A pioneer version of, "Come on baby, light my fire"

Charles F. Noble, who died in Chariton during 1933 at age 97, was a good story-teller --- and that's fortunate. He arrived in Lucas County during 1857 to open a blacksmith shop in LaGrange, then the county's second city, now a location marked by a cemetery and a couple of houses just north of U.S. 34 at the Lucas-Monroe county line.

He knew many of the first settlers and left behind a variety of stories concerning them. Some of his stories were included in a January 2017 post here entitled Charley Noble: From Lincoln to Roosevelt.

Here's another set of stories, published in The Herald-Patriot of Dec. 30, 1920, under the headline, "Memories of an Old Settler of Lucas County, State of Iowa."

A separate story, told by W.H. Sellers, concludes the piece. There's no accompanying explanation of how or why the stories were gathered.

Whatever the case, after reading this you're invited to think the next time you flick a match or a lighter in order to start a fire about the days when, if you let your fire go out, it would be necessary to hitch up the oxen and drive seven miles in order to "borrow fire" from a neighbor.

+++

The writer of the following lines was born in Canada, in the year 1836, of Scotch parents. In his eighteenth year he got leave of his father to go from home and learn the blacksmith trade. He came to Lucas county, Iowa, October 22, 1857, with a cash capital of fifteen dollars. He soon became acquainted with many of the first settlers, among whom were the following:

+++

Jesse Anderson was the first settler in western Monroe County. He related to the writer some of his adventures. He stated that when they fried their meat in the chimney in winter that the wolves would come up to the door of his cabin to get meat. He kept two large dogs that would fight anything; and one night they were fighting a very large wolf at the cabin door.

Mr. Anderson's dogs were getting the worst of it and he caught the wolf by the hind legs. The dogs then let go and the wolf turned on Mr. Anderson. Still holding on to its hind legs and kicking with his right and left foot as the case demanded, he called to his wife to bring the butcher knife and cut the wolf's ham strings (which was a job that the old lady had never promised to do) and was compelled to let go and lose the wolf.

I was told by Mrs. Alonzo Trowbridge that Mr. Anderson came to their house in the winter of 1851 (the first winter that they were here) and Mr. Trowbridge was sick, and he (Mr. Anderson) brought them the hindquarters of a deer and some honey. Mrs. Trowbridge says, with many others, that Mr. Anderson was a good-hearted and honest man.

+++

William McDermott, supposed to be the first white settler in Lucas county, stood in my shop hearing Mr. Anderson relate his encounters with the wolf; and he asked Mr. Anderson if he remembered when he, McDermott, went to Mr. Anderson's for fire one very cold day after a snowstorm. When he got up that morning, his fire was out and the only show for fire was to go to his nearest neighbors, which was seven miles distant. 

He left his wife and children in bed and yoked up his oxen to the sled and took a large kettle of chips and wood and started over the hills to Mr. Anderson's. After a hard day's work breaking through the snow drifts, Mr. McDermott got home a little after sundown and started a good fire in the fireplace, then started a long distance to water his cattle and feed them.

On his return to the cabin he found two lazy wolves in the path wanting some of his meat that was frying in the fire. He used his vocal organs with such power that his wife, hearing an unusual melody outdoors, opened the door and the light from the fire drove the wolves away, and he went to get his breakfast with his family.

+++

Mr. Samuel Prather, an aged lawyer and surveyor from Indiana, came to this county in the year 1850 or 1851, and got forty acres of land twelve miles east of Chariton. He surveyed it off into town lots and named it LaGrange, which for fifteen years ranked second among the towns in the county in population and business. Mr. Prather sold town lots and got a horse and wagon and went to peddling notions over the county.

While resting in one of the first stores in Chariton, he got in an argument with a farmer on some point of law. The merchant, being a young lawyer, disputed Uncle Sammy's judgment of law. This was too much for Uncle Sammy, and his said, "Mr. O. L, I don't want any of your counsel." This so aggravated the merchant that he said, "If it was not for your gray hair, I would kick you out of the store." To this, Mr. Prather replied, "Never mind the gray hair, pay no attention to my gray hair, Mr. O.L." This so bluffed O.L. that he said, "I shall treat you with silent contempt, sir." Mr. Prather said, "It is a pity that you did not think of that sooner, before you made such a damned fool of yourself."

Mr. Prather left here in April, 1859, all alone with his horse and wagon, to try his fortune in Kansas. He was taken sick and died before he reached his destination. He was a very honest man.

+++

Mr. James Robinson related to me when I first came here, that he and Milton Allen, Andy Allen and James Roland came on ahead of their families in the fall of 1848, I think, to put up their cabins and make rails. They brought with them their oxen. It was a very hard winter, and during a very severe storm they ran out of provisions and had to live on hominy.

When the storm was over, they took two yoke of oxen to go out east and hunt for provisions. They poured all their hominy under the cabin floor for the chickens and started to break the crust of snow before their oxen on every east hillside. They worked till nearly night and only got four or five miles for home, and had to return home after night and get up a fire and boil more hominy before they could get a bite to eat.

They started the next morning and got down near Albia to a place, I think the name was Zimmers. Mr. Roland was a very corpulent man, and breaking the crust before the oxen all day he was hardly able to speak. Mrs. Zimmers had a large dish of steaming pork and potatoes on the table; and when asking Mr. Roland questions, who they were and where bound, Mr. Roland kept his eyes on the steaming dish and said, "Mrs. Zimmers, if you will be so kind as to give me some of those potatoes and meat, I will be more able to answer your questions, to which she agreed.

+++

After this a few years there was a very wet season and very little raised. Mr. Roland's oldest son, Thomas, got $20 from his father-in-law and went over to Red Rock and laid out in meal to sell to his neighbors at a dollar and a half a bushel.

Mr. Lawson Rymer, a neighbor with five small children, was entirely out of bread, and went to young Roland to get a half bushel on time, and he would not let him have it. Mr. Rymer then went to Uncle Jimmie Roland to get him to intercede in his behalf. Mr. Roland went that night over to John Long's, as he had a good yoke of oxen, to get him to go over to Red Rock and invest in meal all the money he could find in the neighborhood the next day, and let Tom keep his old meal. Also, he promised to send a boy over to plough corn for J. Long while he was away. John Long returned from Red Rock after three days hard driving with oxen with enough meal to answer present wants at a dollar a bushel, and let the neighbors have in on time.

John Long had two acres of good rye that he cut with a cradle and threshed out with a frail and divided out with his neighbors until wheat was ripe. The same year (I think about 1859), Mrs. Dukes, with her son, John, a boy of about 17 years, lost their cow for want of feed. John skinned the old cow and took the hide to Chariton and sold it for two dollars and fifty cents, then went clear to Red Rock and got two bushels and a half of meal which saved them from suffering for want of food. This is about the last of the real hard times for provisions that I have any knowledge of among the farmers.

+++

W.H. Sellers, who lives southeast of Chariton, told us Saturday how about sixty years ago he obtained a Fourth reader which was necessary in his school work. At the time he was 12 years old and lived twelve miles northeast of Chariton. 

The money for the reader was earned in chopping up a load of wood and bringing it to Chariton by ox team. His father chopped the wood and spent a half day in that task. Then the ox team was driven twelve miles with the load, which required all day. The wood was sold to a cobbler, who had his establishment where Dunshee Bros. Hardware store now is located, and who paid the elder Mr. Sellers one dollar for the wood. Then the two went to W.H. Maple's store on the west side of the square, where Ensley's store is now located, and paid 75 cents for the reader.

In speaking of the distance traveled to get live coals with which to start a fire, Mr. Sellers tells of a neighbor of his father, named Louder, who related that he once drove an ox team to Lovilla and back in order to start a fire. The drive was sixteen miles each way, or a total of thirty-two miles covered in order to perform a task that a single match will do now; but that was in the day before matches had been invented.

Stories behind those six candlesticks

One of my Sunday morning tasks is to light the candles in six big sticks that march across the back of St. Andrew's 1903 altar --- a challenge for someone who failed Acolyte 101. Hint: A step-stool helps although the process is not dignified and best undertaken before the congregation arrives.

We still use real, rather than oil-filled, candles --- they're about a third of the way burned down here. Even with the stool, it's a stretch when the candles are new.

Someone has been lighting candles in these sticks for more than a century by now so they represent continuity in addition to fulfilling the traditional candle role.

One aspect of the sticks that interests me is the fact that three faces are cast into the base of each, but who do they represent? At least one probably is Jesus. But how about the other two? Two seem to have receding hairlines. If this is a trinitarian gesture, who has been tearing out his hair? Your guess is as good as mine.

+++

What I don't think many realize is that the candles in these sticks also burn "to the glory of God and in memory of" two people for whom they were purchased as memorials early in the 20th century --- Genevieve Argo Jones and Oran Alonzo Hougland.

Genevieve and O.A. are commemorated in inscriptions that circle the base of each stick, evident only if you work with them close up and personal on a regular basis.

Two sets of sticks, four in total, were dedicated in memory of Genevieve, one set by her mother, Mary Ann; the other set by her sister, Nellie. The Hougland pair was given by his widow, Harriet.

+++

Genevieve was a Russell native, born there on Christmas Eve 1893. When she was 10, the family moved to Chariton, where she graduated from high school in 1911.

She was talented musically, gifted with a "clear, sweet voice," and studied for a year at the Drake University Conservatory of Music in Des Moines, then for another year at Monmouth College, Monmouth, Illinois, where she was soloist with the Monmouth Glee Club.

Back in Chariton, Genevieve met Kirk Jones --- a stellar Chariton High School athlete who, following graduation, had gone to work in his father's drug store.

Genevieve and Kirk were married secretly in Galesburg, Illinois, on Sept. 2, 1917. Neither families nor friends were told of the marriage, but when it became obvious that Genevieve was pregnant, she returned to Chariton to live with her parents. Still, no announcement concerning the marriage was made.

Kirk, facing the World War I draft, enlisted during January of 1918 in the 339th Field Artillery, headquartered at Camp Dodge, then was transferred to Company C, 326th Infantry, and sent with his unit to New York for final training before being deployed to France. His final pre-war visit to Chariton occurred during March of 1918.

A month later, Genevieve gave birth prematurely to their daughter, Betty Jane, on April 17, but the infant lived only 36 hours. Genevieve was ill with influenza herself at the time and her health deteriorated until May 19, 1918, when she died at her parents' home of pneumonia.

Funeral services followed before the St. Andrew's altar, then located in the congregation's 1903 building; little Betty Jane's remains were removed from the Stanton Vault, where they had been placed temporarily; and mother and daughter were buried together in the Chariton Cemetery.

Genevieve's parents, for reasons lost to time, had announced her marriage to Kirk only when she was desperately ill. Ten days away from being deployed when their infant daughter died, he reached France just before Genevieve followed Betty Jane in death.

Kirk survived the war, participating in both Battle of St. Mihiel and decisive Meuse-Argonne Offensive, but was so badly gassed that respiratory distress plagued him for the rest of his life. He also suffered from "shell shock," what we would call PTSD today. He remarried and had two sons, but was in and out of hospitals for treatment during the next 15 years.

He died at age 40 on Christmas day, 1934, at the hospital in Macon, Missouri, where he had been taken in critical condition after becoming desperately ill while being driven from Chariton to a veterans hospital in St. Louis for treatment.

+++

O.A. Hougland was a native of Missouri, born Sept. 6, 1859, who came to Chariton about 1875 to learn the carpenter trade from his uncle, B.W. Hougland. He married Harriet I. Neff in Chariton on Oct. 15, 1877.

As it happened, O.A. was a gifted designer as well as a carpenter and soon was working as an architect, too --- designing commercial and public buildings in Chariton and elsewhere across Iowa. The long-since-demolished Lucas County Home was one of his early commissions and most likely several of the commercial buildings around the square that date from the 1890s into the first decade of the 20th century were his, too.

He designed many churches, including buildings in Humeston, Leon, Promise City, Grand River and Corning; libraries; homes; and commercial structures.

Although a professional success, in his personal life he experienced a good deal of sorrow. The Houglands had four children, all of whom predeceased him.

The youngest and last surviving, George Frederick, died of tuberculosis at his parents' home on July 14, 1912, at the age of 26.

Less than a month later, on August 8, O.A. suffered a heart attack while on a visit to Lenox in southwest Iowa, where he had been commissioned to design a hotel, and died instantly.

His remains were returned to Chariton for funeral services at St. Andrew's, which had been the family church since the Houglands married in 1879 and where last rites for all of their children had been held.

In addition to his widow, he was survived by one grandson --- Oren Hougland Blouse, son of the Houglands' daughter, Daisy, who had died during 1908. Hougland Blouse married Beulah Kendrick and they had two children, Jean (Blouse) Clore and Jim Blouse, who carried the family forward.

A horse, a horse, my kingdom for a horse ....

I'm fairly good at human genealogy; not so good at livestock pedigrees. So I don't have much to report about this magnificent Percheron stallion, Ildefonse 105130.

Other than the fact I really like the enlarged photograph, dating from 1916, that we moved from an obscure corner into the museum's Perkins Room yesterday, so arranged --- as a change of scenery --- to be the first thing guests see when they enter the Lewis Building's front door.

Ildefonse 79307 was a famous stallion, foaled during 1911 and imported from France, who swept every field he was entered in at the 1913 International Livestock Exposition in Chicago. So does  Lucas County's Ildefonse share his lineage? Can't say.

Stud records show that our Ildefonse was foaled during April of 1913 of Barbaris 80160 out of Bertha 96600. The breeder was W.C. Cox, of Indianola.

This photograph, which perhaps was prepared for an exposition of some sort, has a printed tag in its lower left hand corner that transposes the "d" and the "l" in Ildefonse but does provide a little more information.

The owner was Fred Moore Chandler, who came to Lucas County with his brother, Howard A., in 1907 from their family home near Kellerton in Ringgold County to launch a big sheep operation on land just southwest of Chariton. Fred married Ida Mitchell and they had two sons, Freddie and Alva. Quite a few Lucas Countyans are likely to remember Freddie Chandler, an auctioneer who died during 1999.

Fred M. and Howard A. Chandler's livestock operation soon became known for its horses rather than its sheep and Fred became known throughout the Midwest as a breeder and dealer. He died rather young, at age 61, during 1943. This photograph came to the historical society during 1967 from his sons.

The handler at far left most likely was someone's grandpa, too --- but of course there's nothing to tell us who he might have been. One of the Chandlers? Perhaps.

Chariton and railroading's "Great Upheaval" of 1877

The tracks were rusty and all was eerily quiet around Chariton's 1872 C.B.&Q. Depot for a few days during late July 1877.

"It looks a little odd to see the iron tracks about the depot covered with rust," The Patriot editor wrote in his edition of Wednesday, Aug. 1, 1877. "It is the first time since the rail was built but what the tops of the rails were bright from the moving trains."

Those trains had begun moving into Chariton on newly completed Burlington & Missouri River Railroad tracks 10 years earlier, during early July 1867. In the intervening years, the B.&M.R. line had been taken over by the Chicago Burlington & Quincy. The tracks across southern Iowa to the Missouri River by 1877 were  among the busiest in the nation.

But as the nationwide railroad strike of 1877 --- sometimes called the Great Upheaval --- spread into southern Iowa, the freights stopped rolling on Wednesday, July 25, and the last passenger train, at 2 p.m. on Thursday, July 26.

+++

The Long Depression, which had commenced with the financial panic of 1873, had among other things resulted nationwide in layoffs and wage cuts within the nation's burgeoning railroad industry.

The Great Upheaval began on July 14 in Martinsburg, West Virginia, after officials of the Burlington & Ohio Railroad announced the third round of wage cuts that year. Striking workers blockaded the trains at Martinsburg, the governor called out the state militia to restore service but soldiers refused to fire on striking workers and so the governor appealed for federal troops.

In the days that followed, the strike spread west. In this instance, the largely rural population was in general supportive of the striking workers; business leaders had mixed feelings --- many felt they were being taken advantage of by the railroads but also realized that they couldn't remain in business without them.

The strike in Iowa began with large meetings of C.B.&Q. workers in Creston, Ottumwa and Burlington on July 23. The workers drew up demands and launched the strike on July 25 when freight traffic was halted.

Charles E. Perkins, then the C.B.&Q. vice-president in charge at Burlington, ordered an end to passenger service the next day to put the squeeze on both the rail workers and those who supported them across the state.

Perkins was a skilled strategist and, working in conjunction with influential business interests in Burlington and elsewhere, engineered an end to the strike using a combination of cajolery and threats. The strike ended at Creston on Aug. 1 and, after that, rail traffic flowed freely again.

Perkins' effort was aided by the fact that the strike was collapsing nationwide at the time. He was skillful enough to head off long-term hostility between worker, rail and business interests. There was no violence either --- and up to a hundred people had died in strike-related violence elsewhere in the country.

+++

Here's how The Patriot reported "The Strike in Chariton" in its edition of August 1:

"The present railroad strike has affected all parts of the country. We dougbt whether there is any remote area of the Union that has been free from a shortage of goods lost or some other reminder of the strike that has doubtless come to every cross road and post office and store in the land.

"In Chariton, the effect was equal to bringing together some three or four Sundays.

"From Thursday last week, at 2 p.m., until Monday of this week at the same time not a wheel rolled over the track nor a whistle or engine bell was heard in our town. The freight trains all stopped on Wednesday of last week and up to time of going to press not one car for the transportation of goods has passed through or even been moved on the side track, although the mail trains are now running about as usual.

"The Branch train (southwest to St. Joseph) was off Friday and Saturday. The mail train on Monday was in charge of a United States Marshal and it is said that at Ottumwa he had to threaten arrest before the engineer could be induced to run from there west.

"The section men were stopped from work by a squad from Woodburn and various rumors were put afloat during the quiet days that caused more or less excitement.

"The train going west on Monday night last remained here some ten hours, fearing that trouble would befall it if it attempted to push past Woodburn, Creston and other rebellious towns west of this place.

"During the whole time, however, not an angry word was heard nor any species of violence attempted at Chariton ---- it was all distressingly quiet. The engineers are still holding out for rmore wages and it is not known when the freight traffic will be resumed.

"Later --- The freight trains have begun to move."

+++

The Patriot also published on Aug. 1, the following order that had been issued by the C.B.&Q. management:

"After today, Monday, July 30, all employees who have not reported their willingness to resume work at once will be deemed to have severed their connection with the company and others will be employed in their places. Ample time for sober reflection has been given and it is hoped that the men will generally resume their places. No one will be discharged for having participated in the strike, in case they signify their readiness for duty by twelve (12) o'clock tonight. After the business of the road has resumed its regular channels, the company will be ready to consider any grievances."

Acknowledging the sources of evil ....

Thanks to CBS News --- and others --- for pointing out that President Trump chose to tweet his executive order banning trans people from the military on July 26, the 69th anniversary of President Harry S. Truman's Executive Order 9981 that led, eventually, to the end of segregation in the U.S. military.

This was not a popular order within the military. Kenneth C. Royall, secretary of the Army, for example, resisted the order until he was forced into retirement during April of the following year. Much of the work instigated by Truman's order actually was carried out during the administration of President Dwight D. Eisenhower.

Those who favored apartheid in the military often cited the tender feelings of white boys from the old South who, it was said, would be adversely affected by close association with folks whose skin was a different color.

+++

The predictable aftermath of the Trump announcement included extreme anger focused on a president who, if past performance is any indication, thrives on drama and discord; and words of support from his base among Evangelicals who view the gentleman at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue as messiah --- someone who can pick up the lance dropped by that disappointing Jesus, hardly a militant, and carry it forward, skewering everyone they don't like.

The president seems to be a moral vacuum --- a space entirely devoid of matter.  This doesn't mean he isn't evil; only that evil flows into his emptiness from those around him.

Many of our acquaintances, neighbors, even family members --- those who voted for and continue to unreservedly support this peculiar man --- are among the sources of that evil. And I don't quite know how to deal with that.

+++

 I do know that the following sentiments expressed Tuesday by the Unitarian Universalist Church of the Larger Fellowship is an appropriately Christian response from within an organization that does not define itself as explicitly Christian:

The president tweeted out today that trans people will no longer be allowed to serve in the military. We don't exactly know how this will play out for the trans folks who are already serving, but there are some things we do know:

Removing thousands of people who are already serving with distinction does not improve battle readiness.

Working with people of different genders doesn't cause disruption  --- firing people for reasons other than lack of ability to do their job causes disruption.

Trans folk are every bit as much a part of the human family as everyone else, and every bit as holy.

When we break faith with one another, the fabric of society is damaged along with those particular lives.

As Unitarian Univeralists we are called to both affirm and actively support our interconnected lives. We are holding all affected in our hearts, thoughts and prayers as we work to build a world where all find the welcome they deserve.

1915: Chariton Boy Scouts prepare to 'Be Prepared'

Sam Greene, editor and manager of Chariton's Herald-Patriot, started thinking seriously about the boy scout movement during 1910, the year Boy Scouts of America was incorporated by Chicago publisher W.D. Boyce. Canadian Ernest Thompson Seton had begun to promote the organization aggressively in the United States and, in England, Robert Baden-Powell was hard at work.

"Whenever a popular movement actually begins to become popular, it becomes awfully popular," Sam wrote in The Herald-Patriot of Dec. 15, 1910. "The 'boy scout' movement is now in that interesting stage of its experience. For many long months Ernest Thompson Seton in this country, in conjunction with a noted leader or two in England, has tried to make the movement a popular one, but until the last few weeks, when the newspapers began to take it up, little has been known or heard of it. Now it promises or threatens to sweep the country and become one of the greatest factors for shaping the boyhood of the land for better things in life, that the country has ever seen."

Sam had decided that he liked the organization's philosophy, so came out strongly in favor of it in his concluding paragraph: "We hope the boy scout movement will spread, and that suitable men with their hearts in the work and with brains in their heart-work will take an interest in the movement in every town where it can be organized."

+++

Rival publisher Henry Gittinger, of The Leader, meditated on the same considerations and came to a different conclusion.

Three years later, in his edition of July 3, 1913, Henry wrote: "We find some really good people inconsistently advocating the world's peace movement, while at the same time endorsing the boy scout propaganda. The boy scout training may incline to make boys determined and cultivate a disposition within them to 'take care of themselves,' but on the other hand it has for its incentive the spirit of militarism and so long as that spirit is to be cultivated world's peace cannot arise to the dignity of an iridescent dream. Better teach the American youth the avocations of peace. To be a plowman, an accountant, a carpenter or a day laborer is much to be preferred than a seeker after adventure, a builder of camps and a nomad. Our adult national intelligence will provide sufficient defenses without erecting barracks in the home or militarizing the cradle."

+++

Despite Henry's reservations, Scouting got off to an official start in Chariton two years later, during 1915, under the sheltering wing of First Methodist Church; the organizer, a slightly odd duck named Oscar K. Wilson, who had washed up on Chariton's shores during 1911 when he was 62 and launching himself in a new career at what others might consider retirement age.

Born during 1849 in Ohio, his family had been broken up by the death of his mother when Oscar was 6 and he was farmed out to an older sister to raise.

"At the age of 13 he came to Iowa," according to his 1923 obituary. "A few years later found him in Wyoming where he acted as an army scout under orders of Col. William Cody, 'Buffalo Bill.' During this experience he received a flesh wound in the chin, the scar of which he carried through life. He drifted back into Minnesota afterwards and found work in the pineries, later running the rivers with lumber rafts and then firing the boilers of river steamers. He carried U.S. mail between Washington, Iowa, and Oskaloosa for a while and finally took up the trade of carpentry."

Early in the 20th century, however, suffering from some sort of chronic illness, he discovered the spiritual healing power of Jesus and the physical healing power of chiropractic. This inspired him to enroll at the Universal School of Chiropractic in Davenport, where he completed his studies during early 1911, when he was 62. Also at Davenport during that year, he married the worthy spinster, Miss Henrietta E. Fish.

During October, the couple moved to Chariton, Dr. Wilson hung out his shingle in the Dewey Block on the southeast corner of the square and the couple joined First Methodist, where he soon became a prominent member of the Gospel Team.

It appears that Dr. Wilson began recruiting boys for the new scouting program during early 1915 from among Methodist youth. By June of that year, having been declared in one way or another Chariton's first "Scout Master," he called a public meeting to promote the movement in the larger community. It was publicized this way in The Leader of June 24, buried in an obscure corner of the front page as if editor Gittinger still had reservations about the organization:

"Dr. O.K. Wilson, who is Master of the Boy Scouts of this city, announces a public meeting at the Methodist church on Friday evening. A number of addresses will be made defining the scout movement and telling of its results. A cordial invitation is extended to all."

+++

It would appear that boy scouting as a larger movement in Lucas County grew out of this meeting and further efforts by Dr. Wilson and others.

Younger men, however, seem to have taken over the reins of the organization --- and by late summer of 1916, the first encampment had taken place not far from Oakley on a farm bordering Whitebreast Creek. Here's the report from The Herald-Patriot of Aug. 3, 1916, published under the headline, "Boy scouts take a vacation."

"The boy scouts have been having a vacation experience of their own, one which was enjoyed very much by the most of them. They returned Monday evening from a week spent near Oakley on the Reibel farm and during the week received considerable training in the matter of caring for themselves, cooking, keeping tents clean and orderly, building fires, etc.

"With the work and responsibility went plenty of the clean kind of fun that boys like so well, while appetites which even when normal are hard to appease, were fed to repletion. It is declared that some of the youngsters were hollow instead of hungry, but after considerable labor each was given sufficient to satisfy his craving.

"Clarence Blake, Sam Scull and Chas. Wennerstrum acted as chaperones at different times and they enjoyed the outing about as much as did the boys.

"Following is a list of the scouts: James Suedaker, (illegible) Smith, Charles Blake, James Beck, George Noble, Howard (illegible), Melvin Cooley, Alfred Goodwin, Arthur Jarl, Gerald Dotts, Max Ady, (illegible) Culbertson, Harry Smith, Todd Best, John Hall, Vincent Pyle, Robert Crozier and Donald Maloney."

+++

Dr. and Mrs. Wilson remained involved in their community --- he even launched an unsuccessful run for mayor during 1920 --- and church until his health began to fail. Wilson died March 26, 1923, at his home, 815 North Main, age 74, after two years of failing health. 

Henrietta took his remains back to her hometown, Davenport, for burial in Oakdale Cemetery. And that was the end of Chariton's first scoutmaster. 

Jesse Routte, Chariton --- and Jim Crow

I come across stories now and then that are too good not to repeat, even though the connection to Lucas County is tangential. 

Which doesn't mean that the Rev. Jesse W. Routte doesn't represent an important Chariton milestone. Thanks to the congregation of First Lutheran Church, he was in 1930 among the first --- if not the first --- black person invited to preach from a "white" pulpit in the city.

Lucas County was by this time fairly well over its infatuation with the Ku Klux Klan. Membership had diminished to the point that Klan headquarters --- a disused church at the intersection of North Grand and Auburn purchased in 1924 --- was sold during that year to a newly organized Assembly of God congregation.

And Lutherans, like their Catholic brothers and sisters, never had been involved in the Klan.

But still, the invitation made --- most likely intentionally --- a statement about the congregation and its values.

+++

A seminarian when he preached and sang in Chariton, the Rev. Mr. Routte went on to a distinguished career as a Lutheran clergyman, first in Harlem and then in Queens, and as a lifelong civil rights activist.

Seventeen years after his Chariton visit --- during 1947 --- he attracted nationwide attention by donning a turban and robes rented from a costumer as a political statement and turning Jim Crow in the old South on its ear. It was called by some the "turban trick."

By 1947, the Rev. Mr. Routte was pastor of Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in South Jamaica, Queens. His younger brother, the Rev. Louis A. Routte --- also an Augustana graduate ---  lived in Mobile, Alabama, where had been pastor since 1941 of Martin Luther Evangelical Lutheran Church.

I'll let partial text of a 2014 podcast from the National Public Radio series "Code Switch: Race and Identity, Remixed," tell the story:

+++

Routté's experiment began after he traveled to Mobile, Ala., in 1943 for a family engagement. He wasn't happy with how he was treated.

"I was Jim Crowed here, Jim Crowed there, Jim Crowed all over the place," he later told reporters. "And I didn't like being Jim Crowed."

So he went back in 1947, with a plan.

Before he boarded the train to Alabama, he put on a spangled turban and velvet robes. When the train reached North Carolina during lunchtime, Routté walked over to the diner car where the only vacant seat (sic) was occupied by two white couples.

One of the men said, "Well, what have we got here?" to which Routté replied in his best Swedish accent (he had been the only black student at a Swedish Lutheran college in Illinois), "We have here an apostle of goodwill and love" — leaving them gaping.

And that confusion seemed to work for Routté on the rest of his trip. He dropped in on police officials, the chamber of commerce, merchants — and was treated like royalty.

At a fancy restaurant he asked the staff what would happen if a "Negro gentleman comes in here and sits down to eat." The reply: "No negro would dare to come in here to eat."

"I just stroked my chin and ordered my dessert," he said.

After he returned to New York, Routté said he felt like "a paratrooper behind enemy lines."

His son Luther Routté is now 74 (in 2014). Both of his parents — prominent in activist communities in Harlem and Long Island — were always doing "social experiments," trying to find solutions to the prejudice they saw in the world. And this experiment exploded the myth that blacks were innately inferior and warranted inferior treatment, he says.

"He didn't change his color. He just changed his costume, and they treated him like a human," says Luther Routté, who has been a Lutheran pastor for 25 years. It "shows you the kind of myopia that accompanies the whole premise of apartheid or segregation."

Through the "turban trick," Routté basically transformed himself from a threat to a guest — black to invisible.

+++

"There were repercussions from the "turban trick." The Klan burned a cross in front of our house," Luther Routte recalled when talking about his father and the incident during 1989. And the family moved in with relatives for a time for their safety.

But "in our household, it was always that God was with us. My parents were courageous people. There was real faith. I think the rightness of it helped us get through it.

"I had two very bright and intelligent parents who were faced with the kind of prejudice, as my father would say, so thick you could cut it with a knife. My parents set the pace of how a Christian should really live."

+++

All of this, of course, was long after the young seminarian appeared in Chariton --- in itself a political statement, although a practical one. Routte sang and spoke in many other Midwestern churches  affiliated with the Scandinavian Evangelical Lutheran Augustana Synod, too, during his years as a seminarian at Augustana College in Rock Island. It was how he paid for his education.

The invitation to the community issued by Chariton's Lutherans, published on Page 1 of The Leader of March 18, 1930, contains more of Routte's story --- as well as some phrasing that makes us squirm a little 87 years later.

Mr. Jesse W. Routte, a young negro student of Augustana Theological Seminary, Rock Island, Ill., will appear at the First Lutheran church, Eighth street and Roland ave., next Sunday evening, March 23, at 8 p.m., when he will give one of his very popular concerts. This will include musical selections from many varied sources, such as Negro Spirituals which are so highly valued today, as well as the more well-known compositions. Of great interest to any American audience are the short talks he gives in which he presents the problems, hopes and aspirations of the American Negro of today.

Under special invitation of the pastor of the First church, Mr. Routte will deliver the sermon at the regular morning worship the same Sunday at 10:45 a.m. There is thus offered the community the unique experience of hearing a member of the colored race bring us a gospel message.

The life story of Jesse Routte, Augustana's popular Negro student, reveals a stormy past which includes poverty, starvation, hard work, many discouragements and disappointments. The early death of the father, an A.M.E. preacher, of Kewanee, Ill., brought hardship on the little family, but the noble mother struggled loyally on with added responsibilities. She gave concert tours with her three boys for a time until ill health caused her to give up that work. Jesse finally came to rock Island, Ill., where he was employed in a cleaning and dyeing establishment. Determined to try to secure an education, he was at work before 5 a.m. and after school hours in the evening. He tells himself that often he would have to skip some class just before noon and go to some restaurant so as to work for a meal.

Through the kindly interest of his employer, Mr. Beverlin, of Rock Island, Jesse was enabled to begin his college course at Augustana. He quickly found friends among the many students who were willing to be of assistance to the plucky little fellow who had won his way into their hearts. By dint of close attention to his work he was granted the degree, Bachelor of Arts, last June, the first B.A. student to receive that honor from Augustana among the colored race.

Mr. Routte was matriculated as a special student with the incoming class at Augustana Seminary last September, and is now in his first year. He plans to prepare himself for the Lutheran ministry within the Augustana Synod and after his ordination will labor especially among the people of his race in Chicago, Ill., He has already rendered valuable service as student in charge of church work under the Augustana Inner Mission of that city.

Mr. Routte is "singing his way" through the seminary with the vision of greater service to his God and to his people. A special offering will be lifted for him Sunday evening during his concert here. We feel sure the people of this community will readily respond generously.

All in the community are most cordially invited to hear this genial, likable young Negro. We bid a hearty welcome also to the colored folks of Chariton and vicinity to hear this member of their own race.

+++

A brief account published in The Leader during the week after Routte's apperance suggests that a substantial crowd turned out and that both his music and his messages were well received.

The seminarian went on to earn both M.A. and D.D. degrees from Augustana, but was called to serve in New York City, rather than Chicago.

He was serving as assistant pastor at Transfiguration Lutheran Church in Harlem when he met and married his wife, Maude, who was studying for her  master's degree at Columbia University. She was a native of St. Thomas in the Caribbean, once a Danish colony, and the Lutheran expression of faith could be traced back several generations in her family.

Working together and with others, they established a mission congregation, Holy Trinity Lutheran Church in South Jamaica, Queens, where he served until retirement during 1965.

"Jackie Robinson lived in our neighborhood," their son, Luther Routte, recalled during 1989. "Two doors down from us was John Lewis of the Modern Jazz Quartet. I delivered newspapers to Jackie Robinson, Lena Horne and Ella Fitzgerald."

His father performed the wedding of entertainer Pearl Bailey and jazz drummer Louis Bellson.

The Rev. Mr. Routte died at his home in Queens on May 16, 1972. 

+++

The Rev. Luther H. Routte, now retired from the ELCA ministry after a distinguished career as both pastor and activist, lives and remains a community activist in Reading, Pennsylvania. He was called in 1988 to be the first black pastor of the nearly all-white Atonement Lutheran Church, Wyomissing, which he served for 20 years. Atonement is among the largest Lutheran congregations in Berks County.

From Chariton to the Hotel Colfax in a 1910 E-M-F

The Hotel Colfax, "improved" to the tune of $700,000 between 1905 and 1909.

James P. Donahue's Hotel Colfax (offering hundreds of rooms, fine dining and access to the mineral springs and baths that city was famous for) was the talk of Iowa during the summer of 1910. And Chariton's Walter H. Dewey had a brand new automobile --- a four-cylinder E-M-F (later Studebaker) touring car ordered early in the year from Chariton Auto Co.

A 5-passenger 1910 E-M-F touring car (no, there was no windshield)

And so, during early August, Walter gathered four friends in his five-passenger vehicle on a fine Sunday morning and they set out --- on a lark --- to make the circuit from Chariton to Colfax to Des Moines and home again. Dewey was running (unsuccessfully as it turned out) for railroad commissioner on the Democratic ticket that year, but politics seem to have been secondary to a good time.

Walter, principal heir to the Branner fortune, was the eldest in the party at 38. Devoted to his mother, Victoria (Branner) Dewey, he would wait six more years to marry and start a family.

Along for the ride was his friend David Q. Storie Jr., 36, a popular young physician and family man. They had made this circuit together a number of times, testing the capabilities of whatever automobiles they owned at the time and reporting the results to Chariton newspapers.

John H. Kitselman, at 19, was the youngster in the party. Already married, the Kitselmans were expecting their first child that summer. He was a salesman and eventually would move to Mt. Ayr to open his own drygoods store.

"Stormy" Pickerell, age 23, was the chauffeur. He was a protege of Walter whose given name was Clyde, which may have been why he preferred Stormy. Stormy would devote his life to business in Chariton, sometimes in partnership with Walter.

Along for the ride, as scribe, was Howard Gittinger, also 24, and son of Chariton Leader editor and publisher Henry Gittinger. He would make a career of the newspaper business, affiliated with his father in The Leader, an employee of the Chariton Newspapers after the Leader was sold to that new corporation and, finally, in Louisiana.

The following account of that Sunday drive, written by Howard, was published under the headline "A Great Automobile Trip" in The Leader of August 11, 1910:

+++

"On Sunday morning, in company with Hon. Walter H. Dewey, Democratic candidate for Railway Commissioner, Dr. D.Q. Storie Jr., Harvey Kitselman and chauffeur "Stormy" Pickerell, the younger member of this firm (The Leader) started on a prolonged automobile trip in Mr. Dewey's car, which we can truthfully say is a dandy, it making the trip of 170 miles without a "hitch."

"The weather was ideal and the roads supreme. The objective point of the journey was the Colfax health resort, not that our health was impaired, which we reached at one o'clock after a most pleasant journey through the level laying counties of Lucas, Marion, Polk and Jasper.

"At Pleasantville, our old home, we made a brief stop of fifteen or twenty minutes in order to get our bearings and to shake hands with our good old friends --- for we have several there. Finding here that the Des Moines river bridge was out we were forced to go in a northwestlerly direcion and cross the river at Ford, this causing us to travel some eight or ten miles further. Dr. Bare of Pleasantville, who is the owner of a fine Auburn car, escorted us out of town and showed us the route, for which kindness we were very thankful. Mr. Dewey said it was the first time he was ever escorted out of town by one of the prominent citizens and "Doc" is prominent, too --- but then it was a very friendly courtesy and not like escorting tramps and bums out of a fair city --- for we are not in the least obnoxious or undesirable --- the only thing we drank while there being a Coca-cola at Bare's Pharmacy.

"The road in the Des Moines river bottom was as fine as we found anywhere and it was but a short time until we were climbing the small hills into Jasper county.

"At Prairie City, we called on John McKlveen who, by the way, was just eating dinner, but we decined an inviation to stop and have dinner with him before he asked us, telling him that we expected to eat dinner at the new Hotel Colfax. John has a beautiful new home and is happy --- and we don't blame him.

"The scenery from Pleasantville to Cofax is most beautiful, especially in the river country. The road wnds around through the small hills with timber in the distance and the green tasseled corn waving in the breezes to your side. It is a beautiful country and one of which every Iowan may well be proud.

"We arrived at Colfax about one o'clock, being some four hours on the road from Chariton after having stopped at Pleasantville and Prairie City.

"The Epworth Assembly is in session here and the Epworth Park through which one passes to reach the Hotel Colfax, was crowded with people --- a great many campers --- who had come to attend the yearly intellectual feast.

"The Hotel Colfax is one of the most beautiful places we have ever visited. It is situated upon a hill about a mile east of town and is surounded by a hundred and twenty acres of beautiful parks and drives. It is needless for me to try to describe its splendor, but suffice it to say that it is worth going 170 miles to visit and enjoy its beauty.

"After we had unloaded and started to get ready for dinner, young Kitselman calls Dave Storie to one side and says, 'Gee Whiz, Dave, I feel like a needle in the ocean; let's get a sandwhich and beat it.'

"Dave only laughed at him and told him to go slowly and do as the rest of us. Harvey followed directions implicitly and did fine.

"Dewey was made master of ceremonies and ordered the dinner so as to save us the trouble, you understand. The dinner was the best we have eaten for many a day --- we only wish some more of you poorly fed people could have enjoyed it --- this is not meant insinuatingly either. One thing that we are not sure of yet is this: At the close of dinner Dewey told the waiter he did not need to bring us finger bowls. Why he did this is not just clear but I hardly think that he was afraid we would use them for drinking purposes --- but then that may have been the reason. We didn't like to ask him.

"Senator Cummins was at the hotel for dinner and Mr. Dewey introduced "Stormy" and myself, Dave and Harvey being Republicans couldn't stand it --- not meant insinuatingly either. The Senator said he was real glad to know us and we suppose he was. He is a pretty nice man apparently.

"We broke away from the beauty of the place and journeyed over Lafe Young's great river-to-river road toward Des Moines. The road is a fine one, but not any better than others we traversed, and we are not speaking depreciatingly of Lafe's efforts as a road instigatory --- he doesn't build it you understand.

"We arrived in Des Moines and there visited Stormy's grandfather, M.H. Allen, who lives just across the street from Gov. Carroll, and while there we saw the Hon. Governor hitch his horse to his buggy and he and his wife go driving --- not a great thing but quite a novelty to us. To say the least this is a democratic state --- not politically speaking until after the election his fall.

"Stormy's grandfather, Mr. Allen, told us he was almost 81 years old which is quite remarkable, he being in good health and quite spry, considering his age. During our conversation Stormy let it out that Dewey was running for railraod commissioner. Of course Mr. Allen did not commit himself but we are figuring on him just the same. We had a very pleasant visit with the Allens.

"We then drove out on Grand Avenue, the principal residence street in Des Moines' social leaders, to Greenwood park, which is a beautiful little loafing place for Des Moines inhabitants and others.

"On our way back we stopped down town to pay allegiance to the Tobacco Trust and while there ran across the Hon. Clint Price, candidate for Congress is the 7th district, who was also paying his allegiance to the trust, but he says when he gets to Congress he is going to make them get down to a smoking basis --- he didn't say that, but then of course he would

"We loaded Price in and took him back to Indianola to his wife, he having only been in Des Moines some two or three hours, although he said he had made two votes but Sunday votes were of a precarious nature and then he didn't want too many --- he wanted Prouty to have a few. He was going back to Colfax the next day to see Mr. Bryan, who spoke there, and when asked why he was going back home that evening said he was going back for more money from his wife; that she is making the living --- he was running for Congress. He also says he don't care what Alex Miller says about his collar.

"The trip to Indianola was fine, especially so because of Price as he is a funny cuss and we hope he gets to Congress. He invited us to go down and eat lunch with him, saying that his wife was clean about her cooking now, but we declined, not doubting him but we were in a hurry to get home.

"The trip from Indianola home was one filled with pleasure as the entire trip had been, and never did a crowd of five arrive home so completely pleased with a day's outing as were we.

"We passed through ninetween towns and traversed 170 miles of fine Iowa roads and are frank to say that Iowa is good enough for us. Here's hoping that the Hon. W.H. Dewey is the next railroad commissioner for Iowa, although in conclusion we will say that this was not a political junket as it was on Sunday. Some time in the future we make take the trip politically --- who knows?

Shall We Gather at the (Chariton) River ....

This was the week when news circulated belatedly among friends and former co-workers of the death earlier this year of David Krotz, one of those remarkable folks who back in the good old days used to wash up unexpectedly now and then in newsrooms.

A lifelong writer, David was among other things a co-founder of the organization Trees Forever. And, although hardly an orthodox believer, a fan of old-time gospel music.

Me, too. 

For some reason, many of these old songs, protestant products of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, have the power to transcend sectarian squabbles, denominational divisions and even faith itself, and spread a good deal of joy still among their fans.

Anyhow, thinking about David reminded me of this piece from The Chariton Leader of Nov. 9, 1911, in which editor Henry Gittinger recalled a long-ago Baptist gathering at the Four-Corners meeting ground --- an oak- and hickory-studded promontory overlooking the Chariton River Valley just south of Evans Cemetery, where Lucas, Monroe, Appanoose and Wayne counties meet.

The photo above, taken in early November a couple of years ago on that promontory --- now a parking lot --- shows some of the changes that have taken place in intervening years. The river valley  beyond now is filled with the waters of Rathbun Lake and the old road south into Appanoose and Wayne counties ends at water's edge.

David, quite obviously, would have liked the trees --- if not the alterations to the landscape.

As background to Henry's piece, it's useful to know that a week-long series of revival meetings was in progress at First Baptist Church when he wrote it, and that the Rev. Hugh Moore was that congregation's pastor. The Rev. Mr. Martin had been guest preacher the previous evening.

I think David also would have liked Henry's memories of the old gospel song, "Shall We Gather at the River," which is a favorite of mine, too. The Four-Corners landscape may have changed dramatically during the past century, but "Shall We Gather ...." hasn't.

+++

On Tuesday, the Leader editor met Rev. Hugh Moore, in company with Rev. Martin, of Centerville, on the street, and (the Rev. Mr. Moore) inquired:

"Where did you attend church last night?"

The reply was that the exact place could not be called to mind just then.

But he was not caught in such chaff, so gave an invitation to attend his church that evening.

"I don't like the Baptist church."

He smiled at that and went on, revolving in his mind how versatile a sinner is in his excuses.

Now the Leader doesn't dislike the Baptist church. Often an old memory comes up --- forty years or more ago, and that is a long time.

The Baptists were to hold a big association meeting in the big grove down near where the four counties corner ---  Lucas, Monroe, Appanoose and Wayne. It was close to the Evans cemetery near the big spring, a most sightly place, overlooking the Chariton river and the bottoms beyond, fringed with native wood, with a contour of bluffs in the distance.

Everybody was preparing for the big occasion for miles about, and it was a happy morning when the family was loaded into the new wagon and the cantering drive was made, along the old sate road to the big red house on the county line, and thence to the meeting place, five or six miles distance.

There had been great preparations, stands under the trees, and seats for the multitudes. Glad were the hand shakes, and cordial the greeting of old friends for the requiem of pioneer days still lingered.

The sermons cannot be remembered as youth is careless, but they must have been full of the spirit as they met with approval and many fervid "Ameens" resounded through resonant wood and happy visages shone with the light of faith. It was there that the writer first heard the grand hymn.

"Shall we Gather at the River."

Rev. Thornton Davis and daughters, Gregg  Baldwin, and a number of the other best singers in the community stood before the vast throng and sang in the afternoon, and to us that has ever been the sweetest song we ever heard. Perhaps on account of the young impression and occasion. Often in imagination we see the singers and hear the rhythm of those tuneful words:

"Shall we gather at the River

Where bright angels' feet have trod,

With its crystal tied forever,

Flowing by the throne of God."

Long since most of those who sang that day have gathered at the river and the scene is one of sacred mememory. Occasionally we hear the old song and the pathos swells up --- and it is pleasant for they were good people who have crossed to the other shore to live forever.

No. we don't dislike the Baptists.

+++

Here's one of my favorite versions of that old song, performed by Buddy Greene and Jeff Taylor:

Nevertheless, she persisted: Dr. Dora Wyland McAfee

Quite a bit has been written about Lucas County's early physicians --- mostly before 1950 by men who held Doctor of Medicine (M.D.) degrees. Which probably explains why Dr. Dora Wyland McAfee, among Chariton's earliest osteopathic physicians, has been mentioned rarely, if ever.

Here she is, in a beautiful portrait from the Lucas County Historical Society collection that was taken during 1903, the year she completed her training at the S.S. Still College of Osteopathy in Des Moines, now Des Moines University and the fifteenth largest among all U.S. medical schools.

Although Dr. McAfee died too young --- at the age of 48 in 1920 --- hers was a story of personal triumph over tragedy that deserves the telling.

+++

Dora's given name was Isadora, but she always was known by the shorter version. A daughter of James B. and Jane (Talbott) Wyland, she was born on Nov. 17, 1871, in Douglas County, Kansas. By the time she was 9, her parents had had enough of Kansas, however, and relocated during 1880 to far northeast English Township, Lucas County, settling on a farm a mile west of Pleasant Prairie Methodist Church, northwest of Belinda.

On March 27, 1895, when she was 23 and after gaining some experience as a rural school teacher, Dora married William R. McAfee at her parents' home. 

Born near Lincoln, Illinois, on April 14, 1862, Will was about 10 years older than Dora. A graduate of a Valparaiso, Indiana, normal school, he was an experienced teacher --- and farmer. Teachers, like preachers, generally found it necessary to supplement their incomes back in those days.

He had arrived in the Belinda neighborhood during 1893 to teach Strong School, but worked as a farm hand in the neighborhood on the side.

Just before their marriage, William leased a farm in the Belinda neighborhood and it was there that the couple settled down to make their home.

Tragedy struck just four years later --- on July 14, 1899 --- as the couple were expecting the birth of their first child. Will had driven horses into the barn at the end of that day and as he was following them into the building, one kicked him in the abdomen. 

At first, it didn't seem as if he had been injured seriously. It soon became apparent, however, that there were internal injuries --- and that nothing could be done medically in rural Lucas County for him. As a result, Will died five days later, on July 19, age 37.

It was his wish to be buried at his old home in Lincoln, Illinois, and so after funeral services on July 20 at Pleasant Prairie Church, his remains were brought into Chariton and placed on an east-bound train, accompanied by Dora and other immediate family members.

Later that year --- and the date isn't known --- Dora gave birth to a son she named Willie. He did not survive long, however, and died during late December. The child's remains were taken, too, to Lincoln for burial beside his father.

+++

When Dora's portrait came back to Lucas County from California during 1973, her nieces sent along a brief biography that stated the obvious --- "These events in her life left her very saddened."

Her 1920 obituary explains what she did about it: "Though prostrated with grief, she recognized the needs of others and soon entered the Still school of Osteopathy in Des Moines, where she applied herself to the science of healing the ills of the body." 

Dr. Summerfield S. Still and his wife, Dr. Ella Still, had founded the S.S. Still College of Osteopathy during 1898 and Dora's brother, Samuel I. Wyland, had enrolled as one of their first students. So Dora had a pattern to follow.

From its founding, Still College had recruited and admitted many women --- as many as a third of some graduating classes prior to 1920. So there was none of the conflict there that women sometimes faced in more traditional medical schools.

Following his graduation, Samuel Wyland returned to Chariton to open his practice. Dora earned her degree during June of 1903 and set out for Decorah to open her first practice there.

During June of 1905, wishing to be closer to her family, Dora purchased the Chariton practice of another osteopathic physician, Dr. Edna Blake, whose rooms were located on the second floor of the Oppenheimer Building on the west side of the square. Dora moved into these rooms and her brother, whose office was elsewhere in town, joined her in a joint practice.

"Dr. S.I. Wyland also enjoys a large practice," The Patriot reported. "He and his sister will make a strong team and we predict great success for them."

+++

The siblings continued their joint practice in Chariton until 1910, when Sam Wyland caught California fever and after touring up and down its coast for a few weeks that summer decided to relocate his family to Santa Rosa. The move was made during September.

Dora continued her solo practice and, according to her obituary, "during the years that came and went she built up a splendid practice, never knowing what it meant to be too tired to respond to the call of the suffering."

She also, during those years, "tenderly cared for her mother through her last illness, provided for an invalid brother until his death and with loving solicitude endeavored to protect her sister from the ravages of the disease that had laid hold upon her."

Both Dora's brother, Cyrus, and sister, Eliza (Wyland) Stanger, were long-term victims of tuberculosis; Cyrus died with Dora at his side in Alamogordo, N.M., on Dec. 17, 1918. Eliza survived Dora by two years.

In addition, she worked during the last full year of her own life with physicians at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minn., on the case of her brother-in-law, Charles D. Stanger, a victim of cancer.

Later on during 1919, Dora's own health failed. Diagnosed with pernicious anemia, she was treated for several weeks at the Mayo Clinic and elsewhere, but failed to respond.

During October of 1919, Dora sold her practice to Dr. Olive Elam, who had been practicing in Russell, and Elam moved into the former McAfee offices in the Oppenheimer building.

As her health deteriorated further, Dora moved to Des Moines to live with her brother, Edgar --- a carpenter --- and his family, where she was cared for until her death on May 14, 1920.

Dr. McAfee had asked to be buried in the Chariton Cemetery near her mother and brother, rather than in Illinois, with her husband and son, and so funeral services were held on May 17 at First Methodist Church where she was remembered as a "noble woman whose life had been one of service, one who rejoiced in doing good to others."

"It's hot, hotter, hottest, hottentotterist "

If it's any consolation to those sweltering in the south of Iowa and elsewhere this July 2017, it was pretty darned hot back in July of 1868, too. Chariton Democrat editor John V. Faith described it in his edition of July 25 as "hot, hotter, hottest, hottentotterist."

The complete text of his brief weather report reads, "Never, within the recollection of the 'oldest inhabitant,' has it been so hot in Iowa. Mercury has been climbing for the past three weeks and its range has been from 90 to 106 in the shade. The excessive heat has caused much uncomfortable feeling, and prostration in some instances. The population has been decreased, and there is not being much done to make up for the loss. A dilapidated hoop-skirt, water-fall and grease spot mark the last resting place of many of those courageous women who had bravely enough (sic) to venture out, while all that remains of some unfortunate males who were compelled to expose themselves, are a pair of boots standing alone on the side-walk, their wearers having "settled." Ice-cream cows and refrigerators have been in demand, and are causing a run. It's hot, hotter, hottest, hottentotterist."

The heat, according to John, had resulted in "A Sad Case" near Chariton: "We learn that James H. Berry, living a few miles from town, was so affected by the heat, on Wednesday of last week, as to cause insanity. On Monday morning he was taken, a raving maniac, to Mt. Pleasant. It is believed he will speedily recover."

So be careful out there if you feel heat-related madness approaching this year. The Mount Pleasant Mental Health Institute, opened in 1861, was closed by Gov. Terry Branstad during July of 2015, so no longer is available as a refuge.

Out west of town, Sunday dinner had turned into a nightmare that week because of what probably would be diagnosed today as food poisoning, perhaps heat-related. (Little green worms are unpleasant, but if unnoticed generally are just absorbed and provide a little extra protein):

"A Family Poisoned --- The family of Mr. Blair who lives about two miles west of town, and including Mr. and Mrs. Hynds and daughter, were poisoned on Sunday by something that they ate for dinner. Shortly after eating they were all seized with severe pain in the stomach, accompanied by every symptom of poison. Dr. Collins was promptly called, and when he arrived eight of them were down. He administered the usual remedies, and they recovered in a short time. It is not positively known what it was that contained the poison, but on examination it was found that the peas, of which they had eaten for dinner, contained small worms, and it is thought they were the cause of the sickness."

It didn't take much to set off the contentious Mr. Faith --- he was having a conniption that may or may not have been heat-related that July, increasing the temperature in The Democrat office --- then located in a rented room at the courthouse --- too. James Wilson "Sonny" Ragsdale had recently purchased the rival Republican-oriented Patriot and the war of words had begun:

"EXCUSE US --- 'Sonny,' in the smut-machine, attempts to reply to some things that we said last week by telling us that we lie. We have no language with which to meet arguments of that kind, besides, to quarrel with him would be small business. We have shown to the satisfaction of ourself, and to the readers of both papers, what a fool he is, and decency forbids us to meddle with him any farther. He is too small, too contemptible, to merit further or more respectful notice."

Mr. Faith apparently had a mouth (and pen) somewhat out of proportion to his slight frame, so found it useful, after digesting "Sonny" verbally, to advertise for a fighting surrogate:

"FIGHTING EDITOR WANTED: The editor of this paper, being a small man, and deficient in the fistic art, finds it necessary, in order to sustain the dignity of his profession, to provide every accommodation usually approved by first-class newspaper concerns, and with that view desires to engage a regular fighting editor. The applicant must be able-bodied, capable of vigorously applying a No. 14 boot to that part of the breeches which most frequently needs patching. He will have to deal principally with Radicals (Republicans). No compensation until capacity shall have been established."