Them's fighting words (or are they?)

Memorial Day at Oxford

Cemetery visits were curtailed this year, what with one thing and another, but I did make it out to Oxford early Monday --- something I had planned to do before those plans were reinforced by a serendipitous  mission.

Oxford is just a little ways northeast of Chariton, on a ridge east of the Little White Breast valley --- a pretty drive out. Although not a huge cemetery, it served (and still does) families that lived in northern Lincoln and southern English townships, including generations of my mother's Miller family (my Miller grandparents are buried down at Columbia, however, because that's were Grandmother Jessie was from).

Morning there is not an especially good time to photograph tombstones since the principal view is to the east and that involves shooting into the sun. I was so preoccupied with the view that I ended up with a sunstreak through the photo up top and clipped the edge of the tombstone at far right, marking the graves of great-great-grandparents, Jeremiah and Elizabeth (McMulin) Miller. That's Uncle Harry and Aunt Carrie Miller to their left; Aunt Cynthia (Miller) and Uncle Charlie Abrahamson, a row beyond and between them.

The great-grandparents, Joseph Cyrus and Mary Elizabeth (Clair) Miller are buried under that first tree in the distance with Uncle Clair and Aunt Vesta Miller beside them. The sun turned the larger Miller stone into a silhouette, however. Still kind of pretty.

Oxford Church and Oxford School once stood just across the road west of the cemetery and although I remember both buildings, they've been gone so long I'm no longer sure exactly where they were at. Oxford Church, and its neighbor to the southeast, Beulah Church, were just too close to Chariton to have any long-term chance of survival. Consolidation took care of Oxford school.

There are several notable family enclaves at Oxford. This is "Carson Corner" up near the road looking southwest. Here, the peonies were farther along than those out at Salem and suffering more from the weight of their blossoms, rain earlier in the week and wind (the wind just wouldn't let up Monday).

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My granddad used to talk about digging one of these Carson graves, perhaps in the teens or 1920s when it still was a neighborhood custom, when death occurred, for the men of the community to gather to dig the grave. In this instance it was memorably cold and the ground was frozen hard. With no equipment other than shovels, the men lighted a grave-sized bonfire among the Carson tombstones, then dug the grave afters its heat had penetrated to the frost line.

The "Swede" Millers, so-called because they were of Swedish descent while my Millers were Scots-Irish, are buried in the far northwest corner of the cemetery; and the almighty Johnstons, now sadly diminished, have their own little hill to the northeast.

The big old Johnston family home, second place south of the cemetery and last occupied during the span of my memory by Johnston Prior and his mother, still is hanging on. I usually stop by Johnston's (aka Charles's) grave to see if anyone else remembers him these days. No one seems to. This snowflake-ish detail, which seems to me fairly unique, is from one of the oldest Johnston tombstones.

At Oxford, as at most cemeteries across southern Iowa and elsewhere, small U.S. flags marked the graves of all veterans. This is a fairly amazing effort, when you think about it, involving teams of volunteers who map their strategy then set out in the days before Memorial Day to place the flags, then return in the days after to collect them. Since Oxford is near Chariton, a few Chariton Volunteer Fire Department flags were scattered, too. That department still tends the graves of all its former members --- back to the beginning.

The mission, mentioned at the start here, involved a young man named Matt Moul, who lives in California. Had World War II-related circumstances been different, his surname would have been Bingaman. Matt had happened upon this blog on Sunday and e-mailed.

Matt's grandfather was Mark D. Bingaman (above), son of Robert and Elsie, husband of Marcella, and father of Robert Lee, not yet a year old when Mark died on March 19, 1945, aboard the U.S.S. Franklin near the Japanese mainland when it was struck by two armor-piercing bombs dropped by a single Japanese bomber. Although the ship survived, barely, 836 members of its crew were killed. Mark, with the others, was buried at sea.

In the years that followed, Matt's grandmother remarried and Robert Lee was adopted, assuming the surname "Moul." And a memorial stone for Mark was placed here at Oxford alongside the graves of his parents.

Early Monday, I was able to find among papers related to Mark at the museum a moving letter to his mother from a former commanding officer, scan it and send the copy off to California; then drive out to Oxford to photograph Mark's memorial stone. And that was an absolutely amazing way to spend a little time on Memorial Day.

Red, White, Blue & Green

So much for Memorial Day, almost. When I left the Chariton Cemetery a little while ago the American Legion guys already were disassembling the avenue of flags that had led from the front gate to the main flag pole. They don't mess around.

This group of four silk flags actually is at the base of the big pole, but I liked the view to the south, into the Chariton River valley, better. You also can see how impossibly green it is around here this year.

It's been a hot, windy, humid, hazy, even mildly ominous day --- not the sort to encourage unbridled tombstone tourism. So I missed Columbia, but will drive down in a day or two; did run out to Oxford, looking a little too shaggy for its own good, in the morning.

Some folks' work is never done. Ran into Doris and Ron out here this afternoon. Doris is a loyal volunteer for the Find-a-Grave project --- and what better day than Memorial Day to fulfill tombstone photo requests. Ron said they'd already been working the cemetery for about an hour.

Now I expect I'd better get a few more plants in the ground before it starts raining again.

PTL: Jeff Angelo's been born again

Creston’s Jeff Angelo, self-described conservative Republican state senator from 1997 until 2009, created a modest stir last week when he announced formation of Iowa Republicans for Freedom, advertised as an advocacy group for conservatives who support same-sex marriage.

In case you want to turn out, the group will be launched at 11 a.m. Wednesday on the west terrace of the Iowa Capitol. Other events are scheduled at Greene Square Park in Cedar Rapids at 10 a.m. Thursday and at the Davenport Public Library at 3 p.m. Thursday.

Just shows to go you what’ll happen if you marry a Unitarian Universalist, so watch out.

Angelo, now a community relations manager with Mediacom, chose not to seek re-election during 2008. During his 12 years in the state Senate, he backed proposed constitutional amendments to ban same-sex marriage, even was lead sponsor for one. Now he says he was just plain wrong.

His decision not to seek re-election kind of coincided with his marriage to attorney Tara van Brederode --- that UU --- during 2007.

I say more power to him; glad to see he’s been born again --- on this issue at least. And good going, Tara.

The shift became evident in January when Angelo testified against Iowa House Joint Resolution 6, aka “the ban,” during hearings at the Statehouse.

“Each day, Iowans worship with, work with, live with, and love people who are gay,” Angelo said. “This debate centers around the devaluation of the lives of a select group of people. At its worst, we are asked to believe that our gay friends and neighbors are involved in a nefarious agenda, the outcome of which, supposedly, is the unraveling of society itself.

“My friends, Iowans are discomforted by this debate, because we know it not to be true.”

It may be that Angelo was on the slippery slope toward decency before he got hitched. After all, he also voted to protect LGBT people against workplace discrimination and bullying. Golly, next thing you know, he’ll be coming out as an independent.

There actually are a number of basically decent Republicans in Iowa, you know, who given the choice, would have nothing to do with the wingnut whack jobs who currently run the party. They have no particular interest in banning same-sex marriage, shooting doves or building a chain-link fence with four strands of barbed wire across the top along the Iowa/Missouri border --- you just don’t hear from them very often; never in the Legislature.

But then politics is largely about posturing, positioning yourself to take advantage of the next shift in the wind and keeping your head down otherwise. And the wind does seem to be shifting in regard to issues centered on sexual orientation.

It’s hard to figure out exactly how all of this is going to turn out.

But I have been thinking lately about launching an Ex-GOP ministry. The closet is an awful place and many Republicans need our help and support. Wouldn’t even have to think much about the aversion therapy program; the extreme right-wingers already are taking care of that.

It’s probably too much to expect an immediate full-fledged embrace of one’s God-given Democrat orientation. But bipartisanship would represent progress.

Tara van Brederode and Jeff Angelo blog jointly under the moniker "God, Politics, and Rock 'n' Roll." You'll find their commentaries here.

Flowers among the stones

This would be the summer, once they've stopped blooming, to thin the old-fashioned iris around my great-grandparents' tombstone again and bring a start into town, transferring a remnant of Great-grandmother's garden to my own.

There's nothing fancy about these old iris, just one of perhaps a half-dozen varieties that flourished in old-fashioned flower gardens before the hybrids came along. But they're sturdy (these were planted in the 1930s), and aggressive, spreading again and again from the back and sides of the granite marker to obscure the front. That's when I push back a little.

Cemeteries used to be gardens, too, and out in the country still are --- although subject to the whims of maintenence personnel with weed-whackers and, occasionally, Roundup. I don't mind nature's disorder, but some prefer an antiseptic sea of granite, marble and grass.

In larger cemeteries now, free-form plantings are generally forbidden and draconian measures taken to control shaggy edges. Shagginess --- and the flowers --- remain at Salem, however.

With rain in the forecast, I drove out with my planters late Saturday --- and was stymied at the first river crossing south of town. After creeping down the long hill, to avoid coming to a full stop while waiting for a train to pass, I discovered once it had gone that water was out over the road. Naah --- not going to try it although I probably could have made it, and turned around.

Turned onto the ridge and meandered down to the Wolf Crick Road, which was high and dry, then sneaked up on the cemetery from the south. When I crossed the Chariton River bridge on the New York Road, two young guys were relaxing on lawn chairs smack in the middle, boots on the rail, fishing over the side. Wish I'd stopped and taken a picture of that, too.

Salem's looking good this year, neatly mown (quite a trick when you consider how much rain we've had) and nicely (but not aggressively) trimmed.

I spotted two other varieties of iris in bloom, but the ubiquitous pale yellow onces were past their prime. This multi-colored variety still was flourishing.

The peonies were just beginning to come into full bloom --- and peonies always have been this cemetery's Memorial Day glory. My mother called them "PINEees" --- perhaps a mountain Virginianism brough west by her maternal grandmother, Chloe, and I still do.

Because of the odd weather we've had this spring, the dark pinks and reds still are just in bud, but the lighter pinks and white, beginning to open.

We have so many peonies here in the south of Iowa that they're taken for granted. If they weren't so sturdy --- many of the Salem peonies have been blooming here for more than a century --- we'd be paying florists a fortune to provide them.

The white peony that now completely obscures the little white tombstone of my young cousin, Lilly Belle Parsons, who died during the 1880s, is now at least five feet in diameter and just beginning to bloom. That's Great-great-grandfather Jacob Myers towering in the background.

Since Lilly's folks decided to be buried in the Chariton Cemetery, she's alone in this family lot, but her little cousin, Cora Houck, is just to her left --- and her grandparents nearby.

If there ever were animosities in this little Benton Township neighborhood, they have long since faded and everyone sleeps here companionably now. Confederate veteran Elijah Morgan's CSA marker needs to be reset, but he's here beneath the Stars and Bars.

And just a few feet away is Marshall Gookin, sent home to die during that war we're making the sesquicentennial of this year, beneath the Stars and Stripes.

Time has healed the old sorrows buried here under prairie sod, but some newer ones still are fresh and sharp and unabated. This is the first Memorial Day for a new memorial to a distant cousin, Jessica, cruely and senselessly slain. On the back, there's a handwritten note from her little boy, transferred to stone and cut into granite, that will break your heart.

The flowers here are of silk and synthetic, but no less heartfelt than the older varieties blooming nearby. Perhaps one day, someone will bring another peony from home and plant it here to bloom a hundred more springs.

Some folks are a little spooked by cemeteries, but I've never been. Even have been known to come out here of an evening, sit companionably with my folks for few minutes again and watch the sunset.

Maybe the folks at Salem appreciate our visits; who knows. The first buried here reportedly was a Mormon pioneer who died along the nearby trail in the 1840s; the two most recent, far too young.

I'm reasonably certain that, could they speak (and it would be from experience), they'd all admonish us to rise up, go home, stop fussing about inconsequentials, remember that there's really only enough time for love, and celebrate the gift of life that's still ours.

So that's what I did --- and I'm glad I drove out when I did. Rain is banging against the east window again, so it's probably going to be a good day to stay inside.

The Great Lucas County History Quiz

This is a trial run for "The Great Lucas County History Quiz," which I hope to get some mileage out of elsewhere this summer.  Answer 17-20 of the multiple-choice questions correctly and you're a star scholar; 13-16, not too bad; 9-12, oh well. But eight or fewer, where the heck you from? Polk County?

You'll find the answers posted at the end.

1. Lucas County is named for?

a. Lucas Ballard, son of our first permanent settler, John Ballard.

b. John L. Lucas, pioneering labor leader.

c. Robert Lucas, Iowa territorial governor.

2. Our first long-term non-native settlers were?

a. Methodist missionaries.

b. Mormon refugees.

c. Mennonite farmers.

3. Russell athletic teams were known as what before they became Trojans?

a. Russell Rustlers.

b. Russell Robins.

c. Russell Bluebrids.

4. George Bennard, composer of what famous hymn, grew up in Lucas?

a. "How Great Thou Art"

b. "Bringing in the Sheaves"

c. "Old Rugged Cross"

5. How many Lucas County Sheriffs have been shot and killed in the line of duty?

a. One

b. Two

c. Three

6. What happened to Sheriff Gaylord Lyman's Killer?

a. He escaped to Missouri.

b. He was sentenced to life in prison at Fort Madison.

c. He was thrown out a courthouse window with a rope around his neck.

7. How many Townships are there in Lucas County?

a. Twelve

b. Nine

c. Six

8. Smith H. Mallory brought the courthouse clock home from?

a. His family's European tour of 1880-1881.

b. The World's Columbian Exposition of 1893 in Chicago.

c. The St. Louis World's Fair.

9. Chariton most likely was named for?

a. Orthodox Christian saint Chariton the Confessor.

b. The Ioway Indian phrase "Charito Nabotna," meaning "little muddy."

c. A French fur trader named Jean Chariton.

10. This is a model of?

a. Chariton's first church.

b. Lucas County's first courthouse.

c. The cabin of Cedar Township's first settler, William McDermott.

11. Hy-Vee gets its name from?

a. Founders Charles Hyde and David Vredenburg.

b. Founders Arthur Hyght and Robert Vee

b. Founder Hiram Wright and his wife, Velma.

12. White Breast Creek and Whitebreast Township are named for?

a. A naked maiden spotted bathing in it.

b. A Meskwaki family of the Thunder gens.

c. An exposed limestone formation in Stephens State Forest.

13. Chariton sits on a ridge dividing?

a. The Wolf Creek and Lost Branch Creek drainages.

b. The Iowa and Grand River drainages.

c. The Mississippi and Missouri river drainages.

14. Lucas County's major non-farm industry in 1920 was?

a. Coal mining

b. Grocery wholesaling

c. Brick and tile manufacturing

15. The only Lucas Countyan (so far) to serve as governor was?

a. Charles Wennerstrum

b. Leo Hoegh

c. Warren S. Dungan

16. Otterbein Church was named for?

a. The Rev. Philip Otterbein

b. Otterbein Creek

c. The Redlingshafer family home in Bavaria.

17. This item from the LCHS collection is?

a. An early rural mail box

b. An oven for drying jerkey

c. An incubator for premature infants

18. The Principal Financial Group was founded by Lucas County's?

a. Smith H. Mallory

b. Edward Ames Temple

c. Warren S. Dungan

19. Native American owners just before white settlement were?

a. The Ioway Nation

b. The Lakota Nation

c. Confederated Sauk and Meskwaki nations

20. The A.J. Stephens House is constructed of?

a. Hollow concrete blocks.

b. Limestone quarried in Swede Hollow

c. Wood with pressed-metal sheathing

And the correct answers are: 1. Territorial Gov. Robert Lucas; 2. Mormon refugees fleeing Nauvoo; 3. Bluebirds; 4. "Old Rugged Cross"; 5. Two; 6. Thrown out courthouse window with a rope around his neck; 7. Twelve; 8. World's Columbian Exposition of 1893; 9. French fur trader Jean Chariton; 10. Lucas County's first courthouse; 11. Founders Charles Hyde and David Vredenburg; 12. A Meskwaki family of the Thunder gens; 13. Mississippi and Missouri river drainages; 14. Coal mining; 15. Leo Hoegh; 16. The Rev. Philip Otterbein; 17. An incubator for premature infants; 18. Edward Ames Temple; 19. The confederated Sauk and Meskwaki nations; 20: Hollow concrete blocks.

Skylines and past times

It actually was kind of fun to spend a few consecutive days in downtown Des Moines this week, although big bland windowless conference rooms created by moving ceiling-mounted panels around don’t enhance a guy’s sense of place.

But this always has been “my” city, since Chariton and the capital are only 50 miles apart, the go-to place for special occasions and special needs --- not at the drop of a hat to buy cheaper widgets at Home Depot, however.

Golly, when I was really small you could board a train to Des Moines at the Chariton depot in the morning, then turn around and board another train for Chariton that evening. Not many people did that by the 1950s, of course, which is why it’s no longer an option.

I came equipped with a vision problem that required specialists, so we were downtown frequently beginning when I was say 3 or 4 years old. Their offices were in the Equitable Building, at that time Des Moines’ tallest I believe. I was really impressed, especially by the brass-bound, wood-paneled elevators, each with an attendant. I’d still be impressed by that, if I could find one.

I plucked this kind of arid photo of the downtown skyline as seen from the south from Wikipedia because it reminded me of how things have changed. The classic tower of the 1906 Polk County Courthouse is at far right, The brick building with the white top a step up to the left, with a tower mirroring in shape that of the courthouse, is the Equitable Building.

The brown step up to the left of Equitable is John Ruan’s Ruan Center (in rust we trust); and some distance to the west, 801 Grand, now Iowa’s tallest building and the centerpiece of the Principal Financial Group campus --- never forget that Principal was founded by Chariton’s own Edward Ames Temple.

The building with the curved roof in front of the Principal tower is the EMI Building, which caused something of a stir after it was completed because when viewed from heights across the river it looked exactly as if the architects had embedded a multi-story Absolut vodka bottle in the south façade.

Out of the picture to the right (east) of the courthouse tower is the Court Avenue entertainment district, then the Des Moines River, then the East Village, then perched atop its hill our beautiful 1871-86 multi-domed state capitol surrounded by government buildings ranging in design from sublime to ugly as dirt.

Out of the picture to the left is the newly redeveloped Western Gateway and the Pappajohn Sculpture Park. Drive through all of that and you’ll hit the Grand Avenue hills and the “south-of-grand” neighborhood north of the Raccoon River, still the most prestigious place the live.

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Anyhow, when I was a kid much of downtown Des Moines other than the Equitable and other comparable office buildings and hotels looked a good deal like a county seat town on steroids, streets lined with retail and some wonderful old movie theaters.

Just to be down there shortly before Christmas when the lights were bright and streets bustling with real live shoppers in addition to office workers was quite a treat. Who else remembers the flagship Younkers, lunch at Bishops Buffet (chocolate pie to die for), the KRNT Theater, live broadcasts of WHO Radio's "Barn Dance" from Hoyt Sherman Place?

If you wanted to tour the grand old Capitol building, you still could climb (without permission or supervision) the narrow stair that circled up inside the shell of the central dome to an observation deck at the tiptop --- and a view not many see these days.

Anyhow, malls sprouted, bulldozers moved in, architects started looking up and downtown kind of went away --- and so did many of the rest of us. Not that we didn’t come back now and then, for an appointment, to commune on some occasions in the grand flagship churches on Piety Hill or on other occasions in the flagship gay bars --- Blazing Saddle and The Garden, still East Village fixtures. When I was a pup, so was Java Joe's. But it really was kind of grim for a while.

Downtown’s back now, and I like it --- in an angular urban-canyon sort of way that still is recognizably Iowa --- clean, neat, trees where possible, cement-bound versions of Grandma’s flower garden, generally friendly people and, since it is compact, within walking distance of the river or broader green spaces.

The East Village has revived, the Court Avenue district has revived, lots of folks are moving into newly-developed downtown housing, the river walk is fun. If you had to live in the city, it would be kind of a cool place to do that --- if HyVee or Dahl’s would build the first multi-story downtown superstore on a compact footprint so you didn’t still have to drive somewhere to get groceries.

As long as I’ve been coming into the Des Moines from the south, it's been on Southeast 14th Street, once almost rural; now, ragtag mixed commercial. I always note the constants driving in. The Hawkeye and Cozy Rest motels still are there, once bright and shiny, now faded lodging based primarily on economic necessity.

And Sister Ann, Psychic Reader, still is perched in her little house above a sea of recreational vehicle sales and service lots, one of the few actual houses sill along 14th, with a big Cadillac parked in a shelter to the north and an even bigger shiny pickup parked in the cemented front yard/parking lot.

Many of those who live not far from Southeast 14th are now Hispanic or Latino, so quite a number of business names are in Spanish. Sister Ann has added a version of her sign translated into Spanish, too.

That’s reassuring. You never know when you’re going to need a psychic reader --- and there’s something to be said for continuity and progress combined.

Main Street Day Four --- the Conclusion

Well, this is the end of reporting from the National Main Streets Conference, which ended early yesterday afternoon. I've been doubling up, since part of the goal was to send out e-mail updates to others interested in the conference but unable to attend. Those updates, modified, ended up here.

While I've been running back and forth, the grass kept growing and now looks knee-high --- well not quite. But it has to be clipped soon. And it's been raining the last couple of days! River and creek bottoms flooded, drowning emerging row crops. The house is more of a mess than usual. And then there are two meetings at roughly the same time this morning, for one of which I've not done my homework. Awkward.

Driving south early yesterday afternoon, the urge for an old-fashioned Iowa Maid Rite with fries on the side developed into a compulsion, so I tracked down the Indianola Maid Rite in its new location. Actually, it's clearly visible along the east side of Highway 65 in a tiny new strip mall perched above the WalMart parking lot. Getting there is another matter.

The four-lane street was extremely busy traffic-wise and in order to get into the mini-mall's drive when southbound it was necessary to cross traffic. That wasn't working, so  I finally drove around the block and approached from the south. Exiting the parking lot wasn't easy either. To avoid blocking the drive while waiting to cross traffic, tt was necessary to do so northbound, turn off through the WalMart lot and circle back up to an intersection with traffic lights in order to head south again.

The Maid Rites were wonderful. I had two, actually, since they're small. You've gotta hope that there are enough loyalists out there willing to embark on  the traffic adventure of getting there to keep the place in business.

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The somewhat peculiar sight of roughly 1,000 people seated in a large room wearing bright red Maryland crab hats complete with protruding eyes and antennae concluded this week’s conference Wednesday at the Polk County Convention Complex --- the smallest and second-oldest Iowa Events Center building. Veterans Auditorium, still under renovation, is the oldest; the adjacent Wells Fargo Arena and HyVee Hall, much newer.

The hats were gifts from the Main Street Baltimore staff, two of whom took to the stage dressed as crabs, to make a case for attending next year’s conference in Baltimore. It was a wonderful week, but Maryland seems an unlikely destination, even though I spent a lot of time there while in the military and wouldn't mind visiting it again.

Wednesday began with another general session, this one entitled “Overcoming Challenges to Growing Your Organization.” Three specific points were discussed --- positioning, volunteers and fund-raising.

Jeanine Rann, executive director of Downtown Lee’s Summit (Missouri) Main Street, tackled positioning, that is moving a fledgling Main Street program into position for the long haul. Of utmost importance, she said, was working hard to develop a master plan and then sticking to it.

Rann, a University of Northern Iowa graduate who has managed three Main Street programs in cities of varying sizes, said that she has found both the issues and the personalities roughly the same no matter what the size of the community.

She also stressed the importance of branding --- developing an accurate, meaningful and lively Main Street identity and then exploiting it fully.

Christina Sheppard-Decius, of the Ferndale (Michigan) Downtown Development Authority, discussed volunteerism, but prefaced that with a brief discussion of her city’s entry into the Main Street program.

The first problem, she said of a community with 30 percent main street vacancy in 2000 (less than 5 percent now), was the Development Authority board, appointed by the mayor, which included members who had served as long as 30 years. Integrating the detailed and proven Main Street structure and philosophy proved to be the solution in the Detroit “ring” city of 19,000, she said.

Once her community decided to apply to Main Street it was turned down initially --- because it was not ready, she said. The base-building strategy that followed included behaving as if Ferndale were moving toward becoming a Main Street community, integrating its principles whenever possible. That contributed to the success of the next application.

The stakes in a Main Streets application are pretty high --- up to $100,000 in subsidized consultation and training for startups and tens of thousands of dollars in aid and consulting fees thereafter plus eligibility for grant and loan programs accessible primarily through Main Street.

Main Street is “all about volunteering,” she said, adding that program success is dependent on “reigniting and growing the volunteer base.” That involves actively seeking and proactive management. Among her strategies:

Development leaders must really know who lives in their city, embrace diversity and reach out, she said (Ferndale determined that many of its residents worked elsewhere in the Detroit metro area, that it had a substantial LGBT community and that a considerable ethnic/racial minority, not all of whom lived in Ferndale, considered it their home city for shopping and business purposes).

All had a stake in the community, she said, and were potential volunteers.

She suggested that non-traditional volunteers sources be explored --- unemployed, under-employed and voluntarily employed otherwise boomers --- and most certainly students.

Volunteer programs should be managed in a business-like manner, task-oriented and geared toward 24/7 operations, so that volunteers available in non-traditional times and places also may be utilized. And all should know at all times that they are appreciated.

Doris Tillman, of Main Street Fort Pierce (Florida), discussed fund-raising, noting that her organization began with an annual budget of $60,000, now has an annual budget of $478,000 and has leveraged $15 million in community restoration projects.

All sorts of fund-raising activities work, Tillman said, but imagination is required. She, too, stressed the potential for involving students. The money is out there, “I guarantee it,” Tillman said.

She also stressed the importance of major donors, encouraging fund-raisers to always keep part of their focus on people who have an active “interest in what you’re doing.” She cited several Fort Pierce examples when formidable fund-raising goals were reached after well-publicized projects captured the imagination of major donors --- some anonymous. In some cases, she said, you will know who potential major donors are; in other cases, you won't. But always behave as if they're out there because they are.

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Later in the morning, I attended Molly Myers Nauman’s lively and entertaining presentation, “What Makes that Building Special? Learning How to ‘Read’ the Buildings along Main Street.” Assigned a smaller room in anticipation of a smaller crowd, she packed the house and was in fine typically Molly form.

Molly’s basic point was that any preservation-related program needs to involve as many people as possible who can speak knowledgeably about their city’s buildings. That is especially important, she said, to avoid situations where historic buildings become threatened in part because too few people are aware of  their significance, architectural and otherwise.

Her slide presentation was focused on helping audience members recognize the architectural styles (from colonial to 1950s) and architectural elements that make a building recognizable, say, as Italianate as opposed to Queen Anne.

The thought that occurred to me while enjoying all of us was that it wouldn’t take that much effort to come up with a similar presentation of our own devoted specifically to Chariton’s square. Then we could take our show on the road.

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Stephanie Meeks, president of the National Trust for Historic Preservation (Main Street’s parent organization) was principal speaker during the closing plenary session that began shortly after noon, touching on three areas of joint National Trust/Main Street concern. Meeks will be in Cedar Rapids later this week to visit Brucemore, Iowa’s National Trust property.

Increased accessibility, Meeks said, is of primary National Trust concern now as it works to broaden preservation’s grass-roots base and tell everyone's (with emphasis on "everyone's") history.

She noted projections that by 2025 the U.S. majority will be multi-ethnic and noted the increasing Hispanic presence in Iowa and elsewhere. “We need to make sure that we’re telling the whole story,” Meeks said.

This year’s Main Streets Conference, for the first time, included a series of targeted afternoon sessions entitled “La Conversacion: Engaging Latinos and Hispanics on Main Street.”

Visibility is another concern, according to Meeks. She noted that preservation sometimes is perceived as a series of “don’ts.”

Preservation, however, “is not about ‘no change,’ “ Meeks said, rather about “adaptive reuse; about the power of preservation to improve quality of life, enhance economies and broaden tax bases.”

Main Street is “very much about the present and the now,” Meeks said.

As a hopeful trend she noted surveys that have isolated a large segment of the U.S. population, younger, often ethnic, often diverse in other ways, who don’t consider themselves “preservationists,” but who have all the characteristics, including participation in at least seven preservation-related activities during a normal year.

Finally, Meeks touched on funding for Main Street programs. It’s important to recognize, she said, that in a time of economic struggle and city, state and  federal budget cuts that Main Street is not part of the problem --- ‘ it’s part of the solution.”

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For me at least, merely a Main Street tourist, the most rewarding part of this week’s conference was to be engaged for several days running with a broadly-based, diverse, nation-wide community of upbeat people universally enthusiastic about the future of smaller communities, their economies and their town centers.

That degree of enthusiastic optimism seems rare these days. We've gotten highly skilled at picking apart what's percetived as wrong, but not very good at working collectively on solutions when something really is.

Main Street Day Three: Dynamics

This week’s National Main Streets Conference is designed for staff and volunteers who work daily within the program’s framework, so Hunter, Meyer & Myers, all of whom were present Tuesday, are sort of like tourists observing the faith and culture of a native population. Tuesday's day-opening general session offered some insights into group dynamics.

The program, a panel discussion, was entitled “A Four Point Approach to Economic Development,” a topic already covered during opening sessions on Sunday. Discussion Tuesday was focused on exploring the idea that all four “points” need to be more evenly focused on economic development without sacrificing the emphasis on preservation.

Main Street’s stated mission is to foster economic development within the context of historic preservation. The four points of the program’s incremental strategy, each represented by a management committee within Main Street communities, are design (traditionally most heavily involved in preservation), organization, promotion and economic restructuring (traditionally most heavily involved in the nuts and bolts of economic development).

The conclusions were unsurprising --- that yes, everyone involved in a Main Street program needs to work more effectively together and communicate more efficiently to ensure that all elements of the program remain integrated.

A concern among Main Street personnel seemed to be that despite the program’s proven development track record, politicians, government officials and traditional development types with no direct Main Street experience tend to underestimate its value.

If the program is perceived to be “too” focused on preservation or “too” focused on promotion, for example, that encourages the suspicion that it isn't sufficiently focused on development and therefore needn’t be taken as seriously as other strategies perceived to be tried and true.

That can be hazardous to programs in places like Texas and Montana, where proposed state budget cuts are ongoing threats to the future of state-supplied funding support.

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I had a lot more fun during Bob Yapp’s nuts-and-bolts seminar entitled “Keeping Original Windows for Better Energy Efficiency.”

Yapp, a Des Moines native and professional preservationist and restorer who now lives in Hannibal, Missouri, probably is most widely known as the host of a 52-episode PBS series entitled “About Your House with Bob Yapp,” underwritten by the National Trust.

Yapp currently is developing in a restored Hannibal mansion the Belvedere School for Practical Preservation, already the go-to place for those who want to learn how to restore the windows of historic structures. He also is a lively, very entertaining and highly opinionated presenter.

If you’ve ever considered vinyl or other replacement windows in a vintage structure, for example, you might want to consider Yapp’s contention that window replacement is an “epidemic,” that suggestions old wooden windows need to be replaced to increase energy efficiency is a “big lie,” and that “it’s time to stop this madness.”

Yapp says that a properly restored vintage window is far more durable, more energy efficient and less expensive than any replacement, vinyl or wood. And historically accurate, too.

He had especially harsh woods for vinyl, “the least green product on the market” but now used extensively for both windows and siding; for “insulated” glass windows, which he contends have a life expectancy of only a few years because of the way panels are assembled and actually are not efficient at all; and for metal-clad wooden widows, more prone to rot than bare wood according to Yapp.

I sat in on two afternoon seminars, too --- both interesting and useful but unremarkable. One dealt with evaluation of events, promotional and otherwise; and the other, with organizational use of social media (FaceBook, Twitter and the like).

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We'll be back in Des Moines early today for the general session, “Overcoming Challenges to Growing Your Organization.” I plan to attend south Iowa’s own Molly Myers Nauman’s seminar, “What Makes that Building Special? Learning How to ‘Read’ the Buildings along Main Street.” The closing plenary, featuring Stephanie Meeks, National Trust president, begins at noon --- and then we’ll be done. Or ready to begin, perhaps.

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Heavy rain, scattered hail, wind and lots of lightning and thunder here overnight. For the first time in a long time the combination blasted me out of bed and downstairs to turn on the porch lights and try to see what was going on.

The forecast is for more of the same today --- the kind of day you appreciate Des Moines' extensive downtown skywalk network. That system has been criticized in the past for diverting foot traffic and therefore "life" from the sidewalks below, but it sure does come in handy when the variability of Iowa weather is concerned.

I've been parking cheap --- for free, actually, in the huge lot north of Veterans Auditorium, then walking the pleasant three blocks downhill to the plex. In unfriendly weather, it's equally possible to cross the street, enter the skywalk, then wind high and dry through buildings and across alleys and streets to emerge in the convention complex's second-story lobby. Can't beat that.

Main Street Day Two: Inspiration

If Sunday’s National Main Streets Conference sessions were all about information, the emphasis Monday was on inspiration. Meyer & Myers represented Chariton at the opening plenary at Civic Center of Greater Des Moines and Alyse was tuned in via streaming video as a “virtual attendee.”

You can go virtual, too, I believe, for the morning general sessions today (A Four Point Approach to Economic Development) and Wednesday (Overcoming Challenges to Growing Your Organization). Just go here at 8:30 a.m.. The closing plenary also will be streamed --- at noon on Wednesday.

Monday’s opening plenary began with the incomparable Isiserettes Drum and Drill Corps. Wow! Anyone still slightly drowsy when they started was wide awake by the time they exited the stage, bringing the theater to its feet.

The session opened with the annual State of Main Street report, generally positive primarily because private investment remains strong and success stories still are being written as public funding shrinks during tough economic times. Main Street program outlooks in Wisconsin and Arizona are unclear because state economic development programs there have been reorganized into untested public-private formats. In other states, including Virginia, budget-cutting threats to Main Street have been rolled back.

The high point of the plenary session was Edward T. McMahon’s lively keynote address. McMahon is senior resident fellow at the Urban Land Institute. Addressing what he characterized as the “sustainability revolution,” he contended that a 50-year love affair between consumers, retail and strip shopping centers is coming to an end; that evolving consumer behavior, high-priced gas and internet shopping are redefining malls and big-boxes as “retail for the last century.” The future, he said, belongs to town centers, main streets and mixed-use development. Let’s hope.

It was the sort of thoughtful cheerleading presentation that everyone concerned about the future of small-city economies and their town centers should hear and I wish we could have recorded it and brought it home with us.

It was fun, too, to see 2011’s five National Great American Main Street Award winners honored --- Beloit, Wisc., Fort Pierce, Fla., Newark, Del., Silver City, N.M., and Lansing, Mich.

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The afternoon highlight for me turned out to be a seminar with a fairly boring title: “Using USDA Rural Development Programs for Upper-Story Housing Projects.” Think about how much “upper-story housing” potential there is in Chariton and you can see why I picked it.

Tony Putz, of USDA Rural Development, outlined but did not go into extensive detail concerning USDA aid programs --- shrinking like many government programs.

The inspiring part of this presentation came when two developers detailed projects that parallel hopes and dreams for our Hotel Charitone. LaVerne Hanson Jr., co-president of MetroPlains, LLC, which is redeveloping Creston’s Hotel Iowana, comparable in many ways to the Charitone, due for completion in November, was at the podium first.

Then Tom Bishop, of Homestead Affordable Housing Inc., went into great and fascinating detail about his firm’s restoration into subsidized senior housing of the Bartell Hotel, an 1870s structure in Junction City, Kansas, that in its deteriorated form made the Charitone look like a paragon of well-keptness.

By knocking several smaller delegates to the floor in a session-ending rush, I snagged the last free copy of Susan Lloyd Franzen’s 240-page book about Junction City, the hotel and its ultimate salvation.  It most likely will end up in Preservation Commission hands.

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The conference Expo opened at 1 p.m. Monday --- and there’s a ton of stuff there to look at, all sorts of free take-home inspiration, interesting people to visit with, cool stuff to drink and the most comfortable seating in the Polk County Convention Complex.

I visited with the folks from Chariton’s Wayne Manufacturing, who have a Christmas streetscape display, fingered commemorative trinkets from several vendors, admired streetscape paraphernalia ranging from park benches to street lights, and was completely captivated by a firm that uses paint (rather than destructive chemicals or sandblasting) to “restore” old brick buildings with painted facades (the Penick Building came to mind).

Visions of Johnson Machine Works danced in my head as I visited with a guy from Kansas who crafts cut-steel “banners,” more usually seen in faded canvas or vinyl, for streetlight poles to tell the stories of cities who commission him.

And there’s a ton of free Main Street material to take home, too.

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Ray and I will be back in Des Moines beginning with Tuesday’s general session and I believe Alyse plans to be there, too.

I’m tentatively planning to attend three seminars: “Keeping Original Windows for Better Energy Efficiency,” “Event Evalutation: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly” (this will come in handy at the historical society, too, where events threaten to get ugly now and then --- but rarely do) and “Making Social Media Work for Your Organization.”

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It's impossible, during a high-energy and upbeat event like this that celebrates the spirit of smaller U.S. cities and their people, not to always have Joplin and its tremendous tornado-inflicted losses in mind. I believe more than 116 now have died.

Harold Camping, the old fool behind Saturday's end-of-the-world debacle, declared Monday that despite appearances to the contrary, a "spiritual" rapture actually did occur and we're still on track for complete destruction on Oct. 21.

Think of the millions spent promoting that elaborate charade based on 19th century Christianist mythology and wonder how much more effectively it could have been spent on, say, relief efforts in southwest Missouri.

And what about the millions that have been spent in Iowa and elsewhere and now will be spent in Minnesota in long and divisive squabbles about whether or not two people who love each other should be allowed to commit themselves in a way that has legal standing?

Good grief.

Grow Main Street: Day One

Four of us from Chariton were in Des Moines on Sunday for the first day of this year's National Main Streets Conference, a gathering of roughly 1,300 delegates from Maine to California involved in or interested in this National Trust for Historic Preservation nationwide project focused on revitalizing the cores of small cities and, thereby, the communities themselves.

Chariton is not among Iowa's more than 40 Main Street cities --- ranging from tiny and historic Bonaparte in Van Buren County to larger communities like Dubuque, Ottumwa, Cedar Falls, Mason City and West Des Moines. A majority of the Main Street cities in Iowa, however, are comparable to Chariton.

A Main Street application is in the initial stage of consideration here, although there are no guarantees --- money, a high level of commitment and broad-based community and business support all are required before a program can fly. So the goal this week, since the conference is in our back yard, is to gather as much information as possible about Main Street and bring it home to share and think more about.

If Chariton were to become a Main Street community, the center of attention would be the Square --- rimmed with fine old buildings around a classic Iowa courthouse, but gradually fading despite tremendous efforts over the years to hold it together. Perhaps Main Street, with an established track record and incredible resources, is the fresh approach it needs.

One of the difficulties involved in all towns of Chariton's size is that despite general recognition that "main street" is the heart of the community, many perceive that keeping it vital is someone else's problem or a problem without a solution. 

Main Street uses a four-point approach --- economic restructuring/business improvement, design, organization and promotion --- to address the situation. Preservation --- beginning with existing assets architectural and otherwise --- is part of the foundation; building awareness that everyone who lives in, owns property in, works in and/or considers a town "home" is a stakeholder in its heart and core identity, one of the major challenges.

Sunday involved eight solid hours of introduction to the program, designed primarily for newer Main Street communities and those of us interested in Main Street. I'm headed back today for the morning plenary session at Civic Center of Greater Des Moines and two afternoon workshops.

Armageddon and evensong

The Cathedral Church of St. Paul, Des Moines

Well, so far as I know the world didn’t end --- but it’s early yet. The trains still are running, however, and that’s a good sign.

Except for those caught in the trap of faith in or fear of a false prophet, the world pretty much has had a good laugh at the expense of Harold Camping and his followers --- and in a way, at Christianity in general.

That’s one of the odd things about the old faith lately --- if interested in marginalizing Christians, you don’t need to hire outside agitators. Them suckers ‘ll shoot themselves in the foot right before your eyes and you don't need to do a durned thing.

But you’ve got to wonder how many of us, raised in the day when Christian culture was maybe 75 percent about terror and 25 percent about grace, weren’t just a mite uneasy as 6 p.m. Saturday arrived in New Zealand and then rolled around the globe.

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The Minnesota House overnight voted 70-62 to put a constitutional amendment banning same-sex marriage on the ballot next November, hardly a surprise in a Legislature dominated by Republicans and their Christianist shills.

But not before another foot-in-mouth moment --- Self-styled metal-head preacher and noted homophobe Bradlee Dean took a potshot at President Obama, implying that he wasn’t a Christian, during Friday’s session-opening prayer.

Democrats were incensed, even some Republicans engaged in considerable hand-writing. Interesting moment.

All of this is happening at a time when polls show a majority of Minnesotans aren’t interested a marriage amendment and the most recent Gallup poll suggests that 53 percent of Americans favor marriage rights for same-sex couples --- a earth-shaking shift in the last 15 years.

I’m sure all sorts of factors are involved in this, but you’ve got to wonder if part of the credit doesn’t go to Christian over-emphasis on the end-of-the-world card --- listen to the rhetoric and it’s clear the Christian right is playing this hazardous hand for all it’s worth.

I’m all for marginalizing hate-based Christianity, but would have some regrets if the haters managed to take the whole great fleet of faith down with them. Others, however, wouldn’t mind.

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Whatever the case, I’m off to Des Moines for a day-long conference. If all goes well, I’ll sneak out a little early to attend the last choral evensong of the season at the Cathedral Church of St. Paul. If the church goes down, I sure hope they let us keep the music.

Adventures with fourth-graders

One of the miracles of spring is that late every May, somehow, a hundred and some Chariton Community School fourth-graders divided into seven groups visit with near military precision nine narrated stations on the Lucas County Historical Society museum campus in roughly two hours before consuming sack lunches on the grounds, reboarding their school buses, then driving away.

It gives me a headache to try to figure out exactly how this all works --- but it does. And everyone involved seems to have a good time.

Each station is staffed by society officers, board members and volunteers --- Puckerbrush School, the Stephens House (upstairs and down), Otterbein Church, log cabin, Swanson Gallery, Crist Gallery, Mine Gallery, Lewis Gallery and Perkins Gallery. Teachers and volunteer parents coordinate student movement from place to place and the time-master rings the church bell roughly every 20 minutes to indicate it's time to begin a new session.

Students spend the most time, about 20 minutes, at the school since part of the point is to give them some basis for understanding how education used to work.

This was my second year in Otterbein Church, fun for me since my great-great-grandparents, John and Isabelle Redlingshafer, were among its charter members and John headed the committee that raised funds for its first building. There's neither time nor a point in going into that, however.

The goal is to give the kids a little idea of how church used to work in most of Lucas County and to make the points that these plain white buildings were both spiritual and social centers for dozens of rural neighborhoods and that population shifts and motorized transport doomed most of them.

We distributed the air conditioning first (from a big supply of Beardsley Funeral Home fans), pointed out the central heating unit (a big old pot-bellied stove) and took it from there. The kids had the most fun with the fans, I think. They would have gotten more enjoyment out of ringing the church bell, but too much of that and we'd have thrown off the careful timing of the whole event.

All the students were bright, perceptive, well-behaved and asked thoughtful questions. The most questions, actually, were focused on two pump organs in the building. These were a mystery, considered by most who asked about them to be pianos because they have keyboards.

Only one group (all male as you might expect) was a little restless. I solved that by appointing the ringleader preacher and his associate, song leader, then moving them into the tall-backed chairs behind the pulpit where they were (silent) masters of all they surveyed.

Each stop on the tour, other than in the school, lasted about 10 minutes (and could easily have continued), but 10 minutes seems to be about the extent of my attention span, too --- so it worked well. After my 10 minutes, I pointed everyone toward the Swanson Gallery.

The biggest miracle of the morning, however, was the fact that rain was predicted but didn't appear. The kids finished their tour, had plenty of time for lunch on the (dry) grass and rode away. Then, but only then, did the skies open and the downpours begin. Only one backpack and one jacket were left behind.