The Chariton Leader's Henry Gittinger (1861-1953) was a prolific story-teller who left behind in newspaper archives some remarkable memories of what life was like during his boyhood near Greenville, southeast of Russell in Washington Township.
Henry did wander over the line into fiction now and then --- born during 1861 he wasn't old enough to remember clearly some of the things his "first-person" accounts deal with. But he had a rich source of first-person accounts from family and neighboring friends to rely upon, too, so there's no reason to doubt his general accuracy.
The following account of life in the "commons" --- prairie land south and east of what became Russell that had not yet been claimed by Euro-American settlers --- probably was set in the 1850s or Civil War years of the 1860s. Henry would have membered the latter, but not the former. By 1867, when Russell was founded, the area had been claimed but commons grazing still was widely practiced. By 1870, various laws requiring that livestock be restrained by owners were being enforced.
The area involved would have been bordered to the north and east by Lucas County's Honey Creek, which rises in Russell and flows south and east past Greenville and Greenville Cemetery before joining the Chariton River in southeast Washington Township. I've not been able to locate "Mayfield" slough.
Here's the text of Henry's celebration of a time long past in an area changed now beyond recognition:
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It is not likely there is a place in all the west country in its virgin state offering the advantages of Lucas county in its earlier days --- or where life could be more enjoyed --- with its broad prairies, interspersed with streams and small forests, with here and there patches that yielded to civilized cultivation. Mountain scenery is grand, interlocking its mineral resources, but an Iowa prairie, with its deep, rich soil, expanse of waving blue stem grass and wild flowers is much more profound because it submits more readily to the needs of mankind.
This picture is drawn from an observation of 35 or 40 years ago. The face of nature has been so transformed that little remains of the original features. Population then was sparse and the commons were public property so far as its uses went and domestic animals, from the Morgan horse down to the "Hazel-splitter" hog, chose its own feeding ground. Great herds of cattle grazed on the delicious grasses and sometimes thousands to sheep, the various flocks of the settlers, associated themselves as if for mutual protection against the avariciousness of the prairie wolves.
In one of our school books we used to read a description of the Red River valley with its wild herds of cattle and horses --- a scene appealing most vividly to the imagination. In the days of which we write there was a strip of prairie land between Honey creek and the Mayfield slough, down in Washington township, which surely was a duplicate of the author's Red River model.
Beyond was the Chariton river, with its low land and fringe of native wood. On the other side, the defined limits running back to the north for miles and miles. Today, it is the location of many of the best Lucas county farms, but then it was the resort for the domestic herds and in the summer time thousands of feeding animals covered the plain. This was in the day before the mowing machine and in the autumn this tract furnished an abundant hay supply for the long winter season.
The haying season was one of merriment and the echo of the scythe stone, as it beat its tattoo against the steel blades, can yet be heard in imagination, and the "swish" of the blades as they closed upon the succulent growth of native grass and wild pea vines are still vivid. This haying operation represented a sort of communistic interest in which all the farmers nearby, together with the women and children, joined. Long windrows were swept up and the broad expanse was soon covered with shocks, presenting a sight for the landscape painter.
There was seldom rain at this season of the year, so the hauling and stacking could be performed at leisure --- but how the fall winds did blow, requiring skill. Sometimes the meadow of shocks was left unguarded and the marauding cattle would pounce down upon them with their horns and create havoc in the hayfield, but it was not often this lack of precaution was taken. This is an autumn scene from a boyhood memory with numerous escapes from snake bites left untold.
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"Gone fishing" has never had the same heartswelling interest as in the olden days. the Chariton river is a much bigger stream down in the "Davy Evans" mountains that it is when it languidly passes by Bailey's brick yard (at Chariton, the city), and Alpine scenes offered nothing more of grandeur. Almost every Saturday afternoon in the summertime, after a week of daily trudging over the hills to a district school, or spent under the burning sun suckering corn, our elders took us to the river to bait for big fish. Fishing was better in those days before the river filled up with mud and a fine string of "cats" was usually the result.
Then we would go bathing in the turbulent stream and swing from shore to shore on grape vines, cut loose at the bottom. Occasionally the o'er head moorings would give way and a splash below followed, but who cared for that so long as mud turtles didn't lay hold --- for when they did they would let go 'til it thundered, but with all his experience the writer does not call to mind a boy that had to stand in the creek until a volley was fired from heaven to make the turtle relax its hold. It was a happy, free life. After all we may have missed a whole lot of fun by not being savages. Who knows?
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Ours was a tranquil neighborhood in the days when the razor-back hog stalked up and down the earth seeking whom he might devour. He was considered a bird of freedom and when the first curtailment of his liberties was threatened, his human friends arose in arms and the siege of troy was a fourth of July farce in comparison. Just why the razor-back stood so in with the people we have never been able to learn for it was certainly not on account of his usefulness or beauty --- he had neither. The people were unusually law abiding and would no more violate a statute than they would break one of the sacred commandments --- but the razor-back hog had inalienable rights which they were bound to respect and defend, so when an honest settler moved into the community, secured a strip of domain and proceeded to enclose it with a "shang-hai fence," as per provision of the recently passed "hog law," as it was designated, without the aid or consent of any other nation, they considered it unjust innovation and he found it hard to resist public opinion even if he did have the law on his side. The contest was a warm one but time settled it without bloodshed, other than that of a few lean porkers.
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