USA > Iowa > Jones County > History of Jones County, Iowa, past and present, Volume I > Part 77
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None of the young people sent out from Wyoming have become Horace Greeleys or Henry Wattersons, but several of them are either publishers of or are associated with prosperous and influential publications. Of all the list, none has attained the fame so fairly won and richly deserved as Orson Lowell, whose illustrations have delighted the millions of readers of the leading magazines and periodicals of the country.
Of the generation older than myself are John Loudermilch, editor of the Stromburg, Nebraska News, and Will McClure, editor of the Fontanelle Observer.
Of those more nearly my own age are Henry Rising, one of the brightest pupils who ever attended the Wyoming schools, now manager of the Spokane Daily Chronicle; Chas. O'Hara, manager of the Bloomfield, Nebraska, Herald; Scott McClure, editor of the Glenwood Opinion; Clifford Paul, editor of the Jones County Teacher.
Among the present and former Wyomingites who have attained more or less literary fame are Charles Eugene Banks, the well known poet and author; Rev. E. G. Waite, whose two fine poems "Moses" and "Elijah" are classics; Rev. Landon Taylor, one of the early Methodist ministers here, who published "The Battlefield Review," and a history of his own life as connected with Method- ism; Rev. Geo. R. Carroll, author of "Pioneer History of Cedar Rapids" and other works; Mamie Pixley Smith, whose magazine contributions are well known and who is certain of real literary fame if she will persevere in that field.
A number of Wyoming young people have also been prominently identified with college publications. Robert Corbit and Clifford Paul were both editors of "The Nutshell," Lenox, Hopkinton; Erma Babcock was editor of "The Annual," at Monmouth college; Mamie Pixley was one of the editors of "The Cornellian" at Mt. Vernon; Mary Paul, was one of the editors of "The Cosmos," at Coe college, Cedar Rapids ; Dr. Ben Chamberlain of the "Middletonian," at S. U. I .; and Ted Marshal and Park Chamberlain made a meritorious and pretentious venture in "The Philatelist."
The youngest editor Wyoming has ever produced, so far as I can learn, was Will Garrison, who at the age of ten years, published "The Era."
E. A. Spitzer, a well remembered Wyomingite, is now proprietor of a press clipping bureau at Chicago.
To Professor Kelsey, who will never be forgotten by those who were fortu- nate enough to be students under him, I am indebted for my ambition to enter newspaper life. For some dereliction, I have now forgotten what (they were so common in those days), he compelled me to write an essay a day for a some- what extended period. I selected as my subject the history of printing and be-
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came greatly interested in it, writing my "essays" in daily chapters. He was kind enough not only to shorten my sentence, but to commend my efforts, and although my people insisted upon my taking up the study of law a few years later, I always felt that I would eventually enter the newspaper field, and fate was kind enough to so order ten years ago.
THE HISTORIC OAK.
The mustering in of the soldiers in Wyoming under the shade of the his- toric oak tree, which stood nearly opposite the site of the old schoolhouse on the hill, and on the south side of the street immediately west of the present site of the United Presbyterian church, and the administering of the oath to the brave boys by Dr. M. H. Calkins, was a historic event in Wyoming. During the Semi-Cen- tennial Celebration in Wyoming, in August, 1905, Dr .. M. H. Calkins, made a short address on the spot where once stood this oak with its sheltering branches, and this address we have the privilege of giving herewith :
In August, 1862, on this spot beneath the shade of what was then a sturdy oak, there was gathered a company of brave men, who, with uplifted hands, took a solemn oath to support the Constitution of the United States and obey commands that led them across grey battlefields to the cannon's mouth. It became my duty to administer that oath and it was one of the saddest duties of my life. In that rank of noble men were my friends and neighbors. There were beardless boys and stalwart men whose brows were sprinkled with the grey hairs of age who were beyond conscription's iron grasp. There was one man (Thomas Green) standing over six feet in height, with his little son perched upon his shoulder. In the background were wives, children and sweethearts. sad with the thought that all these brave men might never return-thoughts which, alas, proved too true.
While the roar of the battle raged on southern fields, heaven's artillery was aimed at the tree which stood here and shattered its branches. The dead por- tions of the tree were removed. The branches grew in strength but could not defy the storm.
Before these men had gone others had enlisted. E. A. Crockett was the first, John Green, Ensign, Brainard, Grindrod, Gleason, White, Bronson, Ran- dall and others followed soon after.
But under the tree that stood on this spot was organized a full company with J. D. Williams, captain; first lieutenant, Thos. Green; second lieutenant, A. M. Loomis ; James Hall, Jerry Woodyard, Farnsworth Cobb. M. D. Johnson and James D. Sloan were elected sergeants. The corporals were: Leonard Gee, Geo. Gilbert, Chas. Johnson, Wm. Walters. Samuel Mackrill, David Craig and Geo. W. Sones. Henry G. Bill and Hiram Arnold, were the musicians. Mathew T. Diamond was wagoner. Captain Williams and Lieutenant Green resigned; Lieutenant Loomis was at home sick and Benjamin G. Paul was appointed captain. Paul was shot and killed the thirtieth day after being mustered in lieu- tenant I.oomis became captain and continued in command until the close of the war. R. S. Williams became first lieutenant.
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HISTORIC OAK AND SCHOOLHOUSE Wyoming, Iowa, 1857
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The company received twenty-one recruits, and participated in the following battles : Port Gibson, Champion Hill, Siege of Vicksburg, Carrion Crow Bayou, Mansfield, Cane River, Middle Bayou, Meadsville, Winchester and Cedar Creek. It is a little remarkable that only two of these men were killed in battle. Captain Paul was shot by the enemy in ambush. Two died from the effects of wounds received in battle. Twenty-one died from the effects of disease. One was drowned, two resigned and seventeen were discharged on account of poor health. Few of that number of men are in the immediate vicinity.
Only five (Loomis, Woodyard, Arnold, Gould and Hanna) are present today. You will thus see why the ashes of the old oak are like the ashes of the dead- held sacred. Gratitude is the fairest flower that blossoms in the human heart. On this spot we tarry to drop the grief laden tear, hear from those who are filled with patriotic devotion to country, and then with solemn tread march on to the silent city of the dead. And permit me to remark that I was in the first procession that followed the remains of the first one interred in this cemetery.
A REMINISCENCE.
At the close of Dr. Calkins' address, Hiram Arnold, a member and musician of that company which had been mustered into the service, gave the following reminiscence :
My Friends and Neigbors. Listening to Dr. Calkins and Captain Loomis, brings to my memory happy events of my childhood days when I attended school in the old schoolhouse on the hill, taught by Wm. Alden and others. I well remember the good times we had sliding down the hill back of the old school- house. In this old schoolhouse on the evening of the 28th of July, 1862, I put my name to the muster rolls and took the oath of allegiance to my country, al- though a mere "kid" weighing little more than one hundred pounds. Well I re- member what my dear old mother said when I told her I had enlisted and was going to the war. It was this: "Hiram, you can never make a soldier ; you're too chicken-hearted." I said to her, "We shall see." In August, 1862, we were mustered into the state service by Dr. M. H. Calkins. Our lines were formed under the old historic oak, which at that time stood in front and just across the road from the schoolhouse, but has since been cut down and taken away. We soon commenced drilling and getting ready to go to the front.
A little matter comes to my mind that I will briefly relate. There was a dear little boy enlisted when I did, who should have stayed with his mother for at least two or three years more. Horace Kelley was his name; you will re- member him. Horace and I soon became fast friends, as we were much alike in many ways, especially in size and age. We used to pass much of our leisure time by ourselves and talk over what we were going to do to put down the rebellion. Horace said he would string his bayonet full of rebels and spin them around until they were dead. I don't recall now just how I was going to man- age them, but presume it was on about the same line.
In September, we went to Camp Strong, just below Muscatine, and there we were mustered into the service of the United States. By this time we had commenced to realize something of the unpleasant side of a soldier's life. The
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quartermaster had not issued to us any pie or cake, or furnished us cream for our coffee, or butter for our bread all this time. For our bed we had the soft side of a board and our boots for a pillow. All this made Horace sad and he longed for home and mother. When they put the measure on him he had shrunk, and did not fill the required measurements and was sent home. I was not quite so fortunate but passed muster by raising myself a little on my toes, and re- mained with the boys until the close of the war.
While at Camp Strong, myself with some eighteen or twenty others, had the measles. Father happened to be there at the time and cared for me until I had got nearly well, and then returned home. This brings to my mind a circum- stance perhaps the saddest of my life. I received word from home that father was very sick with the measles and bloody flux, and could live but a few days, and if I ever saw him alive I must come at once. I went to an officer and re- lated to him the news I had received from home, with flowing tears and heart filled with sadness. I plead with him for a short furlough that I might go to the bedside of my dying father. Never shall I forget the answer I received. It was this : Hiram, if your father, your mother and all your relatives were dead you could not go home. Perhaps you can imagine my feelings at that time. I will not attempt to describe them.
Soon after this we were ordered to the front. I went with the rest, a sad, broken-hearted and discouraged boy. For several weeks, I waited impatiently for some word from home, and finally it came, and it was cheerful news-father was past danger and the rest of the family well.
I never recovered fully from the effect of the measles but through the kind- ness of our dear and beloved officers, Captain A. M. Loomis and Lieutenant R. S. Williams, I was able to stay at the front and remain with the boys until the close of the war. They took me in to mess with them and cared for me as though I was their own son. Their kindness will never be forgotten.
This visit to my old home town has been the happiest event of my life. The meeting with so many dear old friends, the friendly greeting and hearty hand-shaking with many whom I had not seen for many years has been one continuous round of pleasure since I arrived in Wyoming. I am proud of our old home town. I am especially proud of our cemetery where lie so many of my relatives and friends. It is one of the best kept and most beautiful cemeteries I know of. I am proud of the score of young men who were born and raised in our little city and educated in our schools, and who have gone out in the world and made such splendid records. We are all justly proud of them.
ROLL OF COMPANY K.
At the conclusion of the reminiscence by Musician Hiram Arnold, Sergeant Jerry Woodyard remarked that he happened to eat a little too much butter at dinner and his speech had slipped out of his mind. He, however, read the roll of Company K as follows : Captain, J. D. Williams ; first lieutenant, Tom Green ; second lieutenant, A. M. Loomis; C. Archer, G. McAtkinson, A. Allen, C. Bill, H. Bill, J. A. Brainard, E. Babcock, J. F. Brock, J. W. Bronson, R. Barnhill, C. Bryan. W. M. Crandall. C. Carpenter. Wm. Crone, K. J. Calkins, H. Cady,
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Z. Crandall, D. Craig, Farnsworth Cobb, Riley Calkins, T. Donaldson, H. Dock- stader, M. Diamond, L. K. Dubois, D. Eversole, J. Ellis, W. Ellis, J. E. Fisher, E. Fairchild, C. Fuller, E. Foote, C. M. Gifford, L. Gee, W. Gee, J. E. Gilmore, Geo. Gilbert, C. W. Gould, Joseph Hanna, A. Hamilton, D. Herron, J. L. Hall, C. Horton, C. Ingraham, J. R. Johnson, V. Jewett, A. Jewett, G. W. James, Jas. Johnson, M. D. Johnson, Chas. Johnson, A. Kinney, J. M. Kimball, Tom Lain, M. M. Lain, L. Mudge, D. Moore, H. Moore, S. Moore, D. McDaniels, M. Mur- ray, A. McCormick, S. R. Mackrill, H. Milner, C. Milner, G. E. Osborne, S. Powers, N. Pulsifer, Joseph Parks, Joseph Ruley, F. Reynolds, J. Spencer, G. W. Sones, F. Sinkey. J. W. Sloan, Jas. Sloan, B. M. Shattuck, E. Sawyer, T. Sen- nett, D. Tebo, R. Wilkinson, Wm. White, A. Woodruff, C. D. Williams, Jerry Woodyard, John Vasser.
PIONEER WOMEN.
The following excellent tribute to the pioneer women of Wyoming, was read by Mrs. Kate Halsey Richardson, herself a daughter of pioneers, at the Wyom- ing Semi-Centennial Celebration, August 7, 1905.
Each year when the earth and air are warm, and the mosquitoes are at the height of their existence, it is the pleasure of many to take to the woods and lead the simple life-sleep in a tent, eat in the open, fish, hunt, and as nearly as possibly get next to nature. Fifty years ago most people in this part of the country were living such a life from necessity and not from choice. Setting forth from comfortable homes and loving friends, riding in lumber wagons drawn by oxen, whose most rapid gait was ten miles an hour, leaving behind civilization, pushing forward toward the mysterious unknown, what must have been the thoughts locked within the breasts of those pioneer women, who so bravely followed their lords into the wilderness? Rumors of rich lands to be had for almost nothing were the cords that drew men westward in those days, their minds doubtless filled with golden dreams of future success, of which a few have been realized. But the women, mothers of children, who left behind church, schools, friends, to come to a land where neighbors were a rarity, relig- ious and educational advantages a decided scarcity, only the rudest of shelter from chilling blast in winter and rain, sun and wind in summer. There was courage for you, and sacrifice; the relinquishing of dreams of future greatness for their children, for how could the most hopeful mother expect her son to find his way to the president's chair through such a labyrinth of forest and prairie ?
In the year 1839 there came across the trackless prairie to the site of this old town, the family of Van Voltenberghs. In the History of Jones county, we read that they pitched their tent on the spot where now stands the home of Mr. Isaac DeWitt. They were the first white people known to have penetrated these wilds, and we read that they hitched a log behind their wagon to make a path through the tall grass by which they might, if need be, retrace their steps. There were fourteen in the party, including, I believe, three women-the pio- neer women of this vicinity. That they were worthy thus to act as the vanguard in the march of civilization to our beloved town, is proven by the history before
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referred to, wherein it chronicles the fact that those three women walked fifteen miles and back again for the sake of attending divine worship. Imagine a Wyoming woman of today doing such a stunt as that to hear a sermon! Fifteen blocks would be an insurmountable obstacle in the path of most of us.
In enumerating early pioneer women, one might mention Mrs. Miller, the mother of Mrs. Green and Mrs. Lindsey, who came in the early fifties. Mrs. Wherry, the mother of Mrs. Babcock and Mrs. Paul, with their brothers, all at sometime worthy citizens here. Mrs. W. T. Fordham, the beloved friend of my mother's pioneer days. Mrs. Knight, Mrs. Brainard, Mrs. Cady, Mrs. Thomas Green, the fame of whose generous hospitality lives after her. Mrs. Holmes, who has given to the world worthy children of worthy parents. Mrs. Barton Loomis, whose children still possess the land acquired so long ago. Mrs. Helen Fuller, remembered for her beauty of character and talents as a writer. Mrs. Benton, whose husband preached the first sermon in the Presbyterian church. Mrs. Norton, Mrs. Rising, Mrs. Wildey, Mrs. A. G. Brown, Mrs. Pratt, to whose good works for town and church whole pages might be devoted, and who, after years of activity, sits quietly in her chair waiting for the summons home. Mrs. Becker, the mother of Milton Lowell of whom Wyoming is justly proud. Mrs. Bronson, Mrs. Blakeslee, Mrs. Loomis, Mrs. Calkins, Mrs. Bills, Mrs. Ogden, Mrs. Briggs, Mrs. Aldrich, Mrs. Alden, Mrs. Johnson, Mrs. Mc- Clure, Mrs. DeWitt, Mrs. Chamberlain, Mrs. Tourtellot. Many more might be named, but the list is long and time is short. Many who came exchanged homes of comparative luxury for the log cabin of the west, and I have heard my mother, who came in 1859, tell how the women would pass the time when visiting each other, as they used to do in those old-fashioned days, showing the fine clothes they had brought with them from the east, and laugh together over the absurd- ity of silken gowns and velvet cloaks in the wild and wooley west. Many of those wives would have gladly exchanged the fine clothes for other things more useful and necessary with their rapidly increasing families-for children had not then gone out of fashion. Money was a scarce commodity and I have heard one pioneer wife tell how, one Sabbath, she and her husband rode many miles to church, carrying for safety the family purse, which contained a five dollar gold piece and a penny. When the hat was passed the husband dropped into it as he supposed, the penny. Imagine his consternation when later he discovered that he had given the gold piece by mistake. That five dollars represented his entire wealth. Humiliating as it was, he went to the one who had taken up the collec- tion, told of his mistake, and recovered his gold piece. Men were honest then. Such a story now-a-days would excite the suspicions of the brethren.
I wonder what the wives of our young M. D's, or in fact, the M. D's them- selves, would think could they be transported backward nearly fifty years and be ushered into the apartment that afforded a bridal home for the girl wife of him whom we affectionately call "The Doctor." Picture to yourselves a hotel of four rooms, two sleeping rooms above, kitchen and dining room below, one end of the dining room curtained off and containing a bed with a melodeon at the head, a trunk at the foot, and a narrow strip of carpet in front. Well, surely from small beginnings come great endings, and we are all heartily glad that Providence led Dr. Calkins and his wife to settle in this quiet spot-somewhat
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against her will, to be sure, if we may believe the doctor, who declares that the stream which drains East Ridge had its source from the copious tears shed by Mrs. Calkins when she discovered to what a primitive spot she was being led. The doctor says that creek might have been there before, but he never saw it till then.
The first Christmas tree in Wyoming was of course gotten up by a woman- Mrs. Becker, then Mrs. Lowell, and was held in the second story of the store building that stood where Mrs. Blakslee now lives. Those who attended were mostly grown folks, for the only children in the town were mere babes in arms. Among those present were: Mr. and Mrs. W. T. Fordham, Mr. and Mrs. Fuller, Dr. and Mrs. Calkins, Mr. and Mrs. Lowell, and my father and mother. Mr. Fuller hung a butcher knife on the tree for my father. Of those who attended that Christmas night so long ago, only three survive: Dr. and Mrs. Calkins and Mrs. Becker.
Little things often turn the course of large events. The cackling of geese saved Rome, the hand of a child kept back the floods from Holland, and the escape of oxen and cows on the 3d of July, 1854, stayed the steps of E. W. Cady, who had started from his Illinois home for Black Hawk county, where it was his purpose to settle. They had passed through East Ridge, bidding fare- well to friends who had settled there, had left the present site of Wyoming be- hind, and camped for the night a few miles west of here, turning the cows and oxen loose to graze, doubtless thinking them too weary to wander far. But in the morning, the glorious fourth, the cattle were gone. Without their oxen as means of locomotion the party were helpless, so there the lonely pioneer woman waited with her children, while the husband and father accompanied by Mr. Pratt, near whose home they were camped, retraced his steps to seek his stray- ing possessions. Back they went through East Ridge where the patriotic pioneers were holding a Fourth of July picnic, finally overtaking the cattle a few miles to the northeast. On returning, tired no doubt, discouraged over the delay, and thinking too of the waiting wife and children with none too much at hand to eat, Mr. Cady was persuaded by his East Ridge friends to bring his family back the few miles they had gone, and buy land there. I think that pioneer woman must have rejoiced when she found that her wanderings were over, and she had come home. This change in Mr. Cady's plans was the means of giving Wyoming some noble and enterprising pioneer women. One of the daughters two years later, became the wife of Mr. Whitney J. Brainard, and was one of the first brides brought to the embryo town. Their residence here has been continuous from then till now and as a town we have reason to rejoice that these cattle wandered away that summer night so long ago, leaving with us-the friend and neighbor whom to know is to love.
We the women of today, the descendants of those pioneer wives, looking back at what they achieved, what obstacles they overcame, what hardships they en- dured for posterity's sake, may well wonder and be glad at the spirit they showed forth. I can find no more fitting tribute to their memory than in the words of Solomon : "The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life. She worketh willingly with her hands. She looketh well to the
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ways of her household and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up and call her blessed."
MISS JULIA M'CLURE-A TRIBUTE.
Mrs. Mabel Loomis Kirkpatrick read the following tribute to the memory of Miss Julia McClure, at the Semi-Centennial Celebration on August 7, 1905. Miss McClure was a pioneer of Wyoming, and her memory is cherished by all who ever came in contact with this true Godly woman.
Among the names of Wyomings' old settlers, there is one which stands out distinct from all others; a name cherished by many, and long to be remembered -the name of Miss McClure.
She was a quiet person, and a great reader. When a very little girl, I used often go to her house, and as I look back upon those times, I always think of her sitting, reading by a big round table, on which were books and magizines.
Some one else said to me the other day that in childhood memory, they saw her always with her Bible. She was a leader in the Woman's Missionary societies, and she was especially adapted to this work. But first of all, was her work with the children. Aunt Julia she was to them, and always will be though they are now men and women.
Being heartily interested in missions, she organized and led a mission band among the children. She helped them to make things which they sold, and put the proceeds into the mission treasury. At one time, she taught a day school for little folks (now it would be called a kindergarten) in the old brick house recently made over into the United Presbyterian parsonage. It is needless to say that Aunt Julia loved the children. Her greatest work for them was in the Sabbath-school. Every Sunday year after year for many long years, she was unfailingly present at the Sabbath-school and patiently and untiringly sought to impress Bible truths upon the hearts of a class of restless little children. It was a sorrow to her when because of the loss of hearing she was obliged to give up her class. It was a long procession of children which the advancing years passed under her instruction, while she stood faithful at her post. Hundreds of them have gone out from under her care to lead lives of usefulness.
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