USA > Illinois > Lee County > Harmon > History of Harmon Township, Lee County, Illinois > Part 3
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The income from the grain business was hardly worth mentioning. The price received was ruinously low; almost to the vanishing point, especially with corn which ranged from ten cents up into the teens. When the price struck thirteen cents I rushed off what little I had for fear it would go down. My fears were unfounded for the price went right along up to fifteen cents. Wheat was worth sixty cents. This was in 1861. But there was another recourse. There was prai- rie hay galore from the surrounding country and people came here to put it up for the winter supply. For a number of years there was a considerable export business in prairie hay delivered in Dixon at from $2.00 to $5.00 a ton according
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to grade, slough or upland. That was not a promising way of getting a living but better than the grain raising.
There was a universal, genuine sociability without par- tiality and without hypocrisy. There was an entire absence of caste or clique. None was overburdened with an over supply of style or fictitious formality. We had neighborly gatherings especially in winter. Distance did not count. Occa- sionally we tripped the light fantastic. We could ride to church on Sundays in a lumber wagon with a board across the box for a seat, or on a hayrack and no harm was done. Buggies came later.
As the town settled up, political parties began to form. While all varieties of political faith have at times been pres- ent, the main contests have been between the two old line parties. There usually has been a good deal of partisanship manifested and good natured bantering at general elections. Nor were town elections exempt. The democrats had the habit of claiming the republicans got their politics at the county seat, all mixed, ready for use which certainly was putting them to a disadvantage because the republicans were obliged to admit that they didn't know or even presume to imagine where the democrats got theirs. The democrats here have been slightly in the lead but not invariably successful at township elections. Their tickets were punctured occa- sionally.
In the good old convention days before being hampered with so much primary red tape, the republicans of Harmon were careful to maintain a township organization and they al- ways responded to a call for a county convention with prop- erly chosen delegates. There never was a default in attend- ance or a contested delegation and they at all times were active in the interests of undiluted old-time republicanism. Neither should the co-operation given from the county seat be forgotten. James L. Camp, the Nestor of Lee County Re- publicanism; Judge John D. Crabtree, Solomon Hicks Be- thea, Dwight Heaton, A. C. Bardwell, R. S. Farrand, G. B. Morrison and others were ready always with speeches at rallies, as did also another prominent public man, one who delivered his maiden political speech in the Township of Har- mon in the old Lake School House. I had the honor of presiding at the meeting and well remember the occasion. He
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was young, not long out of the union army, but he made good, and Harmon may well congratulate itself on having had the privilege of publicly starting on his way to a successful pub- lic life, one whose name in his every official act, has always stood for the highest degree of loyalty, efficiency and integ- rity, the Hon. Henry D. Dement. The contest for office were many and hard at our county conventions. On one occasion David Welshons and myself voted four for Walker for sheriff from the middle of the afternoon until near daylight the next morning and then did not get him. Jonathan N. Hills was the successful candidate.
The democrats were not one whit behind the republicans in their party allegiance. They never hid their political light under a bushel, and were always on deck for a fight. Har- monites never neglected their politics.
Previous to 1908 there had been no restrictions to the sale of liquor except those laid by the village. At the town election in the spring of 1908 the town was voted dry. This continued until 1910 when the wets prevailed. No effort was made for a change until at the spring election of 1914 the saloon was sustained by a good substantial majority.
On April 3, 1917 the township again voted wet on the local option question.
From the first Harmon has not been free from scraps. But scraps are only the boiling over of excessive animal spirits, and sometimes other spirits, the union of which makes a bad mixture. Those little irregularities were indulged in and enjoyed to a certain extent whenever the spirit moved. Spiritually considered, Harmon is fairly up in the front rank, but not exclusively along Scriptural lines, nor are its occa- sional exhibitions of spiritual manifestations in any way re- lated to the cult of modern spiritualism. The spirit control is altogether different in Harmon.
FARMING SYSTEMS WERE DIFFERENT.
The old way of seeding wheat was to carry a sack on the shoulder and scatter the seed upon the ground, where it was subjected to the thinning process by birds and otherwise. Corn ground was prepared by marking both ways and the seed was placed at the intersections of the marks. This made
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work for the boys as corn droppers, and they developed a wonderful skill in the business, scarcely ever varying in the number of kernels dropped, while not slacking in their walk. The ground was usually mellow, one stroke of the hoe to a hill, and if the dropper lagged a little he was pretty sure to hear the warning, "Look out for your heels," which would start another burst of speed. Five to eight acres was a good day's work for man and boy. It then ran the gauntlet of squirrels, blackbirds, crows and excessive moisture, and the remainder we gathered in, more or less. Just before migrating in the fall the cranes sometimes took some, but not much. On one occasion a Mr. Duis helped me to drive a flock out of my field, where they had done considerable damage.
Speaking of cranes, I never shot but one. I went after two. When I went after one the other would not let me come up. He would jump up and pick at my face and put up a great fight.
SOCIAL.
Reading David Smith's recollections about Willow Creek and its surprise parties reminds me that we had 'em, too. Some one would go over the neighborhood and give out the word that there would be a surprise party at such a time and place, usually on very short notice. Everyone went. Some- times a violin would be in the crowd. There were games, singing and a good time generally. These were winter amuse- ments, which with Good Templar lodges, revival services and an occasional oyster supper, we had fine times.
The massasauger, or prairie rattlesnake, was here in considerable quantities years ago. It was a rather short, blocky, sluggish, spotted snake, seldom over 18 or 20 inches long, although I have seen some around two feet. Its bite was poisonous, and was said to be especially so in the latter part of summer, when the weather was warm. I set out at one time to preserve the rattles of those I had killed, tying them on a thread. At the end of the second season I had 33 rattles of from one to five rattles. Sometimes there would be six or seven rattles, but not often. They decreased in numbers very rapidly. Haven't seen one in many years. The peculiar sound of their rattle once heard is never forgotten.
Once, in planting corn, when I came to the end of a row and stepped out on the grass to turn (we farmed walking,
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those days), I heard that ominous rattle close to my feet. The next thing I did after making a quick movement sideways was to go to the house and hunt up a pair of plow shoes, which I wore for a few days thereafter, but finally I relapsed into my old habits. On another occasion I nearly bound one in a sheaf of oats. I discovered him as I was twisting the band, but I did not finish until I had ousted the intruder. 1 was barefoot, as usual, but after supper I came out in a pair of shoes. I always got something on my feet after close prox- imity with a rattlesnake, but that was about all that ever could turn the trick and then it did not last long.
We usually changed work in harvest and stacking. In those days we had no self-binders nor help enough to bind as fast as the grain was cut. At times the grain would lie on the field unbound for some days. Those rattlers had a habit of crawling under or into those unbound sheaves. So, we generally gave the bundles a kick and turned them over be- fore grabbing them. At one time, as one of my neighbors was helping me stack oats, I pitched up to him a bundle which contained three rattlers, and when the sheaf struck the load all three popped out in different directions. It was as good as a first-class circus to see that fellow get off that load. Here was an unusual situation! A load of oats captured and held by three big rattlesnakes, strongly entrenched in straw! We held a council of war. I suggested that he go back on the load and we would resume work. He declined with emphasis, only that was not the word used. We finally compromised by both of us going up.
We had other snakes than rattlers. Large spotted adders were plentiful. I never supposed they were poisonous, but I knew of a boy who said he had been bitten by one and came near dying. They had a hard, sharp point on the end of the tail. Once I hit one on the head by a piece of board and he threw his tail around against that board with such force that a hole was made in the board over one-half an inch deep. They were great foragers. There was a robin's nest in a tree near the house. One day the old birds were noticed in great com- motion, flying around and chattering. Just above the nest was a large adder, hanging coiled on a limb, and reaching down he picked out a bird, the last of four in the nest. It was his last bird. He measured four and one-half feet.
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They liked young chickens, and were perfectly at home in the water. There was another, I called a copperhead. It was smaller, of a brown, spotted color, and quite scarce. I do not remember of seeing more than two or three fully devel- oped. They were about twenty inches long, with head of a dirty copper color and nearly three-cornered. It would flatten its head and upper part of its body three or four inches per- fectly flat. It was altogether the most repulsive and satanic looking creature imaginable. Both it and the adder had the rattler wag to their tails.
Then there were the blue racers-a long, slim, blue-brown lively snake. There was nothing cowardly about them. My first introduction to them was when I saw a three-footer com- ing towards me, head eight inches above the ground. He seemed to be on a tour of inspection, for he stopped when about six feet distant, and after eyeing me intently for a moment, he glided off leisurely into the grass. I think they are of the constrictor species, inclined to wind around its victim, like the black water snake of the east. They are well called racers, for they can go like a streak. Of course, there were plenty of garter snakes. But that snake business now is pretty nearly a has-been, though once in a while an adder and some garters are seen. I must not forget the milk snake, which was handy at skimming a can or a pan of milk, if he could get at one. It was generally conceded to be the spotted adder, as he was always nosing around, making himself dis- agreeably familiar.
The coyotes, or prairie wolves, were here, but did not show themselves freely in summer; but in winter, especially the latter part, they were seen quite often. There was a wolf run up and down the five-mile branch from the hazel brush knolls on section nine, where they had a den, and I have seen them in quicksand slough. I suppose they took the lowland for their routes of travel because of taller grass and a less sightly position.
The first silo in Lee County, as far as known, was built in Harmon by G. E. Balch in 1862. It was square, built of common lumber, inside of his barn, double boarded, last course laid with plenty of coal tar, and used by him success- fully until he sold his farm in 1895.
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To L. M. Rosbrook belongs the honor of naming the town. He first proposed the name of Harmon, after the name of a friend, which was adopted.
The first fire in Harmon was that of the first residence of John D. Rosbrook.
Harmon is pre-eminently a corn township. Other grains are raised, but mostly for crop rotation and to put the ground in condition for corn. The amount of this grain that is shipped from this point annually runs up into the hundreds of thou- sands of bushels, and all produced within ordinary hauling distance. This shows up well for soil fertility and excellence of cultivation. But little feeding is done except to hogs. For- age crops, such as hay, clover, etc., are raised in limited quantities, but the rule is corn. Unless all signs fail, there are other plants pushing to the front which will dispute the universal supremacy of King Corn, or at least go hand in hand with him in elevating the standard of agricultural suc- cess. I refer to those wonderful plants, alfalfa and sweet clover. I am expecting to see in the near future our pro- gressive farmers admit these plants into their lists of regular crops, thereby keeping up with the advancement of the times and maintaining their well earned position as an agricultural community.
THE GREAT TORNADO.
A review of the history of Harmon would be far from complete if mention were omitted of that most destructive windstorm that ever occurred in the history of the middle west, the Camanche cyclone. It was formed by two cyclones coming together near Camanche, Iowa. It scooped up a raft of logs in the Mississippi, and a pine log was said to have been dropped in Lee Center township, this county, supposed to have come from that raft. It occurred at about 9 o'clock p. m. on Sunday, June 4, 1860. There was nothing unusual as a forerunner of such a disturbance, except that the after- noon was unusually warm. Perhaps the word "hot" would better express it. It first struck the house of William H. Kimball, in the west part of town, scattering his buildings and killing one child and seriously injuring Mrs. Kimball. The next house in its track was that of E. R. Frizzell. The rest of the family had retired and he sat by the west window
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enjoying a smoke. He saw it coming, but supposed it would miss him, when it suddenly turned and swept them up. He did not realize anything until he came to, in a pouring rain, sixty rods or more from where the house stood. It had made almost a complete circle, so it must have had a flight of one- half mile or more. Of those in the house, one Mr. Woodman was instantly killed; his wife seriously hurt. His sister lived until almost morning, and then asking Mrs. Woodman if she should live, to take care of her unharmed boy of 2 years, she died from loss of blood. They were one and one-half miles from their nearest neighbor, Mr. A. T. Curtis. Mr. Frizzell started out to make the trip for relief, but owing to injury to his back, he could go but slowly on hands and knees, and it was morning when he arrived. To fully appreciate the force of that wind, it was necessary to see its effect. The sill of the house, when it struck the ground, was driven through the prairie sod more than a foot, and then picked out and taken along with the rest of the wreckage that was scattered over the prairie. Stable, cowyard, everything cleaned out, fence posts up and stripped sod of new breaking. Mr. Friz- zell had run a threshing machine in the fall and winter, and as is sometimes usual with threshers, had left his own job to the last, and had left his horsepower just as he had used it, staked down. It was an old-fashioned down power, lying flat on the ground. The wind wrenched that power loose and carried it about five rods. It did some queer tricks, too. It took the linch-pins from an old-fashioned linch-pin wagon and scattered the wheels far and wide. There was a store room attached to the house, without any floor, but the stove was left undisturbed, kettles on it, kindling in the oven, and every- thing ready for the morning. The storm path was about eighty or more rods in width and the ground was covered with nearly every imaginary article. Mr. Frizzell's watch was plowed up about eighteen years afterwards. I lived about forty rods from its track. I heard the roaring, accom- panied by one continuous lightning flash, then came the rain, as if the very windows of heaven were opened for a short time; then all was quiet, and I was not aware of what had happened until I was called the next morning to go for a doctor. Dr. Phillips of Dixon responded with a rig from
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Fred McKenney's livery. The storm passed on east, through Lee Center on its way to the lake.
We have now at hand an accurate and detailed descrip- tion of the visible appearance of that storm, as it passed through Harmon, given by Mrs. A. T. Curtis, now of Vienna, Mo., when recently in Harmon on a visit, to whose house part of the injured were taken the next morning. During the afternoon she noticed a dark cloud in the west, which just at night grew blacker with a rough gray edge. Soon the cloud was in terrible commotion, rolling and tumbling, black and brown, lit up by almost continuous lightning, light patches of cloud darting in all directions. Then there appeared a couple of funnels, starting from one place in the cloud and diverging towards the earth, making two distinct funnels going parallel with each other. When she first saw them they did not appear to reach to the ground, but soon settled down and a cloud above them alternately rising and lowering until they came near the place of Mr. Frizzell, when they came together and the cloud above enlarged in all directions and settled down apparently to the earth, and almost immediately the house where she was, nearly a mile and a half distant, was lifted up and set down again with a severe jar, but not in the least misplaced. All was accompanied by a loud roar- ing. Mr. Curtis had gone to bed and she wanted him to get up and see those awful looking clouds. But he slept on. That jar brought him out in a hurry.
The cyclone was equally destructive at Lee Center. The buildings of Horace Preston were destroyed completely. A child of 2 years of age was killed and three of the family were badly injured. The parents of the writer were enroute from Chicago to Harmon, driving overland. They had stopped over that Sunday at Lee Center and his mother as- sisted in preparing this child for burial. She said its face and exposed portions of its body were driven so full of sand and dust, some even to the quick, that it was impossible to remove it all.
OUR TREES.
One of the first acts of the early settlers was to start something that would afford shelter and shade. Cottonwood and Lombardy poplars were among the first trees, because they grew from cuttings.
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We of treeless Harmon used to go down to Green River below Rocky Ford and get young maples. Ambrose Woodard gathered a lot of maple seed and sold them to the farmers. Then came the trade in gray willow cuttings at from $2 to $3 per thousand. They were recommended to make a fence which would turn any kind of stock in three years, besides all kinds of firewood, posts, etc. They made the wood all right, but as a fence they were not a remarkable success. A good many of them proved to be swamp willows, instead of gray willows. Fruit and ornamental trees were added.
Fifty years ago Harmon was the coldest, windiest place in northern Illinois. With the wind coming up from the lowlands at the west and bowling along over four or five miles of bare prairie, unobstructed by tree or shrub, and the quick- silver enroute to the bulb, ideal arctic weather was produced. But tree growth has made a remarkable change. Those living here now do not realize the difference. They look upon tree shelter as of less value than the ground occupied, and so an indiscriminate slaughter goes on which is nothing less than a return to primitive conditions. I fully endorse what the veteran nurseryman, A. R. Whitney of Franklin Grove, used to say, that every landowner should make it as much a part of his spring's work to put out something in the line of trees to replace those lost as to put in his crop.
SWAPPING HORSES.
In the early days there was much horse trading and jockeying going forward, especially among the herders. When two of them met it was a trade or a race. I did not take much part in those sports, but they were the means indi- rectly of establishing a little sideshow of my own along those lines. A company of men had come to Dixon and started the old fair grounds, east of that town, to give instruction in the way to manage tricky horses. I paid my dollar and gradu- ated. I probably had made some glowing remark about what I could do which was overheard, because one evening two young fellows came to my place leading a broncho they had selected for that purpose. "We would like to have you show us how to ride this broncho." I knew that they took no stock in my ability and were only out for fun. Neither did I take any stock in it, but I really wanted to try out my system;
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but I would not risk it before my guests. Accordingly, I said I would have to give him a few lessons alone in the stable according to my directions, but if they would come over in the morning I would show them how to manage the horse. Next morning before it was hardly light I put the rig on him, led him out and jumped on him bareback. I was in for it then. There was no let up, and when I came to, the beast was looking down at me with a self-satisfied expression on his countenance. So soon as my head stopped whirling I got up, pulled off the contraption, gave him a cut with my whip and he struck out for the prairie, tie strap dragging, and I limped to the house. The boys thought he had got out of the stable in the night, and I did not feel like putting them wise. They wanted me to take him again, but I answered that I was too busy just then; to await until I had more time. I never got the time.
The early settlers of Harmon were a good deal as other people would have been under similar circumstances. They made the best of their condition. They had their sports, their amusements, their recreations, their inconveniences, their short change and their hard labor. The neighborhood was extensive; all were well acquainted. Of course, as elsewhere the people were not all alike, and the difference in personal characteristics and peculiarities were more clearly marked and perhaps more strongly developed than would be in an older country, and in some instances more so than in others. There was Isaac Hopkins, a strong, heavy built man, sandy complexion, red hair and whiskers, untrimmed, making him appear somewhat formidable, but a jolly good fellow. He was an inveterate practical joker and he did not hesitate to use his strength to help along his favorite pastime. Some of his jokes were so intensely practical that they spoiled the joke. We made up a party one day to go to Green River, fishing. Mr. Hopkins being an old fisherman, took charge. We fished until nearly night, and were some chilly when the vote was to quit. But Hopkins insisted on making another haul. Ed. Frizzell, who afterwards was injured in the cyclone of 1860, and was medium to slight build, said quite positively, "I am not going in again, anyway." Hopkins turned toward him and said in a slow, measured way, "Yes, you are, Ed. You are going in again." Ed. saw the handwriting and knew
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what to expect. Not relishing the idea of being picked up and dropped in, he played Jap tactics, and went for him like a shot from a catapault, and they both went off the bank together, about four feet down and out of sight. They came up sputtering, and as soon as he could speak Hopkins called out, "There, Ed. Didn't I tell you that you would go in again ?"
William L. Smith was a good churchman and an import- ant cog in all church interests-spiritually, financially or mili- tantly. He was a dependable quantity and always ready to pick up the gauge of battle with anyone who presumed to oppose his theological pronouncements, but his well inten- tioned zeal sometimes carried him to extremes. One Sunday an Adventist minister was speaking in the church by permis- sion to a good sized congregation, and Mr. Smith was sitting as usual in one of the front seats. As the speaker got well into the merits of his subject, Mr. Smith arose and cut in with: "Hold on. You can't preach that kind of doctrine in this church." He was one of the trustees. Mr. Curtis, another trustee, chipped in: "He shall finish his sermon." Quite a commotion ensued, some taking one side and some the other, and it began to look as if we were on the verge of a Donny- brook fair. Finally the congregation was appealed to, and the vote was for him to proceed. Mr. Smith was prosecuted before "Squire Morgan of Dixon. James K. Edsall was his attorney. David H. McCartney, the State's attorney, prose- cuted. Mr. Morgan said it was a serious offense to disturb religious services and assessed a fine of $10. Mr. Smith appealed, but did not appear at Circuit Court.
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