USA > Iowa > Jackson County > Annals of Jackson county, Iowa, Vol 1-6 > Part 11
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All contributions or communications intended for the society should be sent to the secretary, J. W. Ellis.
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From Away Back.
(Written by Mrs. D. H. Anderson for the Jackson County Historical Society.)
One does not know just what to talk about at these open meetings of our society. Thoughts naturally turn back to the long ago time. Memory's well brims up and overflows with the fullness of the thought of those days. The actors who made our pioneer history are silhouetted 'gainst a luminous background. Our own life seems to have had all the. dimensions-length, breadth and thickness-but the future! It seems a thread-made up of strands, some silken and shining, some somber, the blending a neutral-a gray. It should not be so. The point where life's converging vista focuses should be as a star, not shining with the brilliancy of morning or noonday light, but quite as clear and certain. Young life unhampered as was ours by restraint and ceremonious was buoyant, expensive. We were close to Nature's heart and were her children. The fashions and formalities of modern usages had not dulled our spontaniety nor caused us to enclose ourselves in shells from whence to peep thro' loopholes of vantage, or open and close as policy and propriety shall dictate.
Those tirst comers-our forebears-were great in fearlessness and hope. It took no small amount of grit and faith in self to turn one's back on a settled community which meant kindred friends, the protection of law, shelter and a sustenance, which. tho' sometimes meager, was sufficient for physical needs. To the woman, more especially, 'twas a case of "where ignorance is bliss"-to join hands and hearts for better or for worse, to face toward the great. unknown and journey on for days and days, for weeks and weeks, then to halt with only the pregnant earth for a foothold, the great dome of the sky meeting the earth in its endless wedlock, there to lay a hearthstone, surround and cover it with rude walls and roof, and call it Home Is it not an awesome thought? Yet it was home-and why?
A great man has written, "Whever a true wife comes this home is ever around her. The stars only may be over her head, the glow worm in the night, cold grass may be the only fire at her feet, yet home is wherever she is shed- ding its quiet light far, for those who else were homeless, a woman's true place and power." She brought to the cabin the eternal feminine, gave it the touch that cannot be described yet never is mistaken, filled it with an atmosphere of inviting comfort that mere money cannot supply, and was a perpetual fountain of refreshment and renewal to the man who was, in turn, her shelter and her strength.
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We have outgrown the primitive physical conditions. Are we altogeth- er bettered? Then a letter came once in many months, postage 25 cts. It marked an epoch, set the heart thumping. was read again and again. was very precious, bro't tears and heart longings and homesickness, a slipping away, for the time, of courage and contentment. Not so now. Supply and demand are neutralized, the zest is gone. The tallow candle was a long step from the rag in grease and the first kerosene lamp! Why! I tho't the light of Heaven had burst upon us, when the chimney was slipped over the ignit- ed wick. Now they smell and are a nuisance. The first piece of upholster- ed furniture, 'twas a thing apart, almost too sacred for human eyes, was swathed in antimacassers, and as for desecrating its plump fineness with a human anatomy, 'twas a thing not to be tho't of unless the minister came.
Now our homes are cluttered with draperies, carpets. luxuriant divans, stuffed with mixtures varying from curled hair to chopped up refuse and mi- crobes by millions, on which we sit or recline, stir up and breathe in, till we pay the price of unwise indulgence and have to go travelling for our health.
"Indulgence and punishment grow on the same stem. Punishment is the fruit which unsuspected ripens within the flower of the pleasure that conceals it."
Then we had few doctors and few deaths. We might have sometimes had a gnawing in our vitals but 'twas not from dyspepsia.
I wonder if all towns have had such sound beginnings. We have enlarged in many directions, our citizens have a high order of intelligence, our homes are beautiful, the most modest showing care and taste. Many small communities are divided into cliques that cause jeal- ousies and contentions. We are singularly free from this undignified belit- tling state of society, the which shows narrowness and conceit. There is an intensity about all we do, a doing everything to the limit, a trait inher- ited from the first men who planted the first grain in this virgin western soil. While much of the fruit of this early planting is sound and sustaining, there are alas! as ever thorns and thistles and noisome weeds too. We are a people of many virtues and sad to admit of vices. The good are very, very good. and the bad are-they're horrid. Like a disease, influence never stands still. We, who stand for the old, should be caretakers for our fath- ers' and mothers' sakes, for conscience sake, live wholesome, temperate lives. Not only seem but be. What we are proclaims us from the housetops. Tho' we speak no word and shut ourselves behind bolts and bars, theres' a wireless telegraphy, or better said, a mental telepathy between man and man, impressions given off and taken on, strengthening or weakening a brother. Ruskin says, "There is more venom mortal inevitable in the gliding entrance of a wordless thought than in the deadliest asp of Nile." Think oh! man, Oh woman, what individual volition and responsibility mean !
The life of Marshall Field is a grand exemplification of what a high minded, conscientious character, acted upon by the exhilarating possibilities of western push and privileges, can accomplish. Mr. Yerkes died rich-rich. yet unloved. unmourned, undeserving, ostracized. Marshall Field died. He too was a money king, yet infinitely more a king among men, unostenta-
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tious, honest, pure, beloved. Out of our business conditions of free compe- tition and unlimited possibilities has grown a drunken greed for wealth. Too much liberty breeds license. Too often craft and cunning take the place of work and patience and the basic principle of our democratic govern- ment is swathed in a sepulchral robe of cloth of gold. Let us hope and be- lieve that it is not death, only suspended animation. "Truth is mighty." The world must be growing better else creation were a failure. Finite minds cannot believe this of the infinite. Emerson says, "the world globes itself in a drop of dew." No division of matter is so small but that all created matter is represented in it. Is it wise then to underrate ourselves who are made in His image, and who are children of earthly parents who made a virtue of industry and sacrament of brotherly service. There is an unvary- ing ratio between privilege and responsibility. The law and the way is sim- ple, love is the law.
There are people and places and times and things That sing in the heart like a humming bird's wings;
likle, While we work with our hands, honor duties each day, All unconscious we listen to what the wings say. "Love is living." to
Oh! the sweet reaching back to the dear restful hours! Oh! the soft folded things memories pure as white flowers! They are always about us, let life's busy wheels fly, Bring us weal or bring woc we hug tight our dear joy. d
Now a hand clasp live over, now an eye glance so kind. That a tear is the answer and all undefined: the A host of emotions crowd up thro' the heart, Each a ghost of some gladness that pulse throbbings start.
What can restless ambition contribute, or what Is the solace of riches it friends must be bought; Give me just the old kind-loving, just the old way, Then come fair or foul weather the humming wings say "Love is living. " .
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Some of the Early Pioneers of Jackson County, and Where They First Settled.
(Written by J. W. Ellis for the Jackson County Historical Society.)
Mr. President: I am indebted to Mr. E. D. Shinkle now a resident of Maquoketa, a pioneer and the son of a pioneer for a large part of the in- formation in relation to a group of pioneers who, if not the very first set- tlers in the forks of the Maquoketa, were certainly among the first, for I have been unable thus far to get any record of a settlement earlier than the spring of 1836. According to Mr. Shinkle's account, Daniel Shinkle, David and Thomas Owens, Jesse Pate, Barney White, Jones Edwards and Ben Copeland, a son-in-law of Edwards, came from their homes on Fever River near Galena, Ill., in the fall of 1835, to the forks of the Maquoketa to hunt game and bees in the then unbroken forests of the country now em- braced in Farmers Creek and South Fork townships. The country pleased them so much, being similar to the country from which they originally came, Ohio, that they decided to take up claims and build homes here, and accordingly marked off claims as was the custom at that period by blazing trees around their several claims, and in the early spring of 1836 came back and built cabins and commenced moving onto the claims as fast as the cabins could be got ready, all but Shinkle moving over in 1836. Shinkle left his family near Galena until 1838, dividing his time and labor between the claim and the lead mines.
Jesse Pate located on what became by survey the southwest quarter of section 36 in Farmers Creek township on lands that have been known for 70 years as the Dr. Usher farm, and which is now owned and occupied by Jo- seph Jackson.
Jones Edwards located on the southeast quarter and Daniel Shinkle on the northeast quarter of the same section. Barney White located on and built a cabin on what became section 1 South Fork township now owned by Asa Struble, and Ben Copeland located on what is now part of section 31 Perry township which is now occupied by the family of the late Isaac Mc- Peak. David Owens, grandfather of E. D. Shinkle, located on southwest quarter of section 25 Farmers Creek township which was later known as the Martin Flynn farm and still later became part of the George Cooper farm. Mr. Shinkle says that he has heard his father say that at the time they made their claims in the forks, the nearest cabin was at the foot of the long hill south of Bellevue.
The first grain raised by these settlers had to be taken to Galena to be ground and that the first mill erected west of the Mississippi was built at
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Cat Fish and they patronized that until the mill on Mill Creek near Ma- qnoketa, known as the McCloy mill, was built. Daniel Shinkle rove out shakes or clap boards to side up and shingle the McCloy mill as there was no lumber to be had at that time, and David Owens was one of the first millers at that mill. There was no elevator in then and the wheat when ground was run into the meal chest and then carried up a ladder to the bolter by the miller in a half bushel.
These first settlers experienced pretty hard times in the first years of their settlement here. One year their seed corn was poor and their corn crop a failure on that account.
On the day that Daniel Shinkle left the new settlement to go and move his family to his claim, he and six other persons had only for their dinner two small wild pigeons and four or five small potatoes. Mr. Shinkle crossed the river at Smith's Ferry above Bellevue on a small row boat railed around the sides with fence rails, and it took an entire day to get the fami- ly and stock, etc. over the river While crossing with the cattle, a heifer jumped over the railing and it seemed for a time would be drowned, but a rope was thrown over her head and she was towed across. When the family arrived at the claim they found a log cabin made of round logs built like a pen and covered with shakes split out of trees, without any floor and the nettles and other weeds were knee high in the cabin. Mr. Shinkle says the prospect was so discouraging that his mother broke down and cried. He also says that his grandfather, David Owens, helped to build the first mill built on Farmers Creek, which was built by Hazen and Morden. and was the first miller at that mill. This mill is best known as the Greener mill.
Mr. Shinkle attended a famous Fourth of July celebration in Andrew during the county seat contest between Andrew and Bellevue, wherein the citizens of Andrew gave a free picnic dinner to the public which doubtless proved a good factor in the contest and contributed no little to the victory scored by Andrew. He was also present and witnessed the execution of Jo- seph Jackson for the murder of Perkins. Jackson was hanged in Andrew in July, 1842. Shinkle saw him brought down from Butterworth's tavern and placed on a box or platform on a wagon which was driven under a tree. The rope was fastened to a limb and the other end adjusted about Jackson's neck and the wagon pulled out from under him leaving him suspended in the air, the twist in the rope swinging him round and round. Jackson had been told that if his neck was not broken that the doctors would resuscitate him after he had been hanged and as the penalty would have been paid he would be free to go where he chose. Consequently he laid the weight of his body on the rope as soon as it was tied and was allowed to strangle. the sheriff not taking any chances by limiting the time.
Mr. Shinkle says the first school he attended was taught by a Miss Nancy Range, in one end of a cabin occupied by the family of Dr. Charles Usher, Miss Range being a sister of Mrs. Sherwood whose family at that time lived on what is now known as the Ellis farm in South Fork towship. A daughter of Sherwoods married a Doctor Martin who at one time was well known in Maquoketa.
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Mr. Shinkle remembers well the great excitement caused by a well that he was digging, caveing in on and killing Peter Jerman on land now owned and occupied by A. J. York in South Fork township. Few men have been permitted to note such a wonderful transformation in a country in which they spent their lives as Mr. Shinkle has. He has seen a dense unbroken forest entirely removed and in its stead beautiful towns, villages, rich farms and prosperous, happy homes.
The Shinkle and Owens families were pioneers of Illinois as well as of lowa. Daniel Shinkle was born in Brown county, Ohio, in 1805, and when 16 years old came with his parents west to where the city of Springfield, Ill. now stands. David Owens at that time owned about 500 acres of land along the Sangamon River, and when Daniel Shinkle married Nancy Owens, her father gave her 80 acres of land on which they made a home and on which E D. Shinkle was born and which the town of Decatur was after- wards built.
At the close of the Blackhawk War, the Owens and Shinkle families sold out their interests at Decatur and removed to the lead mines near Ga- lena, where they remained until coming to Jackson county, Iowa, in 1835 and 1836. David Owens spent his last days with the Shinkle family and was buried in the old Parsonage burying ground on section 36 Farmers Creek township.
While I am convinced that there were no earlier settlers than the part- ies named above, I am aware that quite a large number of settlers came to this part of the county in 1836. Steve and Ben Esgate took up claims at that time where the Esgate schoolhouse now stands about two miles west of the Shinkle settlement, and quite a colony came to Fulton in 1836.
While I can remember very well and can still locate all the sites of the first cabins for miles around my home, I find it very difficult to learn but little of the people who built them, for the reason that the first settlers have long since passed away and their descendants have moved away. An- son H. Wilson, I believe, is the last of the old pioneers who came here in the thirties as a grown up man, but there are a few descendants of pioneers like Mr. Shinkle, Mr. Isaiah Cooley, and Rev. J. W. Said, who have a vivid recollection of real pioneer times. A large per cent of the settlers of 1836 came from the lead mines near Galena and not a few of them had partici- pated in the Blackhawk War. Among the latter class with whom I was personally acquainted was Nathan and Jesse Said, Mr. Buchner, their broth- er-in-law, and old Mr. Fernish, all of whom settled in the forks of the Ma- quoketa.
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Early Pioneers of Buckhorn and Vicinity.
(Written by Farmer Buckhorn for the Jackson Count : Historical Society.)
Time obliterates, memory fades, and in another decade no man will live who from personal knowledge can point to the spot where the pioneers of Jackson county, Iowa, built their first cabins and hung their cranes. We find that as a matter of convenience our pioneers built as near timber, springs or streams as possible, and we can trace the sites of eight of those old, first houses along the banks of Pumpkin Run, or Burleson Creek, be- tween the north line of section 20 South Fork township and the county line of Jackson and Clinton counties, a distance not exceeding three miles. They were nearly all built while lowa was a territory.
The first commencing near the north line of section 20, was built by Henry Mallard.who claimed and settled there in 1838. It was built of logs, one story and a loft-a short story at that, and not a very lofty loft. The door was on wooden hinges and a half window in the south side and also a half window in the north. At the west end was a tire place laid up with flat. small stones. with chimney of same material on out end of house. One reached the loft by mounting something that resembled "Jacob's Ladder." and when once up and tucked in under a blanket or a buffalo robe and sound asleep, you were just as near heaven as Jacob in his vision. This old house chinked with sticks and clay and shingled with shakes, was built on the point of a rise of land close to the north line of the southwest quart- er of the northwest quarter of section 20. South Fork township, and about twenty rods east of the creek bank. Henry Mallard lived in this log house over forty years when he built a new frame house just east of the old log house, and there he died after over half a century's residence on land he settled on before the country had been surveyed.
Before even this State had become Iowa territory, being yet Wisconsin territory until July the 3d of the same year. he claimed his land and settled on it. In his earlier days he has told us he was a sailor ind was somewhat crippled in one foot by an anchor falling upon it. He was a middling large, portly man, very dignified and brusque, and lived upon the square. Never in all the days we knew him (nearly forty years). did we hear a word breathed against the honor of "Uncle Henry, " as nearly everybody called him, even by those who were older than he. A few of the earliest settlers sometimes called him Captain, as in fact, he was entitled to be called, hav- ing held a captain's commission in Co. 3, as then designated, Ist Regiment, Ist Brigade and 3rd Division, Territorial Militia. John II. Rose of Belle- vue was Colonel of the regiment. Capt. Mallard received his commission in
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1839. It can be found on the Military records, and was signed by Robert Lucas, the first territorial governor of Iowa. That militia was organized because it was thought necessary to guard against possible Indian raids, and other border trouble.
We have no doubt he made a good officer, for the natural make-up of the man was such as would lead him to exact and expect discipline without be- ing questioned. Then his faith in his ability to direct, and power to as- sume the responsibility of the move he thought best to make, and the de- cisive way he would dispose of opposition to his authority and opinions on matters over which he had control, and his natural military bearing, was of the kind of which good military officers are made. And it was unconscious- ly his, for he was not arrogant, overbearing or snobbish. He was a kindly man, though blunt and positive.
His wife was a woman of great intelligence and a sincere Christian worker. She also had opinions of her own, and though there never was any heartfelt discord between the couple, the positive nature of each sometimes led one to question the other's opinion. If his wife, whom everyone loved to call, Aunt Eliza, would have her opinion questioned by Uncle Henry, she was apt to say very earnestly, "Henry, I say Henry, I am right." Then Uncle Henry being weary of the discussion and a little disconcerted at the op- position to his opinion and having a way of expressing himself more forceful than religious when he would clinch a matter he considered beyond further discussion, he would assume an authoritative attitude and retort, "By God sir, Madam, you are mistaken."
During the winter of 1864 we lived with the old couple while yet they occupied their old log house, and thought it a great treat to sit of an even- ing by the old fireplace and listen to Uncle Henry tell of the pioneer days. 1864 seems now almost like pioneer days and there was much of the old that never will be new again. There were sometimes a red deer and millions of wild pigeons, and flocks of prairie chickens so numerous as to almost darken the sun, and quite a few wolves There is scarcely a chicken or a timber wolf ever seen now, and never a pigeon. All are gone with the Indian and the buffalo. Even as late as when we were with them they scorned the new devices that were springing into use, such as the heating stove and fluid lamp. Aunt Eilza would light a tallow candle, or make what used to be called a "slut," with a saucer, a button, a rag and a little grease of some kind, get her work and kint at Uncle Henry's woolen socks. We would gath- er around the hearthstone, then Uncle Henry would fill his clay pipe with tobacco of his own raising and tell me of days twenty-five years before, and more, when he and others were enduring the hardships of building a home in the wilderness. Bands of Indians came and went, hunting, trapping and begging. Herds of deer dotted the prairies by day and nights were made hideous by the howling of packs of wolves, with the scream of the panther in the near by woods no uncommon occurrence, and tracks of bear were of- ten visible along the soft banks of he creek and river. No grist mill near- er than Dubuque, forty miles through an unbroken forest. No postoffice or sawmill nearer than Bellevue, twenty-seven miles, as the crow flies. No
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bridges, no roads in this country, and not a train of steam cars west of Phil- adelphia. Friends and relatives in the old far away home in reality farther away than they would be now in the heart of Africa. There were no mail cars, no postal cards, postage stamps or letter envelopes in existence. A letter from home came wrapped and sealed with wax, coming by rivers, lakes, stages and post riders. After many weeks it would reach Bellevue- or a little later the settlement of Springfield, (now Maquoketa) with twenty- five cents postage due on it which meant twenty-five times as much to those who came here before 1840, than it does to the poorest of men to-day who are able to work for present wages. Sometimes letters would have to lay for weeks in the office for the want of twenty-five cents to redeem them, while hearts were acheing and souls longing for news from distant friends.
There was not a corn planter, reaper, mower, or threshing machine. The pioneer knew only the hoe, grain cradle, scythe, flail to beat out the grain, and the wind or a fanning mill to separate it from the chaff. Telephones and telegraphs, electric light, gas jets or kerosene lamps were unknown. The nearest approach to an automobile was a long sled wooden shod, and buggies, were ox-carts. A world in embryo was struggling to be born. We know not how we would live under those surroundings, not only a pioneer in a country's settlement, but a pioneer of our present civilization, but we honor those who did; they were Nature's unalloyed production.
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