cabins and began breaking the prairie bordering on the timber and transforming it into farms. Their homes at first were of a very rude and uncomfortable kind, with clapboard roof and floor of hewn instead of sawed lumber.

A chimney corner broad and wide.
A latch string hanging clear outside,
The rifle and powder horn over the door,
The old hound lying upon the floor
To chase the wolves away;
An ox yoke leaning against the shed,
The pumpkin drying overhead,
The spinning wheel, a reel and loom,
Were what you'd see in every home
Along the Nodaway.

    At first the farms were fenced with rails or poles cut from the woods along the streams, as lumber was scarce and barbed wire had not yet been thought of, and the stock grazed at will on the prairie during the summer months, as herd laws were not made until a much later period. Ox teams were considered a necessity in breaking the prairie sod, three or four yoke being considered a good team for the ordinary prairie plow. The sod was broken in the month of June and allowed to lie and rot until the next spring, when it was sown with spring wheat and considered duly subdued and in good condition for a crop of corn the next year.

    The great distance from the markets and the high prices of merchandise, due to war times, made it necessary for the

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pioneer to rely upon his resources for the necessaries of life and to dispense with the luxuries. The little flock of sheep was necessary for clothing, and the hum of the spinning wheel, the crack of the reel, and the clang of the loom, gave the promise of warm mittens and stockings for all, jeans for the men and boys, linsey or flannel for the women and girls, and blanket for the beds.

"Twas not what you'd call a stylish affair,
Carried out by the strict rules of lat etiquett[e],
For the Goddess of Fashion, now queen everywhere,
Had not made her throne on the Nodaway yet.
But the boys in their jeans of a "Pusley Blue,"
Or a brown from the bark of the black walnut tree,
And the girls in their "Linsey Woolseys" new
Were the dudes and the belles of the corn husking bee."

    The sheep were sheared in the spring of the year; the wool was washed, the burrs picked out ant it was ready for carding. This meant a trip of several miles to some carding mill or factory, where the wool was worked up into little rolls ready for spinning. There was a woolen mill at Clarinda and one several miles up the Middle Nodaway. The music of the spinning wheel was not so classical or harmonious as that of the piano, but its necessity made it the music of every household, and the young lady who could spin her "twelve cuts" in a day was considered an expert. A "cut" consisted of sixty rounds of the reel, which was announced when it was done by a loud "crack" made by some internal attachment, and the reel so constructed was considered quite an improved machine for that day, as the operator did not have to count the threads. Next came the weaving, which was done by hand, a long and tedious process, two yards being a good day's work.

    Another necessity to the home was the sorghum patch and the cane mill. In most cases, the mill was a very rude affair, consisting of two large wooden rollers for pressing out the juice,

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    and large pans for boiling it down to molasses. The mill was turned by one horse, which went round and round a long sweep to which it was hitched, and whenever the mill was in operation, the announcement was always made by a very loud creaking noise.

A patch of sorghum and the old cane mill
That during its season never was still.
I can hear the noise it used to make,
Enough from their sleep the dead to wake
On the Judgment Day.
A patch of tobacco for winter's use—
The "Lincoln Twist," so void of juice,
For "Horseshoe Plug" or "Battle Ax"
Were not yet subject to tax
Along the Nodaway.

    The molasses-making period was to the young people of The Forks what sugar-making times was to New England boys and girls, a period of hard work but many pleasures. The cane had to be stripped of its blades, beheaded, and carried away to the mill; hard work indeed, but then there were days of "boiling down" and the "taffy pullings," with their fun and frolics.

    Tea and coffee were scarce and so high in price that they were out of the question. Parched corn, rye or burnt bread and molasses, furnished a substitute for coffe[e], and the leaves of the Red Root, so common on the prairies, were used in place of tea. All fruit came from Nature's own orchard and vineyard. Wild plums grew in abundance along the stream, crab apples, wild grapes, strawberries, gooseberries, etc., could be obtained in their season and were often preserved in various ways for winter use.

    The principal source of income for Nodaway pioneer was the hog, as it was about the only thing which he could market. Hogs were expected to make their own living during the sum-

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mer time by foraging through the woods and living on roots and nuts, but as soon as the new corn had passed the "roasting ear," they were gathered together and fattened for the market, or for meat for the family use. The hogs for the market were driven to St. Joseph, Mo., the nearest railroad station for several years. All the farmers of the neighborhood combined their little herds into one large drove and as soon as the weather was cool enough, started on the trip to market. For several days they trudged along on foot, eight or ten miles a day, encountering muddy roads or snow drifts, sleeping on the ground on pleasant nights or seeking refuge in some cabin in cold weather. They usually took with them one or two teams and wagons with which to haul the hogs that gave out along the way, and to furnish a conveyance for the return trip. With all these hardships, the trip to "St. Jo" was considered one of the pleasures of life in "The Forks," as it gave the men an opportunity to see something of the outside world, provided a kind of picnic of several days' duration, and enabled them to procure the necessities and some of the little luxuries of life for the family. There were shoes for the children, a calico or delaine dress for the wife, a bit of ribbon for the sister, and some trinket for the sweetheart. Even the clouds of pioneer days had a silver lining.

    During these years, Uncle Sam did not forget his children in the wilderness, but sent his messenger once a week to Ross Grove, and delivered to them the news a week old and the letters from home that had been on the road for weeks. But they were living at a slow pace at that time and were glad for even old news. In the spring of 1861, he brought the news of a great struggle between the North and South. The Nation was threatened, the South was about to lose one of its time honored institutions, slavery, and a bitter war was being waged. ON political questions the people of "The Forks"

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were not a unit. The predominating element were in sympathy with the South. The name, "Copperhead," was applied to and accepted by many of the old setters, who retaliated by applying such terms as "Black Abolitionist," "Nigger Lover," etc., to their opposing neighbors. As children usually reflect the sentiments and characteristics of their parents, it was not an uncommon thing to hear them singing such songs as this:

"Jeff Davis rides a white horse,
Lincoln rides a mule,
Jeff Davis is a wise man,
Lincoln is a fool."

Or resorting to such convincing pro-slavery arguments in their political discussions, as, "You think a nigger be as good as you be, do you?" While the community was divided on political lines, and there were times when it seemed that open hostilities would be the next resort, happily nothing more serious than word battles or an occasional resort to fists was the result, and when the call for volunteers was heard echoing through the woods and over the hills, patriotic blood began to flow through the veins and a hearty response went up from "The Forks" and vicinity. Captain C. G. George enlisted a company of men from Montgomery, Page, Taylor and Adams counties, that went out as Company "F," Twenty-third Infantry, and did good service in the Army of the Mississippi. A farewell dinner was given to the company in the woods near Ross Grove. Here they bade "goodbye" to the boys, saw them load up into farm wagons and start away to where they were to be sworn in and drilled, thence to the camps and battlefields of the South. Many of these brave boys never returned to their homes, but fell victims of disease or Rebel bullets.

    The Fourth of July celebrations were generally of a very simple character, there being no orators to spread the eagle, no bands to discourse music and no fireworks to illuminate the

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night. An occasional barbeque, the reading of the Declaration of Independence, and a platform dance, made up the general program of our Natal day. LIttle attention was given to matters of religion at the time.

There was no church, no lodge, no school,
No Religion, save the Golden Rule,
And often there were times, of course,
When the Golden Rule was not in force
Along the Nodaway.

    The Sabbath was generally used for visiting purposes or for making excursions to some other neighborhood. There were no regular ministers in the immediate locality. Occasionally some traveling preacher would come along and hold a meeting in the grove on Sunday or at the home of someone near, at "early candle light."

    Educational matters received but little attention in "The Forks," for considerable time, not so much from lack of interest as on account of the difficulties that confronted the people. Suitable places for schools were not to be obtained, teachers were scarce, and the children too poorly equipped to face the storms and wade the snow-drifts in the winter, while in the summer they were needed on the farm. An occasional winter term in some unused cabin, where the big boys and girls could study the old "blue backed spelling book" and read a little from the scanty supply of "McGuffey's Reader," that had been brought from former homes; or a summer term at somebody's home, where the little ones learned the alphabet—these were about all the educational advantages afforded in that day.

A log school house with clapboard roof
That kept out sun but was not rain-proof,
With windows small and an old fireplace
That froze the back and scorched the face
On a wintry day
Rough board seats without any backs

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A floor that was principally made of cracks,
A bundle of rods, and old dunce stool,
Were the common things of the pioneer school
Along the Nodaway.

    In the summer of 1869, an attempt was made to start educational work, and for a few weeks during good weather a school was maintained in a school-house improvised from an unused corn crib which stood on the Thomas Moore farm just west of town. The teacher was Lydia Ann Lightbody, later known as Mrs. Joseph Carlisle, and, so far as memory serves us, this was the first school taught in "The Forks." Azra Ross taught a few winter terms in some unused cabin that could be made to answer the purpose of schoolhouse. In the summer of 1862, a man by the name of Nelson—nicknamed "Shoestring" by some of the people—taught for a few months in the old store building previously referred to, at that time unused. In the summer of 1866, Mrs. Huntsman, the doctor's good wife, instructed the youth of the immediate neighborhood at her own home, which she converted into a schoolhouse for five or six hours each day. The breakfast being over and the housework done, some long boards were carried in and laid on boxes or blocks of wood to serve for seats, and she was ready for school to assemble. At the appointed hour, fifteen or twenty boys and girls from five to fifteen years of age, assembled and presented a rather variegated appearance in home-spun dresses, bare feet and hates made of wheat straw braided and sewed at home. At four o'clock, or earlier if all had had a chance to "say their lessons," they were dismissed, the school furniture removed, and home duties again resumed. In the fall of 1866, the first real schoolhouse in the town was built and ready for the winter term. It stood on a little knoll just east of the present High School site, surrounded by hazel brush and sumach [sumac]. Home-made seats and desks were the best that could be afforded, but it contained a

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real stove. Fuel was furnished by patrons in proportion to the number of children belonging to the family, and the teacher, Tommy Spargur, boarded around, in the old-fashioned way. Spelling was the principal subject taught. They spelled "on the book" and "off the book" in the forenoon and in the afternoon. All varieties of books to be found in that day were used, each pupil having a different kind. If "variety is the spice of life," surely they were supplied with spice. Very few of the pupils aspired to anything so far advanced as "ciphering," and "parsing" was not even considered. They "spoke pieces" and "spelled down" every Friday afternoon, and were really pleased with the advancement made during the winter. Elihu Davis, Asbury Damewood and Sarah Means were among the teachers that ruled at later periods in the little frame school-house in "The Forks. This house served for school purposes until the demands of the district became too great, and the old brick, recently torn down, was built to take its place, which, in turn, has given place to something more modern.

    This subject would be incomplete without a brief reference, at least, to matters purely social. Wherever society is found, there must be some kind of amusement. People must have something to turn the mind from the realities of life, and to afford it some real or imaginary rest. The Nodaway pioneer was hospitable to a fault. No home was too small, no supply of provisions too scant but that a neighbor or a stranger was a welcome guest. People visited each other a great deal, not merely to make a short call, but to stay all day and sometimes all night. Their talk was not of the prevailing fashions, nor the gossip of the neighborhood, but of the prospects of crops, discussions of the political situation, and relating stories of the old home back east." The older ladies had their "wool pickings" during the summer, where they met to assist some neighbor in the irksome task of picking the burrs out of the last shearing—thus combing pleasure with profit. The girls

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and young women had their quilting bees on the same plan and for the same purpose.

    The men and boys found sport in the shooting match during the fall and winter. In the fall they gathered together every Saturday afternoon and engaged in a match with rifles at forty yards off hand or sixty with a rest. The prize consisted of a fat beef divided into five parts—the four quarters and the hide and tallow. These matches were always carried on in the best spirit, and it very seldom happened that there was any bickering or discontent over the proper settlement of the match.

    The corn husking bee during the autumn was a common occurrence. On an appointed day, the men and boys, with their teams, assembled at the home of some neighbor, and when the sun went down, the corn was in the crib and he was a happy man.

When the day was done and the corn in the crib
And the comfort or quilt was out of the frame,
When supper was eaten and the "things cleared away."
The best part of the day's festivities came.
For every old settler knows very well
If a Nodaway pioneer is he,
That as sure as the night always follows the day,
A dance always followed the corn-husking bee.

    In the winter, the young people found much pleasure in the sleigh-rides and spelling schools. On Friday afternoon, the whole school would go to some neighboring school for a spelling match. The afternoon would be devoted to visiting the neighboring school, and speaking pieces, with perhaps some preliminary matches. Then they were entertained at the various homes for supper, after which all the people of the neighborhood, or all that could get into the little schoolhouse, assembled for the final "spell down." Here was where honors were won or lost—not physical contests, but real intellectual battles—not according to the rules of "diamond" or "gridiron," but ac-

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cording to the rules of the immortal Noah Webster.

    But those days are the dreams of the past. They were looked upon as pleasures because they were seen through eyes of youth, and they left impressions never to be forgotten. But with the coming of new people, custom changed. The young people were easily converted to new ideas and were soon absorbed as a part of the new society, but the older people were not so easily changed. To them, this was not acceptable. They looked upon all this as an invasion, and the new-comers as invaders. It was hard for a people who had been the first in the country, and who had, to a great extent, subdued its wildness, and laid the foundation of a new community, to be supplanted by a new people and new customs. But such is fate; the inevitable was in time accepted, and the old civilization of "The Forks" gave way to the new, and Villisca became the queen of the land between the Nodaways.