USA > Iowa > Madison County > History of Madison County, Iowa, and its people, Volume I > Part 20
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BREAKING OUT A FARM
The carly settlers found the prairies covered by grasses that grew tall and coarse and rank, some kinds growing taller than a man. Some seasons the "blue joint" grew as tall as a man's head on horseback. The grass roots were large, coarse and matted the ground so closely that in places in the sloughs near the surface there were more roots than earth. Such places could not be broken by any plow the first settlers had.
The very early settlers did not come prepared with plows and teams strong enough to break either the heavier prairie lands or the brush. Indeed, suitable plows were not then made in this region, nor until about 1850 did makers of plows begin to build them strong enough for such work. For several years after settlement began only the easily plowed pieces were brought under cultivation. In those days all kinds of plows were made at individual shops and wholly by hand. If a farmer needed any kind of a plow, he went to his favorite blacksmith and gave his order, to be filled when his turn came. But every blacksmith was not a plow maker.
Thus, for three or four years the little fields of the settlers were mostly along the edges of the timber, where some trees could be deadened and later removed as they decayed, or there came leisure time to cut them down and burn them. And then close along the timber line, the grass sod was easier to break. It should be remembered that at first there was but very little or no brush-it was either timber or prairie-because the great, sweeping prairie fires kept down all kinds of undergrowth.
The carlier settlers brought few horses or cattle, which led them to adopt the custom of "splicing" their team forces when breaking land. A little later on "breaking" became a business quite exclusively its own. Plowing had to be done at a certain season of the year, between May 20 and about July 1. while the grass and brush grew most vigorously. As this was also the cultivating season of the year and corn was the leading crop, a farmer could not both break and cultivate the same season. So that one or two men would rig up a suitable break- ing plow and with plenty of teams (always oxen), make contracts with those in the neighborhood wanting breaking done and continue the work during the breaking season. The price for breaking until 1870, when the custom mostly ceased, was around $3 per acre, for prairie land, and $4 to $5 for brush. Horses and mules were seldom used, and never on brush land, because they were too fast in their movements and not steady enough. Oxen were slow, steady going animals. stepping no faster when the draught was easy than when it was heavy. However, considerable of the prairie divide lands, the last broken in the county during the early 'zos, were broken by horses and mules, because clear prairie and the sod had become much easier broken by long pasturage.
The breaking plow of the period from 1850 to 1870 was made about as follows : The plowshare was of sufficient size to cut from 18 to 30 inches, according to
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the strength of the team. Some moldboards were fashioned to deliver the sod smooth in the furrows and others to deliver it "kinked": that is, throw the sod so the farther edge fell unevenly or kinky. It was claimed for the latter method that the sod would rot better and quicker. The quality of the team often depended upon the financial ability of the breaker but always on the kind of sod or brush land to be turned over. There were two "shares." One would last without sharp- ening about two days, unless there were rocks, gravel or extra hard roots, or the ground was too dry, when the "share" required sharpening daily. A fair day's breaking was from two to three acres. Two strong men were necessary, one to handle the plow and the other to drive the team. The latter wielded a big, long whip, the whip stock, usually hickory, being from six to ten feet long. The lash was of heavy braided leather and from ten to fifteen feet long, finished with a long buckskin "cracker."
The plow was strongly and heavily made in all its parts. Being much too heavy for a man to guide, a strong two-wheeled truck was attached, two or three feet back of the front end of the great long plow, which supported and steadied the beam. To guide the "share" into or out of the ground and regulate the depth, a strong lever was attached near the forward end of the plow beam, extending back over the trucks, where it was supported by a frame, and directly over the beam back to a little past the moldboard, easy of reach by the plowman, there being an upright piece of timber, fastened to the beam about half way between the point of the "share" and the moldboard extending upward about four feet. Through this upright were bored inch holes, about four inches apart. This upright passed through a mortise in the lever, or an iron strap attached to thie lever. A wooden or iron pin held the lever in place.
Attached to the beam, close to the point of the "share," was the cutter, for many years always a heavy bar of steel, sharpened on the front edge. This kind was used up to the very last, in brush land, or where there was rock or much "red root." But in the later years, when smooth prairie was broken, the rolling style of cutter was generally used. It was like the modern disc, but without the bevel.
To the front end of the plow beam was attached a great clevis, such an affair as young men seldom or never see nowadays. Common log chains were generally used, extending from ox yoke to ox yoke. For a 16-inch plow, three yoke of oxen were usually required ; for a larger plow, of course, more were necessary, or if the brush was too heavy. A 24-inch plow was about the limit in size and this required six or seven yoke of good oxen. Farmers preferred furrows, on brush land, from eighteen to twenty inches wide, and on prairie, sixteen inches. The writer never has heard of a man driving a breaking team of oxen through a season without having exploded volumes of profanity. In all polite and religious circles of that period it was expected and excused.
PIONEER BEDSTEADS
During the first few years very few bedsteads were brought from former homes by the settlers. As soon as the log cabin was covered two 2-inch auger holes were bored into the logs, the proper distance from one corner for the length and breadth of the bed, a round or squared post for the other corner
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support prepared, into which like holes were bored ; round poles were fitted into these holes for bed railings-and the bedstead was completed. Bed ropes were always brought along. Sometimes pole cross-pieces were fastened to the logs or wooden pins along the logs, to which was fastened the inside section of the bed rope, and thus was made ready for the bed clothes. To economize space, trundle beds were made to fit under each bed of standard height. These were for the children, but often were used by "grown-ups."
In those primitive days nearly every family kept a flock of geese. The very early settlers usually brought along a pair of geese, sometimes more, which traveled along with the cattle and sheep while moving. These furnished feathers for beds and the woman who could boast of the largest number of feather beds stood supreme among the women of the neighborhood. A. J. Hoisington says he heard his mother, as late as 1859. and a neighbor woman one day talking feather beds and then he learned that Mrs. Brown, who lived in Jefferson Town- ship, on section 36, and was a member of the pioneer family of that community, had sixteen feather beds. Each woman, characteristically, excused herself by saying. "Mrs. Brown had every chance, since she lived on the banks of North River, where it was no trouble to raise geese." Every family who could afford thein slept in winter between two feather beds. To say of a family, "Why, they haven't a feather bed in the house!" was to express the direst poverty of their condition. Until comparatively late years if the parents failed to give a newly married daughter a good feather bed it became the talk of the neighborhood.
During the first fifteen years nearly every family kept some sheep and thus woolen bed clothes were abundant. With a plentiful combination of feathers and wool on a bed in those days one never thought of the homely style of the bedstead.
WHEN THE STOVE CAME
Probably neither a heating nor cooking stove was in Madison County until 1850. At that time the stove was not in common use in the eastern and more settled sections of the country, outside of towns and cities. The price of stoves was relatively high and the plan on which they were built was the simplest imag- inable. The old time box heating stove was a rectangular iron box, with a door in the front end, within an inch as wide and high as the whole end, and had a small hearth with a slide cover. Through the top, as near as possible to the rear end, was a hole over which rested the stovepipe : the top had no other opening. The stove was supported by four heavy, detachable, feet or legs. Cookstoves were not large, but very heavy, and all were made of cast iron. They had narrow hearths. with sliding cover and shallow ash pit. The fire box was without grating ; it had a door at one end nearly the size of the fire box. Next back of the fire box and extending a foot below was the oven, the bottom portion of which extended under the fire box. The oven had a shelf midway of the top and bottom. Between the top of the stove and top of oven was a space of some two inches, which exposed the top of the oven to the heat and besides allowed the smoke to pass on to the opening for the stovepipe. The stovepipe hole was in the center of the stove on its top. Across the width of the stove. in front of and next to the stovepipe hole, was a sliding damper. When the damper was
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open the smoke and heat went direct to the pipe; when closed, the smoke and heat were thrown down a vacuum, back of the oven, and then the smoke passed back and up the chimney, thus increasing the heat at the back end of the oven and lessening the draft up the chimney.
In 1855 a cook stove cost from $40 to $80 at Mississippi River towns. Very few heating stoves were sold at that time, the price ranging from $20 up, according to size.
William Compton brought the first large heating stove to Winterset in 1850, which was set up in his store room. In the fall of 1851 he sold it to the old Guiberson school district in Union Township. It was two feet high, three feet wide and four and a half feet long. It probably was the largest stove ever in use in the county.
John A. Pitzer brought the first cook stove when he moved to Winterset in 1850. Slowly other stoves, both for cooking and heating, were brought into the county and by 1855 became comparatively of common use.
SHOE MAKERS AND REPAIRERS
The boots worn by the early settlers were coarsely made. Women's shoes were of much the same rude material. Indeed, women and girls often wore men's boots, especially in snowy and muddy weather. The foot wear was bought ready made at the stores and seldom were mended, but worn as long as they held together. Women and children usually went "barefoot" from early spring to late in the fall. Men also followed this practice in the season of the year when their work admitted it. Men, women and children roamed over the prairie, through brush and timber, in their bare feet when it seemed impossible for human endurance, and many women and children, whose work did not require protracted hours in the cold and snow, wore no shoes during the winter, substituting for them home made moccasins fashioned out of remnants of woolen clothes. Cash was always required to buy boots and shoes, and that was generally scarce and often impossible to obtain. A pair of boots or shoes was the limit of affluence for nearly all persons in the county. Going "barefoot" was necessary, if not popular. There was no caste or exclusiveness in the pioneer days of Madison County and necessity established customs. So that when one neighbor tried to "lord it over" another, means were at hand to discipline the culprit. Often even large girls were laughed out of wearing shoes at summer school. The "barefoot" scholars set the "pace" and insisted on it being observed by all. It was common, during the '50s, to see women and men at religious meetings in their bare feet. This all seems strange to us nowadays ; but necessary economy in all things then required sacrifices of this character.
In most country neighborhoods there was some one who mended boots and shoes-cobblers they were called. Once in a while a farmer, who mayhap had worked in an eastern tannery, would make a try at tanning a few hides at home for himself and neighbors. The leather turned out proved of inferior quality, but as it cost nothing but labor to produce and the raw hides were cheap, the stuff answered many purposes.
Vol. 1 -11
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EARLY TIME BLACKSMITHS
The first blacksmith in the county was Ephraim Bilderback, who settled in 1846 near the center of Scott Township, bringing with him a small supply of tools, besides a bellows and anvil. He was appointed the organizing sheriff and was elected first sheriff of Madison County. There was, of course, very little black- smith work to do in 1846, that being the year in which the first settlements of the county were made. Later, he did not care to work much in his smithy and before he left. in the early '50s, abandoned the bellows and anvil entirely.
In 1850, the year following the location of Winterset, blacksmiths opened up in town, doing the work for the county several years, after which, owing to the largely increased population and greater demand for work, neighborhood shops opened in distant portions of the county. By 1856 there were several shops in and outside of Winterset.
Before 1865 the blacksmith made everything required by his customers, out of bar iron or steel; horse shoes and nails were pounded out by hand. Until about 1860 charcoal alone was used by the smiths in this county.
CARPENTERS AND JOINERS
At the first and until sawmills began to cut the native timber into lumber, about 1850, there was no employment for mechanics in wood work. Buildings were all of logs and the finishing of them was of the rudest kind. The pioneers were. with rare exceptions, all farmers, and the exceptions readily adapted themselves to that industry.
As sawmills increased and people began to use the humber for houses and other purposes, workmen in wood appeared. Some were carpenters, who could build a house but were unable to put in doors, windows or do the finer work inside or outside ; this class of work belonged to "joiners" and there were many more carpenters than joiners. Ready made doors or windows were not in the market, so that all had to be made by the hand of some local joiner out of native lumber. Unless a carpenter and joiner had the contract, a carpenter would do the rough work and the joiner finished the job ready for the plasterers. During the middle '60s ready-made doors and windows came on the market at Des Moines and a few years later were on sale in smaller towns. This nearly ended the trade of joiners and since then the carpenter and joiner, as such, rarely has been heard of.
HARVESTING WILD HAV
Prairie grass was the only kind of stock feed, except grain, for about twenty years after the county was settled. Until the advent of mowing machines, near the middle 'Gos, the grass was cut with a scythe. This was a slow process. but generally the grass was heavy on the bottom lands and in the prairie sloughs. Until about 1860 the upland grass was not mown, although it was a finer quality for hay than bottom or slough grass. It cut much less to the acre and was neglected until the quantity on the bottom lands, and increased number of stock, made the use of it necessary.
It is very often the case that the over-abundance of a supply in its raw state
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results in great scarcity in its prepared state, through negligence to prepare and wastefulness after preparation. Thus with a wilderness of prairie grass it was often that in the spring hay was scarce and very high in price. Occasionally, a considerable migration through the county or influx of settlers would cause scarcity and high prices. If either of these came in the spring, when otherwise there was a shortness of supply, woe unto the man who had to buy. if he had the money, or pity for his stock if he had not! In the spring of 1850-1, during the California travel through the county, wild hay sold as high as $40 and $50 per ton, and many were unable to purchase at any price. Settlers hauled hay as far as a day's travel one way to the roads over which the caravans were passing, went into camp and sold out their hay as they could, and then returned home feeling highly remunerated for their time. In selling hay those days, if the whole load was not "lumped off," it would be disposed of by the armful, or the seller would size up the physical ability of the buyer to carry hay, and then offer him as much as he could carry in his arms for so much. A man can never properly estimate the amount of hay he can carry until he has some experience in thus measuring hay at the rate of $50 a ton.
At the period of this great scarcity and demand, and at some later and similar periods, settlers mowed the previous year's grass, mixed it with the new hay, and sold it. Rank fraud and swindle as it was, often the buyer had to take it that way or go without hay for his hungry team. Some twenty years later, a very elderly and pious farmer, then in this county and well off, at least in this world's goods, bragged to a neighbor, pointing to a fine eighty acres of well culti- vated land he owned, that he entered it all with money obtained by selling Cali- fornians "last year's" grass, cut in the spring and mixed with good hay. He even set up justification for his reprehensible acts, repeating the same old argument : "Others were doing likewise. I may as well have their money as the other fellow."
It is remembered that in March, 1859, even poor prairie hay sold at $20 per ton and some people hauled it several miles besides. This, notwithstanding prairie grass was unusually abundant the year before. Two or three times, in the last thirty years, tame hay and clover have reached tall figures, to be sure, but the product did not grow wild, and without limit. on almost ( at that time) valueless land.
Wild hay was put up in this manner: The grass was mown with a scythe, left two or three days in the swath to cure, forked into small piles, and when abun- dantly dried, hauled home and stacked. Often times the mown hay was raked together and then pitched into piles. However, danger from prairie fires and theft generally prevented stacking where cut. Grass that would not make from three to five tons per acre was not considered worth cutting during the first ten or fifteen years.
BURIAL OF THE DEAD
Preparations for the burial of the dead in the very early days were simple and cheap. At first there were no sawmills for the making of lumber and none was brought by the immigrants. On rare occasions some one had a whip saw, with which to make a few rough boards. Up to the time when small water-power
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sawmills began to turn out rough boards, coffins were made out of such crude material. Sometimes, for small children or infants, coffins were made of the bark of trees, by one who understood the business, and were rather neat affairs. Sometimes "puncheon" boards, made by splitting straight-grained logs into strips as thin as possible and then hewing them smooth, were good material for the purpose. Occasionally, a portion of a wagon box was cut up and used, or a box in which articles were packed by the family and brought into the country. In a few cases, willows were woven into basket form, with a lid, and used for small children. It is known that in two or three cases, the children being quite small, two suitably sized logs, cut to proper length, were hollowed out, like large maple sap troughs, in which a body was laid in one and covered by the other. Auger holes were bored through each end of the two troughs and wooden pins inserted. thus securely binding together the two portions of the rude but substantial casket.
By 1850 the local lumber supply began to furnish material for coffins and there were carpenters enough in the country to make them. In every considerable community there was at least one carpenter, who made a specialty of supplying coffins for that neighborhood, always keeping on hand seasoned black walnut lumber for the emergency. In case of a death, the deceased was measured and an order sent to the favorite carpenter and it was the unwritten law that the carpenter, upon receiving an order for a coffin, should drop any work he had on hand, except it was a similar one, and forthwith finish the order, which usually required one day. The body of a deceased person, as a rule, was kept over one whole day and buried the next. If the day following the death happened to be a Sunday, the carpenter made the coffin on that day, regardless of the artisan's religious convictions relative to working on the Sabbath. In such cases, making a coffin was not considered as labor, but as a Christian duty due from any neighbor in assisting in the burial of the dead. After 1850, and for several years, the usual charge for making a coffin ranged from nothing up to an exchange of work, "time for time." the family of the deceased, in the same manner, paying for the lumber, and sometimes furnishing it. In Winterset, professional coffin makers charged from $2 to $5, according to the size and style of finish. In these primitive times now in mind, there were no extras to a coffin. The wood work and ( later) screws were all. At the very first, when lumber began to be plentiful, many coffins were plain boxes, the same size from end to end. Soon afterward, however, they were all made about in the proportion of two thirds the width of the body for the head and one-half the body for the feet: no handles were attached. The top was all of one piece, which was nailed to the receptacle at the beginning, but later screws were used. The top. usually, was not nailed or serewed down until the last thing before lowering the coffin into the grave. At the bottom of the grave a deeper depth was dug, in size just long and wide and deep enough to hold the coffin. Then over it a single layer of rough boards was placed crosswise the length of the grave. Upon the death of a person, one or two neighbors were asked to dig the grave, the person representing the family having already selected the place in the burial ground. No charge was made for the work and after the body was lowered into place, volunteers remained to refill the grave.
Usually some kind of brief religious services were conducted in connection with the burial proceedings, by a preacher, if one was convenient, or by some
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elderly person of the neighborhood of kindly and religious bent. As for several years there were very few public places for gatherings, and at first none at all, funerals were held direct from the late home of the deceased to the burying ground. A prayer and a hymn or two at the house, a procession of neighbors in wagons or on horseback to the grave, a similar short service at the grave, and the cere- monies were at an end. It was customary, even among non-religious families, to arrange with a minister to preach the funeral sermon at a later date. Because of the scarcity of ordained preachers and their prior engagements, sometimes these funeral sermons were not delivered for weeks or even months, and in rare cases over a year might elapse between the funeral and the sermon.
In nearly every instance the body of the deceased was kept one whole day and two nights. Watchers for the night were arranged by the neighbors. During the very early years, generally, families were quite a distance from each other, and often couriers had to be sent to inform them of a death. Assistance, if needed, was plainly asked and always promptly given. Even if neighbors were not on friendly terms there was not the least hesitancy about asking for or receiving assistance in case of a death, no matter when they had ceased to be on speaking terms. The occasion of a death often restored friendly relations between neighbors. In those times two of the watchers always remained close to the deceased. one at each end of the casket. This close watch was for the double purpose of protecting the body from attack by rodents, or other enemies, and to detect any sign of life, but the custom has long since disappeared from this section of the country.
PRAIRIE FIRES
The prairie settlers were in great danger of prairie fires, between the time the frost killed the grass in the fall and the coming of the snows of winter, and from the going of the snows toward spring and the growth of new grass. The grass grew generally from two to eight or ten feet high and very thick on the ground. The settlers were confined to the timber belts along the streams and their little fields furnished but little if any obstruction to a big prairie fire. At first, there was little or no brush and a belt of timber, unless of much width, would not stop it. With a high wind a prairie fire would advance at a speed now unbelievable, in most cases almost as rapid as the wind, because the wind would carry sparks and blades of burning grass through the air, igniting the grass long distances ahead of the body of the conflagration, thus continually starting new fires ahead. On an open prairie, before a high wind, no horse could run fast enough to keep up with it. Such rapidly moving fires, however, were only occasional.
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