USA > Iowa > Story County > History of Story County, Iowa: A Record of Settlement, Organization. > Part 10
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The cabin of old Mr. Applegate north of Tom Hemstock's farm was the only building between Fitch's place and the north end of Center Grove on the road to Cambridge. The crossings of West Indian Creek were fords, one west of the brick yard (on Sycamore street), and the other just below the bridge on the Alderman (Fantz) farm. There was a small house inhabited for a short time on the J. C. Mitchell farm near the present line of the railway. Other than these the country was open in all directions. The Oliver Stephenson farm (four miles east of Nevada) was occupied by Peter P. Martin, and there were other farms along the timber and in the edges of groves. There was but one house on the prairie beyond the timber on East Indian Creek, the old Larue place. The road to Marshalltown or rather to Marietta, which was then the county seat of Marshall county, was in a northeast direction and passed John P. Pool's and Watt Murphey's places. The bridge over East Indian was near Pool's house. Traveling east and north from Murphey's there was no house passed until Clemons Grove was reached in Marshall county. A family named Taylor lived for a time near the east line of Story County on this road but abandoned their place. Mr. John McCain, senior, lived north of the road, and a portion of the travel went near his house to the place now owned by Misouri See. A few families lived in and near Johnson's Grove. The next nearest set- tlement in that direction was beyond Zearing (about Illinois Grove). Nearly all of Grant, Milford, Sherman, Richland, Lincoln, Collins, Howard and all of Warren were unoccupied. In many places neither house nor tree between the eye and the horizon could be seen in any direction.
Apropos to this condition may be mentioned the prairie fires which were nightly seen for weeks at a time in the fall and spring, the light showing on the horizon for perhaps thirty to sixty miles, and frequently, of course, right at hand. Stacks, stables and sometimes houses, were burned every year; but the most grave disaster was the burning to death of a whole family while traveling in a covered wagon with their household goods. This oc- cured on the road toward Story City not far from a large rock that shows on an elevated point about a mile north of Hon. Frank Curtiss' farm. The fire started west of the Judge Mason farm in Grant township and under a very high wind overtook and enveloped the wagon, leaping hundreds of feet in a moment and blazing fiercely as it struck the tall grass in the low
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grounds. The man was asleep in the wagon, his wife driving the team and unconscious of the impending disaster. The man, his wife, the chil- dren, the horses and even the dog burned to death, the man being the only one who lived long enough to tell the story.
Much of the country was very flat and wet, and as the settlers were not able to bridge the streams and sloughs except in the cheapest form and only where absolutely needed travelers had ample scope for the exercise of in- genuity in avoiding bogs not covered with a sod strong enough to bear their teams, and in extricating themselves when luckless enough to mire down. For some years the big slough east of John O'Neil's place in Sher- man township (where is now the "Handsaker" ditch) was an object of solicitude for those going toward Marietta. And another bad one was a short distance east of the J. C. Lovell school house. It was important that loaded teams should travel in company and be ready to afford each other help.
But the terror of the traveler far and near was Skunk Bottom. From the north line of Franklin township to Mahaska county the bottom lands adjacent to Skunk river were soft and treacherous and in wet seasons cov- ered with water. There was a bridge over the bed of the river near Cam- bridge; but to reach that from the northeast it was sometimes necessary to wade several hundred yards through water to the hub, or to the beds or seats of the wagon or buggy. To avoid the deeper places and those where the sod had been torn by passing wheels or was rotten, it required a guide on horseback who was familiar-or professed to be-with the places that must be avoided and whose customary fee was half a dollar. It was fully as bad on the road from Newton to Des Moines, on which there was a great deal of travel and by reason of which the whole region had much unsavory advertisement.
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CHAPTER IX. REMINISCENCES BY COL. SCOTT-(CONCLUDED).
THE EXPERIENCE OF JULIA ROMAINE.
In illustration of the wild habits of Skunk river as it was in early days and supplementary to what is said elsewhere, many incidents are re- membered by those who knew it previous to its reformation. In one of these Mrs. Isaac Walker, then Miss Julia Romaine, took an involuntary and extraordinary bath. In the fall of 1862 with a horse and buggy on her way to visit some friends in Mitchellville, a little before sunset she reached the old crossing near Plummer's about two miles from Mitchell- ville. The road wound along among the bayous in the bottom through the timber and was not a pleasant or attractive drive under its best conditions ; but covered with water, the light fading, the dark shadows of the trees playing upon the surface and misleading the eye and judgment, it must needs have been a very brave girl that would attempt the treacherous pas- sage at such an hour.
The fair Julia had little time for parley with the child near Plummer's house who told her that men on horseback had crossed during the day. She had already driven many miles to find a bridge that showed above the flood; and being so near her destination she did not hesitate. With a stout heart she began to thread the labyrinth out and in among the trees with water from fetlock to midside, she held her way till the bridge was reached and the raging channel safely crossed. Though twilight was deepening, she was full of hope; for through openings in the trees she could see the far- off shore. But soon the party came to grief. Deeper and deeper went the buggy. until the brave driver took perch upon the seat of the buggy, as the tide rolled through its bed. Even this resource failed; for in a moment without notice all footing was lost, and horse, driver and buggy went into the depths. The subsequent events will probably never be told in their exact order. After a lapse of more than a quarter of a century Mrs. Walker is the sole survivor of what might have been a sad tragedy, and she has little disposition to give the world her best impression and recollections. No doubt she was more engrossed in those trying hours with the results to be attained than with the manner of their accomplishment. In imagina- tion we can, even in the growing darkness, see a somewhat obscure and
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tragic picture of a rather ghostly horse, harness and buggy. in a waste of waters, badly confused as to the present and almost hopeless as to the . future. In the foreground of this scene in what might safely be called a "dissolving view" are glimpses of damp calico and other portions of femi- nine apparel, alternately clothing and clinging about the form of a. woman in a desperate situation but stout of heart and with no thought of quitting until the job was done.
But imagination will not do justice to the actual scene. Kate Shelley in her wild flight through the woods over the pathless bluffs and across the swollen river in her errand of life and death had solid footing; but Julia Romaine was in the flood, not above it, and had before her the task of saving her own life and rescuing the only other living thing in sight, the faithful horse. Both of these she accomplished. It seems that in the plunge in which all were engulfed the buggy and its occupants were thrown forward, and Miss Romaine was not only on the horse's back, but securely . fastened there by means of the interlacing of her ribbed crinoline. and the . turrets of the harness. This fastening she could neither undo nor .break. In his struggles the horse 'broke from the vehicle and got a temporary but insecure footing, and his involuntary rider found no way of freeing herself, but by slipping out of her heavy clothing and leaving her. garments on the horse. This she did and after securing her horse to a tree to keep him from following her, for the poor beast seemed to feel that in her assistance his safety was to be found, she struck out for land. In her wanderings she crossed the main channel and attempted to stride a floating log in the hope that it would help her on her way; but in the two attempts she made, the logs turned so quickly as to go over her each time to her grave peril. But she had already learned to swim, or rather she found she could swim, and she breasted the current thereafter without the aid of floating logs and finally reached the north shore about half a mile below where she had entered the water some hours before.
Seeing a light that promised shelter and aid, she carefully advanced and found it to proceed from the window of Mr. Plummer's dwelling. Knocking at the door, she was admitted by a thoroughly frightened little girl, sole occupant of the house, the remainder of the family with some hastily summoned neighbors being then engaged in exploring the river for the lost woman who was supposed to have been drowned. Miss Romaine made a hasty contract with the child for some much needed clothing, ar- rayed herself as best she could in mis-fit garments, a world too small and serenely awaited the surprise of her good friends on their return home and their congratulations on her brave and successful struggle with the noted river on a bender.
ANOTHER INCIDENT.
Of the following experience the writer was a witness. It was in the winter of 1864-5, when Nevada was the western limit of travel by rail and
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connection was had with the outer world and the state capital by the coaches of the Western Stage Company. Skunk bottom was covered with water from bluff to bluff, and fording had for some time been a terror to the company, as well as to the traveler. But at this particular time, it suddenly turned cold and ice was added to the difficulties. I had gone to Des Moines and anticipating trouble at the crossing near Cambridge if I delayed my return, set out and drove to Cambridge late in the evening. It was not safe to attempt the ford, as ice was rapidly forming, and I put up for the night. Next morning there was a sheet of thin ice from the bridge over the channel to the second bottom below Mellis' place. It was strong and tough but not thick enough to bear a team. Towards noon the coach came in from Des Moines, and that from Nevada was already at the north landing. An ice boat was improvised on which the baggage of the lady passengers was placed and the crossing was made in that manner. As the load was moved the ice swayed under the weight, cracking in every direction, and the water came through in many places but did not that I remember break entirely down. Several of the party got wet feet; but all took the matter pleasantly except an army officer, Colonel Simpson, who was loud in his denunciations of the beastly country. I came home by the coach, leaving my team at Cambridge until Jack Frost should repair and strengthen the bridge, which he did the following night.
These incidents serve to show that Skunk river was quite a feature in the landscape at various seasons in the olden time.
A YOUNG CYCLONE.
It is told of the old Barndollar house that while occupied by Dr. Kellogg the roof blew off in the night, and while Judge Kellogg was sleeping in the upper apartment. The upper floor was not fully completed and as the judge sprang out of bed he happened to leap in the direction of an un- floored space and, greatly astonished, picked himself up on the lower floor, safe and sound. In this storm the house was not only unroofed, but some of the upper logs were blown off. George's (the judge) bed was found on an adjacent lot next day. The old school house was badly wrecked. Jim Moore's house on the south end of Gillespie's lots was unroofed. The Bales house on the Fenn place was moved from its foundation, and the steam boiler for the Parker & Coldren mill, which had not yet been put in place but was near the Dr. Hoag place (Geo. Robison), was blown over to another lot. Some houses on East Indian were also damaged. This was not a cyclone but a steady wind that lasted some hours. Mrs. Kellogg tells that when the roof and upper story began to leave and the rattle and crash of tumbling logs was heard above the roar of the storm she drew the bed-clothes over her head to ward off the impending calamity. When the movement of timbers ceased, she cautiously took an observation and dis- covered that the rain was falling in torrents and there was nothing but
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rain between her bed and the clouds. They scrambled out. She wrapped a bed-quilt around herself : her husband by the glare of the lightning found and got into his nether garments, and they struck out across the street for McLain's hotel. They found shelter and by the kindness of the family and guests soon had dry clothing. It took the surplus clothing of five different men to supply her husband and his brother with full summer suits. Next morning they found scattered household goods in the wake of the storm. There were not closets, wardrobes or bureaus in the house. All the towels, sheets, clothing, books, papers, medicines, and all personal belongings had been piled in the loft, and everything was gone or water-soaked to satura- tion. The feather bed on which George had been sleeping was picked up from the only piece of plowed ground in the neighborhood. During the greater part of the day George was diligently searching and examining the track of the storm for some valuable paper which when found by himself clinging closely to a weed far over in the slough proved to be a letter he had written to the girl he left behind him. It had been left in a law book to await mail day and had a narrow escape from utter destruction. Mrs. K. relates very candidly that before she got things in shape again she had many long- ings for the old Ohio home. Several other houses were unroofed in the same storm. Mrs. E. G. Day, who was ill at the time, and lived in a log house on the Hutchins house corner, was carried to the McLain house for safety.
The Barndollar log house when first occupied by the family of Dr. Kellogg was not pointed up with mortar. To get some lime for this purpose a set of chairs, a table and some other articles, the doctor and his brother George A. drove to Pella. Meantime until these were procured the beds were placed on the floor, a dry-goods box served for a table and seats' were extemporized in any manner found practicable. There was not a fence about any house in town and very few doors had secure fastenings. The only fence on the town plat enclosed the block on which William Lockridge now lives (the Emmet Armstrong place). Several families had vegetable gardens on the block in 1855, but there was no house thereon.
Deer and grouse were then abundant and formed a large proportion of the flesh-food of the people. On one occasion a deer was chased by dogs within a few steps of Mrs. Kellogg's door and was shot not far from where the railway station now stands.
It is related that in wet weather it was not unusual to see wagons mired down in the streets as they attempted to pass over the slight depressions of the general surface. One of these depressions was in the street that runs south from McLain's hotel and in front of that block where the street is now as solid as at other points. It is certainly true that the general surface under the occupancy of white men and the tread of livestock is greatly changed.
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There is a pathos about the early experiences of Mrs. Kellogg that is very touching. The family arrived on the 17th day of June, 1855, and soon afterward her baby boy died. A year later her husband was laid beside the child, being the first adult person who died in the town. The graves of her loved ones are on the knoll which now comprises a part of our beautiful cem- etery but which was then only a portion of the wild prairie surrounding the town. Every spot of low ground was covered with grass as high as a man's head, and in her visits to those lonely graves she was liable to see a wolf or his Indian hunter or to hear some discordant and unknown sound, and being unable to see over the tall grass that skirted the path, she often turned from her pious errand in sore afright and hurried home.
EARLY TRIALS.
As incidents are called again to memory many trials and hardships are remembered which by many have been long forgotten. Such memories cluster around the old houses and may be regarded as either humorous or pathetic as we may be inclined to laugh or weep. The old Barndollar house had its full share of them, being rented to each new settler in turn till some- thing more comfortable could be procured. In my first recollection of it in the following winter of 1856 it was occupied by E. S. Hoag, himself, wife, son and brother Den composing the family. After the terrible storm of December first broke in all its fury and continuing for five days through snow and blow without ceasing, covering the whole face of the country and filling all low places until they were impassable, it was at the risk of life that the two men went back and forth to the farm, only two miles west of town. Ed tells with grim humor and a full sense of its absurdity of his getting out of money during these times and being a stranger and having no credit; but the climax was not reached until he got out of tobacco. He then found out what real trouble means. On an occasion of this kind he tells of having suffered pangs worse than those of common hunger and, being refused credit at the grocery, the sight of a convenient plug of tobacco made him desperate and he stole it. When he got some money he could afford to confess and pay up and consider it a rough joke on himself, but he says it is a literal fact.
During the summer and fall of 1856 William G. Allen and Vincent Tom- linson both lived in the old log house on the Mrs. Hizer (Bailey) lots. It was a mere pen; but the two families could do no better than to occupy it together. They only just got out of it before the great storm of December set in.
A. D. Shaw passed the winter of 1856-7 in a mere shanty in the west part of town. He had come in late in the fall and had brought some nice short-horn cows. There was not time to prepare for winter by putting up feed for the cattle. Most of the cows succumbed to unfavorable circum-
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stances before the winter was over. I believe quite a number of his oxen got through.
THE INDIAN SCARE.
In the spring of 1857 before break of day one memorable morning a man drove to the McLain house, his horses covered with foam. His wagon contained his little family and such valuables as could be hastily gathered and loaded. He came from the direction of Story City and probably from what is now Hamilton County. He was escaping from savage Indians on the war-path who were murdering and burning everything in his neighbor- hood. He evidently regarded his own escape as a very remarkable occur- rence and that all near him had been exterminated. His excitement was contagious in a high degree. It spread to the population of our village and while valorous men took measures to defend their homes the women ran to and fro in wild confusion. It was seriously contemplated to gather the women and children into the court house and fortify it against the savages. This would have been about as practical as going to sea in a paper box. But probably it was soon learned that the savages had not ventured far south of Spirit Lake, where they really had committed horrible destruction of life and property, wiping out that frontier settlement; but the scare was wide-spread and was the cause of many absurd incidents.
Among these it is remembered that Dr. Carr, who was then living at Bloomington, went out north of that town to visit a patient who had been very ill on the day previous, and on arriving at the house found only evidence of a very hasty flight of the whole family, including his patient, and by further inquiry learned of the expected descent of the savages. All over the country old guns were collected and preparations were made to give the redskins a warm reception.
There were some peaceably disposed Indians yet in the country and the customs of these were calculated to startle those women on whom they made calls for the first time. The habit of the Indian in such cases was to appear at the window and if necessary to press his face close to the window-pane and thus scan the interior. If he discovered any of the family in possession he would express his pleasure with a hideous grin of approval and forthwith open the door and make himself at home. The equanimity of the women who were temporarily alone on such occasions was liable to be seriously disturbed. Mrs. Kellogg reports having had such a visit from an Indian who had killed a deer over on the west side of the creek and had broken his knife and wished to borrow another. It hap- pened that her husband had gone to visit a patient in that direction in the morning, and her anxiety for his return and escape from the bloody knife
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of that Indian and her uneasiness for several hours seem much more ludi- crous now than they did then.
ANOTHER INDIAN SCARE.
Sam S. Statler (still an honored citizen of Nevada) is said to have been out looking up government lands in what is now Warren township, perhaps in the early part of 1855. He became separated from his party and while working out some lines he came upon East Indian Creek near the old Burk- hart place. As he looked across the valley toward the south he saw ap- proaching him upon a white steed, to his intense horror and terror, a wild savage with gun and knife, arrayed in blanket, leggings and feathered head- gear and bedecked with war-paint. Sam was then a tenderfoot from the mountains of Pennsylvania, the scene of many a horrible massacre in the early days, and all the traditions of his childhood rose before him. He had not even a pocket-knife on his person with which to withstand the as- sault of his desperate and hereditary foe. Poor Sam, his blood froze in his veins, while great beads of sweat stood on his surface. He could neither hope to escape by flight nor by victory. In sheer desperation he awaited his anticipated butchery, alone and helpless, confessed his sins and forgave his enemies, as he hoped for forgiveness among the strangers he was so soon to meet. At steady gait and with undaunted mien the wily but open foe came on. The gleam of his fiery eye was now close at hand. Fear and trembling were upon the victim. His knees smote together. The hair of his head stood up. The Indian raised his hand. He made an expressive gesture toward his mouth. He grunted "Bacca." Sam drew a full in- spiration of the free air. His hat settled down again. In haste he drew from his stores a large plug of the coveted weed, which had scarcely been broken upon and presented it to the unknown but now admired chieftain. The latter gave a grunt of satisfaction, cut off a liberal chew, dropped the remainder into some mysterious fold of his primitive garments and went his winding way. Sam afterwards learned that he had in this never-to-be-for- gotten way met old Johnny Green, chief of the ever peaceful Musquakies, and in fact at subsequent meetings the parties had some quiet sport over the terror which Sam freely acknowledged that he experienced at their first interview.
THE INSANITY OF THOS. LARCOM.
In 1855 Mr. Thomas Larcom became insane and an attempt was made to take him to his former home in Ohio. George Child, sheriff, and Dr. V. V. Adamson as medical attendant, started with Larcom, driving with a team as far as Rochelle, Illinois, whence they went by rail to Kenton, Ohio. Stopping there for a day or two, Larcom succeeded in buying out a jewelry store in town. From this place Child returned, and Adamson went with Larcom as far as Bellefontaine, Ohio, where the latter, a fine appearing
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fellow, smart and with the cunning possessed by some insane persons, passed himself off for the keeper and the little doctor as his insane charge (this part of the story, as will appear later, is a slight exaggeration). In this way he succeeded in starting for Iowa, leaving the doctor behind. In Chicago he was interviewed by the press and got off a sensational story as to the escape of the insane person he had in charge. He employed a man in Chicago to come home with him, induced this man to pay his fare to Rochelle, which was then the terminus of the railroad. Child came home by way of Peoria, and Dr. Adamson returned at leisure after giving up his search for his patient, who in the meantime had preceded both of them, arriving several days in advance of his keepers. This incident was greatly enjoyed by the early settlers and was the occasion of much good-natured chaffing of Adamson and Child.
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