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CHRISTMAS IN EARLY DAYS
IN the very early days, very little attention was given to Christmas as a public holiday. From 1846 to 1850, the town was small, the people poor, their chief purpose and labor being to secure a living and establish homes. If the day was observed at all, it was with dancing parties and frolics by the young folks, who were alway ready for amusements, arranged by themselves, as concert troupes and dramatic barnstormers had not got this far West.
The first Christmas observance at The Fort was in 1845. The Indian title to the Reservation had expired, and some of the soldiers had been removed. W. F. Ayers, one of the first settlers in the county, and the first County Treasurer, had moved in from the country and taken one of the large log barrack buildings, where he gave an "open house." The community was small——merely a large family, outside of the soldiers. From the commissary supplies of the Post, Mrs. Ayers prepared a generous and sumptuous feast, for she was a good cook. There was no turkey, the Indians having killed or driven them away; neither was there deer or other wild game.
The event was participated in by a score or more, and story-telling and general conversation furnished entertainment. There were present two Sergeants and two privates from the garrison, the two privates, quite singularly, being old acquaintances of Ayers' "down East," who had drifted into the army. Their appearance added zest to the occasion. On clearing the table after the departure of the guests, a silver dollar was found under each plate.
There was no homecoming, no homegoing, in those days. Distance, want of transportation, and general poverty made impossible the reunion of separated families.
Later on, the community was augmented so that social gatherings and dances were numerous. Said one of the old boys: "We
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used to dance every night in the week,a nd Sundays, too." They didn't have orchestra music, but there were several good fiddlers, of whom the very earliest was George Michael, who kept a grocery; Glascott, Mason and Sam Vanatta, who made spinning wheels in the daytime and fiddled at night. He was a good fiddler, and made good spinning wheels, too, as numerous grandmothers of to-day testify.
There was no oil, no kerosene. "Poled" tallow dips were used for lights, a "poled" dip being made with cotton wicking measured the length of a candle, then strung on a pole about an inch apart, and dipped in melted tallow, then hung up until cooled and hardened, the process being repeated until enough tallow had been taken on.
The small boy, and some of larger growth, usually celebrated the day skating on Horseshoe Lake, down near the old Fair Ground——but long since drained and buried under city improvements——and on a little pond where the Clapp Block now is.
Soon after the Indians were removed, wild game became plentiful again, and turkey and deer steaks graced the festive board. It is related that Camillus Leftwich, living near Four Mile Creek, started from his cabin one day to visit a neighbor,w hen a bear ran out from the underbrush ahead of him. He at once gathered together a few of his neighbors to capture the animal. An old flintlock shotgun was the only gun in the party, the other weapons being clubs and pitchforks. Leftwich had two dogs, which quickly took the scent, bruin was rounded up, and while the dogs were teasing him, a well-directed shot at short range laid him out.
In 1848, Martin X. Tucker, a large and somewhat pompous individual, with considerable self-importance, but whose early education had been so neglected he could not write his name, decided to improve his business. He had, in 1846, started the first tavern in the town, but the rapid influx of demand overtaxed its capacity, and he purchased a large, double log building on Market Street, between Second and Third, which had been used by the dragoons, and having, as he used to say, "run an avenue through it, put up a condition to it, and put an arbor on one side, to please Tillie (his daughter), he was able to detain the public in a more hostile manner."
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At Christmas, he decided to celebrate the day with a house-warming. The young folks swarmed in on him and had a glorious time, with frolics and dances to the inspiring strains of "Money Musk" and "Arkansas Traveler," sawed out by Vanatta and Glascot. At midnight, Martin, dressed in a black, clerical suit, of the best production of Thrigt, the tailor, and standing collar reaching to his ears, broke into the doings with: "Gentlemen and ladies, this thing must stop right now. All you who ant to anticipate further will have to pay for it."
The pronunciamento the girls and boys a bit; they "anticipated further" until the roosters began to crow, when Guy Ayers, with a lively team, a long, wide box on a pair of runners distributed them to their several domiciles.
That was the Winter of the "big snow," unprecedented in the history of the county, and will never be forgotten by the settlers of that time. The snow began to fall early in November, and continued at intervals until December Twenty-first, when over twenty-two and one-half inches fell, and during the entire month the depth was over three feet. There were frequent violent winds, with low temperature, rendering it almost impossible for the people in the country to get about. If necessity forced the venturer to go any distance, the winds closed up his tracks as fast as made, so that he could not retrace them. Seth Williams, who lived a few miles from Polk City, when out in a windstorm, lost his bearings, stopped his team, and walked a circle around it to keep from freezing until daylight came. There was much suffering in the cabins, which were illy constructed to withstand the piercing wind and extreme cold. There was also serious loss if poorly protected livestock, not only from weather exposure, but from timber wolves, which were forced by hunger to make raids on farm enclosures. It was a climatic period as memorable as the year of the "big flood."
During the war period, Christmas Day was made the occasion for festivals and bazaars, held in vacant storerooms and all available places on the East and West sides, to raise funds for the relief of soldiers' families. If the day fell on Sunday, the churches aided in the charitable work.
In 1864, the day fell on Sunday. I do not recall the weather condition. The Weather Bureau had not come into being. Leastwise,
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the only public recognition of the day was by the Daily Register, in which "Dobbs" Dixon, who engineered the local page, expostulated thus:
"The Roman and Grecian empires were doubtless large institutions. They had their national holidays and festivities, but they were greatly behind the times, as they neither had Christmas nor the Fourth of July. It never entered the heads of these pagan subjects that in the year of the world four thousand and four hundred, their system of polytheisms, which had been strengthened by the traditions of centuries, would receive a mortal shock at Bethlehem by the birth of the Son of Mary. They were all old fogies, to whom Christianity was a word and power unknown, and their children, who had been taught to locate all their male and female deities on Mount Olympus, or some other earthly eminence, knew as little about Santa Claus and his mysterious visits to the domiciles of this world, as a Copperhead ("Dobbs" was a red-hot Union man) knows about Christ's Sermon on the Mount. We celebrate to-day, not the birth of Adam, nor the escape of Noah from a devastating flood, nor the release of the Hebrews from Egyptian captivity, nor the birth of the mad man of Macedonia, nor the building of the temple of Jerusalem, nor the founding of earthly empires. We celebrate the greatest event in the world's history——the birth of the world's Redeemer."
In the country, the day was observed by neighborhood visits. They didn't wait for invitations. Their latchstrings were always out——except to prevent intrusion by prowling Indians, seeking food or whiskey, and frightening the children half out of their wits. Then it was only necessary to pull in the string, which passed through a hole in the door, and the door was barred. At those visits, there would be discussed political, social, philosophical, and religious affairs, and thus, beside the delights of the viands that roasted on the hearth, or steamed in the pot, there was always good cheer and fellowship.
December Twenty-fifth, 1904
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JOHN H. GIVEN
 AN active, zealous promoter of the growth and prosperity of Des Moines was John H. Given. Its development was his constant desire and incentive to action. Very few men were more widely known in Polk County in the early days, or were more helpful to the betterment of the community. He was one of the solid men of those days.
Of English descent, a native of Virginia, his youth was passed on a farm, his education obtained during Winter months in the District School. At the age of seventeen, he entered an apprenticeship to learn the trade of wagon-maker. After five years' service, he attended college one year, and in 1842, came to Iowa, stopping for a time at Dahlonega, near Ottumwa, where, among strangers, in a new country, at twenty-three years of age, with no capital but a vigorous healthy body, persistent energy, prudence and industry, he began business life and to grow up with the country. While there, public attention was turning toward Fort Des Moines as a trade center, and in October, 1845, when the last payment was made to the Indians, he came to The Fort and purchased land claims.
That was an interesting event in the history of the town and county. It was the final assemblage of the Indians prior to their exodus from the country. There was present Keokuk, the great orator and diplomat of his tribe; Poweshiek, young Black Hawk, Kiskekosh, Pasishamone, and other head men. The emotions which filled the hearts of those venerable chiefs, as they received their last stipend for what had been the home of their people for generations, with full consciousness that immediately they must turn their backs upon it all and go where they would be lost in oblivion and national annihilation by a race to whom they had been friendly and true in turburlent times and perilous times, must have been soul-stirring. Keokuk did not survive the change. Three years later, he went to the happy hunting-grounds of Manitou, the Great Spirit.
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The payments were made in silver, in accordance with the allotment to each tribe per capita, after deducting claims presented by Indian Traders, which were often the source of much contention, and some which would hardly pass an examination by a mutual insurance investigating committee. The exorbitant prices charged, the excessive number of blanket coats, thermometers, and other articles which the Indians never used, and the frequent repetition of such charges, indicated clearly that the Indian Trader was not in business for his health; that some claims were utterly spurious. What was left——usually very little——was turned over to Keokuk in a lump, and by him distributed to those entitled to it, and it was soon squandered.
Keokuk's signature appears many times on the old agency records, and it is written Ke-O-Kuk, as though to emphasize and give accent to it, which was also the correct way of speaking it. He was very proud of that big "O".
In May, 1851, Given came to The Fort for a permanent residence. There were but two hundred people here. Houses were scarce, the log cabins of the soldiers' garrison being occupied, but he found an illy-constructed, small, frame building, with two small rooms, at the northwest corner of vine and Third streets, a few rods distant from the location of the flagstaff of the garrison, and where now is the Schermerhorn cold storage plant, which he and his young wife occupied until they could find a better one, as was a necessity in those days; sometimes there were two and three families in one house, and they were not apartment houses, either.
There is a discrepancy as to the exact location of the flagstaff. Dixon, in his history of Polk County, says it was in the rear of the Old American House, which stood on the northeast corner of Second and Market. Another writer says it was near the corner of Third and Walnut.Judge Casady says it was standing some time after he came here, and it was standing near Market, not far from where Given had his plow shop, and southeast of it. Guy Ayers, who was a youngster, familiar with it, and tramped around it a hundred times, says it was on a line due southeast between the Guard House, which stood just north and west of where Given had his plow shop, and the officers' headquarters; that when the survey of the town
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was made, the east line of Second Street nearly struck the staff about the center of the lot on the corner of Market. When the town lots were sold at public auction, in July, 1847, the purchasers did not want the flagstaff there, and it was ordered removed to another place. It was taken down, but never again raised. The people in those days were more interested in bread and butter than "Old Glory."
Immediately after his arrival, Given started a wagon shop, between Vine and Second streets, in the rear of his residence, where Green's foundry now is, and, to meet the demands of the rapid increase of settlers on farm lands, he added to his business farm implements. The first implement a farmer wanted was a plow, and he made plows. The first year, he turned out over two hundred plows. His plows were a great benefit to the pioneer farmers. Des Moines was the central point of trade for a large area of country. Sometimes, a farmer would come to get supplies for a whole Settlement, who had given him a memorandum of their wants, written on such scraps of paper as could be found about the house, and the money to pay for them, no one farmer in those days being able to advace the funds, as money was scarce. On one occasion, three farmers came (from fifty miles south) to get family supplies, and brought their plows to be repaired. The repairing required the time of several days, which, with unexpected expenses, was more than the money at hand, so one of them returned with the family supplies, and the other two remained and dug coal for a week, to be used in the plow shop, to pay their expenses. The coal was dug out of the river banks, where it was procured for the blacksmiths at the garrison.
The plow business increased annually, so that a large brick building, 40x130, was built at the corner of Market and Second streets, and in 1888, when he retired from business, the output was about two thousand plows annually, which went all over the West. His carriage business was completely "plowed under."
To obtain a more suitable residence, he purchased a lot at the corner of Seventh and Vine, where he built a brick, two-story house, that then being the most fashionable part of the town. He then tore down the frame house in which he had been living, and erected
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a three-story brick hotel, which, for twenty years, was known as the Given House, subsequently the Windsor, and several years ago was transformed to the Schermerhorn plant.
A thorough business man and property holder, he was elected a member of the Council of the Town of Fort Des Moines, in 1856. That was a year of strenuous life in Des Moines. The East and West sides were engaged in a vigorous contest over the location of the State House, the Legislature having selected Des Moines as the Capital of the state.
In 1858, the City of Des Moines having been incorporated by the Legislature, Given was elected Councilman from the Second Ward, and reëlected in 1872 and 1873.
Fully appreciating the value of education, resultant from his own experience in his youth, he was actively and intensely interested in the public schools and the promotion of educational facilities. For many years, he was an influential member of the School Board, and assisted materially in laying the foundation of the present public school system.
Politically, he was a Whig, though he was raised under Democratic environments, his father being a radical Democrat, and his paternal grandfather a Democrat and a large slave-holder. He cast his first vote for Henry Clay, and when the Republican Party was formed, he became a member, and so continued through life. He was not a politician in any sense of that term. His election to public office was because of public desire to get the benefit of good judgment and excellent business qualifications.
Socially, he was a member of Pioneer Lodge, Number Twenty-two, of the Masonic fraternity, the first lodge in the city, and passed through all its official chairs except Worshipful Master. He took an active part in temperance movements, and was an influential member of the Order of Good Templars and Sons of Temperance. He was quiet and unobtrusive in manner, yet genial and companionable. His sterling integrity won the esteem of all who
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knew him. HIs honest in business affairs, his inexorable rule to give every man a fair deal, and his good management, secured him a competency, so that he retired from active business several years before his decease, which occurred in December, 1899.
October Eighth, 1905
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PETER NEWCOMER
 PASSENGERS on the Winterset Branch of the Rock Island Road, just after leaving the city, pass a narrow space between the high bluff and the river, barely wide enough for the track, known as "Newcomer's Point," named from Peter Newcomer, one of the very earliest settlers in Polk County. It was an important landmark in the early days to the emigrant.
Newcomer came here with the soldiers, in 1843, and was employed as a carpenter in building barracks at the garrison, his family living in a cabin at the Agency and Trading Post, down where the packing-houses now are. There were about twenty people living there, outside the garrison.
Soon after the garrison was established, a military road was laid out to Toole's Point, now Monroe, in Jasper County, where connection could be made with a road to Eddyville, and thence to Burlington, or Keokuk. Between the garrison and Eddyville there was nothing but wild prairie and timber. To aid in opening this road, and making it passable for transporting supplies for the garrison, Captain, the garrison commander, soon saw the necessity for bridges. Four Mile Creek was a serious impediment, as its bed and banks for some distance were such spongy drift that it was nearly impassable for teams several months in the year. To get the bridges was the problem. To get a request for authority to build them through the circumlocution offices at Washington was dubious, and would probably result as did his request to have the Post named Fort Raccoon, and made a double-ration Post, which got tangled up in a contest between the War and Treasury Departments, where it lay for two years without reply. There was no local government machinery to which he could apply for relief, so he offered Newcomer a permit to make a claim for three hundred and twenty acres of land if he would build a bridge of Four Mile Creek. That was Peter's opportunity. The offer was promptly
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accepted. He built the bridge, the first within the county, and for many years it was a noted landmark to teamsters, who, after weary hours of toil and struggle, with heavy loads and fatigued teams, far into the night, when they reached that bridge, took fresh courage, for they knew they were only four miles from home. By daylight, the Point was conspicuous, as it could be seen a long distance away.
His permit was not limited to any locality, but the supposition was the claim would be made near the bridge, which was built near where the Rock Island Road crosses the creek, just east of the city limits, the stream being so tortuous the railroad crosses it four times. He, however, made his claim along the big bend in Des Moines River, in what is now Grant Township, and adjoining the city on the east side, following the custom of newcomers, to settle along rivers and creeks, and near their skirting timber. At numerous places along the streams were abrupt, short turns, which, when viewed from a distance on the prairie, gave them the appearance of a point, and they were given the names of the settlers who first located the land comprising them, thus we have Newcomer's Point, Toole's Point, and many others.
So soon as he located his claim, he built a small cabin, in which he installed himself and his young wife. Though isolated from civilized life, there being no other settlers within several miles, and Keokuk's Indian village not far away, they often declared they found great enjoyment and pleasure in making their new home.
The usual experience and deprivation of pioneers was theirs. Although he was a carpenter, able to construct many household articles of use and convenience, there was no lumber, the mills were fifty miles away. He improvised from timber, chairs, tables, etc., and one day his wife wanted a churn. He peeled the bark from a green hickory tree, fitted a bottom in one end, a dasher top to the other end, and she said it made as good a butter as any churn. There were no mills nearer than Fairfield, and when flour or meal was wanted, he had to go there, and often so thronged were the mills by persons waiting for their grinding to be done, he would be compelled to wait several days or go on east; he would go on, sometimes one hundred and forty miles, in bad storms, with no place to get shelter.
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In less than one month the soldiers left, on April Sixth 1846, was held the first election in Polk County, to elect county officers. At that election, it seems, from the returns, that everybody voted who wanted to, for there were one hundred and seventy-five ballots cast in the county, of which seventy were at The Fort. An official census taken twelve days after the election showed there were but one hundred and twenty-seven persons, men, women, and children, living at The Fort, of whom thirty-four were male adults, and all of them are now dead except Judge Casady and Ed. Clapp. Ed. was then only nineteen years old, but he probably voted, as did Daniel Trullinger, at "Uncle Tommy" Mitchell's house, within thirty minutes after he came into the county. The remaining thirty-six votes may therefore credited to ambitious young persons. But the pioneers were not punctilious in such matters. They were largely a law unto themselves. Public offices were not worth much, anyhow. G. B. Clark got only thirty dollars for making the first assessment of the whole county, and Addison Michael, the County Collector, got ten dollars and ninety-six cents for collecting taxes of that assessment.
Soon after the garrison was established, a mail route was opened to Keokuk, and Josiah Smart, The Indian Interpreter at the Agency, was appointed Postmaster, but he resigned, and Doctor T. K. Brooks, the first physician, was appointed in March, 1846. The mail was brought on horseback on Wednesday, and departed the next day. The mail bringing the Doctor's commission and bond was water-soaked, not unusual, when there were no bridges, streams flooded, and the horse had to swim when crossing. The bond was signed by Newcomer and "Uncle Jerry" Church, who, with his "magnificent town" of Dudley, was a vigorous contestant for the location of the Capital.
Newcomer improved his farm by good cultivation and the erection of good and commodious buildings, so that, by good management, he became quite wealthy. In 1847, he, with Isaac Cooper, brought the first reaper and mower into Polk County. It was an expensive investment, and indicated the energy and enterprise of the pioneers.
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In 1848, when the Settler's Claim Club was permanently organized for protection of their claims against claim-jumpers and land speculators, Newcomer was an active member, and woe betide the fellow who was discovered strolling about the county plotting some land grab.
In 1856, when the contest for the location of the Capitol was on, Newcomer joined "Uncle Jerry" in his Dudley scheme, and when that failed, he joined the Brooks and Scott junta on the East Side.
Politically, Newcomer was an old-line Whig, of the Maryland persuasion, and took an active part in political affairs. As a stump-speaker, he was noted for the directness and bluntness of his vocabulary. In state and local matters, he was radically independent, and somewhat peculiar. In 1848, the Legislature had passed an exemption law, giving a debtor protection against seizure to the value of five hundred dollars. He was tinctured with the old-time Southern ideas respecting obligations, and vigorously criticized Judge Casady, who was Senator from Polk County, for supporting the law, and when the Judge told him the next Legislature would increase the exemption to a homestead, he became furious, and at once took the stump as an independent candidate for Governor, opposed to any measure to prevent a person from paying his honest debts, and he had a very good support. The next Legislature, in 1851, enacted the Homestead Exemption Law, and it remains on the statute book to-day.
Socially, Newcomer was unostentatious, and active in promoting all measures for the betterment of the community.
In the early 'Sixties, he became so debilitated from acute indigestion he was unable to perform any manual labor for two years. He became a vegetarian, his diet consisting of unleavened bread, eggs, and milk. I took dinner with him one day. The spread was not very attractive to an ordinary hungry person, but it was neatly served, was wholesome and nutritious. By that system, he regained perfect health and physical strength.
A few year later, he went to Texas, where he died in 1891, at the age of seventy-nine.
October Twenty-second, 1905.
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DOCTOR JAMES CAMPBELL
A NOTABLE character among the pioneers was Doctor James Campbell. He was a hustler from the start, and had a hand in everything going on about The Fort——politics, trade, real estate, amusements——everything which made up the wild, bustling life of that early period. He was a man of many eccentricities and idiosyncrasies, good-hearted, blunt of speech, and of peppery temperament.
He came to Iowa on horseback, in 1839, stopped for a time in Van Buren County, and came to Fort Des Moines early in January, 1846, the second physician in the Settlement, Doctor T. K. Brooks being his predecessor. There was not business enough for two doctors, and Brooks having a little the advantage, Campbell, so soon as the first lot of soldiers left the garrison, opened a grocery in the Guard House, which stood near what is now the corner of Vine and Third streets. A grocery in those days consisted of a room with groceries on one side and a bar on the other for liquors, for whiskey was as staple as corn bread and bacon. The Doctor, with more refined taste than usual, ran a partition through the room, in the south side of which was the bar. In those days, liquor drinking was more popular than it is now, men of very circumspect habits indulged, even church members. One day, a man who, twenty years ago, was one of the best-known and most popular in the country, a pillar of the Methodist Church, who held some of the highest offices in the gift of the people, went down on Second Street to get groceries. His Methodist tenets slipped a cog, and he loaded himself up with more wet goods than dry, until he took in more than he could carry on a straight line. Steering himself to Campbell's place, he went in, declaring he could whip any man that did not weigh over one hundred and forty pounds, reeling against the Doctor, as he entered the door. "That's just my weight," said the Doctor, as he gave him a side-winder straight from the shoulder,
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which landed him out on the sidewalk, where the Doctor sat down on him and was giving him a good pummeling when bystanders pulled him off, and the incident was closed. Nothing more was said or thought of it. That was the way of those first-comers. It was like the Doctor, thirty minutes after, to have invited his victim in to "take something," for he was generous in treating, but never drank himself. The good Methodist was never known to patronize the liquid side of a grocery after that event.
Later on, the Doctor removed to the northwest corner of Vine and Second streets, where he opened a grocery and amusement hall, the first in the town. He was a good fiddler, and furnished the music for dances in his amusement hall, and some lively hoe-downs were had there. Fiddlers in those days were in good favor with the young people. "Uncle Jerry" Church, who one laid out a town down the river which was to be the Capital of the state, was a good fiddler, and often furnished music at social functions. On one occasion, a reception was given to Joseph Williams, of the Territorial Court, at the home of Doctor Brooks, on the East Side, where the Judge boarded when he came here to hold court. "Uncle Jerry" was there with his fiddle, and the Judge, who was a good musician, jolly and full of fun, assisted him with a clarinette, as the orchestra for the dances.
During the first ten years, Second Street, from Market to Walnut, was the great thoroughfare of the town, and there was considerable rivalry among business men in building and improving it to hold the trade here. When the Original Town was platted, Vine and Walnut streets were made seventy-four feet wide, and there were to be boulevards. Court Avenue was made ninety-six feet, and sometime was to be the leading business street. All other streets were made sixty-four feet. Second Street, however, held its own until 1859, when G. M. Hippee built a store on the southeast corner of Court Avenue and Third, and Hoyt Sherman another on the opposite corner, when trade began to move westward.
In 1855, the Doctor built a large three-story brick building near 'Coon Point, where he established an Eye and Ear Infirmary, the first brick business building in the town, and for many years it was cited as an evidence of the manifest destiny of The Fort, but at last its subsidence came from that very destiny made manifest.
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The Doctor was inclined to sporting, and while the Indians were here, pony and foot racing was a frequent amusement, and at times not a little exciting, for the Indians were fond of racing, especially after they had received a payment from the Government. They were inveterate gamblers, also, but they were not up to the tricks of the settlers, and their money soon vanished. The race course started between Fourth and Fifth streets, where the Kirkwood House is, and extended a little southwest one-fourth of a mile. After the Indians left, the settlers used the track, and the races were lively, scrubby, and open to anybody who had a horse, for it was about all the amusement in Summer there was.
The Doctor had a small sorrel mare, not handsome, but a complete bundle of nerves and energy. As a sprinter, she was a mighty deceiving beast to lots of over-zealous natives, who thought they knew a good thing when they saw it, and staked their dollars and watches on the other horse. When the first Methodist Church was built, where the Iowa Loan and Trust Building is, it blocked the race track, and it was abandoned.
In the Fall of 1845, when Keokuk and his bands left Iowa for the last time, Poweshiek, whose lodges were on Skunk River, balked. He was a good friend of the white people, a frequent visitor at The Fort, and well known to the first settlers. He was very arrogant and independent, and inclined to resist his removal to Kansas. Instead of going there, he, with his forty lodges, camped on Grand River, just north of the Missouri line. The white people soon became excited over their coming, and threatened extermination, which only incited the Indians to retaliation. Rumors came to The Fort that conditions were serious. The Doctor, J. B. Scott, and Hamilton Thrift, who knew Poweshiek, one day in February, mounted horses and rode one hundred miles through deep snow, over trackless prairie, to Poweshiek's encampment, where they found trouble brewing. The old chief and his braves were holding dog festivals every day, which meant war. He was surly and inclined to be ugly, but Scott gave him a long talk, which, as the Doctor recalled it, was substantially as follows:
"My friends and myself have come a long distance to help you out of this trouble. We are your friends. If you persist in your
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purpose of making war on the whites, many of your squaws and pappooses, as well as your braves, will be butchered. The remainder will be driven out in the cold and snow, to perish on the prairie. It would be better for you now to break up your lodges and go in peace to to the reservation in Kansas, which the Government has provided for you."
It was some time before he could be induced to accept the good advice, as he feared if he left his encampment he would be stigmatized as a coward, and that he could not endure, but he finally comprehended the true situation, promised to move, and soon after, he and his lodges were beyond the border of the state. The timely arrival of those three friends, and their wise counsel, undoubtedly saved the old chief much trouble, and possible extermination.
In August, 1847, the Doctor was elected the second County Recorder and Treasurer, and served two years, when he sought a re-nomination. As the voters in the county were nearly all Democrats, a nomination was equivalent to an election, but Ben. Bryant, who ante-dated the Doctor, wanted the place. A consultation was held by the Old Guard, and, though the Doctor received a good indorsement, Ben., as a cripple, having lost part of his feet by freezing, won the sympathy and vote of the county.
Prior to 1857, the county records were so badly kept that it was almost impossible to interpret them,a nd it was only after a long, diligent search, and much labor by Amos Brandt, when he was County Auditor, that the fact of the Doctor's election was established. For instance, during the Doctor's legal term, instruments are recorded bearing the names of other persons as Recorder. On one page, appears a chattel mortgage by G. W. Gaston to John Hadden, which reads:
"One cow and sucking calf, marked with slit in the right year [ear], two horses; one sorrel horse seven yers old with a blase in the fase, marked on the right fore pastern joint by a cut from a wagon running over it; one bay horse blind with both eyes——age not nown; and a clame of two hundred acers on the Des Moines river, Boon and Dallas county split by the seposed county line boundry.
"Received and recorded by Peter Myers, deputy for John Myers."
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Sometimes Peter signed himself as Recorder.
I spent many an hour in the basement of the old Court House, seeking among the rubbish and confused mass of papers piled on the floor or packed in boxes, to trace some historic incident when I was reporting for the press. If you will go down to the present Court House, on Third Street, you will find in the basement old and valuable records covered with sand, dust, and filth, and rotting with mildew, a disgrace to the country.
The Doctor was an active member of the Settler's Claim Club, which, during the first three years, was practically the governing power of the county respecting settlers' rights, Polk County not being attached to any other county for election or judicial purposes. It was, de facto, an independent civic community, and, as the venerable Judge, "Old Bill McHenry," used to put it: "We was a law unto ourselves."
In 1858, the Doctor was a busy participant in the State House location fight between the East and West Side. He evidenced his interest by subscribing five thousand dollars to the War Fund, and when the East Siders were haled before the Legislative Investigating Committee to defend the charges of bribery and corruption made against them, and tell who got the swag, if any, the Doctor was called as a witness, and testified as follows:
"Question.——Did you reside in this city at the time of the location of the Capitol?
"Answer.——Yes, sir; on the West Side.
"Question.——Had you any conversation with the Commissioners, or either of them, at the time of the location of the Capitol, or soon after?
"Answer.——About a week after the location, I had a talk with Crookham in regard to the location——don't know the exact words——not half of it. We were talking more or less about the location made and about lots. I don't recollect his saying how he got them or how he paid for them——don't recollect how many there were. I understood him to say he had some lots over there——the East Side——and was going to have them surveyed before he went away.
"Question.——What was your reply when Crookham said he was going to have his lots surveyed?
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"Answer.——I said if I were he, I would have them run off and get the deeds before I left, or something like that.
"Question.——What was you understanding, how he got them?
"Answer.——I thought then for locating Capitol. He did not say so. I wish I knew more of it. I would tell it. I would like to blow it higher than the day.
"Question.——Do you know whether any of the Commissioners received anything in lots and money?
"Answer.——I do not. I did not hear from whom the deeds to Crookham were to come.
"Question.——When you had this conversation, why did you say he had better get the title right before he left?
"Answer.——I would be my way of doing business.
"Question.——What led to this conversation with Crookham?
"Answer.——I think I said we would have given more on this side than they gave on that. I recollect asking how much they (the Commissioners) got over there for themselves.
"Question.——What reason had you to think they would accept offers, or were in the market?
"Answer.——Because I thought no reasonable, disinterested man would locate it over there."
In the very early days, good, old, rye whiskey was the favorite tipple with the pioneers. They could stand up under a large quantity of it, for it was not such rotten, hair-pulling venomous stuff as we get now. There were also a lot of "light drinkers" about The Fort, who called themselves "temperance men." In 1849, Abe Shoemaker, who kept a "grocery" on Second Street, sent to Keokuk for a ten-gallon keg of ale for the "temperance men." On the forthcoming Fourth of July, the temperature was torrid. When the teamster gave the order for the ale, he was told that if he attempted to haul it to Fort Des Moines in the hot sun, it would explode and blow him skyward. "Just put in five gallons of whiskey, and it go all right," said the seller. The whiskey was put in. It arrived all right, was on tap early in the next morning, and before eleven o'clock every "temperance man" in the town was at home in bed, utterly oblivious to what occurred during the remainder of the day, and in the list there were some very prominent,
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circumspect individuals, whom it would now be improper to name, neither would it help the temperance cause.
Socially, the Doctor was a hail-fellow generally. There were no social distinctions in those days. He was a wide-awake business man, a vigorous booster of the town, and, with Tom McMullen, laid out an addition to the Original Town, acquired two or three fine farms, and before his decease retired on Easy Street.
October Twenty-second, 1905
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