The Iowaville Roster: Van Caldwell

A continuing series about interesting people who lived in and near Iowaville from ca. 1838 until ca. 1856.

Van Caldwell, by sheer force of personality and good humor, probably was the most widely known resident of the Iowaville neighborhood during his years there, which stretched from ca. 1838 until October of 1856, when he died at the age of 56. Although by no means affluent, his hospitality was, and remains in the words of those who experienced it, legendary.

Like his neighbor, James H. Jordan, he settled in territory just west and north of Iowaville, right along the Des Moines River in the extreme northeast corner of what became Davis County, that belonged by treaty to the Sauk and Fox until May of 1843. Unlike Jordan, however, he was able to work out an arrangement with Gen. Joseph M. Street, then agent to the confederated tribes, to remain. So his home was spared while Jordan’s was burned by dragoons. It it is the only dwelling marked on the 1840 survey map of this small triangle of land --- along with Black Hawk’s grave and the old chief’s “wigwam.” His cabin and claim were northwest of the Jordan place, closer to what now is Eldon, which is just across the line in Wapello County. A case could be made that Van was the first member of the white tribe to reside legally in Davis County.


Upon his death at this time of year in 1856, Caldwell’s body was taken down the old trail through Iowaville and then up to Iowaville Cemetery where his beautiful and remarkably well-preserved tombstone still looks out toward the Soap Creek Hills.

I’ve lifted his story, which follows, from an account of it written in 1895 by George G. Wright and published in “The Annals of Iowa” (Volume 2, Third series; Des Moines: Historical Department of Iowa, 1895-95, pp. 386-390). It is an eloquent tribute, phrased elegantly, so I’ve not meddled at all but will expand upon a few points at its end.

Judge Wright was a significant character in early Iowa history. Born 24 March 1820 in Indiana, he began the practice of law in Keosauqua during the early 1840s and served as prosecuting attorney for Van Buren County during 1847-48. He served in the Iowa Senate 1849-51, then as a justice of the Iowa Supreme Court 1854-1870. Elected to the U.S. Senate from Iowa, he served 1871-1877 but did not seek re-election. A resident of Des Moines after 1865, he also was among founders of the University of Iowa College of Law, president of the American Bar Association and a banker. Van's son, Henry Clay Caldwell, studied law under Wright in Keosauqua, and so that is another link not mentioned in this account. Wright died 11 January 1896, the year after he wrote the following tribute, and was buried in Woodland Cemetery in Des Moines, a headier resting place, but no more satisfying, than that of his old friend, Van Caldwell.

VAN CALDWELL

By the Late Hon. George G. Wright

Solicited to give my impressions of some of those prominent in Territorial times --- not especially in political circles, but plain men and entitled to deserved praise for their work in the development of our commonwealth, I have selected for this brief paper my long-time and esteemed friend whose name appears at the head of this article.

Van Caldwell was born in Ohio County, Virginia, March 5, 1799, and died at his home on the Des Moines River in Davis county, October 8, 1856. He was the son of John and Sarah (Mulligan) Caldwell --- the former a native of Scotland, the latter of Ireland. So it will be seen that he was of as pure Scotch-Irish stock as any Wallace, Scott or Cassady, or of any one either of Ulster or elsewhere. And sure I am that neither Scotland, Ireland, Virginia, or any land, need be ashamed of him or feel otherwise than complimented by the blood of this man who was a very nobleman in appearance and deportment --- for he was six feet, two and one-half inches in height, turned the scales approximately at two hundred pounds, had a carriage to his last days as straight as an Indian, perfect in his proportions, with an air of manhood and inexpressible dignity which denoted the truest nobility of nature. In any assembly he commanded attention, and with strangers and friends alike that involuntary respect which such a bearing inevitably and always exacts. With him often in political and other assemblies, traveling over our new lands in early days on horseback and by other methods, at the cabins of the early settlers and primitive hotels, I knew him well, and may be allowed to say that few if any men had a more commanding figure, or one better calculated to impress those with whom he was brought into contact, than this Virginia mountaineer.

Coming to Iowa in 1836, he first settled in Bentonsport, in Van Buren County, but in a few months removed to a farm two miles north of that place. Within a year he “tackled the wagon of the wilderness” and with his family and worldly goods went farther into the country acquired by the “Black Hawk purchase,” and settled on the “claim” which was his home to the time of his death. He, however, soon met with difficulties in this new land in finding that he in common with many other adventurous spririts was within that part of the “purchase” still reserved to the Sac and Fox Indians. The settlers were therefore ordered by the Government under the guidance and compulsion of the regular troops, to leave the reservation; and all did leave, I believe, except our friend, who was permitted to remain under the following circumstances:

The Indian Agency, under the charge of that grand old Virginian, Joseph M. Street, was located near what is now Agency City. Those connected therewith needed a mill to grind their grain and provide them with needed lumber; and to meet these wants a mill was erected on Soap Creek south of the Des Moines River. As the river had to be crossed to reach the mill from the Agency, and hence, when there was water enough in Soap Creek to run the mill the river was not fordable, it was arranged by the agent, under the authority of the War Department, that the subject of this sketch could remain upon his “claim” if he would establish a ferry across the river. Under this contract he provided a ferry, being the only one in that region for years, and thus he held his “claim” and enabled the Agency and other people to reach the place where they obtained as they could not at any other, at least some of the necessaries of life. And this instance, by the way, serves to illustrate, as many others might, the resourceful nature of the man, the hold he always had upon those in authority and their confidence in his ability and worth.

In politics he was the most earnest and enthusiastic Whig of the Henry Clay school that I ever knew. And though a Virginian he was as thorough and enthusiastic in his devotion to the new organization, before his death, in the campaign of 1856, as any anti-slavery man in Iowa. I need not add that had he lived he would have been a Republican without guile and among those most loyal and patriotic in the support of the Government during the struggle which involved the nation’s life in 1861-65. He was emphatically of that old school who never would see anything good in “Jackson Democracy,” but felt he was doing his highest duty when opposing their candidates and policies. This passing incident will serve to illustrate his intense political enthusiasm. In April, 1854, I think it was, the Whig candidate for State Superintendent was overwhelmingly defeated, but one county (Henry) giving him a majority. Stopping at Caldwell’s house soon after to spend the night, he met me in his usual hospitable manner and almost at once said: “Well, they beat us again, but by ginger if a dog from Henry County should come along I would feed him on peaches and cream for a month.” He never sought office, nor as far as I know held any: and yet he was a most prominent figure in our political conventions and a very valuable aid to his friends in any cause he espoused.

His name was but another for hospitality throughout the Des Moines Valley, and indeed the entire State. Those of all classes and conditions, if entitled to respect, whatever their politics or religion, and whether rich or poor, always found in his humble home a welcome. Governors Robert Lucas, John Chambers, James Clarke, Stephen Hempstead, J. W. Grimes, R. P. Lowe and J. H. Gear; Judges Charles Mason, Joseph Williams, J. C. Hall, J. C. Knapp, Cyrus Olney, Samuel F. Miller, S. C. Hastings, T. W. Claggett, Edward Johnstone, H. H. Trimble, H. B. Hendershott, W. H. Seevers --- distinguished lawyers such as Chas. Negus, Alfred Rich. H. T. Reid, C. V. Slagle, Henry Starr, W. D. Browning --- ministers, such as Samuel Clark, Milton Jamison, Daniel Lane, M. F. Shine --- prominent state officials, represented by such men as Shepherd Leffler, James B. Browne, G. W. Teas, W. H. Wallace, I. N. Lewis, S. B. Shelledy, W. S. Chapman, Bernhart Henn, Gen. S. R. Curtis --- these, and scores of others, among the most prominent as politicians and otherwise in the Territory and State, spent many enjoyable hours with him at that home on the Des Moines River, where he was never so happy as when surrounded by them or like friends; and none happier than then when resting, it may be, upon freely furnished beds upon the floor and enjoying his hospitable if not most sumptuous table. So keenly did he enjoy these and other friends that I doubt if he ever felt well treated if they passed his house whether in summer’s heat or winter’s cold without a call, and utterly regardless of the hour, night or day. Then, too, when I add that no man however poor was ever turned from his house needing food or lodging, or raiment even, if within his power to supply his wants, we can measure somewhat his generosity and hospitality. One result was that he never accumulated much of this world’s goods; but he did have a supreme consciousness of doing his duty, and if he died leaving fewer dollars than some others, he nevertheless led a happy and blameless life and left a name which his children and friends can ever cherish with the greatest pride and satisfaction.

Of his family, though there were others --- and all an honor to his name --- I have time only to mention Samuel T., a successful merchant and banker at Eddyville, and who twice represented, and with distinction, Wapello county, in our state legislature; another Benjamin F., for years a prominent business man in Wheeling, (West) Va., and lately mayor of that city --- the third Henry C(lay), known to all the people of Iowa, for years a leading lawyer of our State, a member of our legislature, distinguished in military service during the late war, United States District Judge, and now as Circuit Judge of the Eighth Judicial Federal Circuit. If he was blessed in his home he surely was in his noble and successful children. And in this connection I remark that few worshipped their children with a sincerer devotion, and this was returned with interest most usurious and constantly compounded. And well they might for he had the brains to know the right and the honesty to do it. Of him it may be said he had “courage without whistling for it and joy without shouting to bring it.” He was one of those who believed that the only religition which can “save a man is that which makes him a good man.” And I believe he tried to so live as to be honest with his neighbors and his God, “and hence did not need a big income to make him happy.”

Thus lived and died Van Caldwell, one of the best and highest types of Iowa’s pioneers. It is true he was not learned as of the schools, but he was strong in vigorous common sense. Though not polished as society goes, he had a face so genial, and a natural courtliness of manner, which, with his imposing presence made him ever welcome in the cultured circle or the most promiscuous or mixed assemblies. Such men helped make Iowa what it is in all its greatness and glory. Give us of this class now and for all time, and years will be add to her splendor. Blessed with such men fifty years since, so we are, and I believe now, and as I hope will be for all time. Confident of this, let us hope as the past is secure, so of the future no one need be afraid. Des Moines, Iowa, 1895.

MORE ABOUT VAN CALDWELL

There are a few mysteries (to me at least) about Van Caldwell’s family. He apparently was married four times, twice in Virginia and twice in Iowa. Samuel Tomlinson Caldwell (ca. 1824-1878), his eldest son, apparently was by a first marriage, which may have occurred ca. 1822. Poking around to see who his mother might have been, I found two (unreliable) references in information submitted to the LDS, one to an “Elizabeth” and the other to a “Miss Cockayne.” Neither reference is to be trusted, however.

Ohio and/or Marshall County, (West) Virginia, marriage records show that he was married to Susan Moffit on 13 July 1826. They seem to have had two of the sons mentioned by George Wright, above, Benjamin Franklin Caldwell (14 April 1828-1 January 1910) and Henry Clay Caldwell (4 September 1832-16 February 1915) and then divorced. Susan was living with their son, “Franklin” when the 1850 census of Wheeling, (West) Virginia, was taken and Benjamin Franklin Caldwell lived and died there. Susan still was living when the 1880 census of Wheeling was taken. The Caldwells probably became estranged on the Iowa frontier and Susan returned to Virginia taking Benjamin F. with her, but leaving Henry Clay and Samuel T. behind with their father. This is only a theory.

Whatever the case, Van was single on 28 September 1845 when he married Rachel Dickerson in Wapello County. They settled down on the riverside farm and had four children in quick succession: Adeline, who died 16 February 1847, age 5 days; Murat, born 29 August 1848 or 1849 (died 28 February 1924 in Clay County, Kansas); Belle, who died 5 October 1852, age 1 year, 10 months and 23 days; and Belle R., died 15 July 1854, age 2 months and 15 days. Rachel died at Belle R.’s birth, on 30 April 1854, age 29 years, 8 months and 21 days. The graves of Rachel and the Caldwell daughters, all marked, are with Van’s in the Iowaville Cemetery.


Finally, Van married Margaret Smith on 2 June 1855 in Van Buren County and they were living together at the time of his death.

Following Van’s death, Murat went to live with his half-brother, Samuel T., a farmer, merchant and banker in Eddyville in far northwest Wapello County. Henry Clay went on to become an acclaimed jurist, serving as a federal judge in Little Rock, Ark., but dying in California. He is buried, however, in Little Rock.

The taller the building, the more satisfying the splat

I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad the last few days as politicians and bankers run around Washington like startled leghorns in the henhouse squawking and flapping their wings without a clue concerning what to do about what’s scared them --- as Wall Street lays the egg.

Dad watched his grandfather, Daniel Myers the first, go down the tubes financially --- not because he’d lived lavishly or bought expensive toys --- but because he had felt obligated first to help set each of his children up in farming and, second, to try to bail them out when they turned out not to have his managerial skills or common sense. Among all those children, only two I believe, including my grandfather, managed (barely) to hold onto their land. And Great-granddad , who once had owned hundreds of acres, died in the 1930s with only the 40-acre homestead --- only because they couldn’t take that away from him. It was a struggle, Dad said, to come up with enough money for his tombstone.

Dad worked first as a farmhand, then as a sharecropper, for nearly 20 years to earn enough money to buy a farm himself without going into debt to do it. To say that he and my mother lived prudently would be an understatement. Their goal was to eat well, live comfortably but never lavishly and put enough aside to see them through old age until death. That they did.

At first I was thinking, “I’m sure glad he didn’t live long enough to see this.” But now I’m not so sure. It’s surely nothing that would have surprised him, although he’d not have wished it on anyone. But even he liked to say “I told you so” now and then.

I know Dad would be worried about his modest stash of cash. Not that he had ever done anything to endanger it --- many who grew up during what until now at least we’ve called the Great Depression didn’t, and don’t. But the concern always was, and is, that damnfoolishness will trickle down to the most well-managed banks and the most rock-solid and conservative investments and wipe out everyone --- not just those who richly deserve to be wiped out.

That’s the way a free-market economy works when greed trumps common sense and not a thought is given to sustainability. We’ve been in that mode for a long time now.

I don’t know about this bailout. It’s tempting to want to just stand back and watch financial empires come crashing down. On the other hand, if that happens many who do not deserve to suffer undoubtedly will and we may be among them.

I do know one thing, though, about a requirement any bailout should carry with it --- that those who led their financial institutions into disaster should be required to jump from the tops of their headquarters buildings in return for assistance. The taller and more lavish the building, the more satisfying the splat.

My dad, Daniel Frank Myers, is up top. My great-granddad, also Daniel Myers, is at left. And I am Frank Daniel Myers and proud of them both.

Chiggers and geraniums

At first Tuesday when my ankles started to itch and small welts arose there and elsewhere I decided the office carpet had fleas --- then chigger attack occurred to me, bites of which start to itch up to 24 hours after the little critters have had lunch.

It's the worst and most widespread chigger assault I've experienced since I was a kid and that's odd since (a) I spend quite a bit of time tromping around outdoors and (b) this is not the time of year, supposedly, when chiggers are most active. I suppose the fact it's been a cool and wet late summer/fall has something to do with it.

I could have become a chigger cafe down around Lake Rathbun Monday afternoon, since I was in and out of tall grass with the wrong kind of shoes; but most likely invited them aboard that morning while crawling around on hands and knees and sitting cross-legged on the ground out at the cemetery clipping around tombstones and getting rid of faded summer floral tributes.

The itching's about gone now, but the geraniums are still blooming --- and that's the positive thing to report. It's nice that they're still so enthusiastic as frost nears, adding color around the house as everything else (other than chrysanthemums, asters and marigolds) fade. I miss the chrysanthemums killed off during the great spring freeze a year ago last Easter and need to remember to plant more.

One thing that's been clear this year is that the coneflowers have gone out of control and will take over everything unless I do some serious surgery in the flower beds next spring. I've also run out of anywhere to plant more fall bulbs, so it's time.

The thing I've been admiring most this fall is the modest clump of Indian grass I planted out in the back forty last year. It obviously recognized a friendly environment when it met one and now is tall, gone to seed and waving in the breeze. I wonder what the neighbors would say if I decided to return that big patch of grass back there to its former prairie state. Maybe I'll move some of the coneflowers out there.

Since I failed to photograph the Indian grass, here are two views of the geraniums. They're living on borrowed time since first frost can't be that far away now.

The high life on Honey Creek

The new Honey Creek Resort on the north shore of Lake Rathbun opened its doors over the weekend and I went down Monday (kind of a gray day) to nose around. Wow! If state legislators (via the Department of Natural Resources, which owns the resort as well as Honey Creek State Park) were going to spend $19.6 million on Iowa's first "destination resort" anyway, bless their little hearts for doing it in southern Iowa.

Lake Rathbun is in my back yard, dedicated by President Nixon in 1969 or 1970, I forget which --- when I was in Vietnam; and Honey Creek always has been my favorite spot along it because a lot of it is old-growth oak and hickory timber, the views out across the lake are among the best and it's prime wildlife-watching territory. And yes I complain sometimes about everything that went under when this stretch of the Chariton River valley was flooded --- but none of that today. The lake's there, it's not going anywhere other than gradually downstream through the dam and I've learned to enjoy it.

Anyhow, the resort's been on the back burner since the lake was built and when private developers politely declined to build as years passed the state decided to step in. It's in a previous undeveloped area east of the part of Honey Creek Park I've roamed around in for nearly 40 years.

A wet summer put construction far behind schedule, so a mad scramble is going on now to finish up --- and will continue through next spring I'd guess. The entrance just east of Iconium (or west of Moravia if you're coming in from that direction) is right through a paving plant that will go away when streets fanning out among as yet unbuilt cottages down by the lake are complete. But the heavy lifting's been done and the hotel, convention center and new 18-hole golf course are fully operational.

The final landscaping phase is just beginning, however, so workers were crawling like ants all over the park planting trees, shrubs, etc.

The long paved entrance drive twists and turns south and east through the lakeshore hills, where the golf course is located, but finally you get to the hotel itself, perched at a northeast-to-southwest angle so that lakeside rooms and all the public areas, including the restaurant and bar, look out across the Honey Creek bay to the main lake.

The hotel itself has 105 rooms on three floors, a soaring lobby, 6,500-square-foot convention center, restaurant, bar and indoor water park. There also is a 50-boat-slip marina and will be a fishing pier and beach. The golf course has its own club house, and once the cottages are built the complex will be complete.


The whole thing is built in that vaguely Prairie School style that's been increasingly popular in Iowa for the last few years and that's especially evident in the lobby with its national-monument-sized fireplace (although I was surprised at how small the two fire boxes were --- and of course they're gas, so you'll not be toasting your toes before a blazing wood fire here). Still, it's an impressive place.

I wandered around through oceans of lavishly carpeted spaces, poking around where I could without actually trying to open closed doors. Then stumbled around the as yet undeveloped lakeshore to see what I could see back there. Yea, I'd be delighted to spend a few days here --- even through it's not much more than half an hour from home, I don't golf and don't boat either. And I'll certainly go down (when dressed more appropriately) to try out the restaurant.



So you-all come down, too, and help support the thing. Appropriately marketed and managed, it should work. Here's hoping so.

Visiting with the clerk at the front desk, she asked me if I ever thought I'd see "anything so beautiful" in southern Iowa. Now them's kind of fighting words --- but I didn't tell her that. There's a multitude of far more beautiful places, people and things to see in southern Iowa, and always has been. And that kind of thinking kind of reflects the thought from more elevated places I've heard before: "Why would you put something like that there?" Just don't start with me on that!

But I've got to admit it's impressive.


Finally, I drove back around to "my" Honey Creek to hike down a trail to the lakeshore and take a photo from there.

On the way to the trailhead, you pass a series of 16 buial mounds from the Woodland era along the Chariton --- a quiet reminder that for all its glitz, Honey Creek Resort is not the first community here where the creek and the river join.

The Iowaville Roster: Andrew Jackson Davis

There’s an old story about Iowaville’s earliest days that tells of early-morning roll calls, militia-style, to determine who among the settlers had made it safely through the night and who, perhaps, had not. That gave me the idea of calling roster myself now and then to talk about interesting men and women, some almost larger than life, who lived here along the Des Moines River between, say, 1838 and 1856 --- when my old friend Robert Rathbun died at his Iowaville House hotel and was carried up to the bluff to be buried.

Iowaville never was a big place --- at the time of the great flood in May of 1851 there reportedly were about 30 houses, a few stores, a blacksmith shop and the Iowaville House --- but it seems to have had more than its share of great characters, among them Andrew Jackson Davis who went on to become Montana’s richest man, a rise fueled in part by whiskey distilled right here along the river.

Davis probably was the most entrepreneurial of Iowaville’s residents --- and most likely its biggest employer for a few years. In 1848, he organized what was in effect Iowaville’s industrial park, called Black Hawk City, just across the Des Moines River south of the village and connected to it by a chain ferry. There, he built a massive mill that, according to the 26 August 1854 edition of Keosauqua’s The Democratic Union, contained “the most extensive flouring mill --- steam --- in the county, also a steam saw mill, lathe machine, carding machine, &tc., also an extensive distillery that makes most of the whisky sold in the valley, and furnishes high wines to Keokuk and other larger towns for the manufactory of brandy, gin, rum, wine, &tc.”

When the 1850 census of Village Township, where both Iowaville and Black Hawk City were located, was taken, Andrew told the enumerator that he owned property valued at $24,000 --- a great deal of money at that time although peanuts compared to the millions he would acquire later. By comparison, his neighbor James H. Jordan --- then living on his farm upriver west of Iowaville, claimed real estate valued at only $7,000, still a substantial amount in those days.

A roamer and a rambler, A.J. is hard to pin down sometimes during his early years, but Iowaville/Black Hawk and the large farm he owned south of the river in Salt Creek Township, Davis County, seem to have formed his home base until the early 1860s when he settled permanently in Montana.

Although his early wealth probably was based upon whiskey, Iowa was not necessarily a friendly environment. Although the laws never were enforced with any enthusiasm, prohibition was legislated for the state in 1855. And in the Civil War era whopping taxes were assessed against strong drink to help fund the war effort.

Still, by about 1866 A.J. had built up so large an inventory of whiskey in Iowa that he commissioned an entire ox-drawn wagon train to haul it west to Montana where he sold it at great profit, helping to fuel his rise.

In the 1860s, milling and distilling operations at Black Hawk were discontinued, the equipment removed and dispersed and the mill complex taken down. Today, not a trace of Black Hawk remains.

A.J. was far from done with Van Buren and Davis counties, however. He kept his Davis County farm of 800 acres until he died and after his death during 1890 in Butte, Montana, a will forged in Davis County by Davis countyans created such an uproar that as litigation drained an estate valued at $7 million or so reports concerning perhaps the greatest probate battle of the late 19th century transfixed readers from coast to coast.

The following account of his life is framed by Andrew’s obituary, published in The Anaconda Standard of 12 March 1890, but information inserted in italics is taken from a posthumous biography published in 1894 on Pages 203-204 of Joaquin Miller’s “Illustrated History of the State of Montana"(Chicago: The Lewis Publishing Co.)

ANDREW JACKSON DAVIS

In his modest home on East Broadway (in Butte, Montana) precisely at 11 o’clock last night (March 11, 1890) Judge Andrew J. Davis breathed his last of paralysis of the brain. The body will be sent east to the old homestead for burial.

Andrew Jackson Davis was born in Wilbraham, Massachusetts, April 25, 1819. His father, Asa Davis, emigrated from Wales when a young man and settled at Wilbraham, where he was married and reared a family of thirteen children. He died in the eightieth year of his age.

When a small boy, Andrew entered the employ of a store in Boston as an errand boy. Before he was of age, he went with a small stock of goods, of which he was part owner, to Madison, Ind. After staying there a year or two, he drifted down the Ohio to the Mississippi and traded in towns on the east side of the river. He went to Nashville, Tenn., still engaged in the mercantile business. After a year in Nashville, he went in 1838 to Iowa and formed a partnership with Edward Manning at Keosauqua.

In 1839 he … had several little stores at different places and spent his time in going from one to another and looking after them, making his headquarters at Fairfield.

During all his merchandising he evinced great aptness in making trades for almost anything and always turning the property to advantage. He was in Iowa during the Black Hawk war; became well acquainted with the chief, and from the Indians made a purchase of 800 acres of land located on the west side of the Des Moines river, a property which still belongs to his estate. This property, notwithstanding it was valuable, was always a bill of expense to him. When asked why he did not dispose of it, he said he would keep it for a “nest egg” to fall back upon if necessary. Some years after he purchased it he had a distillery there (Black Hawk and the distillery actually were in Van Buren County).

At Iowaville he carried on a grist mill and a distillery and was also the owner of several small stores. In 1853 (or 1852), he placed his brothers, John and Calvin, in charge of his Iowa interests and went to California. He spent two years in California (where he) met with only fair success, however, and soon afterward returned East. He returned to Iowa in 1856 and remained until 1864 (or 1863), still engaged in the mercantile business. In 1860 he ran for the Iowa senate on the Bell-Everett ticket and was defeated.

Then he made a second trip to California and on this occasion explored the country along the coast as far as Puget Sound. From there he made his way back and arrived in Montana in 1863 (or 1864). Seeing the great demand for miners’ supplies here, he engaged in bringing merchandise from the East with ox teams, and continued this business successfully for several years. At that time whiskey was in Montana a staple article and brought high prices, while at his distillery in Iowa the price was low. In 1866 he brought a whole ox train loaded with the products of the (Iowa) establishment to Montana.

He became the owner of two grist mills at Gallatin ( he was at one time probate judge of Gallatin County), and he had traded for a number of old quartz mills which he obtained cheap; so, in 1870, he built a foundry at Helena, in which he could repair and fix up those mills, and in this way he realized large profits.

While engaged in this business he became owner of a number of quartz mines in the vicinity of Butte City, among which was the Lexington (which he acquired for a small debt; it previously had been known as the Allie Brown). In 1877 this mine, under his development, showed such a wealth of both silver and gold that he built a mill to treat its ore, and he made out of it no less than $300,000. During all this time he had also been extensively engaged in raising cattle. In 1880 he and his partners sold off their cattle, and from this industry realized another $300,000.

During his ownership the gross earnings of the Lexington were $1,600,000. In 1881 Mr. Davis sold his Lexington property to English and French capitalists for $1 million cash, they agreeing to incorporate the property and expend not less thatn $500,000 in additional machinery and appliances and give him fifteen per cent of the stock of the new company. They incorporated under the title of the Societe Anonyme Des Mines de Lexington, and did all that they promised. The mine was operated at a large profit up to the recent decline in silver, and it is still being operated; not, however, to its full capacity.

Judge Davis built the second stamp mill in Butte, the Dexter being the first. His mill was the old Lexington on East Broadway. Ever since his arrival in Butte he has been interested to a greater or lesser extent in mining.

During that same year, 1881, Mr. Davis became the organizer of the First National Bank of Butte. He was also a large stockholder in the First National Bank of Helena. In 1882, on account of impaired health, he made a tour of Europe, returning in the spring of the following year, much improved and rested. In 1884 he purchased the rest of the stock of the First National Bank of Butte, assumed control of it and devoted nearly the whole of his time and attention to its affairs, and its business greatly prospered under his management. In the meantime he had been picking up a number of mining claims, and in 1887 sold them in a buch to the Butte & Boston Mining Company for about $750,000 in cash, he retaining one-half of the stock in the new company. This transaction practically ended his mining enterprises, as his health continued to fail.

Judge Davis was never married. He was one of 13 children, 11 of whom grew to maturity. Erwin Davis, a brother, is a very wealthy operator in New York. Calvin Davis is on a ranch in California; John A. Davis, now in Butte, has been a Chicago businessman for years; Diana Davis, an unmarried sister, still lives at the old homestead; Sarah M. Cummings, Elizabeth S. Bowdon and Harriet Woods are married sisters.

He was considered the first millionaire of Butte City. He left an estate valued at about $7 million.

Judge A. J. Davis takes rank as one of Montana’s pioneers. He was a man who followed his own judgment. He brought a stock of goods to Montana from Utah when others advised against it. He had exceptional faith in Montana and in Butte.

He was modest in manner and cautious in method, but he was always ready to assist in any undertaking that would help Butte. He was an enjoyable companion and possessed a wide range of information. His interest in public affairs was easily awakened. But he never sought favor or popular approval.

He had a great fondness for children and always found a welcome wherever he went. While he was careful with his own expences, he was generous to others, without a particle of ostentation, and many a needy family received help from him and never knew its source. In his death Motana, and especially Butte City, sustained a heavy loss; but he had passed his three score years and ten, the time allotted to man, and his death was quiet and peaceful.

THE AFTERMATH

Although Andrew’s death was peaceful, the aftermath was not. He left no will, so there was an immediate fight over who would administer the vast estate. His brother, John A., who then lived in Butte with his family eventually prevailed in Montana courts but not until after lawsuits filed by his siblings and nieces and nephews accusing him of being a drunk and an imbecile incapable of administering anything.

As preparations were being made to divvy up Andrew’s millions among all of his siblings or their children, John A. Davis suddenly produced a purported will allegedly executed in 1866 in in Davis County, Iowa, by Andrew. It had mysteriously surfaced in Iowa when it became clear just how large A.J.’s estate was. After making modest bequests to a “Pet” and Thomas Jefferson Davis, presented as illegitimate children of Andrew, and their mother, the entire balance of the huge estate went to John. Hmmm.

The will was an obvious forgery and the renowned Robert Ingersoll proved (for a fee of $100,000) that beyond a shadow of a doubt in Montana courts, but for whatever reasons the jury in that case could not agree and “hung” itself.

Litigation went on and on in state courts in Montana, Massachusetts and New York and eventually before the U.S. Supreme Court.

Finally the heirs all reached agreement, including Andrew’s spurious children, to probate the false will and divvy up an estate far smaller than it was before litigation began according to a formula that gave something to everyone.

Both Andrew J. Davis’s life and its aftermath were amazing performances --- and to think, it all started in little Iowaville.

The driving cure

Up here, they tell the story of a farmer of Norwegian descent who lived so close to the state line he could spit into Minnesota from the tractor if he cared to do so. Profoundly distressed during one farm crisis or another, he jumped into his truck and headed west on Interstate 90 through South Dakota to Buffalo, Wyo., north to Interstate 94 east of Billings., back through North Dakota then south on Interstate 35 from the Cities to home again. He was fine after that. It’s called the driving cure.

This is more expensive therapy that it used to be, considering the price of gas and diesel, and I don’t want to discourage anyone who needs professional help from getting it, but pedal to the metal sure beats the hell out of several other forms of self-medication including drugs, strong drink and Dr. Phil.

I take a double dose at the least each week, south across the state one day and back north again on another. The trip south usually involves the interstate --- right past some of my biggest money pits, halfway decent book stores.

The trip north nine times out of ten involves back roads in part because of my obsession with the most direct route from here to there, but also because it’s more scenic, more fun and more, well, restful. The interstate is mindless and there’s the potential there to get too wrapped up in yourself. But on the back roads you’ve got to attend to the twists and turns and those six miles of bad road between pavements.

Barreling down the interstate at 70 mph, I can make it from Mason City to Chariton in three hours flat all things being equal. Putzing up the back roads at 55 mph. I can make it from Chariton to Mason City in three and a half hours, although I rarely do --- too many things to look at along the way.

I head north out of Chariton on Highway 14 to cheaper gas in Knoxville (the Wal-Mart factor, although I don‘t fill up there), the sprint car capitol of the world, then on north and across the long bridge that spans Red Rock Lake (photo up top). Mixed feelings about Red Rock and the other big lakes. It’s kind of pretty in its way, but then so was the Des Moines River valley that it flooded. And quite frankly, Scarlet, I don’t give a rip about its recreational potential.

Beyond the bridge, 14 passes through Monroe and I always look twice at this dilapidated old house just north of the square --- one of Iowa’s rare octagons fallen upon hard times, but at least it’s still standing. Below it is an older photo, dating from the 1930s and part of the Historic American Buildings Survey (HABS) collection. Under that stucco is brick. It’s a neat building. I suppose it’ll just fall down one of these days.

Highway 14 continues north across Interstate 80 and through Newton (Remember Maytag? All that’s left is bleu cheese) to the “T” several miles north of town where the highway jogs east on the way to Marshalltown and I jog west on a county road to the first blacktop north, which takes me to Melbourne --- a nice little flat-land town dating from 1882.

Straight north of Melbourne, still on county roads, I cross the new four-lane diagonal (No. 330) connecting Marshalltown and Des Moines, Highway 30 and another Marshall County blacktop before I hit gravel. What you see straight ahead here is the roughest railroad crossing in all creation and a hill that turns to mush in the winter when there’s lots of snow.


After a few miles on gravel, I hit blacktop again, jog east about a mile and then north on one of my favorite legs of the trip, up through Minerva (bet you didn’t know there was a Minerva; here‘s Minerva Wesley Chapel and look at how the beans are turning this week) to Bangor, hang a right at Bangor-Liberty Friends Church, across Honey Creek then up and over to Union on the west side of the Iowa River valley.


I really like Union --- it’s a pretty little town that really seems to have some pride in itself. And since I’m out of time this morning I’m going to stop right here for now. You can go on if you’re in a hurry --- through Eldora, Iowa Falls and Hampton --- and I’ll be along later.

Swan lake

In the neighborhood anyway Monday, I stopped at Osceola's East Lake to check up on the trumpeter swans who live there. The permanent residents, a flightless pair, are part of Iowa's contribution to restoration of the U.S. population of trumpeters, once numbering in the millions but decimated by civilization, if you can call it that. Their cygnets are released into the wild yearly to fly free, hopefully to survive power lines and predators, human and otherwise, and reproduce.

There are four cygnets this year, and as I was standing there just outside the fence minding my own business while watching theirs, the cob, accompanied by one of his offspring, decided to exit the lake, walk up the hill and observe me more closely in return --- only fair I guess.

I have a sneaking suspicion they may have been expecting treats --- something I didn't and don't offer wildlife in situations like this. But it was a treat for me to see these magnificent waterfowl up close and personal.

So here you have the approach, the examination, the departure and sailing away. These photos were shot through the mesh fence that surrounds the swans' enclosure so the angles are a little whacky sometimes.

Finding Major John Beach

Not that the major was lost or anything, but Find-A-Grave failed me a few months back when I decided that I wanted to see the tombstone of Maj. John Beach (below), who succeeded is father-in-law, Gen. Joseph M. Street, as agent to the Sauk and Fox (Meskwaki) upon the latter's death on 15 May 1840 at the agency just southeast of Ottumwa.

Find-A-Grave listed his burial place as "unknown," but of course it isn't. He's buried in the Agency City Cemetery on the south edge of Agency, the town that developed just northwest of the original Sauk and Fox Agency after the Sauk and Fox themselves had been booted out of Iowa and the agency turned over, under terms of the treaty that booted them, to Street's widow.

I walked the cemetery last week to find him --- and it wasn't that hard.

Major John had married the Streets' daughter, Lucy Frances, on 21 August 1837 at Prairie du Chien, Wisc., where Joseph M. Street was posted at that time. Upon his father-in-law's death in Iowa, John had rushed to Washington, D.C., and secured the post of agent for himself.

He served the Sauk and Fox as best he could until 1847 --- leaving Agency with his family when the Sauk and Fox moved west of the Red Rock Line, then on to Kansas. His wife, Lucy, died during that move, on 31 July 1845 at "Racoon River, Iowa," presumably somewhere in the neighborhood of Fort Des Moines. Their infant daughter, Lucy Elizabeth, died three months later, on 12 October 1845, age 4 months. Both are buried between General Street and Chief Wapello within the rather odd fenced and roofed enclosure that guards the old agency graveyard.


According to his third wife, Caroline, John's hearing had failed by 1847 and that caused him to retire as agent and return to Agency, Iowa, where he went into business.

On 21 April 1847 in Wapello County, he married his sister-in-law, Mary Jane (Mayfield) Street, widow of Gen. Joseph M. Street's eldest son, Thomas Posey Street, who had died 15 April 1841 at Prairie du Chien.

John had three surviving children by Lucy, sons Thomas P., William and Alexander T. Beach. Mary had three children by Thomas Street, Ellen P., Thomas J. and William A. Street. Together, they had Mary A. Beach, born about 1849. Then the marriage flew apart.

Major John was married for the third and final time, on 21 October 1851, to 16-year-old Caroline Sprague and they had four sons, Augustus, Cyrus F., Edward and Frederick.

John retired from business about 1863 and spent a great deal of time after that thinking and writing. His accounts of the Sauk and Fox Agency and incidents connected with his work as agent are quoted in virtually every reference to that phase of Iowa history --- and make for good reading.

When all was said and done, Major John was extremely cranky about the philosophy that had guided U.S. policy toward the Sauk and Fox --- that somehow they could be coerced into almost instantly abandoning their own culture and becoming happy farmers. That, he said, (a) couldn't be done and (b) only offered multiple opportunities for mercenary white folks to exploit them.

John died at Agency on 31 August 1874, age 62, and was buried beside his sons Augustus and Cyrus F., who had died young, in the City Cemetery. Another son, Frederick, who died in 1911, and Caroline, who died in 1912, were buried later by his side.


After John's Death, Caroline married a substantially younger carpenter named John Hanawalt (on 2 December 1876). He was born the year she married John Beach and survived until 1934. He is buried, too, on the Beach lot.

Miss Lora expresses her will

This Village Township map, taken from the larger Van Buren County map on page 85 of A.T. Andreas' "Illustrated Historical Atlas of the State of Iowa," shows the lay of the land within five years of Miss Lora's birth in 1869. Although Iowaville was on the decline, it still was on the map. The little town downstream that would become Selma still was known as Independent and, father downstream, today's Leando was still Portland. The dot just southeast of Independent beside "A. Hinkle" was where the barn and log house mentioned in Lora's will were located. Her "Doll House," a later Hinkle home, had not been built yet. It was located on Independent/Selma's south edge within a small subdivision Lora's father carved from his farm. Of other sites mentioned in the will, Both "the Ranch" and Bud Hinkle's farm probably consisted of land just west of Iowaville in Davis County that had been a part of James H. Jordan's estate; Mae Hinkle's farm and Harry's farm, both at Iowaville, represented a division of a tract of land owned by their father that had encompassed the Iowaville site and extended north from it.

Miss Lora was the last Hinkle standing when she sat down to write her will on the day before Thanksgiving 1932 in Room 208 of Ottumwa’s Ballingall Hotel --- like herself a rather grand Victorian relic. She had turned 63 earlier that year, on 15 January.

Although her official home was a big frame house on Selma’s south edge --- known as the Doll House and filled with several lifetime accumulations --- Miss Lora had taken to spending more and more time in Ottumwa at the Ballingall since the death two years earlier, on 3 July 1930, of her troublesome but beloved younger brother, Houston Arthur “Bud” Hinkle.

Bud had lived with Lora in Selma and they had shared breakfast that July morning, perhaps discussing how they might spend Independence Day. Then he had gone out for a walk, had a coughing fit and just dropped dead at age 59.

Miss Lora’s surviving brother, the euphoniously named Harry Harper Hinkle, had come back to Selma in October of that year from Mexico, his home for 40 years, to help Miss Lora make belated funeral and burial arrangements for Bud --- who had been cooling his heels in the Ottumwa Cemetery’s receiving vault since July 4th --- but then had turned around and headed southwest again.

The Ballingall offered Miss Lora several amenities not found in Selma. She had no need either to cook for herself or keep house. A member of Trinity Episcopal Church, she could attend services regularly. And she had found a calling rather late in life as a volunteer aide at St. Joseph Hospital and had become attached to the sisters who operated it. She was, in effect, creating in Ottumwa a new family to replace her biological family at Selma, now for the most part dead.

This loneliness had seemed unlikely when Lora was a child. Once upon a time there had been eight of them: Capt. Abraham (or Abram) Hinkle and his wife, Sally (Jordan) Hinkle, only daughter of the Iowaville valley’s first family, that of James H. and Frances (Williams) Jordan; and six Hinkle children.

But death had been hard on the family. Sally Hinkle died of tuberculosis on 10 Februrary 1888 and two months later her youngest child, James Erwin, age 5, also had died. Daughter Nellie passed away on 10 April 1890, age 16; Capt. Abraham, on 7 February 1901; and daughter Melvina Mae, 10 years later on 14 April 1911. That left Lora and her two brothers.

Even three Hinkles might have been enough to ensure that some genetic trace of themselves survived, but neither Bud nor Harry had been inclined to marry and Miss Lora’s brief foray into matrimony had ended in divorce.

She had officially become the last of the Hinkles less than a month earlier, on 31 October 1932, when Harry died unexpectedly of pneumonia at age 60 in a Mexico City Hospital. For Lora, that had meant a trip to Mexico City to claim his body, close his house and begin the process of settling his estate.

Lora and her brother’s remains returned to Iowa two weeks later and funeral services were held at the Campbell Funeral Home in Eldon and at the Ottumwa Cemetery on Saturday the 19th, just four days before the Wednesday upon which she sat down to set down on paper her wishes concerning disposition of her worldly goods, acutely aware, I’d expect, of her own mortality.

It is a unique document, I think, but badly flawed from a legal standpoint. She should have hired a lawyer; should have thought more about the red tape needed to ensure that her wishes were carried out, should have been more careful.

Still, it still stands as a portrait of Miss Lora in her own words --- strong-willed and cantankerous, deeply interested in history, a bit of a snob, possessor of a warm heart and a benevolent spirt.

The day before Thanksgiving
Ottumwa, Iowa, November 23, 1932

In Room 208 in the Ballingall Hotel, I, Lora J. Hinkle am writing this my last will. Without a lawyer and without a lot of red tape. I haven’t much but what I have shall go as follows.

The Home Farm --- once known as Clover Hill when my father owned show stock and lived on that farm at Selma, Iowa, Van Buren County, my share shall go to the State of Iowa. The old Log Cabin that was built by Thomas Benjamin Saylor one hundred years ago shall stand to the end of time. All furniture that I leave in there shall be left as it is and the cabin shall be a show place, where a charge of 15 cents to 25 cents, no less, shall be charged, all children to 12 years of age shall admit free. Logs are old and in time cement or such shall be put on outside to keep logs.

The log building now used as corn crib may be used as kitchen and dining room or for dances as I want NO cooking in the cabin. I built a chimney for a hot air furnace but as time goes on, it may be that the new heat, without coal or oil or wood that Dr. Cook is talking about, or has his advance agent talking about here at the Hotel, anyway it interests me. In that case such a thing could be used in the cabin.

The dear old barn, built by Eli LeFever, must also stand to the end of time. The State can use that for a place to feed people or floor the ground floor, the basement, and have dancing and eating. It shall be kept as first class place always, run by first class people, no trash. The State can make a fish pond and have fine water, deep well there, sell fish and make money. Have chickens, and sell them, make money out of that. Grow corn and grain. Have boats on river, cottages along river to rent if they wish, grow walnut trees for sale, sell nuts also grow lots of grapes for sale.

I am just saying all that so you will see how I think you, the State, will make money and have a beautiful State Park.

The Ranch, I want traded for the farm my Bro. Harry owns at Iowaville, an old Indian village.

And where now stands the old Rathborn Inn, the only land mark left in the village, I want the state of Iowa to take that farm and keep all the lots about the house to go with the house, and I want that kept forever, as a show place, and money maker, for all time to come. The State may sell the land back of the old house from there to the railroad.

The farm known as my Bro. Arthur (Bud) farm, I want to go to the two children of J.W. Calhoun, Jeannette C. Hayford and Ives Calhoun. Am doing this because ever since our father died Mr. Calhoun has been a help to us, to me, in helping to advise and manage my dear Bro. Bud, so Harry and I thot it a nice thing to do, to give a little something to John’s two children.

The farm known as Mae Hinkle’s farm I want to be left in trust, the rent to go to the Sisters of St. Joseph’s Hospital forever. It could be used as a school or boarding school and it shall be called “Melmae” or Melvina” as that was her real name. Also my grandmother’s. Now should the trust and the nuns think it best to sell the sand lot and invest the cash from that, alright. Invest the cash from that lot in buildings for the farm. All must go back on the farm. The sand lot is long strip of land east of the Iowaville land, or road going out to the railroad. Also they may sell the small piece of land that is north of the railroad. It is used as pasture.

The sisters are known as the sisters of Mary. Anyway you know who I mean. St. Joseph’s Hospital is to keep up two rooms known as Henkel rooms. The home shall be known as Henkel (German way of spelling) cabin and farm.

All my dresses, shoes, clothing, shall be given to Edith Johnson and Clara Hinkle, both of Bloomfield, and they are to be divided between the two as the two may want, they do the dividing. All that they do not want or use for themselves shall be given by them to the sisters of St. Joseph Hospital, because I don’t want anyone except these two wearing anything of mine. The sisters will make over what the girls don’t use and the sisters will give them to poor students.

All my jewelry shall be sold at auction.

All income from my farm at Iowaville shall go to the sisters, say how it shall be farmed and the cash from my fine old jewelry shall be given as presents to the children I will name.

Sell the jewelry in Chicago, or Kansas City or Los Angeles where there are people who love such things. My mother’s watch, also that of my father, both have chains. My grandmother’s watch and also locket with pendant and long, very long chain. My diamond ring, my mother’s bracelets three, one was stolen, also pins and etc.

All blankets and sheets to go the hospital --- also towels. All table linen and antique quilts to be sold at auction. And the money to be given to children I will name --- The children of Chas. Starr, chief clerk of Ballingall. Edgar (Boo) Johnson’s baby girl; the two children of Eula Swain Christy living in Washington, D.C. --- Dudley Nicklen of Selma can give you the address of Christy. My lovely Mex blankets &tc., shall be sold at auction with the jewelry. Furniture to be sold at auction and that also shall be divided amontg the above named children.

As Harry has left his share to First Bank and Turst Company, I also leave the sisters share to be looked after by the same company.

Now about the Doll House where I live, or have lived, that should be used as an orphans home as it is so near a school, and is a good place for a garden and grapes &tc. So why not the State use it for such, or rent it to some Church to use as an Orphan’s Home. I really do not know what to say about that. You could take it for a farm home for the farm, but it is so big.

Better build a farm house east of the barn or back in the woods near the other road; no I prefer east of the barn, but don’t ever let the hired man who lives in the farm house own the place and have all his friends and relations camping there. And if you don’t watch that he will do that very thing. Build him a barn also and only a four room house so he can’t move in his in-laws to live with him.

With my love to everybody and with good wishes and good luck to all, I am.

Lora Jordan Hinkle

The foregoing instrument was signed in our presence by the testator who declared it to be her last will and testament --- Lora Jordan Hinkle. We signed as witnesses to her presence and in the presence of each other.

Witness:
W. B. Bonifield
Margaret Bonifield

Having thus expressed her will, Miss Lora put the document way --- and never wrote another. She had four and a half more years to live.

Errors and omissions found along the vacation trail

I tell people who ask what I did while on vacation that I went fishing --- in courthouse vaults and cemeteries. Some understand; others don't. I also mowed the lawn (twice), did some sight-seeing and just sat and read a lot.

But a lot of time was spent in Ottumwa, Bloomfield and Keosauqua and on the roads between. They're scenic roads, so the trips were part of the pleasure involved.

Working with helpful staff members in the clerk of district court offices in Bloomfield and Keosauqua was a pleasure, too --- as was just working in their wonderful old buildings.

Folks at the libraries maintained by the Wapello County and Davis County genealogical societies also were most helpful.

I especially enjoyed visiting with Brenda Kremer at the Eldon Public Library (a beautiful little Carnegie building that's a credit to the small town around it), which she directs. Brenda also is working with others in the community to find a place on the National Register of Historic Places for the lock-keeper's house along the old trail between Eldon and Selma.

Brenda corrected my misunderstanding about lock-keeper's house ownership. Somehow I'd gotten it into my head that the Davis County Conservation Board owned the building. Well, it doesn't. Ownership has never been separated from the farm land that surrounds it. The property had been owned by James H. Jordan and his descendants for 120 years and claimed by Trader Jim for 10 years before that --- until it was sold by the heirs of Grace (Jordan) Baldwin, his last surviving grandchild, after her death in 1968. It's still privately owned, but by a landowner interested in its conservation and future. So I've updated an earlier entry here entitled "Black Hawk's bones" to reflect that new (to me) information.

I've also fiddled with the entries entitled "Main Street Iowaville, late afternoon" and "James H. Jordan's Bones I and II" to improve accuracy. Of course I also picked up other bits and pieces of information about this area and the people who once lived in it that for better or worse I'll share here as time passes.

Brenda sent me down to Selma to talk with Rex Richardson about the Hinkle family and his memories of the Selma and Iowaville areas. Wow, what a source of information! Wish I could have spent longer with him.

Anyhow, I had a great week --- although you may have to as obsessive-compulsive about local history and genealogy as I am to understand exactly why.