CHAPTER XIV.

HOME MANUFACTURE OF NECESSARY ARTICLES.

Our first brooms were of the hazel-switch make. A bunch of the young flexible switches was tied evenly around a smooth sapling handle. These sweepers did very good work on dirt floor cabins. Later we made brooms in this way:

A freshly cut, round, hickory stick about five feet long and four inches in diameter was selected. Beginning at one end, a uniform row of shavings about a foot backward was made encircling the stick. The ribbon-shavings were tied back to the handle-end to permit work on the next row. The process was continued until the stick diminished to an inch in diameter. The remnant of stick then was cut off close to where the shaving work terminated.

The shaved strips then were untied, turned downward, loosely fastened, and the shaving process was begun eighteen inches above the point where the other cutting ended. A row of ribbons encircling the stick was made and tied down over the first bunch. Another and another row followed and all were turned downward and securely fastened with buckskin thongs.

The remaining long end of the stick was dressed down to the size for a handle. These brooms lasted for two or three months. The ox-yoke makers always manufactured the hickory-ribbon brooms as skill was required to prevent cutting off the shavings with the keen edged tools.

When raising broom-corn, and it was yet in the field, about eighteen inches to two feet at the top of each stalk was broken over so the heavy seed-head cured well and kept the broom-fibre even and straight. When ready for use the heads were pulled over a board through several sets of teeth to remove the seeds, and the fibres then were shaped into round bunches on the handle.

203

Bullet Moulding.

One of the staple commodities which always was brought from the supply stations, Dubuque, Des Moines and Iowa City, and deemed quite as important as breadstuffs was the pig-lead from which bullets were moulded. This work was an every evening arrangement for the menfolk.

The lead was cut into small pieces and placed in the hand-made, steel fire-shovel which rested on a bed of glowing coals. When the lead melted it was poured into the bullet-molds. Only one leaden sphere could be 'molded' at a time and the iron jaws of the molds were opened to release each bullet as it cooled.

Father always used the first "run" of lead which was without foreign substances, and he "necked" his own supply. Special care was necessary in trimming the surplus lead which adhered to the bullet in the lips of the molds.

Defective molding or uneven trimming meant possible loss of game and a waste of ammunition.

The working surface for bullet-molding was a goodsized, clean, smooth stone. Overflow from pouring the melted lead and the bullet trimmings could be recovered from the stone with the minimum of dirt or refuse that would have been gathered if the work had been done on the hearth-surface.

The curiosity of children never was satisfied until they had burned their fingers; handling the shining, silvery-looking balls before they were cool.

Greasing bullet-patchin' also received careful attention. The corners were rounded from the inch square-cut factory and held between the thumb and forefinger. The fingers of the opposite hand were rubbed very lightly over a hunk of mutton or venison tallow and the grease worked carefully into the patchin'. These discs were strung on threads ready for use. Ramming a bullet was made easier with the prepared patches, and swabbing the gun-barrel was not so often necessary.

204

Basket Making.

A pleasant evening occupation for the family was basket making. The method was about the same as that used today for homemade work. Small children made playbaskets until they could produce a salable article. Baskets for stable and yard use frequently were made from the bark of a young basswood or strips of slippery elm.

A chunk of ashwood several feet long for the splint baskets was pounded with a small mallet until the growth. sections separated into smooth ribbon-strips. These strips were woven into different size and shaped baskets which sold from two to six bits apiece. Measuring skepes also were made.

The splint chair-bottoms were made from these ash ribbons. Rough rustic frames were constructed and the strips interlaced upon back and bottom. The chairs were comfortable and durable. Stools without backs were very serviceable.

The material for willow-baskets was cut in the spring as soon as sap began to rise, say, maple-sugar season; and the pliable, slender sticks were peeled for the purpose. If the whips became dry and the bark "set," they were immersed in the creek or rolled in a blanket which was kept saturated with warm water until the green jackets were loosened.

Willow whistles of many sizes and varied degrees of sound-shrillness were made by shaping the mouthpiece and making a notch in the upper surface. The bark surface then was pounded carefully until it could be removed intact from the stick. A bit of the wood was trimmed from the notch to the mouthpiece, the bark replaced and the noise maker was finished.

Willow baskets were stronger and heavier receptacles than those made from ash-strips but did not command so high a price. The red-bark kinnikinic, a marsh-land willow, occasionally was used for small baskets. Smokers often supplied their pipes with the dried kinic bark or

205

leaves. It was said to possess the tonic properties of quinine, but our men folk did not smoke.

Side baskets for light carrying were made to be strapped across a horse's back and depend from either side. A baby could be carried in one of these baskets on a visiting trip on horseback. The fireplace basket was for the newly born baby, and with its contents was disposed in a slanting position where the heat was moderate.

A "hulk" of a "youngun" was sentenced to sit beside the baby basket to see that the popping, flying sparks did not fall on the inflammable swaddling clothes. Whatever may be said of pioneer children they at least knew enough to keep out of the fire. They did not, however, always come in when it rained.

Ox Yokes.

My brothers were quite dextrous in shaping and finishing hickory ax-handles, plough-beams and ox-yokes for local demand and for sale in Des Moines.

The hard-maple cuts for yokes were chosen, roughly blocked with an ax, and placed on the overhead cabin-beams to season. The nicety of shaping and finishing was done with the draw-shave and bowie-knives.

The bows to encircle-the animals' necks from the top downward, were fashioned from hickory saplings. While green and pliable they were bent into V-shape, tied securely and left to dry and set. The hard maple yoke was fitted to the necks of the oxen and four holes were burned through the wood with a red-hot iron at points which would be close to the beasts' necks. The ends of the hickory bows were inserted in the holes and fastened on the upper surface of the yoke with a wooden key-a peg put through a small hole in the bow.

An iron bolt through the center of the yoke with a ring on the under surface furnished an attaching place for the end of the wagon or cart tongue. A log chain also was fastened at the center-bolt and extended backward and was

206

knotted about the wagon-hounds. No pioneer teamster ever began operations without providing himself with one or more log chains.

No leather harness for oxen was necessary. The direction of travel was indicated by the driver who walked on the left side and shouted "gee" or "haw." The speed was regulated by cracking the whip or by the use of an immense ox-goad. Many teamsters became very accurate in the use of the long-lashed whip with buckskin cracker. The thin whip-lash would writhe and hiss smartly through the air when disciplining a refractory ox, and at the proper yank would pop like a pistol either at the "off" ear of the leader, the "nigh" flank of the wheel-ox, or at any other part of the animal's anatomy which the driver desired to strike. John Lyon excelled as a whip cracker. His gad lash warned of his approach.

Two to five yokes of oxen were worked together. A number of our pioneer prairie-breakers used teams of bulls. Consideration for training a team of steers to the yoke-wise habit was their services for the season free to the breaker.

Yoke Turners.

The yoke-turning team of oxen was an exasperating pair. When the old-fashioned twenty-two inch breaking plow was turning under the hazel brush and shearing off the saplings, the plow-point often would strike a resistable root or stone; this was the yoke-turners' signal. Simultaneously the critters put noses together, ducked their heads to the ground, and at the same instant threw their bodies apart. This performance completely reversed the neckpiece and caused more or less delay. The ox-driver considered himself very fortunate if no appliances were broken and no runaways resulted from the yoke-turning episode.

Two of our ox-teams-Buck and Bright and Nig and Toddy-were greatly prized by the family. The latter

207

yoke, some years later, became the property of Walt Wilson and served well in the work of development for our city.

In this day of fleet horses, fast automobiles and flying machines the spectacle of a pair of oxen running away would be unique but this was a frequent diversion for us. Buck and Bright, as well as Brindle and Spot, indulged their speeding inclinations at every opportunity. There were, however, no dangerous barbed-wire fences, no lawns to trample and no timid women to frighten; so the frisky bovines were permitted to make their hasty run and return at leisure which they usually did in the evening.

Occasionally trace or tongue-chains became entangled in fences or brush obstructions and the critters were held until released by a searching party. Our oxen, as well as our cows, were accustomed to answer our calls and we had little difficulty in locating them at any time if they were within hearing distance. It was not unusual for any critter in distress to indicate the fact by continuous bawling until relief arrived.

Ulis Briggs and Charles Biernatzki, farmer neighbors south of town some years later, owned teams of runaway oxen, but so far as I know, no one ever was hurt as a result of their unusual activities.

Sled-Bents.

Sled-bents from which runners were fashioned were found during our first winter on the Boone. These bents were good-sized saplings which had grown with the regular sled-runner curve resembling the letter "J." If two bents could not be found exactly alike, a large one was split into two pieces and the edges dressed smooth. The length could be six, eight or ten feet as desired. Upright hickory-pin supports at the rear and center of the runners, the same height as the curved front ends, were fastened to the pole side-frames. When cross-stays, slab-bed and side-stakes were put in place we had a very useful and durable sled.

208

Jack Brewer found a freak sled-bent soon after our arrival. Six feet from the gradual curve necessary for the nose of the runner, the sapling had grown at right angles. The two curves formed strong, solid, natural supports after the bent had been split carefully.

Plow beams, likewise, were fashioned from a stick of wood with the natural, necessary curve. All wagon tongues were home-made for more than a generation, although tongues were not always used in the early work with ox teams. Binding poles and reaches were long, slender, smooth, pealed saplings. Emergency cart wheels often were cross-cut sections from large tree trunks.

Maul heads were made from the large, gnarly, twisted protuberances which frequently were found growing from trunks of trees. The larger the knot the better the maul. The tree was cut and the knotty section hewn out and shaped. No steel edge-rings were needed to prevent splitting or flattening. The material was almost as hard as iron and outlasted a dozen straight-grained mallets. Rube Bennett was an expert at maul making.

The Old Grindstone.

It was immediately necessary after locating to "gear up" the grindstone for the daily care of axes, grub-hoes, scythes and other tools.

A temporary device was the sawbuck frame but it was too wobbly for good work and too low for ease in turning. We then set a crotched post in the ground near a tree which had a limb at the same height. The grooves were made as smooth as possible, the free end of the shaft was laid in the tree-crotch, and the handle-end placed in the post-crotch. Cleats were fastened above the shaft on the supports and wooden pins kept the machinery in place.

Later we prepared a permanent and absolutely solid grindstone frame. The six-foot section of a very large log was dragged into the dooryard and stripped of its bark. On the upper surface about two feet from one end, an out-

210

line six or more inches wide and, say, two feet long was made. The material inside the outline was adzed, chipped or burned out as in canoe work, until there was formed a half-circle groove toward the heart of the log, which had a depth of more than half the diameter of the disc and wide enough to permit the easy movement of the grindstone when hung therein.

Two auger holes, one on either side, were bored at right angles from the center of the groove for the grindstone shaft. With the disc evenly poised on its support, the lost motion reduced at the crank, the bearings soaped and the groove under the stone supplied with water we had an excellent sharpening machine; and no doubt any grindstone turner will aver that the man who sat a-straddle of the log and held the implement was the one who put the "aige" on it.

It was many years before the belt and treadle appliances came into use, by which time the insistent need for them was greatly reduced.

Footwear.

Father made the shoes worn by the older members of the family for several seasons. The exchange of untanned deer or elkskins for the tanned cowhides which he used in his heavier work was made in Des Moines. We were required to step flat-footed on a block of leather. This was folded upward on both sides of the ankle and roughly shaped to the foot. There was a seam in front and one behind sewed with waxed, tow thread. For cold weather an extra layer of leather was fastened to this moccasin-bottomed shoe for protection.

The moccasins and lighter foot-coverings for the smaller children were made by mother. The materials used were raw or home-tanned buckskins; or heavy jeans cloth. Often a mink skin, fur inside, as stretched for market was cut crosswise into two pieces, one piece for either foot. Short slits lengthwise were made for shoe-mouths.

211

The toes and heels were shaped and stitched on the outside, and buckskin thong-laces finished these warm winter shoes.
When boots came into common use the strenuous life of boys and young men began. Two sizes too small represented the average boot purchase. The struggle and distress of "getting on" the red-topped, copper-toed footwear in a family of four or five boys was painful in the extreme. They sat down and strained at the side-straps; if these pulled off, a hole-the size for inserting the middle finger was cut in the boot-leg. They stood up and viciously kicked the foundation log or stamped frantically on the puncheon floor. Occasionally they gave it up and walked about with heel resting on the boot-counter. Sometimes pap or mam took pity on the poor sufferers and placed their bulk and strength behind the victim, reached forward, grasped the straps and staid: "Straighten your leg and push."

Well, if flesh could be puckered, pleated and pressed sufficiently the deed was done, and the acuteness of the pain of compression was matched only by the dread of undressing the feet.

Our family was the possessor of a brace of bootjacks. One short-shanked forked stick fastened to the foundation-log and one long-shanked fork. The boot-heel was placed in the jack on the wall and the other jack held in the hands and pressed against the boot-toe. After vigorous effort the vise released its grip. The boot was off; and as the blood finally flowed into the benumbed extremities there was a mournful period of "wailing and gnashing of teeth," and the boys were glad to slip their aching feet into hand-made, fur-lined house-slippers which had been fashioned at one sitting.

Two muskrat skins for this purpose were slit half way down the belly toward the nose. The feet were thrust inside; the extra length folded against the back of the heel and a rawhide or buckskin thong was tied around the ankle.

The disposition to remove boots seemed to afflict all the boys at once. Only one at a time could use the mechanical appliance so the "human bootjack" was pressed into serv-

212

ice. One boy stood behind the other with hands against the shoulders of the one in front. The foot of the rear lad was thrust between the legs and grasped in the hands of the boy ahead of him, and the pulling, hauling and hipity-hopping about the house ought to have developed the acrobatic proclivities of the youngsters. If the two performers were unable to accomplish their task a third party grasped the rear boy around the waist and their combined strength finally liberated the prisoner.

These exhibitions by the boys often were duplicated by the more dignified grown-ups. Foot-pinching, however, was not monopolized by the male members of the family. I remember that during my own wedding ceremony my feet were so excruciatingly painful I think I neglected to give an affirmative to the query embodied in the love, honor and obey clause.

A neighbor tells the story that his Sunday-go-to-meetin' boots were so tight he scarcely could get them on, and to remove them was an evening's job. He was making the regular weekly visit at the home of his intended wife. A heavy rain came up, and he was compelled to remain over night. Not wishing to "show off" in the presence of the family and the girl of his choice by attempting the difficult task of boot-pulling, he climbed the ladder to the loft where he was to sleep. He sat down on the bunk and nursed his aching feet. Realizing it would be imprudent to stumble about on the loosely lain attic floor-boards trying to separate his feet from the boots, he stoically and heroically decided he must sleep with them on; so he loosened his trousers' band, turning the legs wrong side out, down over his boots, and the bedding therefore was not soiled with boot-grease.

Another neighbor declares that when young he made a long journey a-foot, to visit his best girl. He pulled his boots at the regular family boot-pulling contest, in the evening. The next day he walked home barefooted, as he could not compress his swollen feet into the "cow-hides." His next visit was made in an ox-cart.

Top

Back

Chapter 15