 CHAPTER
1. MAKING THE TRIP TO IOWA.
Five families with ox teams and covered
wagons left Kokomo, Indiana, September
15, 1848, to make the long trip overland
to Iowa.
The company comprised the families of
my father, Wilson Brewer; Thomas Long;
Robert Palmer; William Stanley, a brother-in-law;
and William Brewer, a nephew of my father.
There were, in our family, six children
ranging in age from a babe in arms to
twenty years. William Stanley -"Uncle
Billy"-fathered seven youngsters;
one son, Nathan, was married just before
leaving the Hoosier home; he made the
trip with his father. William Brewer-"Little
Bill"-had no children, but one or
more of our boys or girls constantly were
under his care during the journey. There
were six lusty lads and two young women
in the Thomas Long family, and Mr. and
Mrs. Palmer had two children.
Seventeen yokes of cattle, five prairie-schooners
and a truck-wagon made up this emigrant
train. Of this out-
______________________________
AN APPRECIATION AND EXPLANATION.
My mother, Sarah Brewer-Bonebright, is
a resident surviving member (1921) of
the first family to .locate in our present
Webster City, She is the daughter of Wilson
and Margaret Moore-Brewer, and was born
in Henry county, Indiana, in 1837.
I recount these reminiscences of my mother's
early life as an acknowledgment of her
sterling qualities of head and heart;
as a tribute to her tireless effort and
unfailing courage; as an expression of
approval for her homely hospitality; as
a measure of gratitude that the grandeur
of motherhood grew large in our log cabin;
and I lay in her hand this volume as a
loving token of the good will she has
dispensed with such unselfish prodigality.
This book has been a long time in preparation.
The same quantity of copy, written by
the newspaper assignment method, could
have been prepared in a few days. A reminiscent
mood, however, cannot be coerced, hurried
or directed; like any other worth while
thing it must be spontaneous and take
its own course.
Intervals of weeks and months have elapsed
with not a single line added to these
pages; then a picture, an incident, a
conversation, a newspaper story would
2
fit, my father owned two wagons and eight
yokes of oxen and cows. Twelve of the
critters were driven regularly, and the
four extra "cow-power" was distributed
along the wagon train wherever the exigencies
of transportation required. Uncle Billy
owned and rode a horse.
Male members of the party who were old
enough and able to walk, in turn tramped
beside the teamsters during the day and
slept on the open prairie at night. If
the weather threatened a tent was raised.
The women and small children occupied
the covered wagons, and six weeks were
consumed in making the journey which now
requires but a day and night.
Weather and Roads.
The weather was fine and the trip not
unpleasant. At the camping places father
sought to interest the residents in our
early Iowa adventure. We crossed the Mississippi
River at Flint Hills, now Burlington,
Iowa, and declared that we had reached
the promised land. Directing our course
toward the northwest, we reached Fort
Des Moines the latter part of October.
We found bad roads all along the route,
although the rivers and sloughs were at
low-water mark compared with the spring
season. Many of the swamps seemed to be
bottomless, which characteristic of Iowa
topography has .furnished the historian
with a topic of perennial interest and
amusement; for the highway commissioner,
the paving
_______________________________________
awaken the sleeping past-open the closed
doors and permit an intimate view and
minute review of the life of half a century
ago.
The material herein has been sought diligently,
and gathered piecemeal through the seasons
of coming and going and close companionship
with my mother.
The pioneers of Iowa did not consider
their life harder or their surroundings
more picturesque than any passing period
develops; hence their reluctance to assume
an attitude which smacks of seeking commendation
for following a course which was chosen
as a preference and pursued from inclination.
Repetition, intervening pains or present
pleasures have not enlarged the proportions
of past hardships; rather have distance
and discussion minimized their importance
in the mind of my mother. With this predilection,
it is but natural that many of the vital,
the interesting, the ludicrous happenings
of pioneer times may have escaped her
memory.
HARRIET M. BONEBRIGHT-CLOSZ.
3
contractor and the good roads expert
had not then begun operations upon the
swamp-lands of this commonwealth.
We crossed no railroads in the state,
and not a wagon bridge contributed to
our comfort or safety. All streams were
forded, and sloughs of dubious proportions
were "doubled" through; although
frequently the teams were mired in the
virgin muck of the Hawkeye prairie. Log
chains and pry-poles often were brought
into requisition and were as much a part
of the paraphernalia of emigration as
the smithy's tools or the tar-bucket dangling
at the rear from the wagon-reach.
When there were particularly aggravated
cases of being stuck in the mud, the household
goods were unloaded and carried to solid
ground to lighten the pull for the oxen.
For this work, slabs provided for the
purpose, were placed one in front of another
for the walking convenience of women and
children. This method of transportation
was slow and wearisome, but our party
worked stoically and occasionally sang
cheerful and hopeful songs.
Blazing the Trail.
Blazing trees-scalping a patch of bark
which could be seen from one tree to another-was
a forest method of location; and a "point
of timber" was a guide-post from
miles distant. When traveling over an
unknown piece of prairie, a tree or "rise
of land" was sighted in a direction
to be taken by the company. If the distance
was great a man was sent ahead as far
as he could be signalled [signaled] to
the right or left. His location was lined
up with the course already traversed,
the main body came forward and the same
work was repeated until the plain was
crossed. Indian trails served us very
little.
My father was the path-finder on our
trip from Indiana. He walked ahead of
the wagon-train nearly the entire distance
from our old home. He viewed the prospects
for advance and directed the drivers by
the routes which seemed to offer the least
resistance. Incidentally, he
4
kept the company supplied with game which
was shot on his scouting trips.
Tall weeds or rushes were tied in standing
bunches if the same course was to be re-traversed,
and furrows often were plowed through
unmarked low-grass levels. Bunches of
bright colored wool tied to the rosin,
artichoke or bluestem stalks were good
guides across an expanse of waving meadow.
Seventy years ago Iowa prairie vegetation
was vigorous and abundant. All over our
present town site, especially the southeastern
part, the grass was higher than a man's
head. East of Superior street a man on
horseback was just distinguishable making
his way through the marshy flat; and both
north and south of town the hazelbrush
grew in rank profusion.
Pioneer traveling, even in the best of
weather, was attended by discomfort and
hazard, but traveling while a storm was
in progress increased the peril an hundred
fold.
Fords.
Fording streams was one of the prils
of pioneer life.
The ability of a pathfinder did not extend
to improving roads. Once a trail was located
it was followed across side-hills that
threatened to, and with an inexperienced
driver often did, upset the wagons; up
and down bankpitches that would have demoralized
any motive power except the deliberate
oxen; through thickets and among trees
so close growing it was necessary to worm
a way around them. For many years these
conditions were unchanged. Occasionally
a tree was cut in the line of march, but
the stump remained to straddle or bump
into in passing.
When a creek or river was reached the
train halted. A scout "took up"
the river and another "took down"
it. Locating a safe ford often was a day's
work. At this distance I feel justified
in asserting that none of them was safe.
It was desirable, if a ford could be established
on a spreading riffle, although that was
not always possible. The
5
stony bottom which characterized the
riffle furnished solid footing, and an
expansive surface indicated shallower
water than was found in the smooth-flowing
narrow runs.
An ox, and a man who was a good swimmer
were chosen to tryout a dubious looking
ford. When dangerously deep the rider
slipped off the back and clung to the
tail of the ox. If neither one was drowned
the ford was pronounced safe. I do not
remember that we crossed a river on our
trip that did not swim the "critters."
Our wagon boxes all were calked against
the contingency of just such wettings.
We did not use the boat-shaped wagon box
as some emigrants did.
We could not always land opposite the
point of starting. Often we made some
distance up stream in the water to reach
an accessible bank. At other times we
were floated down stream by the force
of the current in spite of our effort
to make the desired landing. We never
were over-turned in the water, however.
Some of the old fords still are used during
low water periods. Foot-logs over small
streams served the man a-foot.
We remained in Des Moines several days;
replenished the provision wagon, did the
party washing, were entertained with horse-racing
on the main thoroughfare during the day
and at a public dance in the evening.
Dr. Campbell furnished music for the occasion
on a fiddle which he had purchased from
a frontier scout. One of our party bantered
the doctor for a trade, but the articles
offered in exchange were worth only about
fifteen dollars and the owner wanted twenty
dollars for the violin.
Des Moines Town Lots.
I clearly recollect the delegation that
visited our party while we were encamped
near the settlement. They offered business
inducements for us to remain with them.
We learned later that when Des Moines
was platted, lots sold for $7.50 apiece,
payments to be made annually in one dollar
installments. Many Iowa towns have passed
through
6
seasons of muddy streets. It has, however,
been reported of Des Moines that through
the springtime the mud in Walnut street
rose and fell with the tide, and that
skiffs were towed about the center of
the Capitol city during high water.
The early settlers of Des Moines included
the Messrs. Bryant, Scott, Sturtevant,
Cassady, Kinsey, Newcomer, Rankin, Cypher,
Moore, Sherman, McHenry, Dicks, Clapp,
Dr. James Campbell, who later became well
known in our community, Rev. Thompson
Bird, Barlow Granger, later of Granger's
Grove, and Alexander Turner, who soon
came to Homer.
Thomas Long and family of our party,
having had quite enough experience in
traversing the western prairies, accepted
the business proffer of the delegates
and remained in Des Moines. My father,
however, signified his intention of continuing
the journey; after a consultation the
other emigrants, except Long, decided
to accompany us.
On our way northward we camped where
were, afterward, the trading posts of
Boonsboro and Hook's Point. We were entertained
at the latter place by Major Brassfield,
who, the previous season, had arrived
in what now is Hamilton county.
Our First Location.
We located on the Boone river the first
week in November, about six miles south
of Webster City; my father selecting and
staking his claim to include what now
is known as Bone's mill site, S. W. 14
31-88-25. Along the ravine our party constructed
rude log cabins, which, with pole-supports
for thatchings of bark, provided comparatively
comfortable shelter. Nature smiled upon
us the fall of 1848, the weather was ideal
and not a flake of snow fell until after
New Year Day. Christmas was close at hand
when the four cabins were completed and
the log stables, surrounded with brush
corrals, were ready as shelter for the
cattle. Everyone worked with a will. Some
7
of the men were delegated to cut a supply
of hay from the already dry fields of
prairie-grass; others were detailed to
provide wild game-animals for food, and
all participated in the work of wood chopping
and grubbing.
First Birth of a Boy.
Locating on this site was a bit premature,
and therefore, not a permanent home for
our family; but "the coming events"
which "cast their shadows before,"
caused us to halt the onward march at
this place. One day attended by great
activity of the women in camp, Little
Bill Brewer was presented with a son.
The child was called Bryant, and he was
the first boy born in Hamilton county.
First Settler in Hamilton County.
The first settler within the present
limits of Hamilton county was Minter Brassfield,
of Kentucky. He came to Iowa with his
family in the fall of 1847. They located
at Hook's Point, and for several years
their cabin home was a stopping place
of interest when members of our family
made trips to Des Moines. The visits of
the Brassfields at our home always were
anticipated with pleasure by old and young.
Twenty-five years later, my own family
of growing children were delighted at
the prospect of a visit from the Major,
and his appearance was a joyful assurance
to the youngsters that tales of pioneer
times were to be recounted.
Our neighbor from the south gained his
title from a hunt in the hills of Kentucky.
The hunting party agreed that the one
who bagged the most game should receive
the title of "Major." The youngest
member of the company won the honor and
thereafter was known as Major Brassfield.
Mrs. Brassfield, a woman of culture and
refinement, was the daughter of a southern
planter who owned a long retinue of slaves.
From ease and opulence to the privations
of pioneering was a marked change in her
life, but
8
single-handed and without servants, Mrs.
Brassfield courageously and uncomplainingly
assumed the complex duties incident to
household management and the rearing of
a large family.
Years later Mrs. Brassfield was afflicted
with eye trouble. The mother did not see
the face of her youngest daughter Kate,
until the child was four years old. Her
sight was restored after treatment by
the veteran oculist, Dr. James Campbell,
of Des Moines.
The pioneer friendship initiated by Major
Brassfield and Wilson Brewer has endured
through four generations. His daughters
and I were fast friends and his grand
and great grandchildren and mine are appreciative
companions.
Some time ago one of Iowa's small town
papers contained a ludicrous, although
convincing account of an early settler.
It said: "Mr. ____ was the initial,
first pioneer in this section, coming
here before anyone else." The exclamation
often was heard when Wilson Brewer and
Major Brassfield were seen together: "There
go the two first settlers." The ambiguous
expression easily could be made clear,
however. Brassfield was the first settler
in Hamilton county, and Brewer the first
settler in Webster City.
Soon after the Major's removal to Wright
county, mentioned elsewhere, Mrs. Brassfield
died. Several years passed and the Major
married Mrs. Montgomery, mother of Alfred
Montgomery, the well known Iowa painter
of sheep and corn.
 First
Deer Killed.
My father was a party of the first part,
at the Bone's mill site location, in what
now would be called "easy money"
game-takes; although at that time the
revenue from venison and fur-bearing animals
was a disappearing quantity since neither
the long nor the short haul was practicable.
We owned the large number of dogs which
usually
9
is apportioned to the poor man. Three
fine coon dogs, Colonel, Cap and Maje;
a bulldog, Lockjaw; and two greyhounds,
Typ and Tyler, both good runners as were
the political leaders for whom they were
named. The common curs we did not count.
One night after the family had retired,
the fierce baying of the hounds indicated
an attack on some unfortunate animal.
Father sprang out of bed, grasped his
flint-lock muzzle-loader, drew back the
portiere-a quilt hung at the opening-and
from the doorway shot a deer which the
dogs had crippled by severing the hamstring
with their teeth-a very effective hunting
method of greyhounds. A crippled deer
always fared badly if the bulldog accompanied
the pack. His point of attack was the
head or neck, and often the brisket was
torn to ribbons or the nose chewed to
a pulp before the hunter could reach the
victim and drive off the dogs. This first
specimen was a beautiful young creature
that probably never had seen the habitation
of man, and therefore did not recognize
the arrival of a persistent and relentless
enemy.
Nine Coons Caught.
One morning while the boys were tethering
the cows and oxen, Typ and Tyler "picked
up" a coon trail. The young men followed
the dogs, with gun and axes, to a near-by
hollow tree which was felled, and nine
of the animals were captured and brought
home alive.
Coons were so numerous that, in addition
to living in the hollow trees, they made
their nests in the great tufts of prairie-grass
in the vicinity of what now is Pleasant
Hill, and eastward around Mud Lake was
a favorite haunt. The pretty creatures
easily were located in their grassy homes
by the dogs, and readily could be killed
or captured by the hunters.
The most favorable time for coon-hunting
was after nightfall or before daybreak.
Finely splintered ends of shakes were
lighted as torches, and served to illuminate
the
11
trail and the field of operations. For
several years coonskins sold in Des Moines
for less than fifty cents each. Hundreds
of coons were killed by our hunters.
Royal Stag.
There were so many deer that during our
early seasons fresh or cured venison was
the leading article on our daily menu.
A few days after our arrival the track
of the first "big game" was
sighted by Roll Brewer and Tom Stanley,
at a point near the spring in the Church
"holler" at the Silver's farm.
The beast was followed northward by devious
wanderings to near where the Country Club
house now is located. Night overtook them
and the boys decided to give up the chase
until daybreak.
While talking over their plans an animal
which was resting near the river, sprang
forward along the steep incline only a
few yards from the hunters. Tom fired;
but in the fast-falling darkness his aim
was untrue. Roll covered the fleeing creature
with his gun, waiting for him to reach
the crest of the hill against the horizon,
knowing if the animal were a deer he would
tarry a moment at the top to survey the
surroundings. This pause of a few seconds
was the sportsman's opportunity; and five
minutes later the young men were removing
the skin of this splendid forest creature.
The happy hunters severed the antler
trophy from the skull of the animal and
a choice cutlet was taken from the carcass
as an evidence of good faith for the family
at home. The antlers from this stag still
are in the possession of our family. They
have the double crown of crockets, which
represent the seventh year.
Paramount Problem.
For several seasons our paramount problem
was sustenance. True, the same problem
exists today, but not in the naked aspect
of the pioneer period. It was necessary
to produce food at first hand, or by a
hundred-mile haul,
 13
which represented days of exposure to
the elements and possible danger from
wild animals or Indians.
Diligence and industry readily supplied
the demand for heat and meat; so, to prepare
for the next season's crop was our immediate
concern. Small patches of prairie sod
were plowed for spring corn and grain,
and the hazel-brush plots were grubbed
for buckwheat, potatoes and garden truck.
The seed-potatoes brought with us were
holed-up, or down, beyond the possibility
of injury from frost; our other seed supplies,
obtained from Des Moines during the winter,
prepared us for the spring planting. The
virgin soil responded with splendid abundance;
the crop of the following season was a
wonderfully satisfactory one and we were
relieved of the necessity for many long
trips and the worry of want for the winter.
Not always were we so fortunate with
crops. There were dry and wet seasons
with the result of absolute failure of
harvests together with the loss of seed
and labor.
Marshall County Settlers.
The year after we left our old home,
a party of about twenty-five followed
us from Indiana. They were the William
Ellsbury, John Arney, James Bayle and
Henry Hauser families. They covered the
same route, and were to have continued
their journey to the Boone valley; but
sickness of some of the party prevented,
and they located in Marshall county.
The first wedding of the community took
place in the fall of 1849, to which ceremony
my parents were invited. The bride was
Elizabeth Boyle, the bridegroom William
Arney. I believe there still are members
of these families residing in Marshalltown.
Our summer sojourn at Bone's mill site
location, 1849, was enlivened by a detachment
of soldiers, who passed our way and pitched
their tents with our party. They were
acting under the orders of Colonel Mason,
and were the
14
advance inspection guard who were to
recommend the location of a military base.
The site was chosen on the Des Moines
river; and in August of the following
year Fort Clark-now Fort Dodge-was located.
Major Samuel Woods, with the Sixth United
States Infantry, was detailed to this
fort; and scouting parties occasionally
visited "Hope Hollow," our new
home. The fort was maintained until 1853,
when the soldiers were removed to Fort
Ridgley, Minnesota.
Wedding.
The visits of the military detail started
the vibration of wedding bells in our
midst. A young soldier, John Drought,
and my cousin, Lucretia Stanley, became
very good friends; and in the summer of
1850 the couple were married.
Our family by this time had moved farther
north, but communication between our relatives
was frequent. The wedding preparations
were prolonged and impressive. There was
a minister at Swede Bend, on the Des Moines
river; but his services were not secured;
so Reverend Thompson Bird, who doubtless
wished that he could fly, was brought
from Des Moines to perform the ceremony.
Elder Bird made the trip on horseback.
On the way he was compelled to wade through
several sloughs, and when he arrived his
appearance was not that of our well-groomed,
present-day parson. His look of resignation,
however, indicated that he was quite ready
to accept the dictum of the Master that:
"In heaven there is no marrying or
giving in marriage." The minister
was to be paid for his services with coonskins-when
the hides were "ripe" ---so,
his prospects for remunerative returns
were not alluring.
The wedding ceremony, to my youthful
mind, was solemnly awe-inspiring despite
the gay jollity, the even hilarious spirit
manifested by the many attendants. The
Marshall County contingent had been invited,
as were the various recently located neighbors.
There were present mem-
15
bers of the families of Brassfield, Mericle,
Spaulding, Warner, Russell, Stall, Woolsey,
Hogan, Turner and Kinnett; also a squad
of soldiers from Fort Clark, who forgot
for a day the rules of army discipline.
The wedding-feast consisted of fish, venison,
corn dodger and "garden-sass,"
with dessert of wild berries. The dining
was done in the shade of the immense trees
in the yard, and the dancing on the circular
clearing around the cabin. "Ans"
Brassfield fiddled furiously throughout
the evening; and, as sleeping accommodations
were limited, the guests "danced
all night till broad daylight" and
returned to their homes in the morning.
Top
Back
Chapter
2
|
