How the Russell Cemetery got its start

Aldrich Tombstone, Russell Cemetery (Doris Christensen/Find a Grave)

I got to wondering the other day just how long the Russell Cemetery, Lucas County's second largest, had been around. The town itself was founded in 1867 along the route of the new Burlington & Missouri River Railroad, but the original plans did not include a graveyard.

There were rural cemeteries in the general neighborhood, but all were several miles away --- Salem and Ragtown to the west and southwest in Benton Township, Greenville in southeast Washington and what we now call Bethel to the northeast in Cedar.

More than 10 years later, in late 1878 and early 1879, the new city's fathers and mothers apparently decided the time had come to rectify the situation and settled upon a 10-acre tract just to the east of town on an extension of East Smith Street.

Acquiring the site turned out to be a little complicated, however. It was the property of William J. Boyd, who owned several hundred acres to the east and south of Russell but lived at Greenfield in Highland County, Ohio. He seems to have resisted the sale.

As a result, the three Washington Township trustees --- Barney O'Hair, G.C. Boggs and J.S. Johnson --- filed suit in Lucas County Circuit Court during January of 1879 asking that the property be condemned so that it might be used for cemetery purposes.

It's not clear whether the situation was settled amicably or if a decree was granted in the supervisors' favor, but during April, the Russell Cemetery Association was formed to raise $1,500 for the purchase and development of the property. So it looks like the the cemetery dates from the spring of 1879.

One of the first to be buried in it was Samuel Hawkins, who died on March 3, 1879, at the age of 35. His will included a provision that the remains of his wife, Perninah (spelled "Peninah" on the family tombstone), who had died at the age of 27 on Jan. 22, 1876, in southwest Iowa's Fremont County, be disinterred and brought to Russell for burial beside him. You can read more about Samuel here.

Others who had died earlier also are buried in Russell, but moved from elsewhere --- including four members of the Aldrich family, also near the main entrance to the original section of the cemetery (stone above).

The Chariton Patriot's Greenville correspondent submitted the following item for publication on Dec. 22, 1881: "The widow Aldrich a few days ago had the remains of her husband and three children moved from the Greenville cemetery to the Russell cemetery. She contemplates erecting a $155 monument in the Russell cemetery. Mr. Beardsley, of Chariton, is to furnish the marble work."

The "widow Aldrich" was Margaret and this item explains why Jonathan Aldrich (Sept. 20, 1816-Feb. 1, 1877) and their three young children, Arabella (May 5, 1864-Sept. 13, 1865) and twin sons, Carlton and Charlton (May 20-21, 1872) are buried where they are, also just inside the old main entrance.

Margaret herself died on July 1, 1911, age 76, at her home in Russell and was buried with her husband and children near, presumably, that fine tombstone provided by Mr. Beardsley of Chariton during 1881.

That Mr. Beardsley was Wilford W. Beardsley (1844-1929), operator of a marble and stone-cutting business just southwest of the Chariton square and father of Sam Beardsley who, with his wife, Edith, founded Beardsley Funeral Home, now Fielding's, in Chariton.

Dum Tacet Clamat: Chariton Woodmen of the World

Life in Lucas County was considerably more social --- and ceremonial --- for almost everyone as the 19th century turned toward the 20th --- a series of face-to-face encounters that would exhaust those of us in the 21st more accustomed to vicarious interaction with via solitary manipulation of digital devices.

There were family events, school events, church events, military veteran events, volunteer firefighter events and --- for many if not most --- lodge events. Masons, Odd Fellows, Knights of Pythias and their auxiliaries all flourished, each with elaborate rituals and gathering places.

A new order was organized in Chariton during early summer, 1897 --- Manchester Camp 120, Woodmen of the World. These are their ceremonial ribbons --- from the Lucas County Historical Society collection. Camp officials wore those at the top here on formal occasions, identifying themselves by position; all members wore the following reversible ribbons, bright and bunting-bedecked on one side, suitable for parades, and black on the other, worn when members attended funerals of comrades as a unit or gathered graveside in a cemetery to dedicate a Woodmen of the World tombstone.

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Organized during 1890 in Omaha, Woodmen of the World was a fraternal benefit society that sold both life insurance and social opportunities --- policy holders were organized into "camps" that operated much like other lodgess with regular meetings and elaborate rituals. One of the principal selling points of the W.O.W. was the fact that death benefits included, from 1890 until the mid-1920s when the cost became prohibative, a tombstone.

Here's a report from The Chariton Herald of June 17, 1897, that describes the organization of Manchester Camp No. 120:

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Mr. A. L. Manchester, who has been in Chariton several weeks for the purpose of organizing a new order, the "Woodmen of the World," completed his labors last Friday, leaving the same day for Hannibal, Missouri, to take up work. The local lodge was named Manchester Camp, Woodmen of the World, in honor of the organizer.

The meetings are to be held in the A.O.U.W. (Ancient Order of United Workmen) hall on the second and fourth Tuesday evenings of each month. 

The order is a fraternal beneficiary order. Acceptable male applicants between the ages of 18 and 52 are eligible. Payments of assessments and dues are made monthly and cease at the end of from 20 to 30 years, according to the age at entry. A $100 monument is placed at the grave of every deceased member, in addition to the full payment of the certificate. A charity fund is provided for the relief of sick and indigent members.

The local officiary is as follows: Council Commander, F.R. Crocker; Advisor Lieutenant, Eli Manning; Banker, A.L. Yocom; Clerk, Jay J. Smyth; Escort, J.H. Carroll; Watchman, August Lindquist; Sentry, W.S. Shimp; Physician, A.L. Yocom; Managers, W.S. Long, Eli Manning, Leroy Larimer.

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Woodmen of the World remains in business, still headquartered in Omaha, but Manchester Camp 120 faltered and then vanished entirely during the early 1930s.

The first Manchester Camp member to die and thereby collect his benefits was John W. Shelton, shot to death at age 33 in a hunting accident just west of Chariton by his friend, Ed Smoot, on Nov. 29, 1900.

On Memorial Day, 1901, some 500 Woodmen of the World from across southern Iowa gathered in the Chariton Cemetery to unveil the first of the order's tombstones erected in the cemetery--- and in the region. 

That mighty chunk of granite looks as good now as it did then, emblazoned with the Woodmen seal and its motto: "Dum Tacet Clamat," Though silent, he speaks.

Tombstone Iconography: Angels among us

Iowa's best known cemetery angels are located at opposite ends of the state. One, in Iowa City's Oakland Cemetery, marks the final resting place of Nicholas and Teresa Feldevert and her son by an earlier marriage, Edward Dolezal. The other, in Fairview Cemetery, Council Bluffs, memorializes but does not mark the grave of Ruth Anne Dodge. Both are quite large and referred to as "black angels" because time and the elements have oxidized their surfaces.

The best of the angels scattered around the Chariton Cemetery is located at the grave of Bonnie Johnson, who was 8 when she died of diphtheria in Des Moines on March 7, 1919, and is much smaller --- and friendlier. Bonnie's parents, Harry and Olive (McEndree) Johnson, brought their daughter home to Chariton for burial beside her grandfather, Frank O. McEndree, who had died several years earlier.

"Angel" derives from "angelus," Greek/Latin for "messenger," intermediaries between human and the divine. On the one hand, there are angels of death, sent to convey the souls of the deceased. On the other, there are guardian angels.

Bonnie's angel seems to fall into the latter category and still, 101 years later, guards her charge as she sleeps here not far inside the cemetery's main entrance gate.

Ash Wednesday

It is Ash Wednesday, after all, so here's a little poem I like, written during 2016 by the late author,  editor and poet Brian Doyle (1956-2017). The cross tops the Edward Ames Temple family tombstone in the Chariton Cemetery.

Here’s your Ash Wednesday story.
A mother carries her tiny daughter
With her as she gets ashed and the
Girl, curious and wriggly, squirms
Into the path of the priest’s thumb
Just as the finger is about to arrive
On the mother’s forehead, and the
Ashes go right in the kid’s left eye.
She starts to cry, and there’s a split
Second as the priest and the mother
Gawk, and then they both burst out
Laughing. The kid is too little to be
Offended, and the line moves along,
But this stays with me; not the ashy
Eye as much as the instant when all
Could have been pain and awkward
But instead it led to mutual giggling.
We are born of dust and star-scatter
And unto this we shall return, this is
The Law, but meantime, by God, we
Can laugh our asses off. What a gift,
You know? Let us snicker while we
Can, brothers and sisters. Let us use
That which makes dark things quail.

A fall on the ice claims Chariton's first-born son

Doris Christensen/Find a Grave

John Baxter, buried in Cedar Township's Bethel Cemetery, was --- according to his schoolmate and friend Dan Baker --- the first male child born to permanent settlers in Chariton. And Dan, who went on to compile the county's definitive 1881 history, would have been among those most likely to know.

But that piece of information comes not from the history book, but rather from a brief obituary that Dan wrote for his Chariton Leader of March 5, 1875, after John's untimely death at the age of 23 on March 3, 1875.

Don't be confused by the inscripton on his tombstone, erected many years after death. The information on it is wrong.

Here's the first mention of the accident that claimed John's life --- from The Leader of Feb. 20, 1875:

On last Friday, John Baxter, the eldest son of Thomas Baxter, residing a few miles east of town, accidentally fell on the ice and broke his leg. Dr. Powell, of Russell, was called in to attend to his injuries. John is a steady, industrious young man and was just getting ready to go out to Nebraska to reside upon a homestead taken up some time ago. He is the second son of Mr. Baxter's that has broken his leg. 

The obituary followed two weeks later:

Died at his father's residence in Chariton Township, Lucas County, on Wednesday, March 3d, John Baxter, eldest son of Thos. Baxter. To the sorrow stricken parents we extend our sincere sympathies. But a few days ago, John was in the prime of health and vigor, but by an unfortunate accident, broke his leg which was followed by a severe attack of fever ending in his death.

Years ago, we met him daily in the schoolroom and learned to know him as a studious faithful pupil and a generous hearted boy. At the time of the accident he was preparing to locate in Nebraska where he had selected him a homestead upon which he had centered the fondest hopes of his youthful ambition. But man proposes and God disposes. The deceased was the first male child ever born in the town of Chariton and was about 24 years of age.

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John's parents were Thomas and Mary Jane Baxter. Thomas left the north of Ireland behind during 1849 and landed in Chariton during 1851, then sent for his wife, two daughters (Mary and Margaret) and his father, also John. Young John was born about a year after the family had been reunited.

Mary Jane died on April 8, 1855, most likely of complications from childbirth, and Thomas married Margaret Irvine soon after. They became the parents of another son, William Baxter.

Thomas was a stonemason by trade when he arrived in Chariton, but soon switched to farming and located some miles east of Chariton near the Lincoln-Cedar township line and prospered there. 

Jackson Township's first family: The Mundells

There's no doubt that Joseph and Sarah Mundell and their five children were the first settlers in Lucas County's Jackson Township, due west of Chariton and sharing a county line with Clarke. Joseph and his sons built a cabin for the family in the hills south of what now is the town of Lucas between White Breast Creek to the north  and the Chariton River to the south during the winter of 1849-50. The entire family moved west from temporary headquarters near Eddyville during April, 1850.

Sixty-one years after the family's arrival in Iowa, during September 1911, descendants gathered for a reunion in the woods near the spring where that first cabin had been located. They left behind a report published in both The Chariton Leader and The Herald-Patriot (of Sept. 28) that's the envy of family historians who wish their ancestors had produced something similar. Here it is:

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Joseph Mundell, wife and five children, Isabelle Ann, Robert Isaiah, James Russell, Margaret Jane, Lura Debra, left Boone county, Indiana, in September 1849, and in 16 days landed three miles west of Eddyville, Iowa, where they wintered. In that winter, Uncle Joseph, as he was commonly known, and two sons, Robert and James, came to Lucas county, two and a half miles south of what is now Lucas but was then nothing but prairie, and built them a log house, consisting of one room, sixteen by eighteen feet. They brought their covered wagon and used it as a house while they were building, which took two weeks.

On April 20, 1850, the family moved to their new home in their wagon with all their things in it. They bought eighty acres at $1.25 an acre when they first came, and in a few years they got forty acres more.

It was on the old farm Sept. 23, 1911, that his one son, James, and sixty-one grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren took their well filled baskets for a reunion and picnic, and my, such a "dinner."  The table never could have stood up under its load if it had not been spread on the grass,, and the same old spring that furnished water for their grandfather some sixty years ago, furnished water for them on Saturday.

The day was well spent in songs, swinging and games of all kinds. A jolly good time was reported by all and the old woods fairly rang with laughter and shout.

One of Uncle Joseph's great-granddaughters, Mrs. Alma Baker, lives on the old farm now. Uncle Joseph, Aunt Sarah, Robert and Jane, have all passed away, only three of the children remain, Ann May of Silver City, Iowa, Lura Pearson, of Burns, Oregon, and James of Derby. The girls were unable to be present.

The family has grown in the last sixty years until there are about two hundred of them now living, but it was impossible for all to be here as they are scattered from Illinois to Oregon and from Oklahoma to Canada, but the absent ones were not forgotten for their motto is, "Love one another."

They returned to their homes in the evening after spending a most happy day, each being glad they were one of the Mundell generation.

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What the report does not mention is the fact that the Mundells were charter members of Goshen Baptist Church, about a mile south of their pioneer home, so that's where most of the family that remained in Lucas County is buried.

The matriarch, Sarah, died at age 78 during 1878 and Joseph followed seven years later, at the age of 82 during 1885.

The reunion article states that there were some 200 living descendants of the pioneer couple during 1911. Anyone care to speculate about what that number would be in the year 2020?

Don "Mr. Man" Trump vs. Pete "Mr. Man" Buttigieg

I've enjoyed this piece by Bob Moser, published a couple of days ago in The Washington Post, concerning two potential contenders for the presidency later this year --- the incumbent, Donald Trump, and one of his challengers, Pete Buttigieg. Here's a key paragraph:

"A contest between Buttigieg and Trump would present a clash between two distinct — and distinctly old-school — ways of projecting masculinity. It would be like a comically over-the-top WWE Hall of Famer entering the ring against a 21st-century Gary Cooper, whose secret weapon is his steely self-possession."

Other contenders are not considered: Bernie Sanders, the scrappy outsider; Joe Biden, the universal  daddy; and Elizabeth Warren and Amy Klobuchar, spared because pundits still are figuring out how to navigate the hazardous stereotyping waters surrounding serious and worthy female contenders.

Whatever the case, its an interesting read.

A Methodist preacher with a sense of humor

I'd never suggest that preachers are lacking in humor, but some are. As counterpoint, the Rev. Artemas Brown (1822-1890)  seems to have been richly endowed in that department.

He was, according to a history of the Clarinda Methodist Episcopal Church, which he served 1871-72, "the jolliest and most humorous man that this church ever had."

According to a brief biography of his son, also Artemas Brown, the Rev. Mr. Brown "was for forty years a Methodist minister and for twenty-five years a member of the Des Moines Conference. He filled many of the important appointments in his conference and was presiding elder of the Chariton District when he died. He was born on a farm near Marietta, Ohio, December 17, 1822, and was educated at the Drew Theological Seminary, Concord, N. H. He died at the home of his daughter, Mrs. Judge Green, at Audubon, Iowa, February 9, 1890." Mrs. Brown, nee Margaret Agnes Thorp, was born at Cincinnati, Ohio, December 9, 1822. They were married in 1852.

In 1883, the Rev. Mr. Brown was assigned as pastor to the Russell Methodist Episcopal Church and it probably was there that Henry Gittinger, the Russell boy who went on to edit and publish The Chariton Leader first encountered him.

Forty years later, in The Leader of April 22, 1920, Henry shared the following recollection of the Rev. Mr. Brown:

"Rev. Artemas Brown, a former presiding elder of the Chariton district, was long known as the 'wag' of the conference. Once charges were preferred against him and he was brought before the conference and reprimanded. He was retained however, on probation, and requested to mend the ways of his levity and sport.

"This he did and the report to the bishop was about as follows: 'My dear brother: Since your penance I have tried to be solemn, but all to no avail. The mere thought of the situation would make a saint smile if his liver was not torpid. I have applied a carpet stretcher to my face before every sermon since and have read nothing but the book of Job and epitaphs on the tombstones in my daily walks through the cemetery until even our undertaker shuns me. If you don't think my reform is sufficient, please send me a shroud.'

"You may truly suppose Artemas was retained and went on preaching salvation and distributing sunshine until the angels carried him home. He had the courage to ridicule long-faced christianity under peculiar circumstances and he was elevated to an eldership. 'Just as I am without one plea' without any attempt to improve on the work of the Almighty was his motto. And often have we thought what a dearth there is of souls full of real sunshine."

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The Rev. Mr. Brown is buried at Maple Grove Cemetery, Audubon, and has two markers there, one a substantial Woodmen of the World monument with his given name spelled one way, "Artemas," and the other, a smaller head stone upon which the name is spelled another, "Artemus." 

Artemas of Lystra, mentioned in St. Paul's letter to Titus, obviously was the source of the Rev. Mr. Brown's given name, but it's a name that encourages creative variations in spelling that can confuse researchers. And like many other things, he may have found that amusing.

The mystery of the pre-dawn grave diggers

Small-town police are accustomed to dealing with all sorts of situations, but the call that interrupted Police Chief Ed Church's slumber before dawn on Sunday, Feb. 27, 1944, was especially disconcerting.

So he gathered reinforcements --- well as shovels --- and set out with two others to investigate reports of a mysterious fresh grave in southwest Chariton.

Here's what they found, as reported under the headline "Dig Grave at 4 in the Morning" in The Chariton Leader of Tuesday, Feb. 29.

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The newly-made grave had been opened. Chief of Police Ed Church, Ike Daugherty and Evan Davis had lifted the casket to the surface.

They removed the lid from the box. They saw a pretty pink baby blanket. Police Chief Church lifted the blanket.

There, in death, lay a Boston bulldog. A  mystery was solved.

Church had been notified that at 4 a.m. Sunday that persons were seen digging a grave in southwest Chariton. The grave was easily found. A neat mound covered with evergreen twigs had been built over it. Stones marked each end of the grave. Footprints of a man and a woman were visible around it.

The three men replaced everything and the grave now is just as it was when they began their investigation.

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Most likely we'll never know who had buried their deceased canine companion, nor exactly why they had waited until the pre-dawn hours of a Sunday morning to do it. But somewhere down here in southwest Chariton, most likely, is the long lost grave of a treasured pet.

CCC Camp Chariton closes but its legacy goes on

The stone shelter at Red Haw State Park.

I wrote yesterday about a game bird conservation effort undertaken during winter of 1939-40 by young men headquartered at CCC Camp Chariton, then entering its final full year of operation. 

The end came during mid-summer, 1941, when the decision to close the Chariton camp and transfer its equipment and personnel elsewhere was announced as follows in The Herald-Patriot of July 29:

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Chariton's CCC Camp No. 2715 will be withdrawn Aug. 15, it was announced today. The Chariton Chamber of Commerce has made efforts the last few weeks to have the camp retained but lack of enrollees due to national defense work as well as a slash in the national appropriation by the Congress has made the decision definite. Lack of further work for a forestry camp has contributed to the decision.

Chariton's camp was started in August of 1934 when it was a tent camp. The initial camp was a soils conservation camp with work being done for farmers consisting of pond construction, contour work and terracing. The present forestry camp moved in on June 1, 1937.

Officials at the camp said today, "We feel just as bad about leaving Chariton as anyone. Most of us have been here for a number of years, have made good friends, and sincerely hate to leave a city in which we have enjoyed living." Camp officers will be transferred to other camps at Keosauqua and Ames. However with the curtailment of CCC activities all over the country, a number will of necessity be dropped.

No decision as to the disposal of the buildings in Chariton has as yet been announced. Youths at the camp here will be transferred along with equipment to the Keosauqua camp.

A compilation of work accomplished here by the forestry camp was released here today. Work being done at the present time on the Lucas area lake will be completed prior to the camp's removal. The lake will impound between six and seven acres and will be stocked with fish by the State Conservation commission. The compilation:

LAND WORKED --- 4,000 acres including 2,000 acres southwest of Lucas, 2,000 acres northeast of Chariton and Red Haw State Park. To a majority of persons perhaps the work at Red Haw state park is the outstanding accomplishment of the camp. Development work was done that would not have been finished for years without the camp.

WORK PROJECTS ON FOREST AREAS --- Fencing, 24 miles; erosion control, 727 check dams; sloping and sodding, 19 acres; erosion planting, 180,000 Black Locust; forest planting, 531 acres, 638,000 trees of Oak, Ash, Walnut, Locust and Pine; timber stand improvement, 1051 acres yielding 900 cords of wood, 8,000 fence posts and 23,000 board feet of lumber; game management, 17 dewponds to conserve water for game, approximately 100 quail shelters on all areas; roads, approximately six miles of roads through forest areas.

RED HAW HILL STATE PARK --- Fenced area; built and resurfaced roads; constructed one rock shelter house; constructed one fishermen's shelter house; constructed two latines; installed two pumps for drinking water; constructed two parking areas; constructed one boat landing dock; planted approximately 80 acres of park with 100,000 trees native to this part of Iowa; constructed 80 picnic tables approximately 40 of which are in the park and forest area; constructed entrance and portals to the park.

PRIVATE LANDS --- 23 planting demonstrations on privately owned lands in this area were established by this camp. Six timber stand improvement demonstrations were established on privately owned lands in this area.

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It should be noted that the work compilation in the article referred only to projects completed after July 1, 1937, when the company housed at Camp Chariton was redesignated and repurposed as Forestry Co. S-104.

Completion of the dam and related infrastructure at Red Haw State Park was completed during the first years of camp operations when the mission of the company housed there was explicitly soils conservation. Forestry camp enrollees continued to develop the state park, adding among other amenities the stone shelter house and the fishermen's shelter house.

CCC men also worked on a variety of Lucas County projects large and small that aren't enumerated. These ranged from building infrastructure for a fish hatchery at Lake Ellis for the Iowa DNR to building the current stone entrance to the Chariton Cemetery.

So the legacy of the CCC program and the young men who served in it remains very evident in Lucas County --- if one pays attention.

I've written a more comprehensive account of Camp Chariton, which you'll find here; history of the Red Haw stone shelter may be found here.

CCC boys to the rescue of quail, ringneck pheasants

Wikipedia

The winter of 1939-1940 had been harsh in Lucas County, including heavy snow cover that persisted into mid-February and threatened Department of Natural Resources efforts to repopulate the supply of game birds --- native northern bobwhite quail and the few ringneck pheasants that had survived from earlier efforts to introduce those somewhat exotic birds in the county.

That offered a new challenge to the young men assigned to CCC Camp Chariton, founded during 1933 and during 1940 in its last full year of operation. The camp would close at midyear 1941 due to a combination of declining number of recruits as defense-related jobs opened, funding cuts and completion of scheduled work at the new Red Haw Hill State Park and the nearly 4,000 acres that would be collectively named Stephens State Forest during the 1950s.

The mission was described as follows in a front-page article published in The Herald-Patriot of Feb. 15, 1940:

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The CCC camp at Chariton has, for the last month, conducted an intensive feeding program for the quail and pheasants in the adjacent country. At the present time, they are caring for over 850 quail and 25 to 30 pheasants with the 47 feeding stations they are maintaining.

For three years the camp has carried on a program of game management and the quail on the 3,800 acres of state owned land were located, their ranges determined, and food patches of corn, cane and hegira were planted to provide them with winter food. Shelters were erected, and cover plantings were also put in for their protection.

This year, however, the deep snow and overabundance of rabbits has enabled the cottontails to feed heavily on these food patches and the birds are being taken care of by installing feeders in their shelters and distributing feed to them.

The birds are being fed a mixture of corn, screenings and gravel or grit. The  Iowa Conservation Commission is furnishing the corn and local mills have donated the screenings.

The pheasants mentioned are a new addition to our game population here, as they are just recently appearing in appreciable numbers in this county.

The game birds found on private land are located, shelters erected of brush, corn stalks, etc., near their roosing places, and feed id distributed them at regular intervals in feeders made by the camp.

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Pioneers had found quail in Lucas County when they arrived and the birds had flourished when 19th century farming practices were in use. But 20th century farming techniques had altered their habitat and numbers were on the decline.

Pheasants had been introduced to the state about 1900-1901 when, according to DNR research published in 1977, "a wind storm blew down fences on William Benton's game farm at Cedar Falls, thus accidentally liberating the 2,000 or so confined pheasants. A rumor was that the wind was helped a bit by a few neighbors who wished to see some birds released into the wild."

Private and public efforts to increase Iowa's pheasant population after that had been successful elsewhere in Iowa, especially in north Iowa, but not in southern Iowa.

Game bird management would move to a back burner during the World War II years, but in 1940, Iowa's DNR was serious about this. Later on that year, a Des Moines hunter was fined $50 --- a considerable amount of money at the time --- after shooting a hen pheasant in Benton Township.

Tombstone Iconography: General F.M. Drake's obelisk

Francis M. Drake

Obelisks (four-sided columns topped by pyramids) are among the most familiar shapes in older Iowa cemeteries, reflecting a 19th century cultural fascination with all things Egyptian sometimes called "Egyptomania."

In ancient Egypt, the obelisk was a religious symbol; elsewhere, not so much --- more a symbol of power and importance when very large and erected to mark the final resting place of (or to commemorate) someone --- generally male --- considered to be of considerable significance.

The world's tallest obelisk, erected 1848-1888, is the Washington Monument. It was, briefly, the world's tallest man-made structure (at 555 feet) until displaced by the Eiffel Tower. Smaller versions sprang up to commemorate lesser luminaries, too, as the 19th century marched into the 20th.

Brig. Gen. Francis Marion Drake, Iowa's 16th governor, rests near the tallest obelisk in the five counties I'm most familiar with --- Lucas, Wayne, Appanoose, Monroe and Marion. It towers above everything else in Centerville's Oakland Cemetery. Elsewhere in Centerville you'll find Drake Avenue and the magnificent Francis M. Drake Public Library, among his many gifts to his hometown.

Drake University in Des Moines, which he was instrumental in founding and endowing, is probably his most  widely known beneficence. Drakesville, in Davis County, was founded by his father.

If you'd like to read more about Drake, follow this link.

The dreadful demise of Charles Wheeler

David Wheeler/Find a Grave

Youthful temptation to hitch a ride on a passing freight has for the most part passed as one of those things parents need to worry about. Other means of transport are readily available and, although dozens of trains still pass through Chariton daily, none make scheduled stops or, for that matter, even slow down.

But that was not the case on Valentine's Day, 1880, when young Charles Wheeler and a friend spent the day in town, stayed late and decided to hitch a ride to Indianola Junction, two miles northwest of Chariton, rather that walk. The result was fatal, as reported in The Chariton Patriot of Feb. 18:

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On Saturday last, Charles, a 20 year old son of Hon. S.D. Wheeler, came to Chariton and with another neighborhood youngster remained in town until about 10 o'clock p.m. Then they boarded a freight train going west as they had been in the habit of doing, and young Wheeler undertook to jump off while the train was in motion. This was in the vicinity of his father's house near Indianola Junction.

He did not let go of the car when he dropped his feet to the ground, but held on to the lower round of the brakeman's ladder, intending to run along until he was fairly on his feet before letting all hold go. The train was going so fast as to swing him around between the wheels.

He was cut in two just below the shoulders, and all of his body was ground up except his head and shoulders. There were a dozen or more cars behind the one on which he was riding. The young man was not in the habit of drinking and was sober at the time, according to our information.

The funeral took place on Sunday and was one of the largest ever witnessed here. This accident is a terrible warning to all those in the habit of getting on and off of moving trains.

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Samuel D. Wheeler was a prominent Lucas Countyan of his day --- sometimes county supervisor, occasional state legislator and prosperous farmer. He and wife, Elizabeth, had brought their family to Liberty Township during 1856, settling in the neighborhood along White Breast Creek where landmarks still bear their surname --- Wheeler Bridge, Parr-Wheeler Cemetery.

During 1873, they turned the farm in that neighborhood over to their older sons and built a new place on a smaller farm near Indianola Junction (where the Indianola branch of the C.B.&Q. joined the main east-west tracks) just northwest of Chariton. That was where they were living when Charles was killed.

Ten years later, the Wheelers moved into Chariton where he died during 1897 at the age of 86. Elizabeth followed three years later, age 82. Charles, Samuel, Elizabeth and many other family members are buried in the Chariton Cemetery.

Trials & tribulations of Chariton's first automobiles

Horse and buggy days were numbered in Lucas County by January of 1920, when The Herald-Patriot reported that 1,982 automobiles had been registered at the courthouse for the new year. That number reflected just how fast the social landscape of a place can change. A mere 15 years earlier, there had been none.

That article sparked a memory for Samuel M. Greene, then living in Inglewood, California, and he sat down and wrote a long letter to the Herald-Patriot recounting his experiences as owner as one of the first two automobiles in Chariton ca. 1905-1906.

Greene had purchased The Chariton Herald during 1900, then purchased The Patriot and merged the two, forming The Herald-Patriot. He continued as editor and publisher until 1912, when California lured him west and he sold out here. Here's the text of Sam's letter:

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Inglewood, Calif., Jan.  24, 1920

Editor  Herald-Patriot

I saw the other day in your Herald-Patriot, formerly my Herald-Patriot, that there are now 1982 autos licensed in Lucas County. That  item takes me back to the days when there were just 1980 less autos than that in the county, about fourteen years ago, when Harry Stewart and I  owned the first two autos in Chariton.

I think there was  another one about the same time, a friction drive Lambert  owned by Ed Walton, who used to  take inhabitants riding in it upon the paved street and back  to the square on July 4 and  other notable  days, at  five  cents per inhab. It was a great treat for the hoi polloi, and I have  no doubt that lots of fellows who paid their  jitneys (nickels) then to  go up the street and back and see  how it felt to be  buggy riding without a horse in front, are dashing in from the farm and back in eight cylinder cars of their own  now. Such are  the mutations of time. Ed sold  that  old Lambert afterward to Jim Hickman, who  got lots  of fun out of it. It probably is in auto heaven ere this.

Harry Stewart and I got two-cylinder Buicks  almost on the same day, and neither of us knew that the auto germ was working in the other's system. He got his from the agent in Des Moines, after carefully attending auto shows for several years, and I got  mine from the agent in Oskaloosa, after reading the Buick circulars for several  years. The agent drove it over to Chariton for  me, and the roads were hard and rutty and  we wore out both back tires on the trip. They charged extra for auto tops in those days and  I was  proud to be able to brag of  an  auto with a top. I got a leather cap and a pair of goggles  with it, but overlooked such trifles as extra spark plugs, extra tubes, etc. I learned very shortly that I  needed them worse  than the leather cap and the goggles, though in those days they had  no windshields, and the driver of an auto would get dirt and bugs in his eyes if he didn't wear glasses  of  some  sort.

The agent taught me to drive on the abbreviated paving we had in Chariton then, up to the freight house and back around the square, and we certainly had the eyes of the town on us that day. I had cut the end out of my barn for a home for the auto, and we ran it in on two planks and the agent went home on the train. I remember with what sinking heart I looked at the animal I had bought the next  morning, and wondered how on earth I was ever going to get it out of the barn backwards and what I would do with it if anything went wrong. There wasn't a mechanic in the  town who knew anything about autos in those days. Harry Stewart heard I had a Buick, and we got  together and compared  notes and by putting together what we could remember of what the  agents had told us to do in each emergency, we managed  to get our cars going the first few days, and got  them  back in their barn  homes at  night, and after  that we were not so nervous.

But not so with the townspeople. When Jerome Oppenheimer was in Jefferson a year or so ago, we were  laughing about the way people in Chariton who were accustomed to driving around in the cool of the summer evenings would have to phone to see if Greenes or Stewarts were  going to be out with their autos that evening. If not, the horses and family surreys would venture out. But woe to the luckless drivers that would meet either of our autos  unawares. I think I counted 50 runaways that my auto caused the first  few weeks. I was almost a nervous  wreck. Between trying to remember  which lever to pull, and having my wife  punching me  in the back to warn me that a horse and  buggy were coming three  or  four blocks down the street, I could hardly sleep at night after we would get home from an alleged pleasure ride.

Some of the farmers  took the stand that anyone who owned  an  auto was an enemy because their teams would scare and sometimes run away when driving to town and they could not let their  women come to  town alone. I was  likely to  suffer  financially from my auto enterprise as neither of the other editors in the town had been so foolish as to antagonize humanity in that way, and I was afraid I might lose a lot of subscribers. I  only lost one, however, and he will  probably laugh about  it when he recalls  it. His team rose  straight up in the air  one day when I met him  and came down and broke the wagon tongue  off  short, and  the  end of it stuck in the ground and hoisted the rear end of the wagon in the air and dumped the farmer out and a man with him. Neither of them was hurt,  but  I could hear  their opinion of  me  for at  least a half  mile down the  road as I  sputtered along toward home, and next day he  came  in and disengaged his  name  from  my subscription list with a few choice expressions of personal regard, which Pearl Lewis listened to with quaking heart, as I was  out on the street at the time.

She feared the  bottom might drop right out of  the business if I continued using that auto. But it didn't, and after a year or so, when most of the horses that were scary had scared until they were tired, other  folks began to get  autos  and after half  dozen or so had come to  town, someone started  a  shop where they could be fixed if not too seriously indisposed, and the  mad chase was on.

The only decent stretch of road near town in those days, fit for driving faster than a horse could go, was along the main (C.B.&.Q. Railroad) line for a half mile just east of Spring Lake addition,  on the south side  of the  track.  There we used to take our company to show them how terrifically fast an auto could go as  compared with a horse. I have an idea we attained a speed of at least 20 miles an hour there at times, if the cylinders both happened to be hitting,  and the timer didn't jar loose, or one of the tires didn't soozie.

Such a crude assembly of experiments that old two-cylinder Buick was! And yet I still believe it was the best car of its day. We drove to Indianola in it once, on our first really long journey, and felt as if we had crossed the continent.  We rested there a couple of days before we ventured on the return trip. There were no garages in Indianola then, and we had  to keep the  auto in a livery barn. The continued use of horse stalls for the auto finally had an ill effect on the paint on it and  I had  to  have Will Schreiber repaint it.  I remember  I thought at the time an auto  was a  poor  investment, as the repainting alone  cost about as much as it would to keep a horse for a  year.

We had a lot of pleasure out of the Buick, however, in spite of the continual grief we had with it. The neighbors  and friends who got their first auto ride in it will perhaps still remember the thrill of going wobbling along on the rutty roads, trying to imagine it was easier riding that a surrey when it wasn't, and remarking that it certainly must require a lot of skill to run it. That was their way of paying for the ride and it was sufficient compensation for me. I never had any really bad luck with the car.  Never hit anybody, though I remember I came within a few inches of hitting a poor old chap on the square one day.  I ran over  a pet dog belonging to the little Grafton girl, who  lived a few doors east of Jos. Brown's, and  the  poor pup died. I  felt as badly about it as the little  girl did, and yet it was entirely the dog's fault  for it was a  perfect pest about running out and barking at me, as well  as every wagon and buggy that went past.

Another time we scared a team of mules standing alongside the road and they ran away, headed after us. They came faster and faster and my wife and Mrs. Stant Custer, who were  in the back  seat,  kept urging me  to drive faster as the mules were gaining on us. Mules always are very careful to keep the center of the road when they run away and they certainly would have run into the very auto that scared them, which would have been just like mules, if I had not  luckily got a little burst of speed out of the auto and got  away from them, whereupon they cooled  down  and stopped running.

So it went with our early auto adventures, and in a way they were the happy days, for we were young then and troubles sat lightly upon us. And I often wish, in spite of the spell that California has woven upon us, that we could be back in our life there when we were a young married couple, not realizing the risks and dangers of a business of our own, raising our little family and getting them  started on life's  rocky but happy road in that cold climate of Iowa, later to hear of the  charms  of California and risk a  trip out here,  to  get dissatisfied and move here, only to get spoiled so we  would  not want to  settle down again.

But speaking of autos again, I guess the really pioneer auto in Chariton came before Harry Stewart's and mine, and was a little steam propelled buggy that Harry Penick bought a year or two before that. It had a short and rather unhappy  life.

Harry had a man to run it who was supposed to be a machinery tamer, but it was too wild for him. It ran when it pleased,  and got too hot when  he didn't want it to, and was hard to guide, as  it was only a short buggy in length, and  one day out by Gene Baker's farm, on the  little slope that led  up to the  door of the farm house there, it took the steering wheel in its teeth, as it were, and rolled  down the side of the  hill and ruined the temper and one leg of the driver. I never knew whether Harry traded the thing off for a Louisiana ranch somewhere or sold it to the junk man. For all I know he may have captured his southern bride partly on the ground that he was a man with an auto,  which was a rare distinction in those days,  and was enough to  turn any girl's head. Though that wasn't the reason I got one, for I had a wife so didn't really need an auto. Anyway, I never saw Harry's steam buggy after the hill mishap, and no one had the temerity to try the auto experiment again in Chariton until the days of the ones I mentioned above.

Farewell, oh vintage Dell ...

I'm transitioning to a new PC this morning, so content will be a little scarce. Nothing catastrophic, but the old model had been in a state of decline for several weeks, I'd had all of the new components on hand for some time and it became obvious yesterday that the end was near.

The Gateway logo is here because I hadn't ordered new speakers and it soon became obvious that the old speakers weren't going to work. They were among components that arrived many moons ago in big black and white Holstein-cow-spotted boxes with the rest of my first PC. I can't count the number of PCs I've had since then. But the speakers have gone on and on. New ones are on order.

Remember Gateway? Founded in Sioux City, Iowa, in 1985, it had moved to South Sioux City, South Dakota, by the time my first shipment of components arrived. What little remained of it was sold  during 2007 to Acer --- and my new monitor is an Acer, so I've come full circle.

I need a PC rather than a laptop because of the type of work I do and the graphics I fiddle with. One thing I'm happy about --- with every new PC, the "tower" becomes more compact. 

Everything went well, other than difficulties encountered because for some unknown reason I have two Microsoft accounts and they've been dueling over the newly installed "Office" suite. 

Then there's the matter of downloading back-ups of content from the old Dell. There's no hurry on that --- and I want to  do it selectively. But it is going to take time. Then there's the fact I set the new outfit up on the kitchen table in order to leave its predecessor intact for the time being in another room. Now I've got to move the old  system out, clean up after it and move the new system  there.

Love, sweet love --- and politics

Just in time for St. Valentine's Day, The Washington Post published this morning a piece headlined, "Trump allies take aim at Buttigieg’s sexuality, a possible sign of things to come."

The article launches from a recent quote from Presidential Medal of Freedom awardee Rush Limbaugh: “They’re sitting there and they’re looking at Mayor Pete — a 37-year-old gay guy, mayor of South Bend, loves to kiss his husband on the debate stage. And they’re saying, okay, how’s this going to look, a 37-year-old gay guy kissing his husband onstage next to Mr. Man Donald Trump? What’s going to happen there?” (Buttigieg actually is 38.)

The obvious answer is, it's going to look like two men who love each other exchanging a restrained kiss in front of a large number of people in a public venue. That's about it. The Buttigiegs, Pete and Chasten, were married June 16, 2018, at the Episcopal Cathedral Church of St. James in South Bend.

What I found more interesting was Limbaugh's characterization of the president as "Mr. Man" and the implied characteristics the ailing right-wing pundit attributes to a real heterosexual man of a certain age --- fat, unattractive, not especially bright, rude, aging sexual predator inclined to grope people of the opposite gender.

Is this the way aging heterosexual males envision themselves? I don't know.

It seems unlikely to me that sexual orientation will be an issue among a majority of 2020 voters. It could affect some Democrats who entertain the false hope of attracting Republicans and independents with a candidate who offers a more benign example of aging male pulchritude. And of course the president's evangelical Christian base will continue to fantasize; there's very little the rest of us can do about that.

But love is love --- without regard to gender or sexual orientation.

Johanna Holmberg and women in hats

Both Welcome Wagon hostesses and mandatory hattedness for women have passed into history, but when this photograph was taken on May 21, 1962, in Des Moines, the former still roamed the land and the latter remained in force.

Welcome Wagon International was a business, founded in 1928 and headquartered in Memphis, Tennessee. It recruited women in cities across America as hostesses and these women in turn organized local business people to provide the "wagon" --- generally a late-model automobile from a dealer --- and big basketfuls of gifts and coupons that were delivered to newcomers in their hometowns.

Johanna Holmberg (1902-1986) was Chariton's Welcome Wagon hostess during the late 1950s and early 1960s. She also worked as a free-lance journalist, or stringer, for newspapers, including The Ottumwa Courier and the Des Moines dailies. Which is probably why she ended up with this eight-by-ten image taken at a meeting of central Iowa Welcome Wagon hostesses during early summer, 1962, and now in the Lucas County Historical Society collection.

The women are identified as (front row from left), Anita Nicodemus of Des Moines, Jeanne Wagner of Dallas Center, Gertrude Mullin of Creston, area supervisor Orpha Stilwell, executive supervisor Mildred Elmore, supervisor Virginia Roebken of Des Moines, Marjorie McGlynn of Des Moines and Johanna Holmberg of Chariton.

Second row from left, Deleina Gordon, Fort Dodge, Marcella Yochum, Newton, Pauline Larsen, Mason City, Virginia McKinney, Des Moines, Dorothy Smith, Des Moines, Jean Peters, Webster City, Helen Sutherland, Knoxville, Dorothy Tam, Des Moines, Audrey Golden, Des Moines, Helen Tapscott, des Moines, Mary Doolittle, Des Moines, Carine Houser, Newton, Ottie Jean Munson, Creston, and Agnes McCann, Creston.

Welcome Wagon International still exists after passing through a number of hands, now headquartered in Florida. But the last hostesses were laid off in 1998 because, it was said, they had too much trouble finding women at home to welcome.

Chariton Volunteer Fire Department on June 7, 1925

This image of the Chariton Volunteer Fire Department turned up yesterday as we were preparing to rearrange a collection that came to the Lucas County Historical Society after the death of Leck Young (1918-2008).  Leck was raised by his aunt and uncle, Agnes and Jake Yengel, and Jake is included in the photo --- probably why Leck had it.

The photo was taken on Sunday, June 7, 1925, in front of the fire station on the current site of Chariton City Hall, which replaced it during 1931. And the firefighters are identified:

First row from left: Paul Laing, Frank Whisenand, Elmer Harding, John Frazier, Byron Blanchard, Jake Yengel, John Klinge, Frank Shaffer, unknown, Frank Taylor, Clarence Melville, John McGinnis, unknown, Will Slattengren and Temp Percifield.

Second row from left: C.W. Huntley, Frank Lugar, Ira Curtis, Tom Plows, unknown, Jim Wishart, Clarence Homsher, John Plows, Jack Plows, Guy Retherford, Pat Clark, George Best, Joe Leisenring, Pete Noland, Larry Leonard and Ira Boylan.

It was the custom of the firefighters at the time --- and still is --- to hold a memorial observance for deceased members of the department on a Sunday near Memorial Day. So this was why the men had gathered. Here's a report from The Herald-Patriot of June 11, 1925, about the observance:

"The members of the Chariton Volunteer Fire Department held their annual memorial services last Sunday. In the forenoon, they attended divine services in a body at the United Brethren church and listened to a special and appropriate sermon by Rev. Geo. J. Cornford. The choir rendered some fine music for the occasion.

"In the afternoon at 2:30 o'clock, headed by the Firemen's Band, they marched to the Chariton cemetery and decorated the graves of about 48 deceased brethren. A male quartet composed of Messrs. T.D. Ashby, Merrill Anderson, Oliver Trautwein and Willard Curtis, and a ladies' quartette, composed of Mrs. Sarah Smith, Mrs. Fred Peterson, Mrs. Mae Gasser and Miss Warrene Smith, sang several beautiful selections. Victor Swartzendruver spoke briefly and a response on behalf of the firemen was made by Rev. Cornford. Graves of deceased brethren in the Calvary and Waynick cemeteries were also decorated during the day."

Tombstone iconography: Consider the lily

There's little doubt that the image of a lily on a tombstone is a symbol of resurrection, a meaning made abundantly clear on this stone where the lily is springing directly from the ground. The variety here is calla, actually not a lily at all, native to Africa but now cultivated worldwide.

The stone is located in Strong Cemetery, Pleasant Township, which dates to 1853 and served a neighborhood around the pioneer village of Belinda.

The first burial here was that of Levi Harvey Strong, age 16 months, who died on April 2, 1853 --- reportedly the first death in Pleasant Township.

George T. Johnston, born 1833, died five years later, during 1858 at the age of 25, and was buried nearby.

Basic research yielded no clue as to who George may have been or to whom he was related, but he certainly was well and long remembered. The tombstone bearing the lily that marks his grave dates from some 50 years later.

Dr. Michael Riordan and his Sacred Heart window

A couple of things happened last week to remind me of Dr. Michael F. Riordan, an outstanding physician headquartered at Melrose who practiced in Monroe and Lucas counties from 1878 until the early teens of the 20th century.

The first was a Lucas Countyan post entitled "The 'Power of Love,' a sex scandal and tragic deaths." In it, Dr. Riordan was mentioned as the physician who in 1886 boarded a C.B.&Q. passenger train at Melrose after Bert Neuse shot himself and tended to the unfortunate young man en route to Chariton.  

The second was a fresh set of photographs of the Sacred Heart Church windows, taken as a comprehensive restoration effort continues and posted at the "Chariton Sacred Heart History" Facebook site.

One of those windows is the Sacred Heart window high in the chancel, north of the main altar, that was given by Dr. Riordan in memory of his parents. That's my photo of the window, taken a few years ago. It is balanced by an Immaculate Heart of Mary window south of the altar, given by the Rev. Henry Maniett.

The windows most likely were moved here from the original parish church, St. Mary's, when the new church was built in 1915. But neither Dr. Riordan nor his parents, Michael and Catherine, ever lived in Chariton. He was one of the rocks of the St. Patrick's parish at Melrose; they lived and died in Berkshire County, Massachusetts, where the family settled after arriving from County Kerry, Ireland, during 1855.

But Dr. Riordan, both a physician and successful entrepreneur, was widely known for his benevolence so it's not that surprising that he would have funded something like this in a neighboring parish where he was widely known and admired. Sadly, the old St. Patrick's Church at Melrose was struck by lightning and burned during 1971, so we have no way of knowing what sort of memorials he might have left behind there.

The inset photo is of Dr. Riordan's tombstone in St. Mary's Cemetery, Fulton, New York, hometown of his first wife, Delia (Flannery) Riordan. Late in life, the Riordans established a second home there, eventually his full-time home, and he died at Fulton at the age of 73 on Dec. 10, 1925.

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Dr. Riordan was born Nov. 19, 1851, in County Kerry, Ireland, to Michael and Catherine (Donohue) Riordan. Michael was a farmer and school teacher who brought his family to the United States during 1855 and purchased a small farm in Berkshire County, Massachusetts, where he lived until his death in 1890. Michael Jr. was the youngest in the family upon arrival although others were born later.

Michael attended the schools of Berkshire County until after the Civil War when, still a teen-ager but faced by the need to support himself, he headed for Iowa, perhaps to join relatives who lived at Mt. Pleasant in Henry County. 

What happened next is told as part of a tribute to Dr. Riordan written by Henry Clay Eschbach, of Albia, and published in the April 1926 edition of the Journal of the Iowa State Medical Society:

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"Dr. Mark Ranney, superintendent of the State Hospital at Mt. Pleasant, gave him (the young Michael) a position as a general utility boy --- taking care of his horses, running errands, and whatever he was called upon to do. It was not long until Dr. Ranney was impressed with his intelligence and his quick and accurate way of sizing up facts, and his ability to do well what was given him to do.

"Dr. Ranney then mapped out a course of study for him and personally supervised his studies, until he had prepared him for entrance in the medical department of the State University of Iowa. In 1872 Dr. Ranney furnished him the means and he matriculated in the medical department of Iowa University, and here the loyalty to the faith Dr. Ranney had in him began to tell, as did the inheritance of his simple but sturdy Irish ancestry, for he quickly took rank as a leading student in his class, and his brilliance carried him along as a leader to his graduation as first honor man and valedictorian.

"Following this, he received the apointment as assistant physician in the Mt. Pleasant Hospital, under his old patron Dr. Mark Ranney. Here he remained until 1878 when he resigned and began private practice in Melrose."

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Some years after establishing himself in Melrose, Dr. Riordan met and married Delia Flannery --- the date given in his obituary is May 2, 1886. Delia was a native of Fulton in Oswego County, New York, where the balance of her family lived and it's not clear how she ended up in Melrose. She is identified in the obituary as Delia "Sullivan," so it may be that she was a young widow at the time of her marriage to Michael.

The Riordans, who had no children, lived in Melrose until the spring of 1912 when, as her health was failing, they established a second home in her hometown, Fulton, and moved there. She died in Fulton on Dec. 29, 1912, and was buried there in St. Mary's Cemetery.

A little more insight into Dr. Riordan's medical career is provided by an obituary published in The Fulton Patriot on Dec. 16, 1925:

"For several years he practiced in Melrose, Iowa, where he was unusually successful. He was also interested in business there aside from his profession and was accounted one of the prominent and successful business and professional men of that state.

"Dr. Riordan for many years was the chief physician of the Chicago, Burlington & Quincy railroad. He was also prominently identified with the medical societies of the state of Iowa."

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Michael returned to Melrose after Delia's death, but now semi-retired traveled widely. On one of those trips --- to his former hometown near Pittsfield, Massachusetts --- he married Elizabeth Eldridge, some 25 years his junior, on Oct. 27, 1914, and they returned to Melrose to live and build a new home.

Within a couple of years, however, they decided to make their permanent home in Fulton, where Dr. Riordan, although no longer practicing medicine, became active in the community and Immaculate Conception Church. In 1918, he established himself as something of a local hero, as recorded in his 1925 obituary:

"He was noted for his acts of charity, performed in many ways. In the year of 1918, when Fulton was stricken by the influenza plague which wiped out many of the population, Dr. Riordan, while not a licensed state practitioner, volunteered his assistance and was granted a special permit by the state of New York to practice. This he did night and day without compensation and lending his efforts to many families who were strucken and who were in need of medical attention."

The good doctor died in Fulton on Dec. 10, 1925, after a four-week illness and was buried beside Delia in St. Mary's Cemetery. His widow, Elizabeth, known as Bessie, continued to live in Fulton until her death during 1973 at the age of 96.

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H.C. Eschbach, in his Medical Society Journal tribute, attempted to convey a little of Dr. Riordan's character, as follows:

"He was very patient with children, because he loved them and evidently they loved him. He was considerate of the feelings of all classes. He was generous to a fault. He was helpful to those needing help. He was public spirited, taking active part in the betterment of conditions in his community and in the parish. He gave of his means generously, but he also gave of himself, which so often means much more.

"He had a keen sense of humor and could use his native Irish brogue with ludicrous effect, though his usual diction was as precise and clean cut as that of any English scholar. He had a keen mind, an active brain, and an unusually fine physique which served to carry him through the hardships of an exacting practice.

"... his memory will always remain among the people to all of whom he had been for so many years the medical adviser, but more than that, the staunch and understanding friend."

So now, if you look up at the Sacred Heart window in Sacred Heart Church, you know something about the life and character of Dr. M.F. Riordan, who commissioned it in memory of his emigrant parents, Michael and Catherine.

Delia (Flannery) Riordan left a bequest of $350 in her will to fund this family stone in St. Mary's Cemetery, Fulton, New York.