The oatmeal-raisin cookie cure

I was prepared earlier this week to promote oatmeal-raisin cookies as a surefire route to world peace when reminded of the raisin-o-phobes among us. And that others stray from the straight-and-narrow by substituting chocolate chips. Shocking.

So maybe not.

The urge to bake developed in early January after shock therapy --- paying $4 for eight "homemade" oatmeal-raisin cookies down at the grocery store. The cellophane-wrapped varieties, although less expensive, were hard as flat little speckled rocks.

Tried whining publicly about this a couple of times, but no one brought cookies; so no option remained other than to dust off Grandma's recipe box (Google, actually) and get busy.

This is a blended recipe, but seems to work. The results are tasty, chewy --- unless overbaked --- and relatively healthy. I eat them for breakfast, too, with fresh fruit.

Only one caution --- if using a hand-held mixer make sure you're using an oversized and heavy bowl. The batter gains in volume and becomes very stiff. Without the right bowl, you, the counter and everything on it will end up spattered with cookie dough.

Step 1: Whisk together and set aside 2 cups flour, 1 teaspoon baking soda, 1 teaspoon baking powder and 1 teaspoon kosher salt.

Step 2: Cream together 1 cup softened butter, 1 cup sugar, 1 cup brown sugar, 2 large eggs and 1 tablespoon of vanilla.

Step 3: Blend the flour mixture into the sugar-and-egg mixture, but don't overdo it; just make sure everything's combined.

Step 4: Add (gradually), mixing well, three cups old-fashioned oatmeal (not instant), a cup and a half of raisins and 1 cup of chopped nuts.

Step 5: Preheat oven to 350 degrees, then form dough into ice-cream-scoop sized balls and place on parchment-lined baking sheets (use a sturdy scoop). Bake 11-13 minutes, then allow to rest on the sheets for a minute or so before cooling on wire racks. Yield: 3 dozen.

All done.

Class of 1964 --- as old as Dolly Parton now

Nancy Allen (left), as I recall it, always was the wild child in the Russell High School Class of 1964 --- You just never knew what she was going to get up to next.

Dick Christensen (middle), on the other hand, was the reserved one --- quiet and shy, never giving his parents a minute of worry. They always knew that Dick would be home, safely tucked in his bed, by 9.

Nancy's still at it; causing trouble that is. She called up Dick the other night, reminded him that this is the year for our 50th class reunion, and asked, "Whatcha you gonna do about it?" Dick still lives in Russell and was the easiest to track down.

So Dick called me (bottom), who in the course of a relatively long life has never caused another soul any consternation, always trying to be helpful, and asked what I thought we should do. "How the heck do I know," said I.

We talked about it for a while and decided that we probably should do something, although exactly what isn't clear. They've closed down the old school, so tours are going to be out of the question.

Only 16 of the 18 of us remain --- yes, there were only 18 members of the Class of 1964. But we really liked each other and got along, most of the time; had really great teachers; and had lots of fun, too.

Sadly, Albert Johnson and Sandy Walker no longer are with us.

But we probably can track down the other 13 and see what they want to do.

If you're out there, we'll be looking for you. And if you run into any of them, don't warn 'em --- we don't want runners: Larry Arnold, Jeanette Cochran, Gwen Cottingham, Mike Cremeens, Carol Dawson, Carmen Dorsey, Donna Edwards, Linda Gartin, Pam Johnson, Steve Pierce, Barbara Sibert, Sue Price, David Winsor.

Oh --- maybe I've reversed the characterizations of Nancy and Dick. We all get forgetful, you know, as we get older. Who ever thought we'd be as old as Dolly Parton and Bill Clinton.

That little woman ...

... and Mike Huckabee's genitalia. 

"We can help you find just the right gift for that little woman," the Albia radio station announcer said not long before Christmas, overheard while driving around town. He was reading a home-grown advertisement for a jewelry store and golly, for a minute there it seemed like instant transport right back into the 1950s.

I mean, how long has it been since you've heard the female half of humanity referred to collectively as "the little woman?" Except by some Republican  men, of course, on a fairly routine basis.

Take Republican Mike Huckabee, for example, portly failed presidential candidate from Arkansas and Southern Baptist preacher turned right-wing pundit.

In all fairness to Huckabee, he really wasn't suggesting in comments last week regarding "Uncle Sugar" and women's libido that women couldn't control theirs. It just sounded that way to some, primarily because the statement was not well thought out or carefully phrased.

What he actually was trying to do was shift the conversation about mandated insurance coverage for contraceptive devices away from the health-care needs of women and back to sex and the implication that all those "little women" are the aggressors, triggering the raging hormones of helpless males like Huckabee, held hostage by their genitalia.

No mention of the health-care benefits of contraceptives beyond the prevention of unwanted or hazardous pregnancies. To Huckabee's way of thinking, those lusty women are entirely capable of controlling their libidos, if they really cared to, thus sparing the weaker male sex the trauma of unwanted fatherhood. All that's required is effort --- not insurance.

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And then there was that poor woman down in Texas --- and her family. Killed most likely by a blod clot, Marlise Munoz's remains were hooked up to "life-support" devices at a Texas hospital because she was some 20 weeks pregnant --- as required by state law.

The implication here is that, in Texas at least, once an egg has been fertilized the mother's body --- dead or alive --- has value primarily as an incubator, regulated by the state legislature.

In the end, after doctors had concluded the fetus was not viable and in fact so badly deformed it was impossible to determine for sure the sex of the infant it might have developed into, it took a judge to order the hospital to free the woman and her family.

Women, due principally to their own efforts, certainly have claimed a good deal of territory in recent years, but obviously not enough.

Log cabin therapy

The pioneer cabin on the Lucas County Historical Society Museum campus, which dates probably from the 1850s or early 1860s, was discovered within a farm outbuilding in the northwest part of the county, disassembled, moved into town and reassembled several years ago.

I'd have taken a few more photos Monday morning, but the temperature was zero at the time.

One of these days, I'll get around to telling the cabin's story, but not until spring. Right now, it's stuffed to the rafters with the contents of Puckerbrush School, evacuated last summer so we could lift the floor and repair its 1870s support system. 

The goal is to finish the Puckerbrush project as soon as it's warmer, then have it back in operation --- and the cabin back to its usual self --- by late May. Then I'll take some interior photos, too.

In the meantime, you can count the growth rings on one of the hewn logs --- if you've got a little time on your hands.

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Vintage log buildings don't get much respect in Iowa. They're curiosities, tucked away on museum campuses here and there, but preservationists don't seem too interested in Iowa's earliest pioneer homes; perhaps because they tend to be very plain and lacking in architectural detail. Plus, a majority of the survivors are embedded in what appear to be newer buildings, dressed inside with lathe and plaster, clapboarded outside.

One young man who is trying to change that is Paul Cutting, who lives way up north near the Minnesota border in Winneshiek County, near Decorah. He's been at it since 2007 when, still a student at the University of Iowa, he rescued an old log house slated for demolition in his home county by disassembling it, then rebuilding it on his home farm.

In the years since, he has disassembled 10 log houses, rebuilt four, six still in storage on the family farm waiting. He also has recorded and documented approximately 160 log houses within a 40-mile radius of Decorah and found a total of about 250 in the general area.

That beautiful part of Iowa is especially rich in log buildings in part perhaps because many of its early settlers were Norwegian. Lucas Countyans built plenty of log cabins, then cast them aside as soon as they could and rebuilt in milled lumber. More provident Norwegians tended to recycle their cabins or log houses into larger homes, making them almost invisible in the process --- unless you know what to look for, and Cutting does.

I've been enjoying a little log cabin therapy this week, getting better acquainted (virtually) with Cutting and his work --- and learning a lot about log buildings in the process. You might, too, and there are several approaches.

Cutting's blog, Trout River Log House, is located here. Be sure to check out "About" and his "Portfolio," linked from the blog but at another site.

There's also a link on the blog to Trout River Log Cabin, the first cabin rescue, rebuilt on the family farm and now available as a holiday or special events rental. I believe Cutting, his partner and a dog all lived in this tiny house for a time. Trout River Log Cabin also has a Facebook page with lots of great photographs.

I ran across Cutting first via the video I've embedded below, from the Fair Companies site. I'm a big fan of Fair Company videos --- focused on small-scale sustainable dwellings, and came across this one as a YouTube subscriber. It's a half hour long, but really interesting.

While you're about it, take a virtual look around more of Winneshiek County (and Decorah). It's a really cool place (although cold is the best descriptor now, in January), home of Luther College. I'm a big fan of Vesterheim, the Norwegian-American Museum. It's the sort of place that makes a guy want to be a real Norwegian, rather than one who absorbed the nationality by osmosis after living among them for so long. It's also the home of Seed Savers Exchange.

The winter of our laments

Winter in Iowa and Minnesota so far this year has been a little like a 40-car weather-related pileup along Interstate 80. Even though you're caught in backed up traffic and that's inconvenient you can't help being intensely curious and a little excited --- even though that seems vaguely unsuitable; anxious to take a closer look when you're allowed to drive through the vehicular carnage.

We didn't suffer much here in the south of Iowa during Sunday's big blow. It was 48 degrees and spitting a little rain at mid-afternoon --- as transportation officials in the south of Minnesota were getting ready to close Interstate 90 between Albert Lea and the South Dakota border because of blowing snow.

It was kind of exciting to call up the official U.S. weather map and see that big swath of bright orange blizzard warning cutting down through Iowa from Minnesota --- and stopping two counties north of here.

By early evening the wind had kicked in and was gusting up to 50 mph. And it was getting colder. It was only 36 but very windy when I went uptown about 5 and took these two photos near the courthouse. Nearly froze my hands off. Right now, it's 1 degree --- and still windy.

But we didn't have any snow and what little was left from earlier falls either had melted during the day or was firmly iced down. 

The situation was considerably different up north. I borrowed my friend Jan's photo of her house, taken at mid-afternoon Sunday in St. Ansgar --- up by the Minnesota line, a pretty little town sometimes referred to as Minnesota Lite.

I enjoyed the Facebook weather reports from the Twin Cities south through North Iowa, even joined in the online complaining --- even though there wasn't too much here to complain about, except the cold.

Sometimes it's a little hard to find something to talk about in Iowa during January. The holidays are over; spring is weeks away. But at least this year we've had the weather --- and ample opportunity to develop our laments.

Give me a dose of that old-time liberal religion

One of my favorite wisecracks about Unitarians (today merged with Universalists) goes like this: "Unitarians believe that there is one god --- at the most."

That came to mind the other day when I inadvertently --- while looking for something else --- wandered into the 1908 presidential campaign during which Republican William Howard Taft (left, a Unitarian) narrowly defeated William Jennings Bryan (a devout Presbyterian, populist, prohibitionist and staunch defender of what today might be called creationism (remember the Scopes "monkey trial"?).

My memory of religion in politics goes back only to the 1960 presidential campaign, when some protestants engaged in a great deal of hand-wringing about John F. Kennedy's Roman Catholicism --- fantasizing about hotlines to Vatican City and that sort of thing. But the subject has arisen in many campaigns, including the most recent.

Back in 1908, protestant preachers, especially in the Midwest, had a field day with Taft's religion --- his devotion to the Unitarian outlook was lifelong. "Infidel" probably was the term most frequently used, but since anti-intellectualism also has been a thread among some protestant sects, other more adventurous preachers alleged that the portly candidate probably was a Catholic, too, perhaps even Episcopalian.

Taft ultimately transcended the 1908 debate and won, but lost his bid for re-election during 1912, a campaign that threw Theodore Roosevelt, reborn an independent and hardly an orthodox believer himself, into the mix --- thereby leading to the election of Democrat Woodrow Wilson. Taft went on to serve as chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court from 1921 until his death in 1930.

One of Taft's legacies is an eloquent characterization of Unitarianism as it stood at the turn of the 20th century, part of a 1917 address delivered in San Francisco when he was serving as president of the General Conference of Unitarian and Other Liberal Christian Churches:

"Now, what are Unitarians? Are they Christians? Of course, that is a matter of definition. If a man can be a Christian only when he believes in the literal truth of the creed as it is recited in the orthodox evangelical churches, then we Unitarians are not Christians. A Unitarian believes that Jesus Christ founded a new religion and a new religious philosophy on the love of God for man, and of men for one another, and for God, and taught it by his life and practice, with such Heaven-given sincerity, sweetness, simplicity, and all-compelling force that it lived after him in the souls of men, and became the basis for a civilization struggling toward the highest ideals. Unitarians, however, do not find the evidence of the truth of many traditions which have attached themselves to the life and history of Jesus to be strong enough to overcome the presumption against supernatural intervention in the order of nature. They feel the life of Jesus as a man to be more helpful to them, as a religious inspiration, than if he is to be regarded as God in human form."

Today's Unitarian Universalists are considerably more skittish about applying the term Christian to themselves, even engage in interesting debates now and then about whether the "G" word is appropriate for church. 

None of that means self-defined Christians (or Episcopalians) aren't welcome among them, however, and I enjoy and usually benefit from a good dose of truly liberal religion.

When the impulse toward that happens, I sometimes go to the Web page of All Souls Unitarian Universalist in Tulsa, with more than 2,000 members one of the largest UU congregations in the country. The congregation live-streams its 8:30, 10 and 11:30 a.m. services, then makes archived versions of sermons available.

Today's guest minister is the Rev. Galen Guengerich and the title, "God" (Revised). Here's a description: 

"Having left an upbringing in a family of Mennonite preachers to discover his own experience of God, Galen Guengerich understands the modern American struggle to combine modern world views with outdated religious dogma. Drawing upon his own experiences, he proposes that just as humanity has had to evolve its conception of the universe to coincide with new scientific discoveries, we are long overdue in evolving our concept of God. Gone are the days of the magical, supernatural deity in the sky who visits wrath upon those who have not followed his word. Especially in a scientific age, we need an experience of a God we can believe in — an experience that grounds our morality, unites us in community, and engages us with a world that still holds more mystery than answers."

If I hurry, maybe I can make it home in time to tune in at 11:30. Or maybe not. The annual parish meeting and potluck is on the agenda today, so it may be necessary to watch the archived sermon instead.

Coming this spring: The Charitone Market Grille

We're getting accustomed now to seeing the Charitone lighted up at night from top to bottom again --- and the big hotel sign shining brightly on the corner. So the anticipation (and speculation) has shifted to the Charitone Market Grille --- a full-service restaurant with related bar --- that will fill the first floor come spring.

Quite a few of our questions were answered early Friday morning when Tim Michael (left), store director at Chariton Hy-Vee, updated Kiwanians on the new hospitality venue, which most likely will open during April. Tim is serving as resident point person for development of the new restaurant.

The latest news, according to Michael, is the hiring earlier this week of Randy Lenger as general manager. Lenger is an experienced chef with family ties to southern Iowa who, among other accomplishments, helped launch Honey Creek Resort a few years ago as director of food and beverage services.

Lenger will head a staff of 56, according to Tim, six of whom (including Lenger) will fill full-time positions. So there's a good deal of hiring to do between now and spring.

The varied menu will be similar to that offered in other Hy-Vee Market Grilles --- an innovation launched a couple of years ago to bring upper-scale dining to the firm's super markets. I've been really pleased with the food and service at the big Urbandale Hy-Vee on the couple of occasions I've eaten there, and reviewers --- although a little disconcerted sometimes to find themselves enjoying a higher-end sit-down meal with wine (or beer) in a retail grocery setting --- have been consistently complimentary about the food, too.

The Charitone operation will be Hy-Vee's first (and perhaps only) free-standing Grille.

Although nothing is yet set in stone, according to Tim, the Grille most likely will open at 11 a.m. six days a week and at 10 a.m. on Sundays, and remain open until 10 p.m. --- somewhat later, until 11 p.m., on Fridays and Saturdays. Michael estimates that seating will be available for 80 to 100 patrons.

The bar area will be located in the west end of the first floor, with views of the square through those big arched windows; and the restaurant, behind similarly large windows that stretch along the south facade.

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Others associated with the Charitone's ownership, Lucas County Preservation Alliance and Hotel Charitone LLC --- also were on hand Friday morning to provide updates --- Alyse Hunter, Ray Meyer and Christopher Watkins. Denny Bisgard, who set up the program, missed the meeting because of the arrival of a new granddaughter. Evelyn Hull, who manages the apartment end of the operation, and I were along for the ride. I'll be working on a book about Charitone history, due out (we hope) by midyear.

Alyse praised the good natures of the new tenants --- all 12 apartments are full and there are names on a waiting list --- who not only are test-flying brand new homes but also contending with the fact the first floor remains a construction zone.

Glitches occur now and then. Ray, for example, noted a couple of evenings ago that the big Charitone sign wasn't lighted and called Alyse, who added "we don't have hot water either." As it turned out, electricians installing new panels for Market Grille services had disconnected both --- problems quickly resolved.

The variable refrigerant flow heating system has performed well during one of the coldest Iowa winters in recent Iowa memory, however --- and the upper apartments have proved to be remarkably quiet.

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Ray was able to report that an appeal for funding launched during November had proved successful --- by Thanksgiving, donations had passed the $1 million mark, the goal set by Hy-Vee when it committed $1.6 million to the Charitone project. Of that amount, $500,000 came from the Vredenburg Foundation, $100,000 from the Coons Foundation, and the balance from approximately 250 other donors.

The fund-raising effort continues, however, in an effort to raise the additional $200,000 that will be required to complete the project without long-term debt, Ray said.

Anyone interested in making a tax-deductible contribution to the Lucas County Preservation Alliance for the Charitone project is welcome to contact Hunter, Meyer or Bisgard in person; telephone (641) 774-2179; or write in care of P.O. Box 678, Chariton, IA 50049.

It's 4 o'clock in the morning ...

... 4:48 to be exact, but I'm about to pay the penalty for losing track of time anyway. This involves going to a 6:30 a.m. meeting to accomplish what could have been accomplished at a noon meeting last Friday, if I hadn't forgotten last Friday that it was Friday and neglected to walk down the hill, having been invited to lunch.

At least it's warmed up to 9 degrees this morning, a considerabe improvement over yesterday's subzero.

But I started the morning by watching the lovely video embedded here --- John Pearson's January walk along the cliffs of Cordova and Elk Rock cliffs at Red Rock Lake, just up the road. John blogs here; not often enough, but still ...

Then, feeling more positive about winter, I went to Larry Stone's Iowa to read his little essay about the season.

Then, at Simple Pleasures, I found this link to an Iowa Public Radio interview with Corydon's Enfys McMurry about her new book, "Centerville: A Mid-American Saga." I don't have the time to listen now, but will come back here and do that later in the day (Just click on "Listen" once you've reached the Web page).

In the meantime, have a great day!

Uriah Green's big old house in Mount Carroll

This big old square Italianate that Uriah Green built of brick and stone in Mount Carroll, Illinois, ca. 1873 caught my eye for a couple of reasons. The purchase price, $26,900, certainly is one (although many thousands would be required to make it barely livable and many times the purchase price, to restore it).

I'm interested, too, in Mount Carroll itself because it was home to my great-grandmother's uncle, James M. Hunter, attorney and Illinois legislator, who while affluent enough lived in nothing so grand. He would, however, have been on hand to watch it go up. 

Some of Grandmother's uncles apprenticed themselves to "Uncle Jim" in Mount Carroll before passing the bar and hanging out their own shingles in Iowa and South Dakota, so Mt. Carroll was one of those places she carried around in her head and mythologized after the premature death of her mother --- after which she was parked with an aunt in Lucas County while her father and older brothers built new lives for themselves in Wyoming. 

Mount Carroll is the seat of Carroll County, which borders the Mississippi upstream from Clinton, but the town is located several miles inland.

Uriah was a Carroll County pioneer who had made sufficient money as a farmer and land speculator by his mid-50s to move into town, build this house and become a "capitalist." He lived here with his wife, Almeda, until 1894, when he died and was buried near another approrpriately big chunky hunk of rock in Oak Hill Cemetery.

The old house, built above a high and livable basement, appears to have sailed through the years in remarkably good shape structurally, although a little deteriorating brickwork is visible on the kitchen wing. The major losses seem to have been shutters and elaborate wrought ironwork, used as trim and long since vanished.

The house seems plain at first glance, but contains a number of interesting features, still for the most part intact. The cupola still is there (although missing trim) and I like the look of the big flying bays with no visible means of support located in the two front parlors that flank the entrance hall. Not sure I'd enjoy living with them, however. It's minus-six here this morning and about minus-eight in Mount Carroll, so I can almost feel the cold seeping through the bays and into the house.

The front porch appears to be original, but I thought at first that the five long french windows on the first floor, two opening onto the porch and three onto small balconies that still are hanging on, might have been later additions. They appear in early views of the house, however, so apparently are original. Must have been thought quite innovative at the time.

I love the big chunky millwork throughout the house, entirely in keeping with and on the same scale as the structure. The original wood graining still is evident in the dining room and a smaller first-floor room that may have served as a parlor bedroom. Elsewhere, the graining has been painted over.

It's useful to remember that raw wood, so beloved today, was not so much appreciated when this house was built --- heavily grained oak would have been looked upon as just plain tacky although fine mahogany and perhaps walnut would have been appreciated. So a major style at the time was millwork of lesser woods, elaborately hand-grained.

The house also lacks fireplaces, another feature favored by old house lovers today. With the possible exception of one of the big parlors, where an ugly small fireplace is located today, the Green house was heated entirely by far more practical stoves. And I'm wondering if there might originally have been a built-in stove in this room originally. You can see a small version of one of those in Chariton's dual gables house, and will when I finally get around to taking some photos of its interior.

There are four big rooms on the first floor of the Green House, with the two front parlors flanking a modest stair hall at the front and kitchen wing extending to the rear. A secondary stair leads from the kitchen to the low-ceiling room above it, perhaps intended for servants.

Ceiling heights are lower on the second floor of the main block, too, but the rooms match in size those on the floor below. One interesting feature of the second floor is the fact that two of the bedrooms on one side of the central hall flow together through a big doorway into one space. Was this the master bedroom with adjoining sitting room, separate but connected bedrooms for the owner and his wife or a space intended for other purposes? Who knows?

One reason the house is priced so inexpensively is that it sold not too long ago at a foreclosure sale for even less. It appears as if someone moved in and launched a renovation effort, then ran out of money and/or enthusiasm.

Whatever the case, it's an old house dreamer's dream --- providing he or she was content to live without fireplaces and in Mount Carroll and had lots of money and not inconsiderable skills.

You can see the Zillow listing for the Uriah Green house here, along with more photographs. If traffic bothers you, that would be an issue since it faces North Clay Street, which also is Highway 78 and the main drag through town.

Chariton Cemetery and the Murphy Bed

Not going to even bring up "eternal rest" --- way too tacky --- even though there is a link between the Chariton Cemetery and the Murphy Bed.

Remember those beds? Widely popular during the 1920s and 1930s --- and still being manufactured in various forms today --- they fold up vertically, then disappear. The most popular Hollywood images from that era involved a recess in the wall into which they folded before a door was closed to conceal them. Most manufactured today disappear into free-standing pieces of furniture or custom cabinetry.

Anyhow, a guy named William L. Murphy, a native Californian born Jan. 1, 1876, invented the bed at the turn of the 20th Century in San Francisco. He was living in a one-room apartment at the time, much of it occupied by a bed. But he wanted to entertain. So he came up with the idea of a folding bed, applied for his first patent about 1900 and the Murphy Door Bed Co. was born. You can read more about the history of the bed on the Web page of Murphy Bed Co. Inc., located here.

In 1918, William L. invented the pivot bed --- it pivoted on the doorjamb of a closet and then was lowered into sleeping position.

The company moved to New York City in 1925 as the Murphy Door Bed Co. and although the name was shortened in 1990 to Murphy Bed Co., it still operates in the neighborhood --- corporate offices, manufacturing plant and warehouses are in Farmingdale, on Long Island.

Chariton enters the picture somewhat obliquely about 1940, when Catherine "Kay" Clark transferred from the University of Iowa to Barnard College, in New York City. At the time her parents, O.A. and Sylvesta Clark, owned the Hotel Charitone and her older brother, Jack, was managing it.

She was born Sept. 6, 1919, in Clarinda and spent her childhood moving from town to town in southern Iowa, finally Ottumwa --- living near whichever of the family hotels her father was managing.

While in New York, Kay met William K. Murphy, son of Murphy Bed inventor William L. Murphy. They were married in Ottumwa, then returned to New York where he was associated with the family firm. 

William K. Murphy returned to the firm after service during World War II and in 1959, upon the death of his father, became its president --- a position he held until 1983, when he died.

Kay Clark had been a frequent visitor to Chariton and the Hotel Charitone since 1931, when her father took control of the business. Those frequent visits, after the war with her husband and their son, Clark W. Murphy, continued until 1965 --- during the years her brother, Jack, managed and later owned the Charitone.  Her mother, Sylvesta, was brought to the Chariton Cemetery from Ottumwa for burial during 1950.

When William L. Clark died during 1983, the decision was made to bring his remains from New York to Chariton for burial on the Clark family lot. Other family members also buried there by that time in addition to Sylvesta Clark included Kay (Clark) Murphy's stepmother, Elizabeth, and brothers, Jack and Ford. O.A. Clark was buried there in 1988.

Kay Murphy became more active in the business after her husband's death, but moved to Midland, Texas, in 1987 and died there on Nov. 28, 2005. Her remains, too, were brought to Chariton --- and buried beside those of her husband. 

She was survived by her brother, George E. Clark, also of Midland, and her son Clark, who had assumed management of the Murphy Bed Co. upon his father's death.

Big chill & the O.A. Clark family at Find a Grave

We're back in the deep freeze here at 5 a.m. today after temperatures fell from a high of 45 at mid-morning yesterday to 1 degree right now --- with a modest evening snowstorm thrown in for good measure.

Before it got too cold yesterday afternoon, I drove out the cemetery to take photos needed to complete entries at Find A Grave --- that vast virtual online cemetery beloved by family history buffs --- for members of the O.A. Clark family, the Hotel Charitone's first family.

If you've not visited it, and are at all interested in the general subject, hours can be spent (or wasted, depending upon how you look at it) at Find A Grave tracking down family, friends and famous people. You'll find the Orliff A. Clark page here.

Skip made the original inscription entries for the Clarks and added four tombstone photos; I added photos of the big family stone and the individual stones of Jack, Orliff A. and Sylvesta Clark.

Anyone can sign up to add entries and photographs to Find A Grave. Doris (Cottrell) Christensen is Lucas County's most prolific tombstone photographer. She leaps tall buildings --- and photographs entire cemeteries in one take.

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It's a little unexpected to find the Clarks in the Chariton Cemetery since only one of the seven family members buried here, son Jack, actually lived in Chariton --- although O.A. Clark was here frequently during the years the Hotel Charitone was under family management, from 1931 until 1971, and the others were frequent visitors.

But life in the hotel business had taken the family from town to town depending upon which of the family hotels O.A. was managing --- Clarinda, Fairfield, Albia and finally Ottumwa, where upon its purchase during 1934 the Ballingall Hotel --- demolished in 1996 --- became the family flagship.

So it may have been Jack, associated with the Charitone off and on for 30 years, who suggested Chariton as a burial place when his mother, Sylvesta, died during 1950. Others who have joined her on the family lot since are O.A. Clark's second wife, Elizabeth (1906-1966); son Jack (1916-1977); son Ford (1931-1980); son-in-law William K. Murphy (1918-1983); O.A. Clark himself (1892-1988) and finally daughter Catherine "Kay" (Clark) Murphy (1919-2005). The fourth and youngest of the four Clark children was George.

O.A. Clark named his son, Jack, as Charitone manager during 1937 --- when he was 21 --- and the younger Clark remained in that position until about 1940, when he moved to the East Coast to study and work as an artist and musician before enlisting in the U.S. Navy for service during World War II.

Jack returned to manage the Charitone after the war and became a business and civic leader during the next 20 years. He was an accomplished artist and also an early members of Chariton's acclaimed Aeolian Singers. Jack sold his interest in the Charitone to his father during 1965 and moved on. He had been teaching art in the Fairfield school system not long before his 1977 death, and was doing post-graduate work at the University of Iowa when he died in Iowa City.

Ford Clark, when he died of cancer at age 48, was working as a reporter and columnist for The Cedar Rapids Gazette and his accounts of his struggle with the disease were widely acclaimed. He also had worked as a radio reporter and contributing editor for Iowa Public Radio.

Ford also wrote two novels, one of which --- "The Open Square," published in 1962 --- became widely known under less than ideal circumstances four years later. The plot of the novel includes a student who barricades himself in a university clock tower and opens fire on those below.

In 1966, Charles Whitman duplicated the acts of the fictitious character during a killing spree, mostly at the University of Texas in Austin that killed 16 and wounded 32. There was no indication, however, that Whitman had been influenced by the book.

By all accounts, Ford Clark was a gifted writer --- who died far too young.

Charitone trivia: Bright lights, neon nights

The Charitone has been looking like this since shortly after Jan. 1, when tenants started moving into their new apartments on the second through fourth floors and as work continues on turning the first floor into a Hy-Vee hospitality venue.

The reality is a little more sharply focused than the digital version, but you do the best you can with the equipment you've got.

I'd have gotten uptown to take this photo earlier, but have been in denial about the fact we're having an old-fashioned Iowa winter, cowering inside when possible.

Isn't it great to see the big neon sign shining out at night again? Not to mention lighted windows.

Neon nights have been in effect on this corner of the square, off and on, since the evening of Tuesday, March 17, 1931, when the current big sign's predecessor was lighted for the first time --- going on 83 years ago.

I'm not sure when the current sign --- recently restored, rehung and relighted for the first time during late November --- was installed. It's similar, but not quite the same. Take a look at the first sign in the photo below.

The Chariton Leader announced the original sign's lighting in a front-page story in its issue of March 17, 1931, that was headlined: "Neon Electric Sign To Blazon Name of the Charitone Hotel Tonight."

"When the lights come on tonight the people of Chariton will be greeted with a new, large, beautiful Neon electric sign bearing the worlds 'Hotel Charitone,' The Leader reported.

"The sign is being placed on the southwest corner of the hotel building today. The world 'Hotel' is placed horizontally at the top of the sign, and then down the height of the building comes the word 'Charitone.'

"Travelers entering the city at night cannot fail to see this sign, unless they are blind, or cockeyed, in which latter case it is probable that they would see several signs at once."

The big sign was among many improvements made to the Charitone after March 1, 1931, when its management passed into the hands of brothers O.A. Clark, of Albia, and B.F. Clark, of Chillicothe, Missouri. O.A. rarely used his given name, perhaps because it was Orliff Albert.

The Clarks had announced during February 1931 that they had taken a 10-year lease on the hotel from the men who had built it during 1923, William D. Junkin and his son-in-law, Henry F. McCullough.

Junkin and McCullough had managed the hotel for seven years, moving their families into suites in the building. But the men, former owners of a substantial interest in The Herald-Patriot, had discovered that their hearts remained in the newspaper business. They purchased The Brainerd (Minnesota) Dispatch later during 1931 and headed north. The Dispatch was owned by the Junkin/McCullough family until 1984.

The Clark lease on The Charitone became effective July 1, 1931, but O.A. Clark assumed management and commenced improvements March 1.

This was a substantial financial transaction for the time. The Clarks purchased the contents of the hotel building for $25,000 and agreed to pay Junkin and McCullough $750 per month, or $9,000 annually, for the next 10 years for use of the building. After 10 years had passed, the Clarks purchased the building, too.

The Clark brothers, who had begun careers in the hotel business with their father in Clarinda, also operated hotels in Albia, Fairfield and Clarinda as well as Chillicothe. Ottumwa's Hotel Ballingall was added to the chain during 1934.

Also on March 1, management of the hotel dining room was assumed by John Watson, of Albia, who had been operating the Imperial Cafe there as a partner in the firm Watson & Nylander.

The Clarks moved immediately, too, to ensure that Charitone rooms were equipped with the latest in communications technology:

"In addition to this new neon sign," The Leader reported, "Manager Clark, of the Charitone, announced that yesterday forty-six writing desks and tables had been installed in the rooms of the hotel. These desks, in addition to those already in use, will equip every room in the hotel with this particular bit of furniture, and add materially to the convenience of patrons of the hotel.

"Improvements of various kinds will continue to be made, according to Mr. Clark, until it can be truthfully said that no hotel in Iowa is more completely equipped for the comfort and convenience of guests than is the Charitone."

Iowa and the amazing technicolor organ builder

I started attending church on a regular basis after leaving home, where regular church-going did not have a high priority, in order to listen to pipe organs rather than preachers. That was in Iowa City, and I've been hooked since, even though my churches rarely have had fine instruments. 

The closest I've come to profound experiences in the filtered light of stained glass has been courtesy of skilled organists and fine instruments, not sermons. Preachers are a dime a dozen; a talented organist --- well, his or her value is far above that of rubies or pearls.

This applies even if the organist is confined to a digital instrument, although of course pipe organs are preferable.

I'm not sure how many Iowans are aware that our state is home to one of the Americas' most renowned small craft-builders of pipe organs, Dobson Pipe Organ Builders, Ltd., headquartered on the corner of the town square in Lake City, a town of 1,700 in Calhoun County.

That's a photo of the company's latest, Opus 91, installed recently in the chapel of Merton College, Oxford, to celebrate its 750th anniversary. It will premiere formally during a year-long festival commencing April 26 and concluding on November 15.

If you go to the beautiful and informative Dobson Web Site, which is located here, you'll enter by clicking on this photo.

The amazing multi-talented man behind the operation is Lynn Dobson, who founded the company in 1974 and continues as its president and artistic director. You can read his "staff" biography here and a related history of the company here. Dobson built his first organ in a shed on the family farm while in college and founded the firm that bears his name in Lake City during 1974.

The first Dobson I heard was one of the earliest, installed in the old chapel at Bethany Lutheran College in Mankato (Opus 10, 1979), now enlarged and moved to a new chapel.

Since it's Sunday morning a little music seems in order. Here's Jungjin Kim performing Jean Langlais' "Fete, Op. 51" on Dobson Opus 75 (2003), built in Lake City and installed in the new Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels," Los Angeles.

And Haig Mardirosian performing Louis Vierne's "Finale Symphony 1" for organ on Dobson Opus 89 (2011) in the Sykes Chapel and Center for Faith and Values at the University of Tampa.

Pipe dreams

Samuel M. Greene's reference yesterday to the pipe organ at First United Methodist Church, financed in part by Andrew Carnegie, got me to thinking about other instruments in Chariton.

So far as I know, there have only been four pipe organs --- and two survive. Three were located in churches; the fourth, in a private home. The Methodist organ is the earliest.

That's the facing (above) of the pipe chamber at First Presbyterian Church, however, where the organ was installed in 1929-30. It just happened to be the only pipe organ photo I had on hand.

First Methodist Episcopal Church was built at the intersection of North Main and Roland in 1899-1900 and an alcove for a pipe organ was included, but none installed. The Methodist pulpit --- Methodists generally considered altars too Catholic at that time --- was centered originally under a rose window dedicated to the memory of the Rev. G.W. Roderick high in the east wall of the auditorium, so the alclove most likely was on one side or the other.

As mentioned yesterday, Greene, editor and publisher of The Chariton Herald and also a Methodist trustee, laid the groundwork for acquisition of an organ by writing to philanthropist Andrew Carnegie, who agreed to pay half the cost of a $3,000 instrument once $1,500 had been raised locally. 

Will Eikenberry offered $500 --- no doubt about that. Greene recalled that businessman and fellow trustee W.G. Brown offered $500, too. Contemporary newspaper reports, however, state that Will Eikenberry's sister, Mrs. Carl Sigler of Indianola, was the donor of the second $500. The balance was raised in smaller amounts.

The new organ, built by Henry Pilcher's Sons, Louisville (Opus 543, 2 manuals, 17 ranks), was in place and ready to premiere during an August, 1906, recital featuring Prof. F.E. Barrows of the Simpson College Conservatory of Music.

This organ continues to serve the Methodist church, although rebuilt several times. In fact, it dominates the auditorium --- along the with choir loft in which its console is located.

Shortly after the Methodist Episcopal pipe organ was installed, installation of a Hillgreen-Lane instrument commenced at the new St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, which under the leadership of Jessie (Mallory) Thayer had the most ambitious music program of the time among Chariton churches.

This organ premiered during a public recital on Nov. 22, 1906, by Prof. William E. Zeuch of Chicago. This instrument, perhaps the largest of the Chariton instruments, served St. Andrew's until 1955, when it perished along with the church building. No details about it have survived and, by some accounts, larger pipes were recycled for use as farm fence posts after the church was demolished.

Chariton's Presbyterians had aspired toward a pipe organ upon completion of their distinctive new domed building during 1908 --- a pipe chamber was built into the northeast corner of the auditorium --- but 20 years were required to acquire it. 

The two-manual instrument that continues to serve the congregation was built during 1929 by the Estey Organ Co.(Opus 2860) of Brattleboro, Vermont, at a cost of $6,800. It was used for the first time during January of 1930.

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Perhaps the most interesting of Chariton's pipe organs, although by no means the best, once was located just two doors east of First Prebyterian where it had been hand-built in his living room by Dr. Lucius H. Oatman, an optometrist who while not an accomplished player was fascinated by pipe organs.

Born in Wisconsin during 1863 and trained in Dubuque as a watchmaker and jeweler, Oatman married Anna Sexsmith during 1888 and the family  moved to Guthrie Center, where he managed a jewelry store and studied optometry.

Anna Oatman died at Guthrie Center during 1923, leaving two adult daughters, and in 1929, now a licensed optometrist, Lucius relocated to Chariton --- just in time to see his new offices go up in smoke during the great southside fire of 1930.

He married Luella F. Bell, of Des Moines, who also had adult children, during 1932 and they purchased the big old square house on Braden Avenue two doors east of First Presbyterian Church that would remain their home until Dr. Oatman's death during 1952 at age 89. That house was demolished in 1965 and a fourplex constructed on its site.

Oatman began work on his pipe organ in Guthrie Center just after the death of his wife during 1923 and worked on it for five years there where, it was reported later, some contended that "Oatman has a screw loose." He learned how to build from textbooks, manuals and detailed questioning of organ builders and assemblers.

The organ and its components were relocated to Chariton during the 1930s and, by 1939, it was basically complete, although Oatman continued to fiddle with it during the remainder of his life. The organ console and cased pipes were located in the living room of the Oatman home, but the instrument extended into an adjacent chamber. The motor and blower were located in the basement. 

The organ and its builder were featured in a front-page article in The Herald-Patriot of April 20, 1939, and at that time Oatman's plans included an echo organ for the second floor. Whether that was completed or not just isn't known.

It was, however, a substantial and attractive instrument, albeit an unlikely piece of living room furniture.

Because the organ was built into the house, it was advertised as an asset when the Oatman daughters put the building on the market during the late 1950s after the death of Luella Oatman. Most likely, it was demolished with the old house during 1965.

Blizzards & Sam Greene's memories

The sun was shining --- with a low bank of gray clouds in the west --- during the drive down to Hy-Vee about 3:30 yesterday. After a half hour inside, the grey horizon had turned into a black wall with smoke-like rolls of clouds leading the advance overhead. Snow began upon exiting the parking lot and it was a whiteout by the time I'd climbed the hill and pulled into the garage a few blocks later.

Shortly thereafter, the National Weather Service issued a surprise blizzard warning --- and that's the way it went into the evening. A mean night, especially so for those on the roads.

So I warmed my hands over a hot PC after the powers that be wisely cancelled a meeting and began research for a couple of projects --- then was diverted by this article from The Herald-Patriot of Oct. 31, 1957.

The author was Samuel M. Greene, up in years and living in Englewood, California. But the memories, spurred by reading a centennial edition of the Herald-Patriot (The Patriot was established in 1857), dated back to 1900-1912, his years as owner, editor and publisher of The Chariton Herald, then co-owner of the merged Herald-Patriot.

We learn, among other things, that it was Greene --- then a trustee of First Methodist Episcopal Church --- who facilitated the $1,500 gift from Andrew Carnegie that paid half the cost of the pipe organ still in use (although reworked several times) at First United Methodist Church.

Because the public libraries that Carnegie helped to build --- including Chariton's --- were considerably larger, it's been kind of forgotten that he also helped to purchase about 8,000 pipe organs for congregations and other institutions across America.

Here's the article (with a few added notes):

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ENGLEWOOD, Calif. --- Since reading the Herald-Patriot centennial edition several times, as it was so interesting, I thought a few more anecdotes of early Chariton, during the years we lived there, from 1900 to 1912, might be interesting.

The mention of the Beardsley Mortuary recalled to me that Sam Beardsley, who started the Mortuary, learned the undertaking business under Nick Melville. Nick was also head mogul of the K.P. Lodge, and presided at my  initiation into the Lodge when we lived there. Mrs. Beardsley is now operating the mortuary since Sam died, in the big house south of the southeast corner of the square that was Frank Crocker's home when we lived there.

Frank was a big shot in Chariton, socially as well as financially. He was president (actually only head cashier and manager) of the First National Bank, at the northwest corner of the square, and was also national treasurer of the Modern Woodmen of America, and kept their treasury funds in his bank. There was about a million dollars (actually about $300,000) in the M.W.A. treasury and Frank very foolishly began using the fund to speculate on the Chicago Board of Trade. In a market slump he lost almost the entire million (sic), and rather than face his disgrace, he committed suicide at his home one night, by taking poison.

His tragic death was a tremendous shock to Chariton, and when the Government closed his bank, because of the big loss, the depositors finally got only about thirty percent of their deposts. I was probably the only depositor who didn't lose any money, as I happened to be overdrawn by about $17 on the day the bank was closed.

We lived in a house we had bought a block north of "Buzz" Larimer's corner on East Auburn, in northeast Chariton (the current home of Kay Brown and Rex Johnson). Our oldest son Paul was born when we lived in Clarinda, before I bought the Herald in Chariton in 1900, but our next two children, Loren and Doris, were born in that house in northeast Chariton. There was no hospital in Chariton then, so babies had to be born at home. Dr. Theodore Stanton, who lived near Buzz Larimer on East Auburn, was our family doctor.

I don't know just when the Albert Yocom hospital across the street from the Herald-Patriot's present office, was started, but I do remember that Albert worked for me as a reporter for a while when I had the Herald, on North Main Street. His father, who was a doctor, wanted Albert to be a newspaper man, but Albert didn't fancy the work, so decided to study medicine instead. He and his wife, one of the Curtis daughters, started the hospital, and have made a big success of it. When we lived there I thought she was the prettiest girl in Chariton. I never told my wife so, however.

Speaking of East Auburn Ave., W.G. Brown, who was one of the trustees with me in the Methodist church, built the big mansion that later became the home of Harry Stewart and his family. (This is the big house now in a sad state of disrepair at the intersection of Auburn Avenue and North Eighth Street.)

Mr. Brown was wealthy and public spirited, and when I induced the Carnegie Foundation to donate $1,500 toward purchasing a pipe organ for our church, on condition that we raise $1,500 more to buy the organ, Mr. Brown immediately donated $500 toward the fund.

Then Will Eikenberry, who owned a big lumber yard north of the church, giave another $500 and raising the other $500 was easy. That's how the church got the first pipe organ in Chariton. I've wondered whether they still have the same organ. (Editor's note --- It is. Though it has been rebuilt on several occasions).

Harry Stewart and his wife were also close friends of mine. His wife, who was Mona Clayton of Indianola before she was married, was a student at Simpson College when I went to school there for a year. She lived in the big house on East Auburn till she died a few years ago, just before I visited Chariton on a trip. I was sorry indeed to miss seeing her. I have been told that the big house is now a rest home.

Harry and I had two of the first autos in Chariton, both two cylinder Buicks, and both pretty punk, if you ask me. Auto makers had not quite developed good autos at that time. Harry's car and mine had the engine under the front seat, with the engine crank on the right side. The gas tank was under the hood. A chain drive from the engine to the rear axle was always breaking when I was on a drive, and I would have to hire a team of horses to haul my car home. If we drove out into the country we nearly always scared a farmer's team of horses, as they had never seen an auto before, and they would break the wagon tongue or try to run away. The farmers would then come in and stop their subscriptions to the Herald.

There was one earlier auto in Chariton, bought by Harry Penick in 1903 or 1904, I believe. Harry Stewart and I bought ours in 1905 or 1906. Harry Penick's car was always getting out of fix, too, when he went out on a trip. Harry Penick had a brother named James Penick, who was a lawyer, and he had a son named Raymond, who used to play tennis with me, as that was my favorite game. I even had a dirt court in the back yard of our home in northeast Chariton. Raymond and I won the Southern Iowa doubles championshps one year, in a big tournament, and I still have the old-style racket that I won as the prize. I always loved the game of tennis, and kept it up till only a few years ago. I also taught all three of our children to play, and they all became fine players.

I see in the special edition sent me that you still use the same title type that I selected for the Herald when I bought it in 1900, and also used for the Herald-Patriot when Paul and Chas. Junkin and I combined the two papers in 1909. My family and I had made a couple of tirps to California years before, and the California fever finally got the best of us in 1912 and I sold my share of the paper to Will Junkin and we came to California to stay.

When I first bought the Herald it was in a one-story building alongside the alley a half block north of the First National Bank. I published it there till we combined it with the Patriot, when we moved to the rear building of Hollinger & Larimer's across the street from the Bates Hotel. Will Junkin later built the building where you folks still publish the paper.

I noticed an interesting thing when I was in Chariton the last time, four or five years ago. On the north wall of my old Herald building, on North Main street, I could still see part of the world "Herald," painted in big type near the top of the wall. A restaurant building alongside the old quarters hid most of the name. That sign was painted there soon after 1900, so it must have been good paint.

My closest friend among the business men was John Darrah, owner of the Fair Store on the north side of the square (later the location of Spurgeon's, now Lindy's Closet). He was a very successful business man, and I foolishly induced him to run for the State Legislature, and he got so interested in politics that he neglected his business and finally had to discontinue his store. He is now living in retirement in Kansas City, quite lame from a paralytic stroke, I understand.

Southern Iowa counties in my early years in Chariton were decidedly stand-pat in politics, due largely to the powerful influence of the C.B. & Q. political bosses. John Darrah and I led a rebellion from that railroad dictation, and helped to elect Albert B. Cummins as governor, and to defeat Wm. P. Hepburn, our standpat congressman. From then on Iowa rapidly became a Progressive state.

Your Centennial edition mentioned many early citizens whom I have happy memories about, but I can't mention them all. I will however mention W.B. Dutcher and wife, who come to Inglewood occasionally to visit their daughter, Helen Major, and son who lives near here. Helen and I get together occasionally to talk about old times and old friends in Chariton.

I'll close by mentioning an amusing little incident about Jim Penick, attorney friend of mine, whom I have mentioned above.

Jim had a keen sense of humor, and one evening when he was coming home from Indianola on the pokey little train that made the trip daily, the train made such slow time that Jim finally said to the conductor, who was an old-time friend of his: "Is this all the faster your train can run? I could have walked home faster than this."

"Why don't you get out and walk, then?" asked the conductor.

"I would," replied Jim, "only my folks won't be at the depot to meet me till time for the train to get in."