USA > Illinois > Moultrie County > Bethany > A history of Bethany > Part 2
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At school, all students first mastered the three Rs-read- ing, 'riting and 'rithmetic. (Or else felt the teacher's hickory stick.)
A good mixer for the sexes was the box lunches, held by schools and churches. The young ladies prepared a box lunch for two, and then shared it with the man who bought it. But dancing was taboo. Taffy pulls also mixed the sexes in private homes.
Lightning was always a peril, threatening both house and barn by fire. Lightning rods were on every farm for protection.
After 1880, when the milling industry had been drawn away from Illinois to Minneapolis, which drew on the northwest for its wheat supply, wheat production in Moultrie County took a tailspin. In 1890, only 66,875 bushels were grown and by 1900 only 16,790. Oats had
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supplanted it as a secondary crop. But nothing has ever threatened corn, though soybeans has been popular in re- cent years.
The crops of corn were never husked on the stalk, but rather were hauled home in the husk and thrown in a heap, generally by the side of the crib, so that the ears, when husked, could be thrown directly into the crib. The whole neighborhood, male and female, was invited to the shuck- ing. Contests were often held between women and men to see who could husk the faster.
Barley and rye and the various hay crops, such as timothy, clover and alfalfa, were grown as supplementary crops.
The raising of livestock used to be a more important business. In 1835, William Snyder imported a thoroughbred Durham bull, and from this beginning, many herds of fine, blooded cattle were developed. In 1850, the livestock of the county was valued at $113,153 and in 1870, it had increased to $1,105,444. By 1900, it climbed to $1,275,824. Poultry raising, too, was important in the early days, as well as bee culture.
The heavy production of corn and the increased demand for meat animals made hog raising an important industry. The old, half-wild variety of hog that rooted through the woods in search of food soon became a creature of the past; in its place were well kept hogs of standard breeds, fed so as to produce the finest meat.
On the early livestock farms, much attention was given to the breeding of fine horses. Draft horses, as well as carriage and riding horses, were raised in large numbers. When the use of horses for hauling waned with the employ- ment of motor transportation on the farms, the livestock industry also swooned.
As late as 1924, Moultrie farmers were using 11,320 horses and mules. In 1935, the number had shrunk to 5,880.
Moultrie County farmers early learned the efficacy of an organization to promote their interests and to exchange methods of improved production and marketing. In 1858, a group of farmers formed an association that sponsored the holding of a county fair. The organization was made per- manent under the name of the Moutrie County Agricultural Society, and was the forerunner of the present Farm Bureau.
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The National Grange was formed in 1867, and farmers saw in it a cooperative means of fighting the high cost of supplies. It was the Grange's membership of about half a million that Montgomery Ward had in mind when it issued its first catalogue in 1876. The distribution was stimulated by the coming of rural free delivery in 1896 and, in 1913, parcel post service was established.
At the start of the 20th Century, the mail-order business had become firmly established with Bethany farmers. Called "The Wish Book," it was kept handy in the farmers' kitchen and, when a new edition arrived, the old one was given to the children who cut it up to make paper dolls.
School teachers also found the catalogue invaluable in teaching arithmetic and spelling.
When the Civil War was over, the nation was once more united, and women came on like proud peacocks. They wore hoop skirts and bustles and mitts that reached to their elbows. And often they wore high back combs in their hair.
Because of labor-saving machinery in the 20th Century, the farmer was becoming more productive. The first census taken in the United States in 1790 showed that nine of every 10 men were farmers. Since then the figures have changed drastically.
Womankind, too, was stepping up her production with Webb's "Family Favorite," a sewing machine run by a foot treadle, which could be bought for $27.
By 1880, the telephone had gone into use and the light of Thomas Edison's incandescent electric lamp had begun to make the gas and kerosene lamps obsolete.
The farm home lost its quietness after 1886, when the first practical phonographs (Edison and Victoria) appeared. And an electric flatiron appeared in 1882 to free milady from the heating of irons on the cook stove.
The 1880-90 era was known as Victorian America, when woman began carrying Japanese parasols and said legs in- stead of limbs. They also were downing lots of Lydia E. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound, first marketed in 1875.
Children wore silk hats held by a bow around the neck. Mumblety-peg became a popular game of boys, played with knives.
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Suspenders bowed in the Gay Nineties, and women wore mutton-leg sleeves on their upper arms, which gave them the appearance of Popeye. Men in office wore sleeve- protectors.
The typewriter, invented in 1870, came into use then, and women seemed to enjoy it more than the bicycle. But tennis and golf had begun to take her eye.
The Marrowbone farmers suffered severely before Cen- tury's turn. Rattlesnakes were a constant peril.
The breaking plow was quite heavy, so that a man could hardly turn it over. It needed no one to hold it when plow- ing and was guided mostly by the oxen or horses. The plow varied from 18 inches to three feet wide and needed three to seven oxen to pull it. The oxen were hitched to a long chain, coupled onto the front of the plow-beam. This was of wood, usually six inches thick and 12 inches high and some 12 feet long. At the front end, it was supported by two wheels about three feet in diameter, set four feet apart. The plow shares became dull quickly and had to be sharpened. This was done by heating them redhot and pounding them out sharp.
The log house was hard to keep tight and warm, because the logs would swell and shrink alternately. Many collected newspapers to paper their cabins on the inside to keep them warmer in winter.
When the land was first placed on sale, it was entirely open prairie, except for hundreds of small ponds. There were no roads until the 1880s. So men traveled in a straight line to where they wanted to go. The prairie mud was so sticky it was difficult for the Marrowbone farmers to haul crops to market. The physicians made their rounds on horseback. Rabbits were everywhere, and they were killed for food with long muzzle-loading muskets.
The hundreds of ponds had to be drained to make room for farm crops. Every town had a grain elevator or two, and there was a general store, dealing in drygoods and groceries. The women bought gingham and calico for dresses, aprons and sunbonnets. The grocery offered coffee, tea, spices, sugar, rice, vanilla and crackers, but baker's bread had to be ordered in advance. All sorts of tools were available. The blacksmith shops were always busy. Each town had rows of hitching posts, well-chewed at the top.
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On the side of the street ran a board sidewalk, interrupted by occasional gaps.
When train service started, two trains went north through Bethany each day and two went south. The engine had a big smokestack and cowcatcher. The passenger cars were always dusty, heated in winter by potbellied stoves and lighted by coal oil lamps.
The railroad through Bethany then was called the Peoria, Decatur and Evansville, abbreviated to P.D.&E., and called in derision People Donated Everything.
Most Marrowbone Townships farmers kept cows, which offered several gallons of milk, kept in earthenware crocks in the darkened basement. When the cream rose, it was skimmed off and churned while the skim milk went to pigs and cats. The pioneers liked their cream on pies, fruit and cereal. Most settlers had a vegetable garden near the house and a potato patch.
Monday was wash day, and the big washboiler went on the stove, nearly full of cistern water. Into it was shaved a whole cake of yellow laundry soap and much of the laundry was boiled. Tuesday was ironing day, and what a hot job it was! A good fire had to be kept on the stove and two irons were always on to heat and another in use.
Tired after a long day of work, most Bethany settlers retired by 8 o'clock. Others might play checkers, using white and black buttons, or dominos.
Although cabins leaked cold air, still colds were few. Often mother would wrap a hot flatiron in a towel and let kids take it to bed with them. Baths were taken in a washtub on the kitchen floor.
The first post office was established in 1856 with J. D. Livesay as the postmaster. William P. (Uncle Billy) McGuire followed Livesey, then came O. P. Walker, A. R. Scott and J. G. Smutz. Before the days of the railroad, different men in town took turns going to Sullivan on horseback after the mail.
One of the first administrative acts in Moultrie County was the appointment of overseers of the poor, one in each district.
It was the duty of those appointed to "cause all poor per- sons who have become a public charge to be farmed out at public expense on the first Monday in May, yearly, to the
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person who is the lowest bidder. The "farmers of the poor" received from the county the cost of the "common necessaries of life," for their charges, who, in return, per- formed "moderate labor." Children of the poor, whose parents were dead, were bound out as apprentices, boys to the age of 21, and girls till they were 18. The sick and the insane were farmed out along with the well, but the cost of their medical care was met by the county.
The new century brought many new benefits, such as Blizzard's Ice Cream Freezer, carpet sweepers, feather dusters, a Ward Wringer for drying clothes. And churn handles had appeared on the washers.
Dr. Vadakin was now showing traveling troupes at his Opera House. Later, first Aaron DeBruler, Charlie Harned and then Jim Bushert, in 1920-30, put on movies at the Opera House.
Many early experiments in Bethany, such as oil explora- tion and sheep raising, ended in failure.
The sheep raising undertaking came in 1845, and was begun in Marrowbone and Todd's Point by a group of Englishmen, including Thomas and John Noble and Robert Golding, who bought 700 acres for that purpose.
Thomas Noble had settled in Stark County, Ohio, in 1831 and had encouraged other Englishmen to join him in his project. One was John Atkinson.
After buying the land, Noble sent Atkinson with his family and a flock of 900 sheep out of Ohio bound for Marrowbone Township. They drove the herd all the way, and it took eight weeks.
After arrival, wolves began to attack the sheep, even in daytime. One night they killed 100. Nevertheless, the flock grew to 5,000 head. Soon Atkinson went into the sheep business on his own.
Thomas Noble died in 1848. When his brother, John, died in 1864, he had accumulated 5,000 acres in Moultrie and Shelby Counties. His nephew, Thomas Noble, son of his brother, Thomas Noble, then came to Moultrie County to manage the estate.
Other Englishmen followed. One was Skelton Birkett, who arrived in 1848, whose holdings grew to 11,000 acres.
Todd's Point in those days had a shoemaker, post- master, two stores, a wagonmaker, two blacksmiths, a doc- tor (D. L. Davidson), and a lodge hall.
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The sheep-raising experiment disappeared after the Civil War when the Englishmen realized that farming would pay more than sheep-raising. But their large land holdings at least enabled their heirs to enjoy a good life.
In the early days, when settlers bunked around their campfires, friendly coyotes would come in to warm themselves. And at once the pioneers would shoot them for food.
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Chapter 3 Bat Masterson Aids Col. Freeland
Many families moving to Bethany from the East in the early days ran into horrible trouble.
But Captain John A. Freeland reversed the process in coming to Bethany from the West.
John was a descendant of James Freeland of Lon- donderry, Ireland. After the Revolutionary War, James moved to North Carolina.
Capt. John Andrew Freeland (1839-1916) was a hero in the Civil War who later settled in Edwards County, Kan.
His family consisted of his wife, Lyde, sons, William, John H., Joseph L. and daughters Belle (Wiedner) and Maude (Armstrong), then a babe-in-arms.
Soon after arrival in Kansas, the Captain, a hearty, friendly man, was elected judge for Edwards County.
While they were living in Kinsley, the county seat, robbers held up the Santa Fe train at night at the town's depot.
The Freelands lived about a block from the station. Sounds of shots and loud swearing filled the warm night air. Captain Freeland thought the town was under attack by Indians.
Mrs. Freeland lit a match but her husband blew it out.
"You only make a target for the Indians to shoot at," he warned.
In the Freeland home, as in others, confusion reigned.
James Alcorn, a close friend of Freeland, joined him to look into the incident. They crept low and silently toward the station. There wasn't a tree or rock in town to hide behind.
They soon learned that it was a train robbery and the bandits had fled.
The railroad company at once had law enforcement of- ficers in touch with Bat Masterson, who was marshall at Ford Dodge, Kan.
Bat counted up the bad boys at Fort Dodge and noticed several missing. Among them was a fellow whose home was not far from Kinsley but who had been hanging out with a Ford Dodge gang.
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Bat played a hunch, which proved correct. He went to the fellow's home, arrested him and in a short time had the whole gang rounded up and the loot recovered.
A few months after the train robbery, the Cherokee In- dians broke out of their Oklahoma territory, in which the government had recently confined them and made a raid on Kinsley.
Once again Kinsley was in an uproar. So again Captain Freeland and Alcorn went gumshoeing in the darkness, and a few shots from their rifles dispersed the Indians.
Freeland did not blame the Indians for breaking out of their terrible confinement. There was a long drought, plus a two-year scourge of grasshoppers. Streams ran dry and food was scarce. All game was gone. Settlers were fleeing the area in fear of pestilence and famine.
Freeland had many other adventures, outside of his thrilling experiences in war. Once he organized a buffalo hunting party in Kansas. An expert marksman, he killed several buffalos. After shooting a large buffalo bull, he rode up to him and dismounted to examine the wound. The bull, infuriated, arose and would have gored him if he had not been young and quick and able to evade him. And his fast horse was standing nearby.
These and other adventures had given the Freeland family a bellyful of danger, so they hitched up their horses to a covered wagon and in August, 1879, headed for the peaceful town of Bethany.
Along the way, the Captain and his daughter, Belle, had to skirmish for camping places and food. They usually got eggs for nothing. But sometimes they paid 5 cents a dozen for them. Often they were given fresh produce and fruit right from the field.
But the Freelands had money enough to pay for toll roads they encountered in five places.
They stayed with the Captain's sisters, Mrs. Albert Roney, in Dalton City for awhile, then moved to a farm near Bethany.
Not long after their arrival, H. L. (Earl) and Homer Freeland were born. Both are now dead.
But the Freeland dynasty had been established in the rich farmlands, and many of their descendants are scattered over the Midwest.
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John Andrew Freeland, who died June 25, 1916, at the age of 76 and is buried in the Bethany cemetery, belonged to no church. But he was a firm believer in God and in im- mortality. He was broad and tolerant in his religious views. He also was a scholar of the Bible. In short, he was deist.
Captain Jack, as he was familiarly known, loved people and he also had a heart-felt emotion for the poor and op- pressed.
The Captain was a grandfather of the remarkable Allane Weidner Hogan, a vivacious woman who lives in Pontiac, Ill. and who looks the same as she did 40 years ago.
The late Earl Freeland had a sword carried by his father, Captain Jack, who was believed to have been Col U.S. Grant's youngest captain in the Civil War.
Captain Jack also was the first supervisor of Marrow- bone Township.
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Chapter 4 Lively Days in Early Bethany
Bethany always has been hooked on sports, entertain- ment and hobbies.
It probably started back in 1846 when Abraham Lincoln honored the bar of Moultrie County with his fun-loving stories.
In those days, wrestling matches were popular, and Abe was a good grappler himself.
To entertain him, Dave Campbell, Moultrie County's prosecuting attorney, who considered himself one of the strongest of men, engaged in a wrestling match with one of Marrowbone's bullies.
In the struggle, the seat of Campbell's pants were torn.
He then was hardly presentable to appear in court. But, a genial fellow, it didn't bother him. His fellow attorneys passed the hat to buy him a new pair of pants. But the at- torney refused the money so it was handed to Lincoln to be used in his next campaign.
But then the droll Abe said, "I could not conscientiously contribute to anything with the END in view."
Amusements of this distant day centered on athletic skill, rather than mental.
Skills in woodcraft, superiority of muscular develop- ment, accuracy in shooting, speed of foot would raise a man in the pecking order.
The men and boys even entered contests with Indians. Every man had a rifle that he kept in good condition.
At every gathering, wrestling, foot races and shooting contests were held, and the winners were regarded as heroes. As prizes, they received a gallon of whiskey or a turkey.
Raising of fancy chickens became popular in the period between 1910-1925. T. A. Scott, who had a mantel full of trophies for his roosters and hens, W. E. Crowder, C. W. Sanner, J. R. Crowder, D. H. Rieter, R. B. Wheeler and J. W. Hale, all were involved in exhibitions at fairs.
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Many persons contributed to the well-being of Bethany but the various bands did it best. Logan Lansden, the first director, purchased the first instrument in town. The first band was organized in 1877. It included J. F. Knight, G. T. Sanner, Andrew Bankson, Davis F. Kennedy and G. T. Hill.
In 1881, there was a string trio, made up of Jim Ashmore, Troy Scott and Homer Freeland.
A bigger band was organized in 1899. It consisted of Ed Biely, T. L. Hudson, Les Kennedy, Chink Lynn, James McGuire, Roe Starbuck, Roe Hogg, Jim Hale, Russell Mead, Albert Biely, Bob Low, Reg Crowder and Ed Ken- dall. It was sponsored by the Odd Fellows lodge.
1906 Bethany I.O.O.F. Band. Pictured are: Sitting. Earl Sharp: Front row: Lowell Wheeler, Dick Kennedy. Ed Biely, Herschel Hale. Reg. Crowder, James Hale. Back row: Fred Lytle, Ralph Varner, Raymond Scheer, Albert Biely - Director, Lon Gross, Roe Hogg, Barton Roney, Clyde Low, Dale McMenemy.
The directors over the years were Logan Landsden, Russell Mead, E. E. (Heck) Kennedy, Albert Biely, Will Huff, Prof. Oscar Schwartze of Decatur, George Pierson of Mattoon and Irving J. Freeland.
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In 1900, Bethany had a two-story bandstand, located near the depot. The musicians played in the open air top story, and the instruments were stored in the closed quarters below. That also was the year the Illinois Central took over the railroad running through Bethany.
In grade school in 1905, a band was formed composed of Raymond Scheer, Herschel Hale, Fred Lytle, Ancil Livesey and Walter Roney.
Soon the lodge ran out of money, and the Bethany Band was disbanded.
Then Clarence Tohill came to Bethany as the under- taker in 1910. He solicited funds from the merchants to reactivate the band. And his wife, Opal, enhanced it as soloist.
Raymond, Scheer, a musical genius and principal at Sullivan High, recalls that all Marrowbone Township rallied behind the new band, which performed on Tuesday nights.
Then the band was made up of Irving J. Freeland, Carl M. Crowder, Raymond Scheer, Dewey Low, Virgil Hamp- ton, and Mrs. Tohill. Freeland was the band's director.
BAN
1924 Bethany Concert Band. Pictured are, left to right: Front row George Pearson, Director: Dr. George Weatherby, flute; Anton Freeland, clarinet: Raymond Scheer, clarinet; Merlin Freeland, clarinet; Irving Freeland, clarinet; Robert Logan, alto melophone; Frank Gibbon, alto melophone: James Ward, alto; Lloyd Francisco, alto; Sam Hall, cornet; Chas. Lorsch, cornet; Ewing Freeland, cornet.
Back row: Louie Ludwig, clarinet; Arthur Wilkinson, clarinet: Rex Reese, snare drum: Jim Bushert, bass: Dick Kennedy, bass: Carl Crowder, baritone: Ralph Nuttall, bass drum: Lubin Free- land, trombone: C.O. Tohill, trombone and manager: Reg. Crowder, trombone: Dr. Watters. cornet: Opal Tohill, vocalist.
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It was during the 1920s, under the leadership of Schwartze, that the band was expanded and reached its peak performance. Schwartze was a graduate of Leipsig Conservatory.
He also was instructor of music for several years at Bethany High School and gave many private lessons, as he could play any instrument.
Irving J. and Ewing Freeland studied under Robert Walter of the Chicago College of Music.
Scheer studied music at the Univesity of Wisconsin, also at Lincoln College and directed many high school bands.
Mrs. Tohill, who remained soloist for the band for 20 years, studied under Myrna Sharlow Hitchcock of Millikin University.
In the 1920s, the Band Concerts originated in the center of the intersection of the two downtown streets.
The band was so good it played in other towns, at chatauquas and other celebrations.
But the tour de force was the Tuesday night concerts in Bethany. So popular were the concerts, everyone wanted a closeup seat. Bethany residents would park their cars in the afternoon close to the bandstand and then walk down- town at night. Thus, the late arriving farmers had to park in the far reaches.
It really didn't matter for young folks, as well as older people, spent most of the time walking up and down the street, greeting old friends, many of whom had come from other towns.
It would be difficult to estimate the number of romances and marriages evolving from those hand-holding strolls on concert night.
Perhaps the most popular pause was at Smith's Drug store, to the west of the bandstand, in the Scott State Bank Building. There friends and lovers would sit in the wireback chairs by the round tables where they wolfed Cokes or sodas or, if hungry, a milkshake.
Although long wooden blades whirled overhead to dispell the heat, still middle-aged women made use of their palm fans.
Youngsters didn't care to linger in the hot soda fountains but rather ordered either an Eskimo Pie or Polar Joy (a chocolate cylinder filled with ice cream) and were on their
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way. Both sold for a nickel.
To the south of the bandstand, the big attraction was Ed Mast's red popcorn wagon, and through the windows wafted the salty buttery aroma of the corn as he heaped it into large, white sacks.
To the east, the strollers looked in at the pool room, where fumes of beer and smoke were strong. They also paused at Vadakin's Drug store for a Green River or Orange Crush or a two-glass chocolate shake for 10 cents.
Across the street, they studied the fliers for the Saturday movie at the Opera House. The serials were the big draw for you had to find out how Tom Mix or Fred Thompson or some other cowboy hero got out of their desperate predica- ment of the preceeding week.
At most concerts, some church gave an ice cream and cake social on the lawn near the town. Freshly made ice cream, soft and velvety, was often laced by fresh strawberries, blackberries or peaches.
It wasn't difficult to find boys willing to turn the freezers, for that meant they could lick the dasher.
J. H. Crowder, one of Bethany's 26 bandsmen, in the early part of the century, was grand commander of the Grand Army of the Republic in 1913, when the band went to Chattanooga to play at the national encampment.
At the Bethany concerts, the air was sweet, flavored by the aroma of honeysuckle, and youngsters always hated to hear the Star Spangled Banner, which meant the concert was over.
After one concert, Walt and Lois Davisson and their two children, Mary and Donald, were returning home in their buggy. Their horse Persimor, became frightened by the headlights of an oncoming car. He bolted and upset the buggy. Luckily, no one was hurt.
Talking about it in 1975, Mary, now the wife of Ward Thomas, said after that they drove, Jim, a more gentle 1 horse.
Von McClain and Rev. Raymond McAllister, young pastor of the Christian Church, often sang at the concerts.
McAllister, a brilliant speaker, was loved by all the beauties in town, and he dated most of them. When he sang. "Let Me Call You Sweetheart," every lovely thought he was singing to them.
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