Ancient Faces: Henry M. Spiker

It's not clear to me why my granddad, William Ambrose Miller, had this excellent three-quarters portrait of Henry M. Spiker in his collection of photographs --- but I am grateful that he at least identified it as Henry. The Spikers and the Millers were neighbors in English Township, of course, and Henry was about the same age as Granddad's uncles, Harvey and Rial Miller, so he may have been a friend of theirs. Henry also married Granddad's teacher at Sunnyside School, Barbara Amelia Molesworth, on 26 October 1887. Granddad was 11 going on 12 at the time.

Henry was the second of Joseph Frederick and Adellah W. (Brightwell) Spiker's eight children, born 31 January 1862 in Hancock County, Illinois. In 1875, when Henry was 13, he came with his parents, siblings and maternal grandparents, Richard and Elizabeth (Hagerty) Brightwell, to English Township, Lucas County.

After his marriage at age 25, he and Barbara settled down on a farm near that of his parents and other family members in English Township, but had no children. Like his father, Henry specialized in raising draft and utility horses.

In 1920, Henry and Barbara moved from Lucas County to the Ozarks, settling in Springdale, Ark. About 1930, Barbara fell and broke a hip, something very difficult to recover from at that time. She never recoverd fully and died four years later, on 24 September 1934, nine months after suffering a stroke. She was buried in Springdale.

Not long after Barbara died, Henry's health began to fail. Because he had no family in Arkansas, he returned to Iowa and moved in with his brother, Verne, at Hedrick. He died there of a stroke on 7 July 1936. Rather than taking the body to Arkansas for burial, Henry was placed beside his parents in the Chariton Cemetery.

Cemetery Walk No. 3: Edith and Sam Beardsley

Edith and Sam Beardsley were one of Chariton’s early power couples, innovators at a time when undertaking was shifting from a furniture store sideline to full-time profession and both involved in their business to the point that when Sam unexpectedly dropped dead, Edith continued to operate Beardsley Funeral Home on her own for nearly 20 more years.

The photo above, perhaps taken about 1920, is of the Beardsleys with their son, Joe, adopted in 1911 at the age of two months.

Sam was the only son of Wilfred Wesley Beardsley, an Ohio-born marble cutter and purveyor of tombstones who came to Chariton as a young man, and his first wife, Sarah. He was named Samuel Newton Beardsley upon his birth in Chariton during June of 1880.

Edith, whose parents were Millard Fillmore and Ida J. (Willhite) Stevens, was born Aug. 11, 1884, in Grant City, Missouri, where she graduated from high school in 1902. Edith and Sam were married in Chariton on March 1, 1904.

Sam apparently got his start as an undertaker as an apprentice in the Melville Furniture Store operation, but in 1916 he struck out on his own solely as an undertaker.

The Chariton Herald Patriot of March 8, 1916, contained the following announcement: “Having severed my connection with the Melville Furniture store, I will have an exclusive and modern funeral establishment at my home, which I have remodeled for the purpose. I will have a complete new stock and rigs, and I feel that by devoting my entire time to the business I can give better service that ever before. I am located at 537 North Grand St., both phones No. 253. After September 1st I can furnish automobile hearse where it is wanted. Yours very respectfully, Sam Beardsley.”

The new Beardsley Funeral Home, opened at a time when undertakers as a rule embalmed the deceased in his or her home and the corpse remained at home until funeral services were held there or in a church, was an innovation in itself. It was located in a large and rather plain foursquare house located on a lot now occupied by the gymnasium addition to Chariton High School.

Fifteen years later, the Beardsleys were ready to take the next logical step, acquiring a far grander building in a better location and remodeling it into what the Chariton Leader of Nov. 10, 1931, called the “finest funeral home in Iowa.”

The house the Beardsleys had purchased, located at 227 South Grand Street (now Fielding Funeral Home), had been built by Frank R. Crocker and his wife, Minnie (Arnold) Crocker, then remodeled and expanded by the Crockers into one of Chariton’s finest homes. The horseshoe-shaped window on the east façade was a distinctive feature, as were the the turret at its southeast corner and a distinctive porte-chochere that allowed guests to alight from their carriages under cover and pass through a small foyer into a grand reception room where an open stair soared to the second floor.

Following Frank R. Crocker’s suicide in 1907 in this house and the collapse of the Mallory-owned First National Bank, which he had managed into insolvency, the Crocker home became entangled in court action as First National’s federal receiver attempted to obtain ownership on behalf of bank creditors. Litigation continued for years, but finally the Iowa Supreme Court awarded the house to Minnie Crocker, ruling that it was indeed exempt from other claims.

Minnie Crocker then sold the home to businessman Horace G. Larimer and his wife, Willie Blanche (Hollinger) Larimer, and they lived there with their family until after his death in 1928 when it came on the market again.


This photo appears to have been taken after the Larimers had vacated the home but before the Beardsleys had begun to remodel it. The sign indicates that Ralph Downs, who later operated Downs Funeral Home out of the old J.E. Stanton home on East Court Avenue, operated briefly out of the old Crocker-Larimer house, too, but I’ve not explored that aspect of things.

Whatever the case, the Beardsleys spent most of 1931 remodeling and expanding the house and it was ready for a grand opening to which all of Lucas County was invited --- from 10 a.m. to 10 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday, Nov. 14 and 15, 1931. The project had cost $10,000, an astonishing amount at that time.

Just prior to the open house, the editor of The Leader toured the new funeral home and published the following report in his edition of Nov. 10:

FINEST FUNERAL HOME IN IOWA OPEN TO THE PUBLIC
Sam Beardsley Announces Formal Opening of New Home for Saturday and Sunday
Building Cost $10,000
Two Floors of New Home Used in Funeral Service

The new Beardsley Funeral home will be thrown open to the general public of Southern Iowa at a formal opening on Saturday and Sunday, November 14 and 15, Sam Beardsley, owner, said Tuesday.

The new home was completed recently at a cost of $10,000 which included remodeling the Larimer home and installing the latest funeral equipment. The building has four floors, two of which are turned over to the exclusive use for funeral service.

The entire home has been remodeled and finished in white paint. It presents an attractive appearance with tall shade trees and landscaping, with simplicity the major note surrounding the home.

The porch of the home is in stone. The front room of the house has been made into an office, the floor of which is inlaid presenting an unusually sober picture.

A door to the rear of the office opens into the reception room and a circling, wide stair case mounts toward the second floor from this room. To the left of the office is the state room.

Opening off the reception room is the chapel capable of seating several hundred. The draperies of the chapel are in steady red with walls in two tones of cream.

The rostrum of the chapel is in the west end of the building. Mounted on the rostrum is a microphone through which the speaker’s voice is amplified to every room in the building. The Turner public address system also furnishes organ music prior to and following the service.

To the left of the speaker, across the hallway on the first floor is the family room where relatives may sit in comparative separation. The family room will seat 45 persons.

At the rear of the first floor wide doors open into the garage where the six automobiles comprising the Beardsley carriage service are stored. The casket is loaded into the hearse inside the building. The car service of the Beardsley home includes three passenger cars, one hearse, one ambulance and one truck.

Mounting to the third floor on the electric automatic elevator, the service rooms of the home are located. The largest room on the third floor is turned over to the casket display room where the buyer may purchase any type of casket. To the rear of this room is located the burial garment room where dresses and suits may be purchased for burial. In this room is stored the baby caskets.

On this same floor is the operating room where the body is prepared for burial. A closet on this floor contains all the undertaking equipment.

The second floor has been turned over to the living quarters of the Beardsley family. This floor lists bed rooms, a sitting room and a dining room together with a kitchen and ironing porch in the rear. The floor has a guest room which is always available for guests of the home. The maid room is located on this floor.

In the basement a mechanical coal stoker furnishes heat for the building. A lounging room for employees of the home is located in the basement while a toilet and shower bath has also been installed. The laundry room completes the basement rooms.

The home is one of the finest outside of Des Moines. The home is capable of furnishing the finest in funeral service and all Chariton can share the pride of the owners in this fine asset to the community.

And indeed it was a sight to behold and a major factor in breaking Lucas Countyans of funeral-related customs that had been in effect since the beginning of Lucas County. Funerals in private homes became almost unheard of and funerals in churches became less frequent. Dunshee Funeral Home, Downs Funeral Home, Miley Funeral Home --- all competed, but Beardsley had the edge. In my own family (except for my maternal grandfather who had not liked Sam Beardsley and specifically forbade his children to retains his successors) it generally was felt that death was not official unless Archie Beals preached, Gilbert Gartin sang and Beardsley’s handled the arrangements.

Sam Beardsley did not have long, however, to utilize his fine new funeral home. He died there unexpectedly of a heart attack on 30 April 1935, age 54, and became a patron rather than a purveyor.

Edith Beardsley continued to operate the funeral home with assistance from her son and other licensed embalmers until 1952, when she entered an operating partnership with Keith and Mary (Laufersweiler) Fielding. The Fieldings purchased Edith’s share of the business following her death on Aug. 21, 1958, of injuries sustained in an automobile accident. She was 74. Fielding Funeral Home now is owned and operated by Clark and Maureen Fielding, son and daughter-in-law of the late Keith and Mary.

I do not remember Sam Beardsley, of course, but have heard a number of stories about him. I do remember Edith, however.

My aunt, Flora Myers, had worked as Edith’s maid in the new funeral home for a time not long after it was completed. I’m not sure if this was while Aunt Flora was attending normal school or at a time when she had failed to obtain a teaching job (competition for these low-paying country school jobs was fierce during the Great Depression).

She had liked Edith and Edith had liked her and they had remained in touch. When Aunt Flora died too young of complications from multiple sclerosis during May of 1958, just three months before Edith’s own death, she came down those grand stairs at the funeral home when we stopped there to reminisce with my dad. So I remember Edith as dignified, gracious and kind.


At the Chariton Cemetery, Sam and Edith Beardsley are buried on the east side of the drive that parallels its west boundary. To reach the graves, rive straight west from the main gates to the west end of the cemetery and turn left. The Beardsley graves will be perhaps half way between that turn and the Copeland mausoleum on your left, easily visible from a vehicle.


The Fielding family added the new chapel at right, designed to be complement the original house and recycling in its porch original materials. When the chapel was added, the porte chochere was enclosed to serve as an entrance and a number of other interior modifications were made to the original building and 1931 features. Some years before the chapel was added, porches on the southeast corner were removed and additional rooms added in their place.

Slings and arrows

So far at least this has been one of those weeks when I end up chasing my tail rather than accomplishing anything. So I haven't been spending my time mourning Ted Kennedy, just chasing my tail.

First of all it's been too wet and I'm tired of it. There are reports of six and more inches of rain in Wayne County and since this hilltop is about 10 minutes from Wayne County I assume we came close to that here on Wednesday-Thursday and the blessed sun still declines to shine.

The good news is I had the good sense to mow the lawn Monday and do a few more outdoor chores on Tuesday. The bad news is it's been too wet to be outside much since. I get cranky when cooped up. I want to pull weeds, plant something, take a hike. Haven't been able to do any of those things.

And then there was the container of milk that tipped in the refrigerator, spilling from top to bottom and resulting in too much time wasted with my head in the fridge crying over spilled milk while I cleaned that mess up. Why does spilled milk begin to smell, immediately? Think I've got that problem almost licked now, but still stick my head in now and then and sniff just to make sure. Must look very odd.

Then there's the battle between me and the critters for fresh tomatoes. So far, the critters are winning although I've had enough. Darned birds. Who knew mourning doves liked tomatoes? We've had a resident pair here for several years --- fun to have around but more stand-offish than the robins. First of the week, we had a mourning dove convention, something I've not seen before. Maybe it was tomatoes.

I got bogged down in the Fire-baptized Holiness Association, something I've been intending to write about for years since it is an interesting footnote to Lucas County history. But dealing with the holiness association and Brother Oliver Fluke means I have to reacquaint myself with holiness and Pentecostal theology and that gives me a headache. Since John Wesley's theories about entire sanctification set this whole thing off, I blame Methodists.

Finally, it was necessary to face the fact I'd promised to give a program on Native Americans in Southern Iowa in early September, something I know just enough about to be dangerous. It's not that I'm an expert, it's the fact I'm available and work cheap. It seems like a fairly simple topic, but it isn't.

But it did give me an excuse to get hooked again on one of my favorite small books about Iowa, Virgil J. Vogel's 1983 "Iowa Place Names of Indian Origin." It's one of those books that are a lot like eating candy --- you can't stop until you finish the whole thing. Fortunately, that doesn't take too long.

Maybe by the time I finish it, the sun will have come out and I'll be able to get something done.

So long, it's been good to know you!

My goodness, I’ll miss Ted Kennedy --- a guy whose life has been intertwined with mine from an unbridgeable distance that never seemed unbridgeable since his elder brother, John F., was elected president in 1960 when I was 14.

In that presidential campaign, as I recall it, many Republicans and more than a few Democrats argued that a Roman Catholic should never be elected president because if we did that power would shift from Washington, D.C., to Vatican City. Absurd, my parents said, and of course it was.

As the years passed, the Kennedys as a family, including Ted, have lived out better than most that line from Luke 12:48: “For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required ….”

That commitment to service, pundits say, can be tracked back to parents, Joe and Rose Kennedy, the matriarch whose faith of steel made the spiritual commitments of some popes seem wishy-washy by comparison. Not a bad example for parents today.

I started thinking about that two weeks ago upon the death of Eunice Kennedy Shriver, founder of the Special Olympics, tireless worker for those with intellectual challenges, a woman who changed forever the way we think about, interact with and treat those once dismissed as “retarded.”

I know of no other family that has risen above quite so much adversity with quite so much strength and grace --- the untimely deaths of the older siblings, Joe Jr. and Kathleen Kennedy Cavendish; the assassinations for John F. and Robert; the untimely deaths of John F. Kennedy Jr. and his wife, Carolyn, and more.

Then there was Ted’s persistence and ability to arise phoenix-like from the ashes of intensely personal difficulties played out in public --- his own follies (remember Chappaquiddick?), a troubled first marriage, too many pounds, too much strong drink at times, a tendency to carouse and finally brain cancer.

And that lion of all liberal causes, bless his heart --- my causes, too, although on a scale that by comparison is insignificant: Full inclusion for all, literally, like everyone, really; a conviction that badly-run big government, not big government per se, is where evil slips in; little patience with trickle-down and other theories promoted by the haves as they try to figure out a new way to screw the have-nots; less patience with those who would restrict rather than empower legislatively; and finally health-care reform, his dream that in a society obsessed with medical technology it is a right, not a privilege, to have access to it universally and affordably.

What a guy!

Hot time in the old town ...

I feel kind of a proprietory interest in the Monroe County Courthouse every time I enter the square in Albia. It was my Great-great-great-grandfather Joseph McMulin after all who drove the stake to mark the site where the first courthouse was to be built. His son-in-law (and my great-great-grandfather) Jeremiah Miller was standing right there when he did it.

Joseph McMulin had just been elected one of the first three Monroe County commissioners on August 4, 1845, and Jeremiah, clerk of the board of commissioners. Of course at that time Albia wasn't there and the commissioners were standing on the prairie site of a town they expected to be called Princeton. They were also standing in Kishkekosh County, named in honor of a Meskwaki leader. That name did not roll off the tongue, however, like Wapello, Appanoose, Keokuk and Mahaska, so old Joe McMulin was dispatched to Iowa City the next year as a delegation of one to implore the Legilsature to replace it with Monroe, a mission that was accomplished.

Quite a guy, old Joe. Too bad he's remembered primarily in Frank Hickenlooper's history of Monroe County for an unfortunate incident some years later when after over-celebrating in liquid form a horse trade with Jesse Snodgrass he became, as Hickenlooper put it, "becalmed" on the road home and was discovered sleeping it off in a ditch.

So it was lots of fun to drive down to Albia just a few days past the 164th anniversary of that election for the Saturday installment of Restoration Days. Great parade, top-notch art show and sale on the courthouse lawn, good food and fine bluegrass music in the bandstand.

You will not see a finer town square than Albia's in Iowa --- I guarantee it. That's why they call the annual late summer celebration Restoration Days. Over the course of 40 years or so it has been repaired, restored, rebuilt and lovingly polished, entirely deserving of its place on the National Register of Historic Places.

The driving force behind that operation was the late Robert T. Bates whose stunning apartment was (and still is) in the big yellow Bates Building, here, on the northwest corner of the squre.


The Bates were a banking family in Albia, but Robert elected to seek a career in Hollywood --- either as a hairdresser or interior decorator, I forget exactly which (should look that up). He certainly mingled with the stars, but seemed destined to remain a small frog in a big pond.

So he came home to Albia in the 1950s and made a very big splash indeed in this much smaller pond. From his apartment windows he imagined the square in the state we see it today and galvanized community leaders into seeing that it was done. As chairman of First Iowa State Bank, it helped that he and business partner Robert Kaldenberg always were ready to put Albia first.

Bates capped a liftime of accomplishment by setting up the Robert T. Bates Foundation upon his death several years ago to continue the work and went out in typical Bates fashion --- with a funeral Mass not at Albia's strikingly modern St. Mary's Church (with an unfortunate view of a sewage lagoon) but instead within the venerable stone walls of St. Patrick's at Georgetown.

Too bad they don't make 'em like old Joe McMulin and Robert T. Bates any more.

Cemetery Walk No. 2: Anna Gibbon McCollough Copeland

The best laid schemes often do go awry, in this instance because of the number of interesting people grouped around Anna (Gibbon) McCollough Copeland on the triple lot in the Chariton Cemetery that she shares with two husbands, a son, a grandson, her parents and her maternal grandparents.

So two return visits will be required, one for her parents, Dr. William Henry and Laura (Gibbon) Gibbon, and another for her grandparents, Leonard Gibbon and Sarah (Ardery) Gibbon Huntington. To do anything else would overshadow Anna herself.

And that overshadowing business is one of frustrations of local history --- women before perhaps the latter half of the 20th century often were presented principally as extensions of their husbands or their fathers. Most of the published biographical material out there tends to devote 95 percent of the attention to male accomplishment and only a paragraph or two to the women who held the operation together. It seems odd, looked at from the 21st century.

Anna, however, tends to overshadow her husbands --- one of whom, Ralph McCollough, died after only 10 years of marriage leaving her with three small children; and the other, Josiah C. Copeland, who died after a 20-year marriage that produced three more children.

While her father certainly was revered, her mother --- also a woman of accomplishment --- may have had the greater influence. Anna and her family shared the Gibbon home on South Grand Street, one of Chariton’s finest, with Laura (Gibbon) Gibbon for 20 years.


Both women were pioneers in the public library movement in Chariton and for many years the library was located upstairs over the Gibbon drug store on the northeast corner of the square. Anna also served on the Chariton School Board and worked, when she probably would not have needed to work at all, as librarian at the Chariton High School.

Gibbon, McCollough and Copeland all were names to be reckoned with in Chariton during its first century although all now are absent. Anna seems to transcend much of that, based upon what was written about her and a portrait probably dating from not too long before her death. She seems someone any of us might be comfortable sitting with for a time on that grand front porch on South Grand. Here is her obituary:

DEATH SUMMONS WELL KNOWN LADY
Mrs. Anna Copeland Succumbs
After Illness of But Two
Days With Paralysis
Chariton Herald-Patriot, 12 April 1928, Page 1

The citizens of Chariton and community have been greatly saddened by the passing away of one of our best loved women, Mrs. Anna Copeland. Last Friday afternoon about ten o’clock, she was suddenly stricken with a cerebral hemhorrhage, while apparently in the best of health, and in a hour’s time lapsed into unconsciousness. She never rallied, and on Easter Sunday, Aprl 8, 1928, at eleven o’clock a.m., as the church bells were ringing, summoning worshippers to the house of God, her soul departed to be with the risen Lord. Everything that loving hands and medical skill could do was done to restore her health, but the good God above saw fit to summon her to the home on high. Largely attended funeral services, conducted by her pastor, Rev. Geo. L. Brown, were held at St. Andrew’s Episcopal church on Tuesday afternoon at 2:30 o’clock, after which the remains were laid to rest in the Chariton Cemetery.

Anna Gibbon, daughter of Dr. William H. and Laura Gibbon, was born in Cincinnati, Ohio, on December 5, 1864. Her mother at that time was spending some time in Cincinnati with relatives while Dr. Gibbon was serving in the civil war, although the family home was in Chariton, Iowa. At the close of the war the family come to the home here, which had been established in 1861 when Dr. Gibbon and wife were married. The doctor was one of the early pioneers of Chariton, coming here in 1858. The daughter attended the Chariton schools and then went to Providence, Rhode Island, where she spent two years at the Friends’ (Quaker) Boarding School, and received a liberal education.

She was married on September 4, 1884, to Mr. Ralph Ferree McCollough, who died on February 4, 1894. Three children were born to them, Clement Gibbon, who preceded his mother in death on September 11, 1912, and Mrs. Dorothy Vaughn, of Bloomfield, and Henry McCollough, of this city. On November 26, 1896, Thanksgiving Day, she was married to Mr. (Josiah) C. Copeland, who passed away on September 3, 1916. They were the parents of three children, Lawrence Copeland, of Corydon; and Mrs. Anna Laura Piper and Miss Kathryn Copeland, of this place. Besides these five children above mentioned she is also survived by eight grandchildren.

Mrs. Copeland ever took an active interest in public affairs, and for some time served as a member of the Chariton school board, also on the public library board, and during the world war and on various occasions has given much time to Red Cross work. For several years, until a year and a half ago, she filled the position of librarian at the Chariton high school. She had been an active and devoted member of St. Andrew’s Episcopal church from early girlhood, and was ever ready and willing to assist in all church activities, in which she was greatly interested. She was also a member of the P.E.O. Society, Daughters of the American Revolution, Eastern Star order, Daughters of Union Veterans, and Chariton Woman’s Club. She possessed a calm and pleasant disposition and to know her was to admire her for her many lovable characteristics. She was an ideal wife and mother, a splendid neighbor, a true friend, and no one in Chariton will be missed more than she. To the grief stricken children and grandchildren, the deep sympathy of the community will be extended.


Anna’s first husband was Ralph Ferree McCollough, a son of James N. and Rebecca (Feree) McCollough, proprietors of a dry goods firm, J.N. McCollough & Co., with which Ralph was associated. He died on 4 February 1894 of pneumonia complicated by “inflammation of the bowels and brain” after an illness of approximately a week. (Lucas County death records and Ralph's obituary give the death date as 4 February, at variance with the tombstone date).


A little more than two years after her first husband’s death, Anna married Josiah Carey Copeland on Thanksgiving Day, 2 November 1896. Born in Kenton, Ohio, he was a son of Howard and Catherine Copeland and a brother of James Darlington Copeland, also of Chariton. Josiah was a lawyer who at the time of his death of “heart trouble and a complication of diseases” was president of Chariton National Bank (not to be confused with the failed Mallory First National Bank) and mayor of Chariton.


Also buried in the same row with Anna and her two husbands is one of her two sons by Ralph McCollough, Clement Gibbon McCollough, who died at his home on 11 September 1912, age 27, of a “hemorrhage of the stomach.” Clement lived next-door to his mother and stepfather on South Grand and it was she who discovered him unconscious and dying. At the time of his death, Clement was operating the family business, Gibbon Drug Store, for his grandmother, Laura Gibbon. He left a widow, Louise (Angel) McCollough.


To reach the Gibbon/McCollough/Copeland lot, drive straight west from the main entrance of the Chariton Cemetery until the drive turns south. The lot will be on your left. The large family stone is inscribed "Gibbon" on its west face and "McCollough" on its east face. One of Anna's grandsons, Lawrence G. Copeland Jr., is buried beside the family stone. The second row on the lot contains the graves (from north to south) of Josiah Carey Copeland, Anna Gibbon McCollough Copeland, Clement Gibbon McCollough and Ralph Ferree McCollough. The third row on the lot contains the graves (from north to south) of Sarah Gibbon Huntington, Leonard Gibbon, Laura (Gibbon) Gibbon and William H. Gibbon.

Old yellers ...

School started here yesterday, notable (a) if you have school-age kids or (b) if you live half a block from a school as I do. So the big yellow buses were back, lined up from top to bottom of the big hill this house is perched atop, staging area for the intricate dance of the motorized levathons that moves hundreds of youngsters from attendance center to attendance center, home to school and back again.

Columbus School, an elementary, has been on this site for almost as long as there's been a Chariton, and I remember the wonderful old Columbus --- a Second Empire creation complete with turrets and towers that has long since fallen to a more practical low-slung modern edition. Before the school, the lot was the original city cemetery (the older Douglass Cemetery is just beyond town to the southwest). But this was not a practical location and when the "new" Chariton Cemetery was created along ridges defining the river valley due south of here in the early 1860s, the bodies were moved, or at least we hope they all were.

Moving bodies around the neighborhood remains a challenge --- it was not designed for a time when nearly every kid would be picked up and delivered by something bulky --- a bus or a private vehicle with a frustraned parent behind the wheel. The first few days are especially rough as Columbus parents discover or rediscover the challenges: vehicles lined up as far as the eye can see, no place to park, head-on vehicular confrontrations on streets narrowed to barely one-way.

Those of us who live here soon learn that if you're at home between say 3 and 3:20 p.m. it's best to plan on staying there; and if you're away, to plan on staying away.

So the school buses are among the old yellers just reappearing now.




The others form the amazing array of yellows and golds now bursting forth everywhere --- golden rod (just beginning), yellow coneflowers, black-eyed susans, sunflowers of various sorts and many more.

September and October are among my favorite months and I'm looking forward to more of the show.

Carrion by any other name would smell ...

That cactus (succulent is more accurate) that's summering on my back step burst into bloom sometime just after lunch Tuesday and here it is in its full glory.

And, just as Mary Ellen had warned when she turned it over to me, the bloom smells not unlike a dead mouse --- if you stick your nose into it, which of course I did. Otherwise, blooming outside, you don't notice it. It's called Stapelia gigantea, carrion cactus or carrion flower. Interesting stuff.

And an interesting strategy for survival since it depends upon flies, bettles and other critters attracted to rotting flesh to pollinate. It's attracting plenty of flies this afternoon, but no self-respecting bee would look at it twice.

Mary Ellen also warned that a bloom was a sign of impending death. Not to worry. These plants, native to South Africa, are supposed to bloom in September or thereabouts. By the way, if you're sensitive to pollin, don't stuck your nose in it. As I said, I did --- and regret it.

The remarkable self-destruction of Frank R. Crocker

That big white building yonder, just down South Grand from the First Baptist Church education wing, is Fielding Funeral Home.

Built by Frank R. Crocker in the 19th century as an expression of his aspirations, it was not the grandest house in Chariton --- but close. After Frank's dramatic fall, it passed through a couple of owners before it was acquired by Sam and Edith Beardsley and turned by them into one of southern Iowa's first really well designed and appointed funeral homes. Keith Fielding expanded it. Clark and Maureen Fielding own and operate it now.

I had thought I might preach here for a while on the topic of lessons that can be learned from the Crocker disaster, using as my text an accumulation of newspaper reports I've edited and arranged into what seems to me a logical sequence. But now I think I'll just let you read the reports if you will and figure out the morals involved yourself. There may be a quiz.

Although nearly everyone in Lucas County was affected by Frank Crocker's fall, two connected families were affected the most and fell the greatest distance. One consisted of Annie Ogden Mallory, widow of Smith Henderson Mallory, the only grandee Chariton ever had, and their daughter, Jessie (Mallory) Thayer.

The other family was that of Crocker himself, the Mallory family’s right-hand man for more than a quarter of a century and vice-president and cashier of the Mallory bank, First National. His wife was Mary Elizabeth (Arnold) Crocker; there were five children.

The bank, one of southern Iowa’s largest with assets in excess of $1 million, was forced to close its doors early Thursday, Oct. 31, 1907, when the body of Frank, who had killed himself with an overdose of morphine (with a side of cyanide in reserve), was discovered in his home, now the funeral home, by a friend and business associate, C.R. Kirk. The Mallory women, who owned 90 percent of the bank’s stock and were its principal officers although in name only, were en route to Egypt when disaster struck. Informed of the situation in Naples, they returned home as quickly as was possible in those days.

With the bank in the hands of federal receivers, investigation revealed that Frank had used bank assets to speculate disastrously and incurred monumental losses. The bank’s closure created financial difficulties for most Lucas Countyans, rich and poor and in between, and resulted in a saga that continued for years as the bank’s receiver worked tirelessly to recover funds to be distributed to depositors for cents on the dollar.

Chariton lost in addition to a heck of a lot of money both the Crockers, who moved to Minneapolis soon after Frank’s death; and Annie Mallory and Jessie Thayer, who moved to Orlando, Florida, after agreeing to turn all their assets in Lucas County, including their mansion, the Ilion, over to the government in return for government suspension of lawsuits against them in excess of $500,000. The Crockers and the Mallorys were the focus of extreme bitterness and a lot of anger. They could not go home again.

The following combines edited reports from The Chariton Patriot, where the most objective reporting of the situation among Chariton’s three newspapers is found; The Chariton Herald, the most sympathetic to Frank R. Crocker; and a brief and bitter report from The Chariton Leader regarding transport of the Crocker remains from Chariton to Minneapolis.

FIRST NATIONAL BANK CLOSES DOORS TO PUBLIC
News of Failure Follows That of the Suicide of Cashier Crocker.
Nothing is Known as to its Magnitude
The Chariton Patriot, Thursday, 7 November 1907

Lucas County’s most powerful financial institution, the First National Bank of Chariton, has gone to the wall. It closed its doors last Thursday, and is now in the hands of a receiver. The effect of the happening can be better imagined than described.

Following closely, as it did, the suicide of Frank R. Crocker, the cashier, the failure caused no surprise. The news of Crocker’s tragic death, early last Thursday morning, falling like a thunder bolt from a clear sky, excited the gravest suspicions in the minds of our people. Why had he taken his own life? What did it all mean? Then it was learned that the bank examiner had come to town the evening before. The fears of the people were further aroused; excitement mounted high. The doors of the bank apparently remained closed because of the cashier’s death, but later in the day the examiner posted a notice on the doors stating that the institution was in the hands of the comptroller of the currency. The bank had gone to the wall.

The crash stunned the people. Depression and gloom settled upon the community. All about on the streets stood men in groups subduedly discussing the calamity. Men with minds preoccupied and with faces downcast and serious passed each other without speaking. Others, optimistically inclined, attempted to put on a bold front and to cheer up their disconsolate friends.

The extent of the failure can only be imagined. No information has come from those who are busily at work in the investigation behind the locked doors of the bank. Bank examiner, H. M. Bostwick, who was on the ground and took charge, has been appointed receiver for the defunct bank. He is assisted in the work of investigation by Bank Examiner Shaw, and Assistant Cashiers Clarence Blake and W. B. Beem. Meanwhile an anxious public awaits, with bated breath, almost, the outcome of the investigation.

The capital stock of the bank was $50,000; surplus, $30,000. According to the last statement, issued August 22, the total resources of the bank amounted to $1,060,437.18. The deposits at that time were $915, 830.34. There were many individual deposits of large sums. Lucas county’s deposit amounted to over $50,000, secured by cashier’s bond. Mr. Crocker also had $300,000 of the funds of the Modern Woodmen of America, secured by personal bond. The bondsmen in each case are people of wealth and friends of the cashier in this county. The burden of making good these sums will fall upon them. In the case of the M.W.A. funds, the bondsmen declare that Mr. Crocker told them that he had released them from their liability and had obtained bond from a bonding company. One man, whose name is said to be upon the bond, declares he has no recollection of having signed the bond. Another states that he believed he was signing a bond for $50,000.

When the crash came the only ones in connection with the bank and conversant with the workings of the institution who were on the ground were the assistant cashiers, W. B. Beem and G. C. Blake. Mrs. Anna L. Mallory and her daughter, Jessie M. Thayer, president of the bank, both of whom are directors, and who own nearly every dollar’s worth of stock in it, were on the ocean en route to Cairo, Egypt, to spend the winter. They were reached by cable at Naples Monday morning and told of the terrible affair. The other directors are Alfred Goodwin, cashier of the Russell bank, and A. D. Gray, county recorder; and former bookkeeper in the First National. As to Messrs. Beem and Blake, the suicide of the cashier and failure of the bank was to them as great a shock as to all others. So far as they could have knowledge the affairs of the bank were in perfect condition. The bank balances had been growing of late; the usual amount of currency was on hand and so far as they knew, nothing indicated that anything was wrong. In one of the notes left behind by the dead cashier he stated that he alone was responsible for the condition of affairs.

The result of the investigation will come from the comptroller of the currency at Washington, D.C. Until he makes the report public we can only wait and hope. How long it will take to complete the investigation is not known. That the report will be made soon is the hope of all. The suspense pending the result of the investigation will keep business in a very unsettled condition.

The First National Bank of Chariton was organized in 1870, with S.H. Mallory as President and Edward A. Temple as cashier. The First National succeeded the banking house of F. W. Brooks & Co., afterwards owned by Lyman Cook & Co. and was under the management of Mr. Temple until 1884 when he was succeeded by F. R. Crocker, as cashier. It was always regarded as one of the conservative, well managed banks of the state, its deposits as early as 1884, reaching nearly a quarter of a million and increasing to nearly a million as shown by the late published bank statement. Its business largely represented the substantial progress of the city and county in population and wealth, and was closely identified with every effort to advance the interest of the community which it had in the past so efficiently served.

RUSSELL BANK CLOSED

The news of the death of F. R. Crocker caused a run to be made on the Russell bank last Thursday morning and after some $6,000 had been withdrawn in twelve minutes, the bank closed its doors. Its president, Thomas Brandon, is Lucas county’s richest man, and he declares, that although he and his bank were heavy depositors in the First National, none of his depositors will lose one penny as a result of the failure. It is possible that the Russell bank will reopen. (Braden, he hero of this affair, severely depleted his personal resources to pay all obligations of the Russell bank himself.)

CASHIER CROCKER FEARED SHOWING
Took His Own Life Rather Than Face Investigation
The Chariton Patriot, Thursday, 7 November 1907

That Frank R. Crocker committed suicide rather than face the disclosures that would come out through an examination of his bank is believed to be the reason for his self-destruction.

The afternoon before his tragic taking-off he told C.R. Kirk, an intimate friend, in a conversation of the coming of the bank examiner; that he was in sore straits financially, and that he dreaded the coming of the bank examination of the bank at this time. He said that in times past he had aided those who were in need, but that now, in his hour of financial want, a return of such favors was denied him. He said he would rather take his own life than to have the bank closed, even temporarily. Mr. Kirk sought to cheer his friend, and upon taking leave of each other, Mr. Crocker remarked that he had pulled out of tight places before and perhaps he could do so this time; he would see what he, “could do tomorrow.” Mr. Kirk says that Crocker was visibly effected and worried, but that he entertained no thought that the situation was such as would lead his friend to kill himself.

It is thought now that the cashier was caught, heavily involved by reason of his speculations suffering through the recent depreciation in stocks; that he had sought to retrieve his losses through the use of other people’s money; had gotten into the financial sea beyond his depth, and because of the prevailing panic, saw no hope of rescue.

He was found dead in bed by Mr. Kirk, who had gone to the Crocker home about six o’clock in compliance with Mr. Crocker’s request, word of which was brought to Mr. Kirk by Miss Emma Powell, the bank’s stenographer. Miss Powell says that Crocker told her the evening before to “telephone Mr. Kirk as soon as she got up the next morning and tell him to come over to the house.” When she reached the office the next morning she found notes and packages addressed to several parties intimately connected with Crocker, in a business way, in his hand-writing. She was fearful that something was wrong, so instead of telephoning Mr. Kirk she hurried to his home and delivered her message. Mr. Kirk went at once and entered the house at a door on the southwest side of the house. He went upstairs to his friend’s room and found him dead. The body was still warm. Nearby was found a bottle containing a portion of morphine. Still asleep in the house, were the dead man’s daughters, Jessie and Mary, and his son, Paul. They were the only members of his household home. The wife and oldest son, Guilford, were in Chicago. His other son, Richard, was in Port Deposit, Maryland, a student at the Tome school. It is evident, from his sending for Mr. Kirk, that he didn’t want to be first found by his children. The door into the vestibule was found to be open and the lock set so if blown shut it would not latch. Beyond doubt the man had so fixed it that Mr. Kirk would find no difficulty in gaining entrance at the early hour.

The coroner, Dr. D. Q. Storie Jr., and Doctors T. P. Stanton, J. A. McKlveen and Guy Larimer were at once notified, as was the daughter, Miss Jessie, and some of the friends. Letters from him addressed to members of his family were found. In them he stated that he died by his own hand; that no one either directly or indirectly, was connected with his death. In one note were the worlds, “I could bear the burden no longer.” The fact that the man came to his death through suicide was so apparent that Coroner Storie felt no necessity to hold an inquest.

Mr. Crocker was at his desk the night before. He spoke to his Assistant Cashier Blake, who was working after hours, expressing his appreciation of Mr. Blake’s zeal in behalf of the bank and the hope that when the new clerk was “broke in” the work would not fall as much upon him. When Mr. Blake was leaving the bank Mr. Crocker bid him good night in his usual cheery manner. The cashier was seen sitting at his desk until quite late. He was probably writing those last letters.

He arrived home after 11 o’clock after paying a visit to his father-in-law S. S. Arnold. His daughter, Jessie, came home soon after and before her father retired. She had been to a party given in the rooms of the Chariton Commercial College by the students of which she was one. She saw on a table a note in her father’s hand writing, addressed to her brother, Guilford. She thought it peculiar that he would write a letter to her absent brother and leave it at home, and wondering, she went to her room and retired. The presence of the note was explained in the horrifying words conveyed to her the next morning.

In one of the notes was the request that his body be taken to Minneapolis for burial in the family burial ground. Copy for a telegram to be sent to Rev. W. V. Whitten, former rector of St. Andrew’s Episcopal church in Chariton who now lives in (Charles City), stated that he desired the rector to accompany the body to its last resting place.

As to what property he left for the maintenance of his family, the Patriot is not informed. It is known that he carried considerable life insurance, estimated at $60,000, and there is the beautiful family residence in Chariton.

CROCKER FUNERAL SUNDAY
Body Was Taken to Minneapolis for Interment
The Chariton Herald, Thursday, 7 November 1907

Among the numerous notes left by Frank H. Crocker to his family and friends last week was the request that he be buried at Minneapolis. To Chas. R. Kirk he wrote, “When you hear of the trouble, help the children at home; and Charlie, a last request I make of you. I want to be buried at Lakewood Cemetery, Minneapolis, in the family lot. Please see that I am. (signed) Frak” And in a dimmer hand, not like his usual dashing penmanship, he wrote, probably has he was dying, on a little slip of paper to Rev. Whitten, former pastor of the Episcopal church here, “Dear Mr. Whitten: I hope you can come and go to Minneapolis. (signed) F.R.C.”

According to his last wishes, brief funeral services were held at the Crocker home here on Sunday afternoon at 2:30 o’clock, and that afternoon the family, accompanied by C.R. Kirk and Bert Beem, with J.A. Brown accompanying as far as Albia, left on No. 4 for the last sad rites in the city of the dead at Minneapolis where Mr. Crocker’s father and mother lie buried. There Rev. Whitten spoke the final words that consigned to earth the remains of Frank R. Crocker.

The services at the home here were very largely attended, and were brief but impressive. Lavish floral offerings draped the darkened bay window, where lay the body of the dead banker, perfect as life in his last sleep. Rev. Hakes and Rev. Whitten, who came from Charles City, spoke the short service, while music was contributed by a quartet composed of Misses Willie Brown and Josie Swift and Messrs. Caughlan and Hakes. Mrs. Sue Whicher sang a solo, “Face to Face.”

After the large company had filed through the rooms for a last look at their townsman, the procession moved to the depot. Messrs. Clarence Blake, Willard Beem, Ed Lockwood, C.R. Kirk, Will Eikenberry and L H. Busselle acting as pall bearers. Mrs. Stebbins, a sister of Mr. Crocker, had come from Minneapolis and Chas. Collins, a brother-in-law, had also come from there, and they accompanied the family on their sad mission.

Frank Richard Crocker’s life story may be briefly told. He was born in Galena, Ill., to Richard and Nellie Crocker, on May 18, 1857, where they lived until 1868, when they moved to Chicago. There young Frank attended Wentworth Academy, and later worked for John V. Farwell & Co. Later he came to Iowa, working as book keeper and salesman at Marshalltown and later at Des Moines, In 1875 he came to Chariton, and in 1878 entered the First National Bank as errand boy. He worked his way up through all the offices until he was virtually manager of all the affairs of the bank, his office being vice president and cashier, Mrs. Mallory retaining the office of the president formerly held by her husband, the late S.H. Mallory. He was married to Mary Elizabeth Arnold of this city, on May 24, 1888, and five children, all living, were born to them. Guilford, the oldest, is aged 21 years and is just regaining strength after two years of spinal injury that kept him in bed most of the time. Jessie is aged 19, Richard 18, Paul 12 and Mary 8 years. Besides the relatives here, three sisters, Mrs. Stebbins, Mrs. Collins and Mrs. Lamb, live in Minneapolis. Richard was attending school at Fort Deposit, Md., and Mrs. Crocker and Guilford were visiting in Chicago, when news reached them of the death of Mr. Crocker. Mrs. Crocker’s sister, Mrs. Shannon, and her son accompanied them home from Chicago.

Little need be added by by us concerning the character of Frank Crocker. He was known to everyone in the county, and in every other county and every state in the union, it might be said, his friends were numbered by the score. He was a rare man in many was. From an ordinary bank he built, by the force of his great personality alone, the First National Bank into one of the most powerful institutions in the state. A bank with a million dollars of deposits is no common thing in a town of 5,000 people, with no large business concerns to swell the deposits. Nearly all of the deposits of the First National were the savings of people of ordinary means. The trust that was reposed in him by the people of Lucas county was more than they realized, until after he was gone. He was the guiding hand to all things and his influence reached through every channel of business in Lucas county. Closely associated with his bank was the Russell bank, which has also closed its doors. He was partner with G.W.Larimer in the Chariton Land and Trust Company, with L.F. Maple in the insurance business, and with C.R. Kirk in the Percheron Importing Company. Besides these, he was a heavy stockholder in the Chariton Telephone Company, and was backing several other business enterprises in the city.

In all works of charity and helpfulness Mr. Crocker was a leader. He was one of the chief supporters of the work of St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church, and gave liberally to all other churches, large or small. His business judgment was almost unerring, all who sought advice profited by the best he had to give. When all else about him is forgotten, his great kindness, his gentlemanly bearing to everyone, his cheerfulness at all times, and his lavish generosity to all needy cases, will be remembered. And it was those remembrances that brought together the large assemblage of citizens and visitors from other communities, some come from as far as Chicago, to pay their respects of the memory of the dead at the services at the house last Sunday afternoon.

DEATH THE GREAT LEVELER: CROCKER’S REMAINS
The Chariton Leader, Thursday, November 7, 1907

After all what a leveler death is. When the metallic box holding the remains of the late F.R. Crocker, was taken to the train on Sunday evening it was placed in the dingy baggage car and in the hurry in loading the balance of the express, the wrestler piled a lot of packages upon it and thus the train started. This was not in accord with the accustomed dignity of Mr. Crocker when he traveled, but the expressman seemed to be no respecter of persons.

Cemetery Walk No. 1: Robert Coles

At first I thought I’d call what I hope will be a recurring feature Cemetery Stumble rather than Cemetery Walk. Partly out of deference to the good people across Iowa who work hard to organize, research and present cemetery walks like the one held last Friday in Corydon and coming up at Chariton in September. I don’t plan to invest that much effort. And partly in recognition of my habit of becoming preoccupied in cemeteries with the search, overlooking sunken graves or tumbled tombstones and falling flat on my face. But Cemetery Walk it will be.

The rules are simple: The subject has to be someone I’m interested in, I have to be able to find a portrait of him or her suitable for posting and I have to have visited the grave in person. In most instances I’ll allow obituaries or published biographies to speak for themselves with additional information added when needed to fill the holes.


So let’s begin with Robert J. Coles, interesting for many reasons, most of which are mentioned in his obituary, but also for a few that aren’t. For example, his surname really wasn’t “Coles,” but “Cock.” A son of Oliver Cock and Zipporah Coles, not mentioned by name in his obituary, Robert apparently found the name uncomfortable. I would like to think that in those more delicate times its unfortunate associations were with poultry but suspect there always has been a tendency to think anatomically. Some families have solved that problem by altering the spelling a little and becoming Cox.

But by act of the Iowa Legislature in 1853, Robert Cock became Robert Coles (his mother’s maiden name) and the family arrived in Chariton during that year under that new and more euphonious surname. Their last joint appearance as Cocks was the 1850 census of Wapello County, I believe.

There’s also a distant family connection here. Robert’s son, Wilberforce, married my remote cousin, Sarah Elizabeth Boswell, on 23 May 1869 in Chariton three years after she had moved here with her parents, William M. and Eliza Jane (See) Boswell, from their old home near Hogue Cemetery in Washington Township, Wayne County.

After 35 prosperous and presumably happy years in Chariton, Robert died on January 22, 1888. The following obituary was published in The Chariton Democrat of 26 January 1888. A far shorter death notice also was published in The Chariton Herald of that date. Presumably there also was a full report of his death in the Patriot, but issues for this period of the Patriot are missing. Here’s the obit:

OBITUARY

Death of Hon. Robert Coles

DIED --- At his home in Chariton, Iowa, on Sunday, January 22, 1888, Hon. Robert Coles in the 84th year of his age.

Deceased was born in New York City, on August 20, 1804. In 1815 he removed with his father to Ohio. In 1824 he settled in Bond County, Ill., and taught the first free school in that part of the country. Here he was married (to Lydia Hunt, for some reason not mentioned by name in the obituary) in 1826. In 1831 he removed to McDonough county, Ill., where during his three years’ residence he was engaged part of the time in improving land and part in merchandizing in the then new town of Macomb. In April, 1836, he removed to what is now the state of Iowa and settled in Des Moines county. He was enrolling clerk in the first territorial legislature of the then territory of Wisconsin, and afterward a Justice of the Peace and Probate Judge of Des Moines county. He assisted in the first government land sales of Iowa held at Burlington in 1839. During his residence in Des Moines county, he improved a large farm near Burlington. In 1843 Mr. Coles moved to Henry county, where he improved another farm, and in 1846 moved to Wapello county and settled near Eddyville. In 1852 he was chosen to represent Wapello county in the state legislature. April 10, 1853, President Franklin Pierce appointed him Register of the Land Office at Chariton, in which position he served four years with marked ability and integrity, disposing of nearly two million acres of public land.

Deceased has been a resident of Chariton from 1853 to the day of his death. His life has at all times been a singularly active and energetic one, and through all the long years has suffered no stain of dishonor. He has always been one among the first of his townsmen in advocating all measures for the common good. Possessed of a high degree of ability and a natural oratory, he was always in demand on occasions when the power of speech was required, and we presume no man ever lived in the county who has been heard oftener than he.

For the past forty years Mr. Coles has been licensed to preach as a local minister in the M.E. church. His illness has extended over a period of three or four years, during which time he has been confined to his house ever encouraged by the promises of his religion, never faltering in his faith as a Christian. He died as a man should die, after an honorable career extending much beyond the usual limit of human life.

The wife of the deceased has preceded him some two or three years to the grave (Lydia died 8 December 1884). He leaves a large number of descendants to mourn the loss of the grand old patriarch who has been to them as a tower of strength for several generations.

The funeral occurred last Tuesday afternoon, the ceremonies being in charge of the Masons and Odd Fellows, to both of which orders he belonged. Religious services were conducted at the M.E. Church by Rev. W. F. Bartholomew. A large concourse of people accompanying the remains to their last resting place in the Chariton Cemetery.

+++

The obituary does not mention that after leaving government office, Robert was a merchant in Chariton, most of the time a grocer, and farmed in addition to preaching and serving as a free-lance orator.

If you’d care to visit Robert, enter the Chariton Cemetery’s main gate and drive straight west. The Coles lot is approximately three-quarters of the way to the west end of the cemetery, right along the drive and distinctive because the family stone is aligned east-west so that it faces you. Inscriptions for Robert and Lydia are on the west end of the stone and their graves are in the west half of the lot. A Masonic emblem is engraved on the front (north face) of the family stone. A Chariton Volunteer Fire Department flag holder marks Robert’s grave individually but Lydia’s grave is otherwise unmarked.

Buried on the east half of the lot are Wilberforce and Sarah Boswell Coles on the north side of the family stone and their son, Thomas A., on the south.


Wilberforce, born 18 April 1843 in Henry County, was a veteran of the Civil War and died in Chariton on 10 April 1914.


Sarah, born 19 December 1847 in Mason County, (West) Virginia, died at the home of her daughter, Amber (Coles) Alcorn in Chicago on 11 January 1930.


Their son, Thomas A., was born at Chariton 3 October 1873. A locomotive engineer by profession, he was killed on 27 March 1913 at age 39 in Fort Worth, Texas, when the boiler on his engine exploded.

In addition to Wilberforce, Robert and Lydia Coles had the following children: Zipporah Ann (Newell), Esther Louisa (Williams), John Oliver Coles, Samuel Coles, Albert Coles, Robert Jesse Coles and Wesley Wilson Coles.

Further reading: More information about descendants of Robert and Lydia (excluding Wilberforce who for some reason was overlooked) and a great deal of information about Robert’s ancestry may be found in a book by George William Cocks and John Cox Jr. entitled “History and Genealogy of the Cock-Cocks-Cox Family” and published privately in New York in 1912. I found it on Ancestry.com.

Family values

It’s been a good week so far for cousins named Ken --- first Ken Mason via e-mail, well on his way to becoming his branch of the Mason/Miller family’s principal historian; then Ken Sims, wife Janet, and their three children in person.

I’ve never been good at figuring out degrees of cousinship --- life is too short to work the formulas. But one way to explain it is to look at the photo above of the Joseph Cyrus and Mary Elizabeth (Clair) Miller family of English Township, Lucas County, taken about 1890. Ken Mason is a grandson of that tall girl in the center of the back row, Elizabeth Mary, my Great-aunt Lizzie. She went on to marry Albert Mason and Ken’s dad, Ray, a first-cousin of my mom, was one of five results.

My granddad and Ken Sims’ great-granddad is that somber looking young man on the far right, William Ambrose Miller, who married Jessie Frances Brown. Ken’s mom, Alice (Krutsinger) Sims, and I are first-cousins. The Krutsinger branch of my family lives in Colorado although Ken and family live in a suburb of Washington, D.C.

I don’t know Ken Mason well enough to gossip about him, but feel no similar constraint about the Sims family although I have nothing but positive things to say.

Those are the Sims below, taken two years ago out at the farm in the rain and all concerned still look pretty much the same, although dryer. We were having such a good time talking (and eating) that I didn’t think of pulling out the camera and taking a new shot this time until it was too late and they had headed east.


Much has been made of late in political debate and discussion of various social issues about “traditional values” and “family values.” As it happens, when I think of family values I think (among others) of the Sims.

Some of this involves career and other choices Ken and Janet have made to place the principal emphasis for now on life with their children as a family.

One small aspect of that has been a consistent effort to visit regularly here in Lucas County so that the children would have an opportunity to see the landscape, meet and interact with the elders of their family among both the Millers and Krutsingers (now for the most part deceased) and perhaps understand a little more clearly part of where and who and what they come from.

In a family of farmers stretching back beyond sight whose diaspora was forced by the depression of the 1930s and whose members are now almost entirely divorced from the land and scattered from coast to coast, such a thing is rare. In fact, these three great-great-grandchldren of Cyrus and Mary Miller are and probably will remain the only representatives of their generation within my immediate family who will have had that opportunity.

+++

I’ve been on call lately to run over to the library and help researchers, and many from out of state turn up during the summer, in the family history rooms maintained by the Lucas County Genealogical Society. These rooms are always open and often staffed by Darlene Arnold, Mary Ruth Pierschbacher and others, but the regulars can’t be expected to be there all the time or constantly on call.

Although there are exceptions, most of these researchers are older --- my age and beyond --- and developed their interest in family history or found the time for it long after the real live people who could have pointed them in the right direction and shared the stories that bring lists of names and dates to life, have died. Scraps of paper, microfilm images and tombstones are useful when that’s all that’s left, but I’ve always been grateful to have known nearly all the available elders --- one advantage to growing up in a region where the first of the ancestors arrived in 1838 and the tail end, in 1867.

Thursday’s researchers were related to some of the oldest Washington and Cedar township families --- McKinley, Prather and Davis --- as well as the Larimers. And the principal researcher I think was a little overwhelmed by what was available, like a kid in a genealogical candy store. If only he’d been related to the Goltrys, too. It could have been a clean sweep.

What will be will be

I'm waiting to see what this decidedly reptilian bud on a cactus that is spending the summer on my back step develops into.

I'm a little concerned about it. Mary Ellen turned this plant over to me just before she headed north for the summer, noting that it was likely to bloom only if it was expecting to die.

It was not my intention to kill the poor plant and I actually thought it was doing well --- until the bud appeared. Now I guess we'll just have to wait and see.

First watch ...

Not the greatest of photos admittedly, but I'm fond of the war memorial in the southwest corner of the Wayne County Courthouse lawn in Corydon and the folks sitting on its base looking west along with the soldier atop it caught my eye Saturday morning as the second day of Old Settlers began.

The combination of heat and the long stretch of time between breakfast and the big parade after lunch convinced me to head home to Chariton and air conditioning by mid-morning, but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves in a low-key kind of way as the second and final day of Old Settlers commenced.

There are many memorials of this type around southern Iowa and I intend to start visiting and revisiting them when I get around to it here. This memorial, although its principal emphasis is the Civil War, also honors those who served in the Spanish American and First World wars.

Some of the memorials were erected immediately after the Civil War and commemoriate its dead only, but many more went up as Civil War veterans, many of them grouped in posts of the Grand Army of the Republic, began to realize that their days were numbered.

One of my favorites, Civil War only, is located in a small and remote country cemetery near where Monroe, Appanoose, Wayne and Lucas counties join. But that's a story for another day.

Old settlers come to life at Corydon

My guess is it'll not surprise you when I report that this afternoon's cemetery walk, sponsored by the Wayne County Historical Society, has been my favorite part so far of Corydon's 126th annual Old Settlers Reunion and celebration.

There are a couple of factors operating here. In the first place, I have a proprietory interest --- my great-great-grandparents, Peachy Gilmer and Caroline (McDaniel) Boswell, are buried in the Corydon Cemetery as are my great-grandmother's, Chloe's, first husband, Moses Prentiss, who exploded (literally) in 1865, one of the factors in the fact I'm around now to talk about it, and a bunch of distant uncles, aunts, cousins and shirttail kinfolk.

And then you've got to love a cemetery where the sheriff with the best name ever, Jesse Hook, is buried.

Beyond that, I really like Wayne County. Now if I told you I like Wayne County better than I like Lucas County I'd just have to lie later and deny it, but ...

Folks in Wayne County know how to talk right, too. I has been my observation that the farther north you go in Iowa the harder it is to find folks who talk right and for some reason that difficulty begins at the Wayne/Lucas county line.

Anyhow, it was a beautiful late afternoon --- steamy as Iowa can be after morning rain but not unbearable with a mix of clouds and sunshine combining with haze and all that incredible green to create other-worldly views from the cemetery hilltop into the hills beyond around Corydon Lake.

Four occupants of the cemetery were featured during the walk that took me at least an hour to complete with time out for tombstone sitting, conversation and plenty of bottled water.

Laci Sharp (top) was stunning as Ethel Miles, whose grandparents, William and Emily Miles, gave the old part of the cemetery to the public about 1854 when the child of a family moving west died nearby. Here's what the walk program had to say about Ethel:

Ethel, the only child of Banjamin and Mary Miles, died of typhoid fever at the age of 14 in 1895. Her father was a partner in business with his brothers, William and Lewis, in the Miles Brothers Store, a mercantile operation on the Corydon square from 1884 to 1928. Ethel's father, Ben, was born in the log cabin that can be seen at the Prairie Trails Museum (operated in Corydon by the Wayne County Historical Society).


Shara Becker and John Martin were charming as Iowa and Cornelius A. "Neil" Niday, buried just north of the Sprott mausoleum. Here's the tour program's summary of their lives:

Cornelius, or Neil as he preferred to be called, grew up on a farm northeast of Corydon. Neil Niday was an educator, teaching at the Normal College in Humeston in the late 1880s or early 1890s. He served as Wayne County School Superintendent 1891-96. He published an early educational newspaper 1892-1897, "The Wayne County Teacher." He also was one of the organizers of the first telephone company in Corydon.

Iowa Zern grew up in Corydon, the daughter of S.D. and Susannah Zern. Her father, S.D. Zern, was a pioneer druggist in Corydon. Neil and Iowa married in 1892 and lived in Corydon for many years. The couple were charter members of the Corydon Christian Church. In later years, the couple moved to a farm west of Seymour.


If an academy award were given for best performance at a cemetery walk the winner Friday certainly would have been Moriah Morgan, portraying Marguerite (Coupris) Brubaker with a French accent that hardly seemed forced at all. Here's the program data bout Marguerite:

Marguerite was born in France. She graduated from Bordeaux University and taught school for a time. During World War I Marguerite assisted the Red Cross in France where she met a dashing young American, 1st Lt. Carl Brubaker. They were married in Bordeaux and Marguerite came to America as a young doctor's wife in 1917. Dr. Brubaker practiced medicine in Plano from 1917-1926. The couple moved to Corydon in 1926 where Dr. Brubaker practiced medicine until 1959.


The next award, for depth of knowledge of his subject and ability to think on his feet when asked tough questions, would go to Glenn Williamson, who portrayed William Patterson (Pat) Allred. Glenn probably had the most uncomfortable costume, too --- an authentic although itchy wool tunic. Here's the information about Pat Allred:

In 1854, when Pat was seven, his family traveled to Wayne County. They were the first settlers on the open prairie in what is now Monroe Township, south of Seymour. At age 18 Pat enlisted in Co. H., 46th Iowa Infantry. In 1908, Pat was elected to the Iowa House of Representatives and served two terms. The Corydon Fife and Drum Corps was organized by Pat in 1917 or 1918 and was composed of remnants of the old New York Fife and Drum Corps in addition to new recruits from the Sons of Union Veterans and others. The Corydon Fife and Drum Corps was an important part of Old Settlers for many years.

For the birds

Well, it’s been an exciting week down south, providing the relative nature of excitement is factored in.

I’m pretty excited about the new birdbath, acquired to replace the old one, a metal model that had become such a rust bucket no self-respecting bird would have considered getting his or her feet wet in it.

The new model is pottery, made in Ohio (rather than China) and bought at Ellis Greenhouse at Lucas (rather than at Super Something-or-another in some dangerously-large place like Ottumwa or Des Moines). Not only do I have a new birdbath, I’m feeling downright self-righteous about where it was manufactured and where I bought it.

The crotchety mourning doves that hang out in this neighborhood have been eyeing it, but so far haven’t dived in. The robins, which like the poor and the Methodists always will be with us, haven’t been as restrained.

There was a horse or mule on the loose somewhere in the neighborhood yesterday, although I didn’t see it. But when the neighbor and I were standing in his driveway yesterday morning, looking south toward the pasture at the foot of the hill, someone stopped by to ask if we’d seen it --- assuming that was why were were standing in the driveway looking south. Actually we were talking about something unrelated and just looking.

Sorry I missed it, especially if it was a mule. There are more horses than people in this neck of the woods, but mules aren’t that frequently sighted.

+++

Up in Des Moines, Terry Branstad (Terry who?) is talking about running for governor again. Anyone else remember the governor-for-life (so called because he was elected for four terms as Robert D. Ray’s successor)? Good grief. Talk about a blast from the past.

I was at work in the office at The Forest City Summit long, long ago when Terry, then practicing law in Lake Mills, came in to ask Ben Carter --- a major player in North Iowa Republican politics at the time --- if he could run for state representative, his public life entry point. Good grief again!

Not that Terry, president of Des Moines University (an osteopathic medical school in Des Moines) for quite a few years now, was a bad governor. And while not exactly charismatic, he almost seems exciting when compared to incumbent Chet Culver (there are rocks that generate more excitement than poor Chet, bless his heart). But still…

+++

The biggest tempest in a teapot south of Ames this week developed when Des Moines Area Regional Transit (DART) pulled an advertisement placed on its buses by Iowa Atheists and Freethinkers after an unspecified number of complaints. The advertisement asked “Don’t believe in God?” and then offered the assurance “You are not alone” and information about how to contact the organization. Pretty shocking stuff.

Comedic high points included a televised view of DART’s advertising director trying to explain why the ad had been accepted in the first place if it was so objectionable and then squirming when asked if DART had accepted advertising from other religious groups (“Yes, but …”); and a televised appearance by the aforementioned Culver looking the consummate hypocrite as he expressed shock and dismay at the ad’s content.

Yes, I do know that atheism is not supposed to be a religion. But I have known moderate atheists, fundamentalist atheists, atheists who hedge their bets by referring to themselves as agnostics and atheists who get together on Sunday mornings to talk about being atheists. So I figure if it looks like religion and smells like religion then it is religion.

Of course the tempest has generated mountains of publicity for the Atheists and Freethinkers, far more than that group ever could have dreamed of or afforded --- proving once again that the Lord does indeed work in mysterious ways, some days, His wonders to perform.