Decline and fall of Lucas County's 1858 courthouse

Take yourself back 130 years this morning to the final day of November 1891 and head up to Chariton's square. The streets were dirt (or mud, depending) and the sidewalks, wood. At the southeast corner, that two-story building that now hides behind a blue false front and houses a furniture store was brand new, built the previous year by Victoria J. Dewey and known as the Dewey Block with two storefronts at street level and 10 office rooms above.

Over at the Courthouse, teams, wagons and men were evacuating the old 1858 building, hauling records and furniture out, loading everything up and transporting (or in some cases just carrying) the contents to the new offices in the Dewey Block, rented by the Board of Supervisors for $760 a year as emergency headquarters for both the courts and county government.

The image here is of that courthouse, taken some years earlier when it was nearly new. No one in Lucas County knew of the photograph --- housed in the Kearney County Historical Society's museum in Minden, Nebraska --- until 2014 when Jack Hultquist did the detective work needed to identify it and shared scans.

The St. John House hotel is visible to the left of the courthouse, on the south side of what now is Court Avenue, and the 1857 Hatcher House, to the right. Among the old courthouse's dubious claims to fame was the fact that horse thief Hiram Wilson, who fatally shot Sheriff Gaylord Lyman just off the southeast corner of the square back in July of 1870, was lynched by a mob that tossed him out a second-floor window with a rope around his neck the night the sheriff died.

+++

Although it certainly was an attractive building, the old courthouse had been something of a disaster from start to finish. Building it bankrupted the county after actual cost proved to be about double the original bid, coming in somewhere in the neighborhood of $23,000. And then it had no foundation --- those brick walls were based on nothing more than hewn logs planted on top of pilings driven into southern Iowa's shifting soil. Settling and cracking started almost immediately.

Everyone knew by the fall of 1891, 33 years later, that the building was dangerous, but push came to shove when circuit court judges refused to use the courtroom and moved operations to the city-owned building just off the southwest corner of the square that housed Old Betsy, the hook and ladder wagon and other firefighting equipment on the first floor and City Hall above. City Hall and the fire station still are at that location although obviously in a far newer building.

The Chariton Patriot reported in its edition of Nov. 11, 1891, that "Owing to the unsafe conditions of the court house, Judge Traverse refused to hold court in the court room, and adjourned to the rooms over the engine house."

The next day, The Herald added a few details and a little advice: "The Court House walls are becoming so much impaired by the settling of the foundation that the building is thought to be entirely unsafe for longer occupancy. On account of the dangerous condition of the building, Judge Burton has moved his court to the city hall. The county officers are on nettles, so as to speak, and are anxious to get out of what they regard as a veritable man-trap. The Board of Supervisors should lose no time in securing the opinion of competent architects and vacating the building if the condition is such as to warrant the fears entertained."

As it turned out, the county supervisors were acting even as those reports were being published and also on Nov. 11 passed the following resolution, as reported in The Democrat of Nov. 19: "Resolved, that in the opinion of the Board of supervisors, the Court House of Lucas county is in an entirely unsafe condition and cannot be repaired at a reasonable expense, and it is hereby ordered that the several county offices be vacated and Supervisor Wheeler is hereby appointed a special committee to procure suitable rooms for the several county officers."

The Herald reported, also on Nov. 19, as follows: "As will be seen from the proceedings of the Board of Supervisors in another column, the old court house has been condemned and the offices are to be removed into other and safer quarters. We understand that the Board has rented for two years with the privilege of four the entire upper story, except one room, of the Dewey block on the south side of the square, thereby securing nine convenient and comfortable office rooms at an annual rental of $760. The price seems high and it appears to some that the action of the Board in this matter has been somewhat hasty, but perhaps it is the best that could be done."

On Dec. 2, The Patriot reported that the old court house had been vacated on Dec. 1 "and so all public records and offices will hereafter be in the upper rooms of the Dewey block on the south side of the square. If we had the time what a history could be given of the old structure that will now stand in its loneliness until replaced by a more substantial one befitting the wealth of such a county as Lucas."

+++

Early in the new year, the county supervisors ordered demolition of the old courthouse by a resolution dated Tuesday, January 12, 1892: "It is hereby ordered that the court house of Lucas county be taken down and all material therein of value be carefully cared for and D.A. Enslow is hereby appointed foreman to oversee the work and caring for the material therein." Mr. Enslow was to be paid $2 a day for his trouble.

Demolition began during early February and had been more or less completed by the end of the month. "Work on tearing down the Court House has commenced and before many weeks the old eyesore will be no more," The Democrat reported on Feb. 11. "The tearing down of the court house calls forth a crowd of loafers on the corners who, while trying to appear interested in the strides of progress, never fail to stare the ladies out of countenance and blockade the walks," The Herald of Feb. 18 noted.

Some of the bricks and other masonry rubble from the old building were simply dumped into the streets surrounding the courthouse in an attempt to stabilize what generally became a sea of bottomless mud when the spring thaw arrived. Other rubble was left in place, resulting in something of an eyesore. The Democrat expressed its editorial outrage at the way the courthouse park now looked in its edition of March 31:

"The condition of the Court House park is such as to make the neat, interested citizens hide their faces or look the other way when once they have viewed it . The old treasury vault is to be left standing, which in itself is enough to make an eyesore. The intention of the county supervisors, so we are well informed, is to leave the old bricks and refuse lay in the place they are now. They assign as their reason for doing so that they want to use it to fill in around the new Court House. How ridiculous! Was ever a large building constructed but that there was always more than enough material left after building to do that. We have poor prospects of having a Court House built very soon, and to spoil our park, the only place we have for large congregations of people, is too bad. Then again it leaves a bad impression with strangers who visit our place. They nearly always take it for granted and it is the rule that neatness in public affairs is a criterion as to the neatness of the individuals. We hear numerous complaints every day concerning the state of affairs. the citizens should have their desires respected by the Board of Supervisors, and we hope that it may be removed and that we will again have our park neat and beautiful as it should be."

+++

Plans for a new courthouse actually moved with relative speed after that. During June of 1892, the county supervisors scheduled a county-wide election for August to vote on the issue of $60,000 in bonds to fund a new courthouse. Voters approved the measure 1,286 to 873 and bids were let during October. Work on the new building continued throughout 1893, county offices were moved into the new structure during the spring of 1894 and the building itself was dedicated during May.

The "new" courthouse continues to serve the people of Lucas County and remains (with constant attention) in a good state of repair.

It's never too late for Thanksgiving ...

I got to thinking about the weather yesterday while making the short drive out to Red Haw for Thanksgiving dinner with Bonnie and Alan, Mary Ellen and Jan, and four lively dogs. Fantastic meal, cooked by Bonnie; good company and conversation; happy pups.

Among many things to be thankful for --- including the weather: Mild and sunny totally lacking in the drama late November weather sometimes can impose on Iowans. I can't count the times I've slipped and skidded and shivered while trying to get from one place to another to celebrate.

This is one of my favorite Thanksgiving greeting cards, postmarked Midland, S. Dak., Nov. 22, 1915, and sent to my grandmother, Jessie (Brown) Miller, by her best friend (and niece of a similar age), Ida (Brown) Rogers. The weather had been fine and mild out in the middle of South Dakota during November, Ida reported in her note on the back, and she had been cooking daily for the six men involved in hauling hay on the Rogers ranch.

"Who brings sunshine into the life of others has sunshine in his own." Ain't that the truth? Happy Thanksgiving, a little belatedly, to all bearers of sunshine.

Elder Rice's 80-mile Sunday morning sermon

Back in December of 1881, the Greenville neighborhood --- southeast of Russell in Washington Township --- had a Chariton Democrat correspondent who identified himself as "Peck." And a Christian (Disciples of Christ) preacher, Elder Samuel Henry Rice (1842-1908), who served a small congregation that alternated with the Methodists in using the Greenville School as a site for services.

Elder Rice, a circuit-rider who lived with his wife, Nancy, and children at LaGrange --- a few miles north --- was known widely for what some considered to be the thoroughness of his sermons. Others called in long-windedness.

On Sunday, Dec. 11th of that year, Elder Rice preached a sermon of extreme length and "Peck" was on hand to time it, resulting in the following report in his Greenville News column in The Democrat of Dec. 15:

"Elder Rice preached a sermon at Greenville on Sunday, 3 hours and 43 minutes long by the watch. Just think of it. A person could start from Des Moines in the morning as he was giving out his text, change cars twice on the way, hoof it over from Zero (three miles), get there in time to hear the benediction in the afternoon and still have a few moments to reflect on. Strange but true, and yet the world is not without sin."

Zero was a short-lived coal mining town located in 1881 three miles east of Russell along the C.B.&Q. railroad tracks and three miles north of Greenville --- the closest a body could get by rail to the Greenville School.

Greenville never had a church building of its own and I don't know how long Elder Rice continued to preach in the neighborhood. He eventually accepted a call to serve the Disciples in Wayne County's Seymour, then moved west to Osage City, Kansas, where he died during 1908.

Here's another sample of Peck's reportage from The Democrat of Dec. 15: "Our blacksmith was severely injured the other day by the premature discharge of a mule which he was attempting to shoe. Charley says he had no idea the cussed thing was loaded, but nevertheless thinks he will be around in a few days. Don't know when the mule will be around again though."

Stephen Sondheim & the art of the obituary

The New York Times, in this era of newspaper decline, continues to do many things well --- including its practice of the art of the obituary.

As an example, here's a link to Bruce Weber's tribute to Stephen Sondheim, who died at 91 on Friday at his home in Roxbury, Conn.

The recipe includes an ability to write gracefully and while doing so, condense great detail with elegant economy.

Mr. Sondheim was of a rare breed in musical theater --- a composer who for the most part wrote the words to accompany his own scores (yes, he wrote just the lyrics for Leonard Bernstein's West Side Story score.)

And having celebrated Thanksgiving with family and friends after reaching old age with few apparent complications, he died unexpectedly --- survived by a husband some 50 years his junior. Not a bad way to go out, all in all.

Here's a link to what probably is his best known song --- "Send in the Clowns" from 1973's A Little Night Music, a reference not to the circus but to advice offered in the theater to divert audiences when scheduled performances are not going well. Frank Sinatra's performance probably has higher mileage, but I liked the Judy Collins version better.

The holidays now & as Dec. 7, 1941, approached

This is the schedule for Chariton's 2021 "Dazzlefest" celebration, intended to jump-start the season in a lively way tomorrow. But I've been looking back 80 years, to late November 1941 and thinking a little bit about what lay ahead as holiday plans were announced that year.

Ed Halden was chairman of the Chamber of Commerce Decorations Committee that year and he reported in The Herald-Patriot of Nov. 25 that the square would be brightened up with four hand-made, decorated and lighted arches at the entrances to sidewalks leading to the Courthouse. In addition, streetlights around the square would be covered by transparent plastic shades and decorated with evergreen boughs.

Christmas carols would be played from the courthouse public address system every day during the season. And the Chariton Mens Choir would present a public concert in the courtroom a few days before the big day itself.

Elsewhere in the United States as war clouds gathered and the nation ramped up its defenses, complications had developed for the local celebration. The Herald-Patriot reported, for example, that "Evergreen boughs for decorations were secured last week by a long-distance telephone call to Minnesota, but in many localities, a shortage of Christmas trees and spruce boughs is threatened.

"Defense is interfering with the holiday celebrations in many ways, threatening not only shortages in retail goods, but the annual customs of Christmas trees and wreaths.

"Not only have many northern communities been experiencing a shortage of men to cut the trees, but a few localities have found that fewer freight cars will be available for shipping the trees south."

Transportation and production issues also were affecting the supply of holiday goods in the stores around the square, too.

"Meanwhile, Chariton merchants report the heaviest preholiday buying in years," The Herald-Patriot reported. "Lay-aways are in many instances exceeding floor stocks, and, as merchants have found it practically impossible to reorder, they recommend shopping as early as possible."

Just two weeks later, of course, Japanese forces would attack Pearl Harbor, the United States would be fully engaged in a world-wide war and concerns about the supply of spruce boughs and Christmas trees would seem less significant.

The rise and fall of Chariton's Phoenix Flouring Mill

I set out this week to discover the source of a name --- Phoenix Flouring Mill, a commercial mainstay of Chariton from its earliest days until 1913 when the whole thing went up in smoke for the second and final time.

The mill, Chariton's first, was located with its millpond on the west half of Block 37, Coolbaugh & Brooks Addition, just west of the corner lot where Sacred Heart Church was constructed during 1915. It is shown here on a Sanborn Fire Insurance map dated July 1913. Today, the site is occupied by a recycled car dealership building and a parking lot for trucks.

As it happened, Dan Baker answered my question about the source of the name in this paragraph lifted from his 1881 history of Lucas County:

"The first flour mill built in Chariton was located on what is now part of block thirty-seven of Coolbaugh & Brooks addition. It was built by D.N. Smith in 1857. It changed owners several times previous to 1867 when it was purchased by Lewis & Bro., who have operated it since. In November, 1880, it was burned to the ground, but was immediately rebuilt, and very appropriately called the Phoenix Mills."

So that's why it was called "Phoenix." Like the mythological immortal bird, it arose from the ashes of its predecessor --- the first time.

+++

David N. Smith, who built the mill originally, was an interesting character, prominent during Chariton's earliest years. He was a Methodist preacher who paired a passion for sharing the Gospel with equal enthusiasm for making money. The mill was among his many enterprises.

Health issues had forced the Rev. Mr. Smith from the active ministry at Fairfield in the mid-1850s and just before relocating to Chariton --- then on the frontier --- he had been appointed agent for the Methodist Episcopal Sunday School Union. As such, he was responsible for traveling newly settled parts of the state, establishing Sunday schools, preaching when health permitted and fulfilling other missions as assigned. He was carried on the rolls of the Iowa Conference as a "superannuated or worn-out preacher," a designation that didn't stop him from making money, however, or recognizing an astute investment when he saw one as he traveled the mission fields of southern Iowa.

After the Civil War, Smith went to work as a land agent for the Burlington & Missouri River Railroad and as such amassed a considerable fortune --- he owned much of Corning at one point, for example, where he was not remembered for Christian charity.

By the time he died at home in Burlington, age 63, during 1879 he owned thousands of acres in southwest Iowa, Nebraska and Colorado. As death neared, however, his thoughts returned to the church and after willing sufficient funds to his wife, Sophia, to ensure that she could live comfortably but not extravagantly, he divided the bulk of his fortune among Simpson College in Indianola and an obscure "Ladies Academy" in upstate New York. Simpson continues to flourish; the New York academy went belly up not long after, scattering the Rev. Mr. Smith's bequest to the wind.

+++

The "Lewis" who purchased the mill in 1867 was Elijah Lewis (1834-1913) and the brother was Evan Lewis (1844-1908). They were members of a tight-knit Quaker family from Chester County, Pennsylvania, headed by Thomas M. (1800-1877) and Susanna (1810-1898) Lewis who would join their sons in Chariton during 1873.

Elijah dated the brothers' arrival in Chariton via stage coach from Burlington to Feb. 18, 1867, after having moved west from Pennsylvania to southeast Iowa immediately after the Civil War. He was a distinguished veteran of that war, having served first as lieutenant and then captain of Company F, 8th Regiment of U.S. Colored Troops. 

The extended Lewis family in Chester County had been notably abolitionist and that conviction had created a conflict for Elijah between his birthright of Quaker pacifism and his desire to join the fight to ensure the end of slavery and preserve the Union.

Elijah was very well educated for his time and had worked as a teacher in Pennsylvania prior to the war, but as was the case in many Quaker families he also had received training in a useful trade --- milling. Evan, while bright and personable, also was a notable alcoholic, always dependent to one degree or another on Elijah who eventually ended up serving as surrogate father to his children. Elijah himself never married.

The brothers set to work in Lucas County after purchasing what was known at the time as the Chariton Mills and by the autumn of 1880 had built a very successful business, then disaster struck. Here's the report as published The Chariton Leader of Nov. 20, 1880:

+++

Chariton has escaped from serious fires so long that it began to look as though she was blessed with good luck, but the fire demon came at last, leaving one of her oldest and most valuable business establishments in ashes. On last Sunday morning, when the greater number of her good citizens were in bed taking a quiet Sunday rest, the alarm of fire rang out in shrill tones, awakening the city.

Flames had been discovered issuing from the roof of Elijah Lewis' mill and the first alarm as given by the hideous screeching of the engines near the depot. A large crowd of anxious people were soon on the ground, also the fire companies, but too late to save the building, although the Engine Company managed to save some valuable machinery by throwing a heavy stream of water on it. A considerable quantity of flour was saved, but a lot of bran and grists were destroyed, the latter belonging to country customers. Eikenberry & Stewart lost about $500 worth of corn, which was there for the purpose of being shelled. 

Mr. Lewis had owned the mill for 14 years and worked hard to make it an establishment worthy of our city, and had expended money in repairing and refitting it with the best appliances and machinery, until he had expended ten thousand dollars on the mill alone, which is his estimated loss, and strange to say, there is not a dollar of insurance on it, the rates being very high and the property so near clear of debt the owner had taken out no policy for some time back. 

The cause of the fire is a mystery, as it evidently originated in the upper story farthest from the engine. Mr. Lewis certainly has the deepest sympathies of the public for his severe loss, and should he determine to rebuild, will doubtless meet with a hearty encouragement from all.

+++

Without insurance, Elijah looked to an investor in order to rebuild the mill and found one in George J. Stewart, then partnered with Daniel Eikenberry in the firm Eikenberry & Stewart, lumber merchants and dealers in grain and coal.

The business rose from the ashes and was rechristened as the Phoenix Mills, but early in the 1880s passed into sole ownership of Mr. Stewart as the Lewis family moved on to other pursuits.

Elijah was elected county treasurer, then during January of 1883 with his sister, Lucretia, purchased The Chariton Patriot from George H. Ragsdale and launched his career as a newspaper editor and publisher. Lucretia (1836-1899) seems to have been business manager of the operation; Elijah, the editor and principal writer; and Evan, very capable when sober, active in all aspects of the operation but not a financial partner in it.

+++

G.J. Stewart continued to operate the Phoenix Mills until January of 1901 when he sold the business to William A. Eikenberry (1876-1948), son of his former partner, Daniel Eikenberry, who continued to operate it until July of 1913 when disaster struck again, as reported in The Leader of July 3:

The Phoenix Mill and Elevator was burned in this city, late Thursday night. The origin of the fire is unknown, but the building was entirely consumed and the machinery ruined. there was a large amount of grain in the elevator at the time, which was either consumed or rendered worthless. About a car load of flour was in the ware room, which was also destroyed. The mill and equipment belonged to Will Eikenberry but the grain and flour was the property of McKlveen & Eikenberry. The insurance on contents was $1,500 and one the mill and equipment, $4,300. The mill will probably be rebuilt and a brick or cement structure will be erected.

A new mill did not arise this time from the ashes of the old, exactly. Instead, it's operations were incorporated into a new elevator built during late 1913 by the partnership of Samuel McKlveen and Will Eikenberry, doing business as McKlveen & Eikenberry, on the triangular-shaped lot immediately to the west where the McKlveen Brothers' lumber yard formerly had been located.

McKlveen & Eikenberry headquarters, and the firm's lumber yard, were located by this time on the current site of the Autumn Park apartments at the intersection of North Main and Auburn.

So that was the end of the Phoenix Mill --- a business that managed to rise from the ashes of its destruction once, but not twice. Here's how the mill site looks today, courtesy of Google Maps.

"Procession," Netflix and the topic of sexual abuse

Every time I start thinking of canceling my Netflix subscription, a film comes along that I'd regret having missed --- so it looks now as if that monster of a streaming service and I will remain hitched for another season.

The film this time is "Procession," which I watched last evening --- described in the headline for Ben Kenigsberg's New York Times review as "Art as Exorcism," an experimental documentary in which six survivors of abuse by Roman Catholic priests use filmmaking to confront traumatic memories.

Film maker Robert Greene, whose project it is, gives equal billing as collaborators to the six victims, now men in their middle years. Greene became interested in the story following a 2018 press conference in Kansas City by four men who came forward to tell their stories and shed light on the subject. Some of the participants are among his collaborators.

The film is set largely in the greater Kansas City area, but segments were filmed in Cheyenne, Wyoming, as well at recreational lakes in Missouri's popular tourist areas as the abuse victims revisit the scenes of their abuse, working toward catharsis.

The therapeutic mechanism in the film is called drama therapy and five of the six men wrote scenes, built sets and then acted out (with assistance from volunteers) the scripted memories. The film is as much about the process as it is the scenes, however, so there's no sense here of a staged production within another production.

In less skilled hands, this could have been an extraordinarily clumsy process; as it is, it works amazingly well and has received consistently positive reviews --- even though it's hard to watch sometimes.

Although the setting here is specific --- clergy abuse within the Catholic Church --- the lessons apply generally to all forms of child abuse and the unforgettable long-term trauma abusers inflict on innocent victims. It's a film well worth watching.

Henry Newhouse: Not the last man standing

Henry Andreas Newhouse was most noted when he died at age 94 on July 25, 1940, as the youngest of three veterans of the Civil War still alive and kicking in Lucas County. When funeral services were held the following Sunday at the Methodist church in Oakley, his seniors --- Robert Killen and William Humphreys, both 96 --- attended.

A few months later, rather than making a last-man-standing contest out of it, both Mr. Killen and Mr. Humphreys died at their respective homes on Jan. 25, 1941, thus closing in tandem a significant chapter of Lucas County history.

Many years later, representatives of the Iowa Division, Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War, came to Graceland and Mount Zion cemeteries, where Killen and Humphreys are buried, to recognize their longevity. You may read more about that if you like in two earlier Lucas Countyan posts, "Lucas County's Last Men Standing to be Honored" and "Going to Graceland: Honoring Civil War Veterans."

Henry, however, didn't receive so much as an honorable mention. But as it turns out, we have a portrait of this good-humored looking gentleman in the military collection at the Lucas County Historical Society, so I thought the least I could do was given him a belated nod. The Find A Grave image below the portrait is of his tombstone at Niswender Pioneer Cemetery.

+++

Henry was German-born, native to Harbke, Bordekreis, Saxony-Anhalt. His parents were Johann Friedrich Jacob and Dorothea Elisabeth (Rohloff) Neuhaus and he reportedly was born on Dec. 29, 1845.

Henry was a member of Chariton's Iseminger Post No. 18, Grand Army of the Republic, and his membership card includes a wealth of information, including the statement that his father, who died in 1848, perished after a fatal encounter with a windmill fan in Germany.

According to an article about Civil War veterans published in The Herald-Patriot on May 28, 1936, Henry came to the United States when 10 years old, ca. 1855, and started work as a butcher's apprentice when he was 12. This seems to have been a family group that included Henry's mother, a brother, Andreas Frederich, and a sister, Sophia Louisa, both of whom were older.

The family settled first in or near Hartford, Connecticut, and at the outbreak of the Civil War both Henry and Andreas enlisted during August of 1862 in Company D, 22nd Connecticut Volunteer Infantry. This was a 9-month unit assigned to guard and patrol duties within and adjacent to Washington, D.C. Although there were skirmishes, unit losses were to disease rather than combat and Henry returned safely to Hartford and was discharged at the expiration of his term of service during July of 1863.

Henry arrived in Chariton during 1869 and it is possible that his mother, brother and sister lived here, too, briefly --- but they moved on to Red Cloud, Nebraska, while Henry remained.

According to that 1936 Herald-Patriot article, at first he "worked in a (meat) market operated by Jacob Yengel, father of Bert and Fred Yengel, who now own the business." But Henry turned to farming, purchased land in he Oakley neighborhood northwest of Chariton and lived there for more than 50 years.

He married Regina Kull on Sept. 8, 1872, and they had three sons --- William F., Harry and Charles J. Charles died as a young man, age 21, on Jan. 11, 1898, and he was the first family member buried in Niswender Cemetery, near the family home.

Regina died at the age of 83 on Nov. 26, 1925, and was buried beside Charles. Two years later, Henry married Clara (McCaffrey) Curtis and they established a new home together in Lucas. Henry also outlived Clara, who died during June of 1938.

Henry died at home in Lucas during July of 1940 and, as noted earlier, funeral services were held the Sunday afternoon following at the Methodist Church in Oakley. Burial followed beside Regina and Charles in the Niswender Cemetery.

A footnote to Chariton's Methodist history

I'm a big fan of footnotes, so was happy a few weeks ago to add this one to my collection --- in the form of a brief "obituary" for Chariton's first church building, published in The Democrat of Nov. 3, 1887, under the headline, "An Old Landmark Gone."

Barnard Bros. commenced on Monday to tear down the old Woolen Mills, near the Foundry, preparatory to building a fine brick barn on the lot. The old mill was built as the first Methodist Church of this city. Rev. E.L. Briggs, of Knoxville, being the pastor in 1852. It was used to hold court in when Judge Townsend, of Albia, was on the bench. Much of interest in the early history of Chariton centers around the old building. Twenty years ago, it was the maid public school building of the town, and later on was used as a machine shop and woolen mill, and now having served its usefulness, will give place to a fine brick structure to be used in the extensive horse business of Barnard Brothers.

Here's another reference to the building, included by Dan Baker six years earlier in his local history section of Lucas County's 1881 history book:

The Methodist Episcopal Church, the first in Chariton, was organized by Reverend E.L. Briggs about the year 1851. It was partly under the direction of the Home Missionary Society of that church.

There were but three or four members to begin with, and the meetings were held, as all public meetings at that time were, in the new log courthouse on the east side of the public square. The society prospered from the start, so that in 1854 they felt themselves able to erect a house of worship. The building erected was a substantial frame, twenty-four by thirty-six feet, on the west side of block 3 and cost about a thousand dollars. The building was afterward used by the school district for a school house and, in 1869, it was converted by Henry Whiting into a machine shop. Shortly afterward it had a second story put on it, and was made into a woolen mill. It still stands on its original site and is used for a warehouse.

The image here is a portion of the 1893 Sanborn Fire Insurance Map of Chariton. The old church building reportedly stood on the current site of Johnson Machine Works headquarters, as noted. The Methodists constructed their second building, a substantial brick structure, a block slightly southeast of the first at the intersection of North Main Street and Roland Avenue, where the current 1903 building stands today.

There was nothing remarkable, apparently, about that early church building --- other than the fact it was the first. But I was struck by how thoroughly it had been used, recycled and used again, during it's fairly brief 30-year history. And I'm guessing that when it was torn down, the lumber was salvaged and used elsewhere.

Today, the whole thing would be bulldozed and hauled away to a landfill.

There's no sign, by the way, that the Barnard Brothers ever built the planned "fine brick structure." During 1893, at least, the prime building spot on the lot appears to be vacant and other structures on it are shaded yellow, indicating that they were of frame rather than brick construction.

Peace on earth and all of that ....

Frittered away too much time this morning by reading analysis pieces about the Kyle Rittenhouse verdict --- and didn't find much that (a) told me something I didn't already know or (b) seemed especially helpful.

So here's some music expressing what we all need to be about these days in the words of a familiar 1955 song by Jill Jackson-Miller and Sy Miller. The choir director is Ricky Dillard and the remarkable soloist, Keith Wonderboy Johnson. The performance was recorded at Haven of Rest Missionary Baptist Church in Chicago.

New York (Iowa), the Messenger men & the G.A.R.

I started this excursion among northern Wayne County's Grand Army of the Republic posts with a visit earlier this week to Confidence's J. W. May Post No. 105, named in honor of a young lieutenant killed in combat during 1864 in Arkansas who is commemorated on a cenotaph at Lucas County's Greenville Cemetery.

Follow the middle branch of the Mormon Trail about nine and a half miles slightly southwest from Confidence through Bethlehem and across the Jordan (Creek) and you'll find yourself at the site of New York, once a flourishing crossroads village.

There's nothing there now other than a modern house. The last historic building, the New York Christian Church, was moved some years ago to the Round Barn Site east of Allerton after years of disuse. 

The New York Cemetery is located on a hillside west of the creek a mile east of town. That's where Samuel J. and Virgil Messenger, after whom New York's Messenger Post No. 288, G.A.R., was named, are buried alongside their father, Frederick Dent Messenger (1806-1871) and two infant siblings, Hyrum (1858-1859) and Martha (1861-1862). 

The senior Messengers, Frederick D. and Jane M., arrived in Wayne County about 1852. The family home reportedly was located just across the road from the cemetery. The couple had 12 children, three of whom died young. Of the remainder, eight were sons.

New York village was platted three years after the Messengers' arrival by Micajah Cross on April 20, 1855. It flourished in a modest sort of way with several business buildings, a few houses, Masonic and Odd Fellows lodges in addition to the G.A.R. Post, and two churches.

The little town's viable life span was only about 50 years, however. A major fire during June of 1904 burned five business buildings, the post office was discontinued soon thereafter and the founding of Millerton just to the west when the Rock Island Railroad went through in 1913 sealed its fate.

But that was far in the future when the Civil War broke out and four of the Messenger boys answered the call.

+++

 Three of the boys, Samuel J., age 20, Dennis B., age 22, and Royal H., age 18, enlisted as privates in Company I, 4th Iowa Volunteer Infantry, during the late summer and fall of 1861. Samuel, the first to enlist, was mustered in at Benton Barracks near St. Louis on Aug. 31, 1861. Dennis and Royal were mustered on Nov. 9.

Royal, probably because of sickness, was discharged two months later on the 22nd of January at Rolla, Missouri, and returned home.

Dennis was the only one of the Messenger brothers who served until the end of the war. He advanced in rank to corporal and was mustered out at Louisville on July 24, 1865.

Samuel was captured during the Battle of Pea Ridge, Arkansas, on March 7, 1862, then exchanged on May 14. He continued to serve until Jan. 8, 1864, when he was discharged because of disability at Woodville, Alabama, and returned home with his health broken. He married Margaret O. Sherman on March 10, 1864, in Wayne County and they had two children, but he never was able to recover fully and died at age 26 on the 22nd of October 1867 and was buried in the New York Cemetery.

The last of the brothers to enlist was Virgil, 18 when he was mustered into a 100-day unit, Co. H., 46th Iowa Volunteer Infantry, on June 10, 1864. He served until the expiration of his term and was mustered out at Davenport on Sept. 23, 1864, but apparently was in ill health at the time. He made it home to New York, but died there a few days later on Oct. 7 and was buried in the New York Cemetery.

+++

Twenty years later, when Civil War veterans in the neighborhood decided to form a G.A.R. chapter, they remembered the Messenger men and their extraordinary record of family service --- even though all living family members had by this time moved west, most to Washington state.

The post named in their honor was chartered on Feb. 9, 1884, with 18 members. It always was a small post and there's no clear record to show when it was disbanded and surviving members transferred their memberships to other posts. There had been 48 in total, according to state records, but the names of only 44 are found in the master card file of Iowa's G.A.R. membership. Here they are:

Thomas M. Akers, James Allison, John William Brewer, Charles O. Brown, Elijah Barton, William Byxbe, Amos A. Clark, Thomas Church, Friend Davis, James Davison, John H. Dotts, William Dotts, Amos Dunn, William J. Faras, Levi Fry, Lucien H. Goodell, Thomas L. Green, Samuel K. Hardy, Danforth L. Hare, George W. Harn, George J. Havner, John D. Havner, Benjamin F. Jarad, Charles Leach, Matthew Mackey, James W. Morris, John Oldfield, Henry Clay Olmstead, John S. Patterson, Andrew J. Peek, Robert T. Pray, Milton D. Rew, John C. Robertson, John Roberts, Charles L. Sayer, Elias E. Scales, Samuel Scott, William H. Smart, Silas A. Snyder, Philip L. Stech, Berry Street, Greenlead N. Sutton, Madison Thorp and David J. Wood.

+++

Although the Messengers were very good about marking family graves, tombstones fell as the years passed and in some cases were obscured by encroaching grass. According to notes associated with family entries at Find A Grave, family members eventually returned to Wayne County and arranged for the fallen stones to be repaired and, when possible, righted during 2015-2016. The image here of Virgil ("Vergil") Messenger's stone is used courtesy of Gayle Van Dyke, a Messenger descendant.

Seven children and a pet lamb ...

... plus the Iowa Capitol building as it looked in 1903.

I got up this morning determined to write, then was led astray by Lance Foster's fascinating presentation on the Ioway Tribe posted a day or two ago by Living History Farms. More about that another time.

So I've fallen back on this --- a stereoscoptic image I downloaded the other day from the Library of Congress web site. The view is from the southwest.

One minor curiosity of the image is the fact the animal in the image was identified by a Library of Congress cataloger as a goat. When obviously it's a lamb.

It's a sad day in American when a Library of Congress cataloger no longer recognizes the difference between a sheep and a goat.

That's an exaggeration, by the way. But we do live  in an era of exaggeration --- and lazy nostalgia. Ah, for the good old days when everyone knew his or her place.

I'm not a fan of nostalgia, even though I write a lot about local history. The best defense against nostalgia, I've found, is a careful reading of history.

Brother Dan advises Chariton's preachers

Dan Baker (left), editor of The Chariton Leader (aka Democrat) during the 1870s, had something of a fraught relationship with his community's preachers. In the first place, he was a religiously liberal Unitarian in a hotbed of Methodist, Presbyterian, Baptist and Disciples enthusiasm. In the second, he couldn't resist provoking people, although generally in a good-natured sort of way that allowed friendly relations to continue.

So when the Disciples submitted for publication an invitation to a preachers' institute during late March, 1873, Dan printed in gladly --- then used it as a springboard that allowed him to do a little preaching of his own in the adjoining column on the local news page of The Leader of March 20. 

Here's the article that inspired the editor:

+++

The district meeting and preachers institute will convene in the Christian church in this city on Tuesday, March 23, 1873, at 2 o'clock p.m. Programme of proceedings:

1st Subject --- The duties of the pastor to the church, opened by J.B. Vawter.

2nd Subject --- Duties of the church to the pastor, N.E. Cory.

3rd Subject --- How shall weak churches obtain preaching, J.C. Porter.

4th Subject --- How to hold successful Sunday meetings without preaching, D.C. Morris.

5th subject --- Duties of co-operation among the churches, R. Reed.

6th subject --- The "Big Preacher" fever among the churches, it's cause and cure, L. Norton.

+++

And here is Dan's reply:

As will be seen elsewhere, the Christian church of Chariton will soon hold its semi-annual ministerial meeting for the purpose of discussing some interesting topics, and probably to give the fraternity an opportunity to swap sermons. We don't know but that we could write a pretty fair sermon ourself upon some of the subjects presented for consideration, although not altogether in our line of journalism.

The first proposition we would answer by saying, "support it." The second one, "support him." 

Third --- How shall weak churches obtain preaching? "Hire a man whose abilities are proportioned to the paying abilities of the congregation."

Fourth --- How to hold successful Sunday meetings without preaching. "Be brief; brevity is the soul of wit."

Fifth --- Duties of cooperation among the churches. "A new commandment I give unto ye that ye love one another."

Sixth --- The big preacher fever, it's cause and cure. "The cause: vanity and lack of religion; the cure, common sense in both minister and flock."

The foregoing sententious answers to the propositions to be discussed we offer to the meeting for its use and benefit in conducting the discussions without money and without price.

John W. May, 36th Iowa, Confidence & the G.A.R.

I hadn't made a connection until Monday between this tombstone in Lucas County's Greenville Pioneer Cemetery (in Washington Township, southeast of Russell) and one of the smallest of Iowa's 519 documented Grand Army of the Republic posts --- J. W. May Post No. 405 at Confidence, five miles south of the cemetery.

The G.A.R. was equivalent to today's American Legion or Veterans of Foreign Wars, but unlike those organizations was intended to dissolve nationwide as the last Civil War veterans died --- and it did. Iowa's State Historical Department then became the repository for surviving records.

Confidence is located in Wright Township, Wayne County. Today, one can't drive directly from cemetery to village because of the intervening waters of Lake Rathbun. But back in the day, the trip was quick and easy.

+++

There's actually no grave associated with the J. W. May tombstone. It is a cenotaph erected by his father and siblings soon after John was killed and is located next to the grave at Greenville of John's mother, Nancy, who died in 1857.

Lt. May, apparently a memorable young man and an outstanding officer, died on April 28, 1864, of wounds sustained on April 25 in the battle of Mark's Mills, Arkansas. His actual grave is in Little Rock National Cemetery.

John was the youngest child of John May Sr. (1792-1873) and his wife, Nancy (Hight) May (1794-1857). He was born April 8, 1836, in Putnam County, Indiana, and was 16 when he came west to Lucas County, Iowa, with his parents and older siblings. The younger Mays settled in both Washington and Wright townships.

John was living with his parents and older brother, Henry A., in Cedar Township, Lucas County, when the 1856 state census of Iowa was taken; and at the time of the federal census of 1860, with the family of another brother, Humphrey G. May, in Wright Township, Wayne County. His occupation was given as school teacher.

On the 6th of August 1862, both John and his brother, Humphrey, enlisted in Company F, 36th Iowa Volunteer Infantry and were mustered at Keokuk on October 4. Humphrey was appointed 1st lieutenant of the company and John, 1st sergeant.

Ill health, however, forced Humphrey to resign his commission during January of 1863, he was discharged for disability and had returned home to Wayne County by spring. On Jan. 17, 1863, John was appointed to fill the position of 1st lieutenant held formerly by his brother. It's tempting to speculate that Humphrey in later life felt that John had taken a bullet that might well have killed him.

By 1864, John was an experienced combatant and respected officer, but nothing encountered previously could alleviate the disaster experienced by Union forces --- including the 36th Iowa --- on April 25 at Mark's Mills where a Confederate force outnumbering four to six times the Union force executed an ambush with devastating results. 

More than 1,000 Union troops were captured, more than 100 killed. In addition, the Confederate forces slaughtered more than 100 unarmed black freedmen who were either working for the Union forces or traveling with them in an attempt to escape a hostile region.

John was shot in the leg during that battle, then captured and taken to a makeshift regimental hospital. On April 28, he died. By some accounts, the leg had been amputated; according to others, it had literally been blown off. 

Centerville's own Lt. Col. Francis Marion Drake, a future Iowa governor, also wounded and sharing a room with John when he died, wrote of him in a later report to Iowa's Adjutant General, "Among the killed was Lieutenant J. W. May, of Company F, one of the most promising young officers in the service."

A more complete account of John's last days is found in the wartime diary of Benjamin F. Pearson, of Van Buren County, published in several installments during the 1920s in "Annals of Iowa." Pearson was serving as 1st lieutenant of Company G, 36th Iowa, when captured. Here's his entry for April 28 (I've added punctuation):

"I busy myself this day among the wounded at James Crane's & Mrs. Hunter's in Red land township, Bradley Co. Ark. The men that came out from Pine Bluff with a flag of truce to bury the dead returned this day to the bluffs & I wrote a line to my children & sent it open with them. Lieut John W. May of Co. F, 36th Iowa, died of the wound he received in battle on the 25th. He was shot in left leg below the knee & the bone shattered to pieces & not amputated. He was resigned to his fate & requested me to write to his father, John May, at Confidence Wayne Co. Iowa. He was a brave man & beloved by all his comrades & men. He died at Crane's hospital in the room where Lieut. Col. F.M. Drake is confined with his wound. Lieut. McVay of Co. B & myself assisted in burying Lieut. May."

+++

J. W. May Post No. 405 was chartered on Sept. 26, 1885, some 20 years after its namesake died and included 11 charter members --- including Humphrey G. May. He may have suggested that the new post be named in honor of his brother.

Whatever the case, Confidence was too small a community in the long run to support a G.A.R. post and total membership never exceeded 19. It's not clear how long the organization remained viable, but it would appear that eventually several of its members transferred to Corydon's Robert Jackson Post No. 102.

Here, according to surviving records, are the names of members: Henry Blakely, James M. Blevins, Josiah Davis, Daniel Easley Jr., John A. Fenton, Stephen A. Fenton, Marion Husted, Nimrod Marchbanks, Humphrey G. May, Randolph Moore, Greenberry B. Owen, William S. Ramsey, Eli Smith, Isaac Stephens, Peter Talkington, George W. Thomas, Stephen Van Benthusen, Matthew Westlake and Thomas L. Willis.

Several of these men were buried in the Confidence Cemetery as they passed. Others had moved on. Humphrey G. May, who died at the age of 66 on October 28, 1895, is buried with his wife, Julia, in Evans Cemetery --- located at the four-corners intersection of Lucas, Monroe, Appanoose and Wayne counties.

The name "John W. May" is inscribed there, too, upon what is one of Iowa's earliest public memorials to its Civil War dead, erected during 1866.

Addison R. Byers and the telephone

The usual morning practice here is to arise, make coffee and then sit down at a computer with the world instantly accessible at my fingertips. And not think a thing about the miraculous nature of the whole thing. 

But this morning I happened to read a brief news item in The Chariton Herald of June 27, 1901, regarding the venerable Addison Ross Byers, patriarch of Lucas County's Byers family, and his relationship with an earlier technological innovation --- the telephone --- that got me wondering what the venerable Mr. Byers would make of a laptop.

This is Mr. Byers' tombstone in the Strong (sometimes called Belinda) Cemetery up near the Lucas-Marion county line. I think I'm going to have more to say about A.R. before the week is done, but here's the paragraph that sent men down this obscure trail this morning:

"A. R. Byers, a pioneer auctioneer living near Belinda, was a pleasant caller at the Herald office Monday. Mr. Byers cried his first sale in Iowa five years before the Civil War and, excepting the time of his service as a soldier in the war, he has auctioneered more or less for over 40 years. When he first saw this community, ox carts were the popular means of conveyance when he wanted to visit with his friends at any distance; now he and wife can have a pleasant chat any time of the day with a son in Des Moines, one in Chariton and another in Lucas, also friends anywhere in this part of the state, by stepping to his telephone."

Humanity's cantankerous nature persists

It's been tempting to conclude during the long haul effort against COVID-19 that a substantial chunk of humanity --- the anti-vaccination crowd --- is just too obtuse to survive. And that's actually proved to be true in many instances.

But there's actually nothing new here, as author and journalist Jess McHugh pointed out in a piece written for Sunday's Washington Post.

Edward Jenner and his successors, who pioneered vaccination in the hugely successful long-term fight against smallpox, faced similar pushback commencing soon after 1796 when its efficacy first was demonstrated.

Here's a link to McHugh's article, which I found interesting this morning.

George H. Ragsdale's 1878 "Autumn Reverie"

There's nothing remarkable about the following --- other than the fact it was written at all. Weekly newspaper editors during the 1870s generally were so busy pontificating about politics that they hadn't time to look around and note their natural surroundings.

So the "Autumn Reverie" written by George H. Ragsdale and published in his Chariton Patriot of Nov. 6, 1878, is a rarity. I've added a more recent photo taken at Red Haw State Park, a spot not dreamed of then. 

A couple of things puzzle me. I'm not sure why the turnups were rejoicing if their fate was to be livestock forage. It's a bit of anthropomorphic imagery that doesn't quite work. And how long has it been since you've seen the world "indite" used as a synonym for "compose"?

Whatever the case, here's George's reverie:

+++

All hail the dreamy, smoky, lovely, balmy Indian Summer. The autumn-tinted woods are stirred with whispering winds, and echo to the roar of the sportsman's gun. Chattering squirrels scurry up the scaly sides of the giant shell-bark, and whisk their candle plumage in the forks thereof. There is a rain of dropping nuts.

The mournful caterpillar, with premonition of final doom, crawls slowly over the tinted leaves and the prudent ant, apprehensive of evil days, drags to its winter retreat a bountiful supply of provender. The voice of the wood and coal-hauler, swearing at his mules, is heard daily in our streets. 

The golden pumpkin gleams between the rows of fading corn and basks in the warm sunshine while the nitrogenous cabbage scratches its head and wonders how long this thing is going to last. The sad-eyed turnup, whose white globe showers out from beneath the green like a door knob in a radish bed, yields itself to the niggling sheep and the foraging cow and rejoices that autumn has come.

The belated butterfly beats the lazy air with feeble wing; the voice of the katydid is hushed in the land, and the debilitated grasshopper, with the chill of recent frosty nights in his bones, tries in vain to frisk about in the stubble while the tails of the bounding lambs glean the burs from the pastures brown and the breeches of the hunter are frescoed with beggar lice.

It is a time to dream, to repent of one's sins, to lay in winter provender and look around and see who keeps the biggest woodpile, and above all to indite a few lines of poetry and moralize upon the falling and fading leaf. Contributors who are struggling with thoughts upon these subjects are advised to hurry up, else the bright creatures of their fancy will be caught by the first Iowa zephyr as the old year fades away, and they will be stricken with the deadly blight of the waste basket or wintered over.

Kisses heard round the world ....

I was struck while looking over reviews of Amazon's new "Mayor Pete" documentary by the headline assigned to MSNBC writer Zeeshan Aleem's piece that declared it "reveals little about Pete Buttigieg."

Long story short, I didn't find that to be at all true and enjoyed the film --- released yesterday and so far, at least, available only via Amazon.

A good share of the documentary plays out in Iowa, where Buttigieg capped his rise to prominence as a candidate with a win before falling behind in New Hampshire, Nevada and then South Carolina, where Joe Biden made his comeback.

The film offers fascinating insight into how a political campaign works via the documentary camera's fly-on-the-wall presence during strategy and debate practice sessions. There are similar moments, both fly-on-the-wall and during sit-down interviews, that document the loving relationship between Buttigieg and his husband, Chasten.

And the documentary does reveal a good deal about the candidate himself. He comes across as self-contained, calm, thoughtful, intelligent and highly focused. That calm came in handy during one of the more amusing scenes --- when the candidate, his aides and the camera were trapped briefly in an elevator.

Some reviewers seem to be especially frustrated by the fact the documentary fails to crack what they perceive as Buttigieg's self-contained facade --- hoping for tears, perhaps. I suspect, however, that the film does a good job of capturing the candidate as he is --- self-contained, calm, thoughtful, intelligent and highly focused.

What you see is what you get. Some of this may well relate to sexual orientation --- Buttigieg, now 39, was in the closet until age 33 and those of us who are veterans of the closet recognize self-contained as a defense mechanism that becomes second nature.

We'll most likely see more of the Buttigiegs in future campaigns and "Mayor Pete" serves as a nicely done recap as well as an introduction.

+++

The other news of the week in a field somewhat narrower than national politics was the kiss TJ Osborne planted on the lips of his boyfriend, Abi Ventura, before going on stage at the CMA awards to accept the vocal duo of the year award with his brother, John.

No, I didn't watch the awards ceremony, but have watched clips of both the kiss and the Brothers' lovely onstage performance of  "Younger Me."

TJ Osborne, 36, came out of the closet during February into a musical genre generally looked upon as a bastion of hyper-masculine heterosexuality not especially welcoming to gay folks.

The response has been hopeful, so that kiss was another significant one --- joining the public displays of affection by Pete and Chasten Buttigieg while campaigning for U.S. president as kisses heard round the world, or at least significant segments of it.

Quilts of Valor ...

Yesterday morning's Veterans Day program, sponsored by the Lucas County Veterans Memorial Park association, filled the meeting room at Chariton's American Legion Hall, just south of the park. It was an outstanding crowd and actually a beautiful day, weatherwise, but too windy and a little too chilly to hold the multi-part program in the park itself. So it was moved inside.

A highlight of the program was the presentation of  "Quilts of Valor" to three Chariton-area veterans (from left) Joe Cross, Gary Stansberry (represented by his daughter, Robi Halferty) and Gerald Dyer. Stansberry was not feeling well enough to attend.

The mission of the Quilts of Valor Foundation, launched by Catherine Roberts during 2003, is stated as, "to cover service members and veterans touched by war with comforting and healing Quilts of Valor."

 Approximately 70 of the quilts have been stitched, quilted and delivered since 2015 in the Lacona, Chariton, Liberty Center and Melcher-Dallas area by a Quilts of Valor sewing group that meets monthly at the American Legion Hall in Melcher but includes members from across the area, including Chariton.

Veterans Day & the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

Veterans Day has been set aside in recent years to honor living U.S. military veterans, but of course its roots are in Armistice Day, commemorating the ceasefire that ended World War I on Nov. 11, 1918.

We're hearing more about that this year because 2021 also is the centennial year of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier at Arlington National Cemetery. The photo here was taken earlier in the week when for the first time in many decades tomb visitors were allowed to approach and deposit flowers.

Chariton's Veterans Day observance will begin at 10:30 a.m. at Lucas County Veterans Memorial Park and somewhat unexpectedly I ended up as a speaker on the program, asked to talk a little about Lucas County's war record but mostly about the history of the tomb.

Here's the text of what I plan to say:

+++

I’ll begin this morning by reading a brief article headlined “The Nameless Soldier” that was published in The Chariton Herald-Patriot of Nov. 17, 1921, an article that the forebears of many of us gathered here today would have read, too:

“We shall probably never know who the soldier hero, brought back from France and buried in the national cemetery at Arlington on Armistice Day, really was.

“From four American cemeteries in France, four bodies, all unknown, were taken and the caskets were placed in a chapel at City Hall in Chalons-et-Champagne. Then Sergeant Edward F. Younger, of the American Army, went in alone with a bouquet of roses and placed it upon one chosen at random. This was the casket brought back to be interred in American soil, though some of the earth from the cemetery in which the slain soldier was first laid to rest was brought with the body and the soils of the two lands were mingled together as the casket was lowered the second time.

‘In the Chapel at Chalons the casket was covered in the flowers of the French and American allies. French mothers who had given sons in the great war wept, and many knelt in prayer about the bier.”

+++

A total of 740 young men from Lucas County served during World War I and 26 died --- eight in combat, the remainder of disease, most of what was called the “Spanish” flu. Eleven died before leaving the United States, the remainder in France. For Iowa as a whole, 114,000 served and 3,500 died.

After the war ended, the United States repatriated the remains of its dead when asked by families to do so. Pvt. William B. Pulley, buried in the Derby Cemetery on Oct. 3, 1920, was the first to come home; Pvt. Roy Tickel, buried at Newbern on Dec. 21, 1921, was the last.

Two of our young men still are buried in France --- Pvt. Fred A. Culbertson and Pvt. Oshea Strain.

When all was said and done in Europe, the bodies of approximately 3,000 American combatants remained unidentified, buried in four American cemeteries there as “unknown.”

+++

The idea for tombs commemorating the unidentified dead originated in the United Kingdom and France, both of which had sustained losses many times greater than those of the Americans. France, it is estimated, lost 1,327,000 men during World War I; Britain, 900,000. Total U.S. deaths were estimated at 117,000. Unlike the Americans, governments of both France and Britain forbade the repatriation of remains. Their nations had been devastated by the war; there were more pressing concerns.

And so on Armistice Day 1920, the British Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was dedicated in London’s Westminster Abbey and the French Tomb, at the base of the Arc de Triomphe in Paris. These were gestures of remembrance for both the unidentified and identified dead buried far from home.

Planning for something similar at Arlington Nation Cemetery commenced soon thereafter.

An unknown soldier was selected as described in that newspaper article, transported to the United States aboard the U.S.S. Olympia, then lay in state in the rotunda of the U.S. Capitol until Armistice Day 1921.

+++

A few words about that Armistice Day might be in order. In Chariton, plans had been developed for what was intended to be the largest and most elaborate program yet --- a massive morning parade and an afternoon program on the courthouse grounds.

Unfortunately, the weather did not cooperate and several of those plans were derailed by an overnight snowstorm that left the ground covered and temperatures that plummeted into the high teens.

The weather in Washington, D.C., was more cooperative and hundreds of thousands lined the parade route to Arlington. Unfortunately, faulty planning by organizers resulted in the biggest traffic jam the capitol ever had seen as those hundreds of thousands tried to make their way to the cemetery for the ceremonial interment.

The limousine carrying President Warren G. Harding had to detour through a plowed field in order to reach Arlington. Iowa’s own Herbert Hoover, then secretary of commerce, had to climb over two hedges and jump a ditch in order to reach the cemetery.

+++

Once all of the dignitaries were in place, the interment proceeded as planned in a relatively simple grave covered by stone slabs.

The tomb as we know it today --- a massive block of carved marble bearing among other things the inscription, “Here rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God,” was completed during 1932 atop the 1921 grave and remains unchanged.

During 1958, the remains of unknown soldiers from World War II and the Korean War were selected in a random manner similar to that employed when selecting the World War I solder and they were interred in crypts west of the tomb on May 30th of that year after they, too, lay in state in the Capitol Rotunda.

During 1984, unidentified remains of a Vietnam War soldier were designated and after Memorial Day ceremonies similar to those of earlier years were interred in a crypt dug between those of the unknowns from Korea and World War II.

Ten years later, however, a civilian investigator determined that these remains probably were those of Air Force 1st Lt. Michael Joseph Blassie, shot down near An Loc, Vietnam during 1972. A positive identification was made using DNA testing in 1998 and at his family’s request, his body was reinterred at Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery, St. Louis.

Since then, the third crypt has remained empty to commemorate the approximately 1,600 Vietnam War military personnel still unaccounted for.

+++

Listen to a few words from the address President Warren G. Harding delivered at Arlington National Cemetery a century ago today:

“Standing today on hallowed ground, conscious that all America has halted to share in the tribute of heart and mind and soul to this fellow-American, and knowing that the world is noting this expression of the Republic’s mindfulness, it is fitting to say that his sacrifice, and that of the millions of the dead, shall not be in vain. There must be, there shall be, the commanding voice of a conscious civilization against armed warfare.

“As we return this poor clay to its mother soil, garlanded by love and covered with the decorations that only nations can bestow, I can sense the prayers of our people, of all peoples, that this Armistice Day shall mark the beginning of a new and lasting era of peace on earth and good will among men.”

Grand words and noble goals. Sadly, they remain only aspirations.