And the winner is: Paul McKinley

No, No, not the election --- the campaign sign contest. Although I assume Paul will win Tuesday. He is the incumbent state senator in the district that includes Lucas County, after all, and Iowans do not give up easily on an incumbent. Look at our two U.S. senators, Grassley and Harkin. We've had them forever out there in D.C. at opposite ends of the idealogical spectrum.

In fact the only member of the Iowa delegation that I'd guess a majority of us would like to be rid of, Democrat and Republican alike, is Steve King from up there in northwest Iowa. And that has less to do with idealogy (he's far to the right as is his district) and more to do with the fact he's got a faulty transmission --- the linkage between his brain and his mouth doesn't always work and more often than not when he opens his mouth to speak he shifts into "stupid" rather than "drive."

But I'd say Paul's seat is safe, as is that of Richard Arnold, also a Lucas County boy, our state representative. Sadly, both of these guys are Republicans --- but there are advantages no matter the party that accrue when your statehouse delegation practically lives next door. (In the interest of fair disclosure, I vote in Cerro Gordo County, not Lucas; and I never vote for Republicans, no matter how tempting the prospect).

Anyhow, I've been monitoring the campaign sign situation in southern Iowa as I drive around it every week --- and Paul, by far, is the big winner both in volume and tastefulness (Paul also is a candidate for the title best-dressed Iowa lawmaker so I guess it's not surprising that his signs are pretty classy, too). So congratulations!

Another thing I find interesting is that Russell Community School --- recently closed by the state because it was too small --- produced both of these guys.


















An advantage to knowing people for ever to one degree or another is that you can always dredge up the past when you want to torture them a little (Paul's a little younger, but we rode the same school bus for years; Richard, a little older, but we're products of the same neighborhood). So here you have Paul as a high school sophomore (left) and Richard, as a Russell High School senior. I'll not tell you the years, other than to say we're all getting on.

Not that it's a vote-getting factor or anything, but both Paul and Richard come from Lucas County families that have been around forever. The first McKinley stepped off the ark onto the dry land of Washington Township back in the late 1840s; and Richard's credentials in Benton Township go back generations --- although his great-grandfather, Morris Arnold, moved down the road to Garden Grove in Decatur County. His great-great-grandparents, Edward and Sophia Arnold, as well as great-great-great-grandparents, David and Alpha Arnold, are buried at Salem.

I SUPPOSE the Obama-Biden ticket will take the top prize on Tuesday, although I certainly could be wrong about that. We'll just have to wait and see.

If McCain does crash and burn, I'll wonder how big a factor Sarah Palin was. Even a yeller-dog Democrat like myself has nothing against McCain and could live with him without too many problems. But Palin. She scares the dickins out of me. What if old John --- and he IS old --- inadvertently drops dead ...

I'll never figure out why the Republicans passed Mike Huckabee by. He has all the conservative credentials any Republican could want, a proven record as an administrator and the ability to get along quite well even with the folks he disagrees with. Maybe he was just too Midwestern, too much like other folks, to appeal to the big boys in Washington and elsewhere. But Sarah Palin? Give me a break ...

Whatever the case, go vote --- Democrat, Republican or something else. If you don't, I expect you to say absolutely nothing during the next four years about the course of the state or the nation. Voting's the way you earn the right to say offensive things about whoever wins.

A time for every purpose: The big chill

Let it be remembered (by me) that the first decisive, no-doubt-about-it hard freeze this fall came overnight on Monday-Tuesday, Oct. 27-28, pretty much statewide. This seems very late, but because I usually don't write stuff like this down I really can't say for sure (next year I'll be able to).

Most years on that clear late afternoon when the cold for the first time seems to go straight to the bone and you know it's coming, there's a lot of scurrying around: sheets and blankets over planters and prized chrysanthemums, into the garden to bring in the last of the tomatoes. But there wasn't much of that this year, as if everyone fairly well had accepted the fact it was time.

Gale-force winds on Sunday may have helped things along, whipping much that remained bright and beautiful into kind of a sorry state. The streets in every town I drove through coming down were littered with limbs and branches and outside town limits, blizzards of corn husks whipped across the blacktops.

Cropwise, Iowans shouldn't have too much to complain about. The postponed freeze allowed most of the corn and beans replanted late after spring floods to mature, nearly all the beans are safely in by now and by the end of this week, most of corn should be, too.

My (retired) neighbor is ruthless when fall comes. Blooming plants were long ago outsted from their planters and everything has been stowed away for winter by now. As long as there's bloom, I can't do that, so the task for the next couple of weekends will involve emptying the planters and turning them over so the coming cycle of freeze and thaw doesn't crack their tender terra cotta. I'd like to get a few bulbs in, too, but that may not happen.

Fallen leaves aren't a problem yet --- one of the advantages to living on a hill. What falls early, blows down the hill. Pine cones are a problem, however. The Sunday winds left the front yard carpeted with cones from the big pines around the neighbor's house across the street. And before long, the mighty oak up on the corner --- always the last in the neighborhood to let loose of its leaves --- will do just that and for some reason, maybe their pin-oak spikeness, they stick.

Up here in the northland it's going to be a beautiful day and I think I'll take a walk, then maybe go over the courthouse and vote early --- getting things done on Tuesday always is a problem since I generally travel early and work late and would rather go to compline at 5:30 than to my polling place.

It'll be a relief to have the campaign over and done with --- so much fear and loathing, so little constructive dialogue and all of it wasted on me since I'd never think even fleetingly about voting for a Republican.

There's consolation in knowing that whoever wins or loses and whatever Wall Street does, frost will come in the fall and flowers in the spring.


Yes, I should have gone out Tuesday and taken frosty-morning photos, but I turned up the thermostat and drank coffee instead. So here you have St. Frank with a few faded late asters in the background and the final flourish in front of the house late Monday after Sunday winds had knocked all of the chrysanthemums and marigolds into a heap.

Blue skies, round barn and an old house at Allerton

Down at Bethany, Missouri, for lunch on Monday I took the scenic route home on Route 136 past Mt. Moriah and through the Thompson and Grand River valleys headed for Princeton, then Lineville. It's a beautiful drive this time of year, or any time of year for that matter.

Anyhow, round about Mercer and almost back in Iowa I remembered that I'd been wanting to revisit the round barn site out east of Allerton (in Wayne County) and see what kind of progress they'd been making on the old Wilson house, moved out from town a couple of years ago.

So I took a sharp right across the wood railroad bridge into Mercer and headed across country to come up into Iowa at Clio, southwest of Allerton.

The round barn site is located a mile east of Allerton on about 100 acres and is operated by the ambitiously-named International Center for Rural Culture and Art. Why they picked that mouthful to call themselves and exactly who is involved I don't know --- but I've admired the organization's buildings since the center started developing the site about 15 years ago.

The 1912 round barn already was there and its preservation provided the impetus needed to start this particular ball rolling. Then came a small schoolhouse and then a church.


The New York Christian Church, which dates from 1887, is here now, beautifully restored and available for suitable public events, but it wasn't the first. If I remember right, the first country church moved to the site was struck by lightning and burned. Looking around for a replacement, the center found the New York church a few years ago up my way in northern Wayne County and moved it down. The building hadn't been used in years, but had been taken care of by neighbors who shielded it from vandals and other threats. While it was sad to see the last New York landmark roll away, that move saved the church in the long run and we can be grateful for that.

Anyhow, the center had been in the market for a house to replace the original on the farm, which had vanished.

They were lucky and brave enough to acquire the Wilson house in Allerton and it's been a work in progress for maybe four years now. I remember the house as it was in Allerton, unpainted and spooky, so its new sparkling white and pristine exterior is quite a contrast.



Standing here by itself out on the farm the building has a remarkable advantage, a chance to show itself off as a piece of art, sculptural in its many angles and twists and turns, especially the round silo-like southwest corner that mirrors the round barn across the drive. It's quite an ensemble.

I climbed the porch steps and peeked through the windows and was astonished by the interior, which has not been at all restored. In a house of this age that's had a hard life you expect to see overpainted woodwork, plastic paneling tacked to the walls and maybe matted shag carpet on the floor. None of that here.

Although plaster has fallen, the old wallpaper is peeling and the floors are bare and rough, nothing seems to have been touched --- as if its family sent the furniture away, walked out and closed the door 50 or 60 years ago, then let nature take its course. The only content seemed to be a battered upright piano in the embrace of the grand open staircase that circles up to the second floor in three flights from the entrance hall.

I suppose the center plans to restore the interior, too, then furnish it --- but that's kind of a shame. I've visited many museum houses in my time and found nearly all of them stuffed with stuff and as dead as a stuffed bear --- more life in a cemetery than in one of those embalmed buildings.

If wishes were horses and this beggar could ride, I'd stablize the interior so that visitors could enter, then just leave it alone. But that's really none of my business and I'll enjoy whatever happens.

Headed out of Allerton, I stopped at the Log Chain Apiary shop next door to the Inn of the Six-Toed Cat to stock up on honey --- another bonus of any visit to Allerton.

To reach the round barn site, look for the Community Center on main street in Allerton and turn east there. You'll actually see the old Wilson house in the distance since it sits at the head of the "T" intersection a mile east of town.

Fox hunting at New York

This post is intended as a finding aid for two Fox family pilgrims, one actual (Pat in Alabama who expects to be in Iowa early next week) and one virtual (Roberta in California, who just might make it back one of these days). Both are descended from Levi Fox Sr., who died in 1877 and who is buried with other family members in the New York Cemetery in northern Wayne County.

As I said, Pat, when you turn east off Highway 14 onto J22 you'll drive three miles east through Millerton (don't blink) to the intersection where New York once was. You'll recognize it because of a planting of young pines in the northeast corner of the crossroads. The New York Road (gravel) turns north here. The road south now is minimum maintenance --- in other words mud and reserved for those of us with four-wheel drive.

Just beyond the pines on the north side of the road is a small sign (top) identifying New York beside the driveway back to a newer house that is the only building here now.

The New York Christian Church (below) used to stand west of this house, some distance north of J22, but don't look for it now because it's up and moved. Nicely restored, it now stands in an enclave of vintage buildings a mile west of Allerton in southwest Wayne County.


I've speculated that the Foxes may have buried at New York because they attended church here. The New York Christian Church, established 1853, was founded at about the time the Foxes arrived. There also was a Methodist Church at New York, but not too much is known about it. Its building dated from 1874, but the building was closed and demolished about 1913 primarily because another Methodist church had been founded in Millerton by that time and the congregations were just too close together.


Anyhow, keep driving east on J22 for about a mile and a half and you'll see the cemetery on the north side of the road, spreading down the hill as you curve slightly southeast to the creek. Turn off onto the gravel drive and follow it through the main gate and up hill into the cemetery, stopping at the crest of the hill a few car lengths before you turn east to follow the U-shaped drive down around the newer and lower part of the cemetery.

Look for a large granite tombstone with the surname "Pray" inscribed on its base. Levi and Sarah are almost due west a couple of rows by themselves in a large open area (I'd like to know why there's so much open space there, but don't).


This photo is taken from the west looking east toward my pickup parked where you should be. The tombstone just to the right and east of of Levi's and Sarah's belongs to Willie Fox. Josiah, Willie and Emeline are here in a row facing west.

The photo below shows Ellen Hutchinson's tombstone, just southwest of Levi and Sarah, in relation to it.


If you'd care to go visit the Clowsers over at Confidence, it's a drive of less than 10 minutes over all paved roads. Drive about five miles father east on J22 to the stop sign (you'll see Sunny Slope Church of Christ at the intersection), then a mile and a half north on S56 to the Confidence Cemetery intersection. You'll want to go into the older part of the cemetery, south of the east-west road leading into Confidence itself. James and Missouri (Fox) Clowser are in the southwest corner. The small headstone to the left of the larger stone marks Missouri's grave and you can see that red pickup again to the northeast parked at the gate. The inscriptions on the main stone are very hard to read unless the light is just right. Missouri and James are on the north side of the stone; A.B. and Nevada, on the south.



Retrace your route back to the New York intersection and turn north on gravel if you want to see the site of the Levi Fox homeplace.


Drive about three and a quarter miles due north and you'll hit the county line crossroads (although it isn't marked as the county line). This photo was taken from that crossroads looking north. Lost Branch Creek has been channeled through culverts under the road at the foot of the hill. The big house you see on the hilltop is the home of Max and Gwendolyn Arnold, built by my great-uncle and great-aunt, Carl and Minnie (Myers) Johnson. The Fox farm was immediately across the road east of the Arnold house.

If you like and its dry, you can turn off east onto the dead-end road that borders the north side of the Fox farm and drive east a ways to get an idea of the lay of the land. Just don't drive down the hill because I expect you'd have to back out and might not enjoy the experience.


This plat dating from the mid-1890s will give you an idea of the lay of the land. The New York Road here divides Sections 27 and 34 in half. The Arnold house is on the 160-acre tract marked "Merrell" in Section 34, indicated by a black dot. The Fox farm, now subdivided in other hands, is immediately across the road.


The 40 acres marked "Thos Gookin" is the portion of the farm inherited by Levi Jr. that reportedly contained the house. As I said earlier, my dad recalled when distant cousins of his lived in a newer house on this farm some distance east of the New York Road, closer to the tree line, entered from the now-dead-end road. That may have been where the Fox buildings had been since it is likely there would have been a well, perhaps even surviving outbuildings there. Nothing now of course.

The 40-acre and 20-acre tracts just to the east, marked A.S. Myers, also were part of the Fox farm as were the 20-acre tract and an additional 20 acres joining the A.S. Myers tract on the south, both parcels marked here as part of the James Parsons farm. The squiggle is Lost Branch Creek. Thomas Gookin was married to Phoebe (Myers) Gookin, my great-grandfather's sister; and A.S. (Abraham) Myers was my great-grandfather's elder brother. Also noted on this map is Clark Gookin, married to Mary (Myers) Gookin, and Chas. W. and Sarah Houck. Mary (Myers) Gookin and Sarah Houk also were sisters of my great-grandfather. James Parsons' wife, Catherine, also was a Myers sister. So you will see that we had the Foxes surrounded!

When Levi and Sarah settled here, this farm site would have represented the best of all worlds --- open prairie to the west and woods (for logs, rails, firewood, etc.) to the east, along Lost Branch.

If you continue north on the New York Road you'll cross the Chariton River bottom,then come to Salem Cemetery just before the BNSF railroad crossing at the "T" intersection with the Blue Grass Road.

Turn left (west) on the Blue Grass and you'll wind about two miles into Chariton. Two things to watch out for if you take this route. The rail crossings are bumpy, so take it slow; and when you get to the stop sign at the southeast corner of Chariton, turn north across the railroad tracks to Highway 34 rather than continuing straight ahead on the Blue Grass. The Union Pacific resolutely refuses to repair the old Blue Grass bridge across the cut where its tracks are, so you cannot drive directly into Chariton on the Blue Grass these days.

And that's about it.

Keep watch with those who weep this night

The prairie wind and endless sky out at Salem have soothed many wounds over the course of 150 years as grace and time began their work of healing, but the death of Jessica Luedtke Deemer, 24, who will be buried in the old churchyard today, must surely be the most devastating.

Jessica and a friend, Bryce Mercer, also 24, a native of Gladbrook, were gunned down alongside Highway 14 near Marshalltown late Friday afternoon by Jessica's estranged husband, Kyle Deemer, also a Lucas County native, who apparently had pursued them from Des Moines, then forced them off the road. He is in custody. Bryce's funeral is scheduled for Friday in Gladbrook.

JESSICA DAWN LUEDTKE
1984-2008
The Des Moines Register, Tuesday, 21 October

Jessica Dawn Luedtke Deemer of Waukee, Iowa, formerly of Chariton, Iowa, died Friday, October 17, 2008, near Marshalltown, Iowa, at the age of 24.

Jessica was born in Iowa City, Iowa on July 17, 1984, to Kevin and Lori (Greubel) Luedtke. She was raised on a farm near Chariton along with Jason, her brother, and Jamie, her sister.

Jessica attended school at Russell Community School until her sophomore year and transferred to Chariton High School. She was a dedicated student and loved to learn. Jessica graduated salutatorian from Chariton High School in 2002. She had completed enough college courses and entered into Indian Hills Community College as a sophomore. In 2003, Jessica earned her associate degree and went on to further her education at Simpson College in Indianola. She earned her Bachelor of Science degree in business marketing in 2005.

Many memories were made during Jessica’s high school years as she worked her first job in the pumpkin fields with her family. She also worked at Double Dip for Annie and Becca where Jessica was a very dedicated and loved employee. At the time of her death Jessica was employed at Principal Financial in Des Moines as a compliance associate.

Jessica had one son, Ty Deemer, age 6. Above all, her greatest joy was being Ty’s mom. She had a big heart and would sacrifice all for those she loved. Jessica was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside.

Jessica was a genuine friend to all. She was a natural when it came to decorating. Whether it was a friend’s wedding cake or painting Ty’s room, her creativity was endless. She has always loved to exercise and recently began biking and running. This past year Jessica participated in RAGBRAI, the Dam to Dam Run, and Living History Farms Race. She enjoyed the challenge and was always the one encouraging her friends along the way.

Jessica is survived by her son, Ty, her parents, Kevin and Lori Luedtke, brother Jason Luedtke, sister Jamie Luedtke, all of Chariton, Iowa; grandparents: Bob and Colene Greubel, Lacona, Iowa, Orville and Joy Luedtke, Des Moines, Iowa, Joan and Bill Elliott, Indianola, Iowa; great grandparents: Paul and Veda Miller, Lacona, Iowa; mother-in-law, Brenda Rumley, Chariton, Iowa; sister-in-law, Ashley Rumley, Ottumwa, Iowa; grandmother Wilma Deemer, Lucas, Iowa; and numerous aunts, uncles, cousins and friends.

Services will be held Wednesday, October 22, 2008 at 10:30 a.m. at Pierschbacher Funeral Home in Chariton, Iowa, with Pastor Eric Hann and Pastor Paul Olson officiating. Burial in Salem Cemetery in Lucas County, Iowa.

The family asks that memorials be made to Ty Deemer Trust Fund. Online condolences may be left at www.pierschbacherfuneralhome.com.

Jessica grew up on a farm two miles across the fields east of Salem. Her mother, Lori, a letter carrier, often delivers the mail in my neighborhood in Chariton. Her great-grandfather, Paul Miller, 95, is the oldest living member of my late mother's extended family. I last saw him three years ago at my father's funeral here at Salem.

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love's sake. (Book of Common Prayer, the order for Compline).

All roads lead to Hanlontown

Peggy Senzarino had never experienced lefse let alone lutefisk. Fancy that after all those years an Iowan. In a way it's not her fault --- she is primarily Italian with a side order of Greek and not an ounce Norwegian.

I figure I'm about 10 percent Norwegian by now, although genetics have nothing to do with it. It is possible to be born Norwegian and equally possible to absorb it. This is not exactly osmosis, since Norwegians are suspicious of people who touch. It is more a matter of breathing the same air rather than surface-to-surface contact. But it does happen, so be warned.

If you spend a good deal of time among Norwegians, as I have, watch for these signs and beware: In moments of stress, you unexpectedly say "Uff da!" with great feeling instead of "Oh damn it"; as the leaves turn to gold and daylight dwindles down, you're overwhelmed with the urge to eat lutefisk, lefse, mashed potatoes and lots of melted butter; and you begin to consider becoming a Lutheran --- Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA) for moderate to liberal; Evangelical Lutheran Synod (ELS) for conservative. If you're attracted to the Missouri or Wisconsin synods, you've been spending too much time among Germans.


So Peggy's plight was one of the reasons I landed at the door of Grace Lutheran Church (ELCA) in Hanlontown --- a nice and scenic drive up the pike toward Minnesota from Mason City --- at 8:30 sharp this morning. I knew I'd find lefse there --- as well as breakfast (biscuits and gravy, egg casserole, fresh fruit, homemade cinnamon rolls).

A Lutheran bazaar, regardless of synod, in one way is like a rummage sale: You want to be there when the doors open to get the good stuff and Norwegians almost always are on time, or early, so you absolutely cannot dally. We're like vultures when aroused by the thought and scent of good home cooking.


Sure enough, the table selling Norwegian pastries already was swamped when I walked through the door as everyone bought to beat the band before retiring from the church hall to the basement, where breakfast was being served. The crowd actually looks a little sparse here, but that's because I'd already taken my purchases (lefse, krumkake, rosettes, kringla, fattigman, rommegrot bars and more plus jars of pickle relish and homemade sauerkraut, a bag of oatmeal buns and a fancy geranium to boot, all for about $30) out to the truck before I started taking pictures.




On the other hand, the church basement was stuffed as we prepared to stuff our faces. Norwegians also like to eat --- with great enthusiasm.


Since I was in the neighborhood, I decided to drive back through Fertile and take a look at the old mill from William Rhodes Island Park.

Great way to start a day! My stomach's full, the pantry's restocked at minimal cost and Peggy is about to experience lefse!

Fall color, Sally Hemings and neglected widows

WELL, IT'S BEEN a beautiful week in Iowa. Up here in the northland, the colors are just about at their height and down south in Lucas County, a week to two weeks behind as autumn advances.

The photo up top was taken Monday out at the Chariton Cemetery where most of the color was in the hard maples, including this one in the southwest corner.

I'd gone out to the cemetery to look again at Potters Field, just out of sight to the left in this photo, a significantly large, pretty and peaceful area of few marked graves where until not that long ago those who died in Chariton and couldn't afford a burial plot were interred.

I think I'll say more about Potters Field another time, but what got me to thinking about it was Annette Gordon-Reed's new book, "The Hemingses of Monticello," which I'm reading.

This is a wonderfully complex and detailed examination of the Hemings family, slaves at Thomas Jefferson's Monticello and, before that, on the Wayles plantation where John Wayles, father of Jefferson's wife, Martha, had six children by his enslaved "concubine" (a useful word that Gordon-Reed tells us was widely use for relations of this sort at that time), Elizabeth Hemings, herself the daughter of a white ship's master and an unknown African woman.

The most widely-known of the Hemings was, of course, Sally (half sister of Martha Wayles Jefferson), almost certainly the widowed Jefferson's "concubine" and the mother of perhaps seven children by him.

The book is fascinating on several levels, including the genealogical, since Gordon-Reed became a master genealogist herself in the process of tracking down the complex threads that unite the Hemings and related families black, white and blended.

But Gordon-Reed also has a lot to say about the complicated and too often destructive relationships from the earliest days of the United States until the present between its white and black children.

Potters Field in Chariton is where the majority of Lucas County's Afro-Iowan population rests --- not because they were not allowed to purchase lots of their own elsewhere but because they couldn't for the most part afford to do so. And that was a product of white prejudice and not black incompetence.

MOST OF MY FREE TIME has been tangled up in the Salem Cemetery site, setting up the framework and adding text and photos, getting off at least to a flying start. I'd forgotten just how much Salem-related material I have --- and where some of it is.

One thing that turned up was the photo, above, of Alpha (Seaward) Arnold, who is buried at Salem, and two of her sisters that was taken during a reunion in Chariton during the fall of 1881. Alpha (whose husband was David Arnold), then 85, is seated at left. Her sister Mary (Seaward) Tripp/Flint, of Peoria, Ill. (1799-1895) is seated at right. And standing behind them is their younger sister, Sibbel (Seaward) McNall (1811-1891) of New York.

Two of Alpha's children were Lucas Countyans, Capt. Stephen S. Arnold, who lived in Chariton; and Edward, who lived in Benton Township and also is buried at Salem. Stephen's family did not endure in Lucas County, but Edward has many, many descendants who still live here, including Richard Arnold, currently representing the county in the Iowa House of Representatives (regrettably as a Republican), and several of my own cousins, although I am not related directly to the Arnolds.

I thought I'd use Alpha to illustrate a point. Although her husband's grave is marked by a lovely old stone, quite elaborate and I'd guess expensive, her grave is unmarked. We know where she's buried, but there's no sign of her presence at Salem.

That happened (and perhaps still happens) a lot. When the old man died, his widow ensured that his grave was appropriately marked. But when she died, somehow the children found better things to do with their money than buy her a tombstone or even commission an inscription on one that already existed. There are quite a few examples, other than Alpha, of that at Salem (Edward Arnold is not among them; both his grave and that of his wife, Sophia, are appropriately marked). Go to the Chariton Cemetery, however, and you'll discover a substantial stone for Stephen S. Arnold --- a high-flyer in his time --- but no indication at all that his wife, who survived him, is buried beside him.

The message to widows seems to be this: Put "tombstone" in your will!

When in doubt, start another blog

Considering the state of the economy, the lackluster performance of all presidential and vice-presidential candidates and other factors, this might be a good time to jump out a window.

But the window I'm looking out of now is in a room that's about one-third below ground level, so I'd have to climb rather than jump and then would only scratch up my knees crawling across the gravel margin to grass. So it doesn't seem like a worthwhile gesture.

Instead, I've started a new blog of interest primarily to me and a few strays who may be interested in Lucas County genealogy, specifically to those with a stake of some sort in my family cemetery, Salem in Benton Township.

It's actually the cemetery of quite a few families, but I'm related to many of them or to people who are related to those I'm not related to, which is how it works in Lucas County. There are four generations of Myers here, beginning with my great-great-grandparents, Jacob and Harriet (Dick) Myers. That tall job with the urn on top at left in the photo up top is old Jacob's monument. My great-great-great-grandmother Redlingshafer, Doratha, is here, too. That old Deutschlander is the matriarch of most Redlingshafers --- a distinctive name --- still running around loose out there in the United States as well as countless people with other surnames.

My goal is to account for everyone I can find via their tombstones or other information in each of Salem's 52 lots (plus those interred in the churchyard after all the original lots were sold), unite the traces I find with photographs and publish the results at "Lucas County's Salem Cemetery." I'll get around to putting a link over to the left after a while. Anyone interested can find a link by clicking on "view my complete profile" for now.

I rounded up most of the data years ago and published much of it to a Salem Cemetery mailing list at RootsWeb. But the mailing list is impossible to organize, cannot accommodate photographs and wrangling a small herd of subscribers is problematic (they tend to move or change e-mail addresses resulting in a gazillion bounced e-mails every time anything is posted). It's still there and will remain, but is inactive.

So far, I've published the outline, but completed only one lot. It's going to take time to copy stuff over, add new stuff and find and take the photos. But the new blog, along with this one, will help keep me entertained --- and that's one of the points. It also will be a heck of a lot easier to point the folks who contact me asking for information to the blog rather than re-inventing the wheel, as I do now, each time I answer a query.

The Write Stuff

I have a new fountain pen, or rather a new old fountain pen --- a Sheaffer desk pen (front and center above) that spoke to me as I was walking along the aisles of an antiques emporium called The Majestic Lion on Des Moines' north side a couple of week ago.

I like to write with fountain pens and so accumulate (but do not collect) them. Sheaffers are my favorite.

Because there's no way to try it out, picking up a fountain pen in an antique shop is a tricky proposition unless you're prepared to do repairs yourself or send it off to a pen hospital somewhere for surgery. Fortunately, the snorkel filling device on this one works and I've been able to use it, although mostly have just been admiring it.

Sheaffer pens have been among the most reliable out there because, I like to think, most in circulation now were manufactured in Iowa. Sadly, that's no longer the case.

The historic Sheaffer pen factory, long Fort Madison's largest and most respected employer, finally closed out operations entirely this spring and Sheaffer components now are manufactured and assembled entirely overseas thanks to Sheaffer's current corporate master, BIC --- the bastards.

The Sheaffer brand and products were developed and manufactured in southeast Iowa, in Fort Madison from about 1913 on.

Unlike another Iowa brand, Maytag, now being exploited elsewhere in large part it seems because of managerial incompetence and failure to adapt on a dazzling scale (although the managers always liked to blame its unionized Newton workforce), Sheaffer always seems to have been managed fairly well.

But it was sold by the Sheaffer family in the 1960s to the Textron conglomorate, offloaded as an easily-disposable asset when that firm ran into trouble and then bounced from owner to owner until BIC came out the winner in a bidding battle with Sheaffer executives a few years ago.

BIC made elaborate promises to Fort Madison, and the state; even won a state grant (since repaid) to invest in Iowa and generate jobs. Then decided, since there was no penalty involved in doing so, to ditch all those efforts and produce what's advertised as a high-end product in the cheapest manner possible, exploiting underpaid foreign labor.

That, of course, is the free-market economy.

I've thought a couple of times about buying one of the new BICs. They still have the inset nib I like. But the style I want costs a couple of hundred bucks and looks a bit like one of those cheap plastic BIC ballpoints on steroids. BIC calls it "bold European styling." I would call it something less polite.

But for now I'm happy with my new old Sheaffer bought for a minor fraction of the cost of a new one.

The Iowaville Roster: John Tolman

A continuing account of interesting people associated with the Des Moines River ghost town of Iowaville from the time of its founding in 1838 to roughly 1856.

Three men, James Jordan, William Phelps and John Tolman, are credited with founding Iowaville on the banks of the Des Moines River in 1838. All were traders with the Sauk and Fox: Phelps, because of his association with a substantial family firm in Illinois that later linked him to the trading giants of the Mississippi, was the most prominent; Jordan, on a substantial but lesser scale; and Tolman, it seems, on the smallest scale. Of the three, Tolman remains the most enigmatic.

There are multiple derivative accounts of Iowaville’s founding, all similar, each quoting the other without giving credit to earlier sources. The following is representative, although it is among the latest:

"The village of Iowaville was laid out by a company in 1838. The Sac and Fox Indians had sold 1,250,000 acres of land in this vicinity, and reserved two years’ time on the land after which James Jordan, William Phelps and John Tolman bought the Indians’ time for $3,000. The sale of time was made in the fall of 1837, and, in 1838, the Indians vacated, and (in) the spring of that year, the place now known as Iowaville was laid off. Black Hawk and a few Indians remained. Phelps and Jordan were the earliest settlers, they having come in the fall of 1837. Jordan had the first trading-post." (Evans, Capt. S.B., “The Blotting Out of an Iowa Town,“ The Annals of Iowa, Charles Aldrich, editor, Volume 8, Third Series, Des Moines: Historical Department of Iowa, 1907-08, page 57)

Tolman, perhaps native to Maine, seems to have landed in Iowa shortly after 1828 at what became Keokuk where he was employed as an itinerant peddler and trader for the American Fur Co., which had constructed five log cabins along the Mississippi there to serve as the base for its trading operation. By 1831, Tolman was living a few miles northwest of Keokuk along the Des Moines River in what became Des Moines Township, Lee County, where he had made a claim and built a cabin for his family (his wife reportedly was Sauk or Fox).

Benjamin F. Gue provides the following account of Keokuk’s founding, mentioning Tolman: “In 1831 (or 1830), Mr. (James W.) Campbell settled at Puch-e-chu-tuck (later Keokuk). The earliest settlers at this place after Dr. Muir (Samuel C. Muir, a U.S. Army surgeon stationed at Fort Edwards --- now Warsaw, Ill. --- who had in 1820 had built a cabin on the site of Keokuk for his Sauk wife and their family) were Amos and Valencourt Vanausdol, John Connelly, John Forsyth, James Thom, John Tolman, John Gaines and William Price, most of whom had Indian wives. Here the American Fur Company had erected on the river bank a row of hewn log buildings for the use of their agent in his traffic with the Indians and for the collection of skins and furs ….” (Gue, Benjamin F., History of Iowa From the Earliest Times to the Beginning of the Twentieth Century, New York: The Century History Co., 1903, Vol. I, Page 154)

A 1914 history of Lee County contains similar but slightly different information, dating Tolman’s arrival soon after that of Moses Stillwell, in the spring of 1828.

“Shortly after Mr. Stillwell established himself at the foot of the rapids,” that account reads, “the American Fur Company erected a row of five houses at the junction of Blondeau and Levee streets and installed Russell Farnham as resident manager; Josha Palean, Mark Aldrich and Edward Bushnell, clerks. Paul Bessette, John Shook and Baptiste Neddo came as trappers and hunters. The buildings the American Fur Company were of hewed logs and for many years were known as “Rat Row.” John Connolly, John Forsyth, James Thorn and John Tolman were employed by the company as itinerant peddlers and in the collection of furs ….” (Roberts, Nelson C., and Moorhead, S.W., editors, “Story of Lee County, Iowa,” Chicago: The S. J. Clarke Pulblishing Co., 1914, Vol I, Page 136.)

Tolman apparently lived during this earliest period a few miles up the Des Moines River from Keokuk in what became Des Moines Township, Lee County, opposite the Missouri village of St. Francisville. The source of this information is an address by Capt. James W. Campbell, one of Lee County’s first settlers, to Lee County old settlers in 1876. Here, he is taking his audience on a virtual tour of those members of the white tribe who lived in the vicinity of Keokuk during his early days there:

“Let us journey onto the westward (from Keokuk) in search of further marks of civilization. By the side of an Indian pathway, in Sugar Creek bottom (Se-sepawk-wah) we see the skeletons of a few wick-e-ups (wigwams), which assure us that man has been here (although a savage in these wilds) before us. But now all is lovely. Not even an alimo (Indian dog, half wolf) has remained behind to gnaw the bones thrown from his master’s camp-kettle. Onward we move, and arrive upon the verge of a bluff (near Sargent’s, now), and behold the Des Moines River in the distance, with Sand Prairie intervening, bedecked in nature’s garb, with thousands of flowers of different hues and tints, such has language fails to describe. We arrive upon the banks of the river, and enter the humble domicile of John Tolman, situated opposite St. Francisville, in Missouri. If this old house was upon its former foundation, you would find it about three hundred feet southeast of Mr. Noah Bailey’s residence, in Des Moines Township….” (Campbell, James W., “Capt. Campbell’s Address,” The History of Lee County, Iowa, Chicago: Western Historical Co., 1879, pp. 493-498 and beyond).

The 1914 Roberts and Moorhead history adds immediately after paraphrasing Campbell’s lyrical account above, “Several others about the settlements on the river at this period engaged in trading with the Indians, trapping, hunting and fishing, among whom were Russell Farnham, Mark Aldrich, Moses Stillwater, Joshua Palean, Edward Bushnell, Paul Besette, Baptiste Neddeau and John Shook.”

Other accounts suggest that Tolman and his family did not linger long in this lovely place along the river, but followed “civilization” and trade as it moved upstream along the Des Moines. An 1875 account of Keosauqua’s origins suggests that by about 1835, Tolman was living there, in what became Van Buren County:

“The first white man who settled on the sport where this place (Keosauqua) now stands was one John Silvers, who, in 1835, made a claim and built a small cabin on the bank of the river about where the old Keosauqua Hotel now stands. About the same time several other persons settled in the vicinity-among them E. Pardom, Isaac W. McCarty, John Patchett, and John Tolman, with his Indian wife.” (Andreas, A.T., “Illustrated Historical Atlas of the State of Iowa,” Chicago: Andreas Atlas Co., 1875, Page 494)

When the 1836 census of Desmoines County, Wisconsin Territory, was taken (and Des Moines County then included all of Van Buren County then open to settlers), Tolman was enumerated near other known traders --- notably William Phelps and Wharton McPherson --- as well as John Patchett, in or near what became Keosauqua. That census enumerates John as the head of a household of six people including four males over 21, one female over 21 and one male under 21.

Soon thereafter, Tolman may have moved upriver to the site of what now is Leando (originally Portland) on the south bank of the Des Moines midway between Keosauqua and Iowaville.” And it was here, perhaps, that he was living when he joined Phelps and Jordan to purchase the Iowaville site.

The source that links Tolman to Portland is an address by the Hon. George G. Wright (principal source for an earlier account here of Van Caldwell) that I’ve not been able to track down yet.

It is cited, however, by T. J. Fitzpatrick in a 1931 “Annals of Iowa” article tracing the origins of place names in Van Buren County: “According to G. G. Wright's Address, page 15, Portland was laid out in 1839 by John Tolman of Portland, Maine; thus directly naming the Iowa village after his old home place.”

Various online and unsourced family trees suggest that our John Tolman was a brother of a Nathan Tolman, who also settled in the Portland/Leando area at an early date, and that both were sons of a Reuben Tolman of Maine. But I cannot affirm any of this.

Whatever the case, John Talman’s trail fades after the Iowaville purchase. It seems possible to me that he and his family continued to follow the trade upriver to the Ottumwa area, where the Sauk and Fox settled after vacating territory near Iowaville and where they remained until the fall of 1842 and spring of 1843 when they were forced upriver again to the forks of the Raccoon by the treaty that opened much of southern Iowa to white-tribe settlement and forced the Sauk and Fox eventually west beyond the Missouri.

Wapello County probate indexes show that the estate of a John Tolman, perhaps this southeast Iowa pioneer and Iowaville founder, entered the court system at Ottumwa on 3 January 1846. I have not explored this probate file, however.

Signs and symbols

The ultimate lesson of a cemetery, I suppose, is that we are all, inevitably, dead meat, rich and poor, renowned --- or not.

That's a harsh lesson, but an honest one that invites elaboration. For people of faith, death is the portal to eternal life and what could be more encouraging than that? For people of faith and for people of little or no faith, reminders of life's transitory nature can serve as a prod to seize the day and live it fully.

Our ancestors were inclined, when they could afford it, to use tombstone art not only to characterize a grave's occupant but to teach. I like to collect good examples of this with a camera when I find them while wandering around in graveyards.

Take the tombstone of Artamissa Sheets, for example, which is located in the Masonic Union Cemetery just northeast of Eagleville, Missouri, a little town along Interstate 35 a few miles south of the Iowa border.

We know from the inscription that she was the wife of A. J. (Andrew J.) Sheets and that she died 26 April 1871 at the age of 36 years, 8 months and 9 days.

The eptaph elaborates:

As a wife devoted;
As a mother affectionate;
As a friend ever kind and true;
In life she exhibited all the graces of a Christian;
In death her redeemed spirit returned to God who gave it.

A hand pointing skyward holding a rose completes the tribute, and lesson, in marble. There's nothing enigmatic about that finger pointed up, intended to remind passers by both of the direction in which Artimissa departed and of the advisability of turning one's thoughts to heaven, too.

The rose can be interpreted several ways --- as representing the redeeming blood of Christ, a life cut short while in full bloom, a love that remained fresh and enduring in spite of death. If this were a Roman Catholic cemetery, which it isn't, it might have Marian associations.

Artimissa's stone is located companionably next to that of her husband, Andrew, who outlived her by 36 years. His stone is far plainer. We can tell something about him from the stone he commissioned for his wife, but from his own stone --- only that he was a Mason.

The Iowaville Roster: Van Caldwell

A continuing series about interesting people who lived in and near Iowaville from ca. 1838 until ca. 1856.

Van Caldwell, by sheer force of personality and good humor, probably was the most widely known resident of the Iowaville neighborhood during his years there, which stretched from ca. 1838 until October of 1856, when he died at the age of 56. Although by no means affluent, his hospitality was, and remains in the words of those who experienced it, legendary.

Like his neighbor, James H. Jordan, he settled in territory just west and north of Iowaville, right along the Des Moines River in the extreme northeast corner of what became Davis County, that belonged by treaty to the Sauk and Fox until May of 1843. Unlike Jordan, however, he was able to work out an arrangement with Gen. Joseph M. Street, then agent to the confederated tribes, to remain. So his home was spared while Jordan’s was burned by dragoons. It it is the only dwelling marked on the 1840 survey map of this small triangle of land --- along with Black Hawk’s grave and the old chief’s “wigwam.” His cabin and claim were northwest of the Jordan place, closer to what now is Eldon, which is just across the line in Wapello County. A case could be made that Van was the first member of the white tribe to reside legally in Davis County.


Upon his death at this time of year in 1856, Caldwell’s body was taken down the old trail through Iowaville and then up to Iowaville Cemetery where his beautiful and remarkably well-preserved tombstone still looks out toward the Soap Creek Hills.

I’ve lifted his story, which follows, from an account of it written in 1895 by George G. Wright and published in “The Annals of Iowa” (Volume 2, Third series; Des Moines: Historical Department of Iowa, 1895-95, pp. 386-390). It is an eloquent tribute, phrased elegantly, so I’ve not meddled at all but will expand upon a few points at its end.

Judge Wright was a significant character in early Iowa history. Born 24 March 1820 in Indiana, he began the practice of law in Keosauqua during the early 1840s and served as prosecuting attorney for Van Buren County during 1847-48. He served in the Iowa Senate 1849-51, then as a justice of the Iowa Supreme Court 1854-1870. Elected to the U.S. Senate from Iowa, he served 1871-1877 but did not seek re-election. A resident of Des Moines after 1865, he also was among founders of the University of Iowa College of Law, president of the American Bar Association and a banker. Van's son, Henry Clay Caldwell, studied law under Wright in Keosauqua, and so that is another link not mentioned in this account. Wright died 11 January 1896, the year after he wrote the following tribute, and was buried in Woodland Cemetery in Des Moines, a headier resting place, but no more satisfying, than that of his old friend, Van Caldwell.

VAN CALDWELL

By the Late Hon. George G. Wright

Solicited to give my impressions of some of those prominent in Territorial times --- not especially in political circles, but plain men and entitled to deserved praise for their work in the development of our commonwealth, I have selected for this brief paper my long-time and esteemed friend whose name appears at the head of this article.

Van Caldwell was born in Ohio County, Virginia, March 5, 1799, and died at his home on the Des Moines River in Davis county, October 8, 1856. He was the son of John and Sarah (Mulligan) Caldwell --- the former a native of Scotland, the latter of Ireland. So it will be seen that he was of as pure Scotch-Irish stock as any Wallace, Scott or Cassady, or of any one either of Ulster or elsewhere. And sure I am that neither Scotland, Ireland, Virginia, or any land, need be ashamed of him or feel otherwise than complimented by the blood of this man who was a very nobleman in appearance and deportment --- for he was six feet, two and one-half inches in height, turned the scales approximately at two hundred pounds, had a carriage to his last days as straight as an Indian, perfect in his proportions, with an air of manhood and inexpressible dignity which denoted the truest nobility of nature. In any assembly he commanded attention, and with strangers and friends alike that involuntary respect which such a bearing inevitably and always exacts. With him often in political and other assemblies, traveling over our new lands in early days on horseback and by other methods, at the cabins of the early settlers and primitive hotels, I knew him well, and may be allowed to say that few if any men had a more commanding figure, or one better calculated to impress those with whom he was brought into contact, than this Virginia mountaineer.

Coming to Iowa in 1836, he first settled in Bentonsport, in Van Buren County, but in a few months removed to a farm two miles north of that place. Within a year he “tackled the wagon of the wilderness” and with his family and worldly goods went farther into the country acquired by the “Black Hawk purchase,” and settled on the “claim” which was his home to the time of his death. He, however, soon met with difficulties in this new land in finding that he in common with many other adventurous spririts was within that part of the “purchase” still reserved to the Sac and Fox Indians. The settlers were therefore ordered by the Government under the guidance and compulsion of the regular troops, to leave the reservation; and all did leave, I believe, except our friend, who was permitted to remain under the following circumstances:

The Indian Agency, under the charge of that grand old Virginian, Joseph M. Street, was located near what is now Agency City. Those connected therewith needed a mill to grind their grain and provide them with needed lumber; and to meet these wants a mill was erected on Soap Creek south of the Des Moines River. As the river had to be crossed to reach the mill from the Agency, and hence, when there was water enough in Soap Creek to run the mill the river was not fordable, it was arranged by the agent, under the authority of the War Department, that the subject of this sketch could remain upon his “claim” if he would establish a ferry across the river. Under this contract he provided a ferry, being the only one in that region for years, and thus he held his “claim” and enabled the Agency and other people to reach the place where they obtained as they could not at any other, at least some of the necessaries of life. And this instance, by the way, serves to illustrate, as many others might, the resourceful nature of the man, the hold he always had upon those in authority and their confidence in his ability and worth.

In politics he was the most earnest and enthusiastic Whig of the Henry Clay school that I ever knew. And though a Virginian he was as thorough and enthusiastic in his devotion to the new organization, before his death, in the campaign of 1856, as any anti-slavery man in Iowa. I need not add that had he lived he would have been a Republican without guile and among those most loyal and patriotic in the support of the Government during the struggle which involved the nation’s life in 1861-65. He was emphatically of that old school who never would see anything good in “Jackson Democracy,” but felt he was doing his highest duty when opposing their candidates and policies. This passing incident will serve to illustrate his intense political enthusiasm. In April, 1854, I think it was, the Whig candidate for State Superintendent was overwhelmingly defeated, but one county (Henry) giving him a majority. Stopping at Caldwell’s house soon after to spend the night, he met me in his usual hospitable manner and almost at once said: “Well, they beat us again, but by ginger if a dog from Henry County should come along I would feed him on peaches and cream for a month.” He never sought office, nor as far as I know held any: and yet he was a most prominent figure in our political conventions and a very valuable aid to his friends in any cause he espoused.

His name was but another for hospitality throughout the Des Moines Valley, and indeed the entire State. Those of all classes and conditions, if entitled to respect, whatever their politics or religion, and whether rich or poor, always found in his humble home a welcome. Governors Robert Lucas, John Chambers, James Clarke, Stephen Hempstead, J. W. Grimes, R. P. Lowe and J. H. Gear; Judges Charles Mason, Joseph Williams, J. C. Hall, J. C. Knapp, Cyrus Olney, Samuel F. Miller, S. C. Hastings, T. W. Claggett, Edward Johnstone, H. H. Trimble, H. B. Hendershott, W. H. Seevers --- distinguished lawyers such as Chas. Negus, Alfred Rich. H. T. Reid, C. V. Slagle, Henry Starr, W. D. Browning --- ministers, such as Samuel Clark, Milton Jamison, Daniel Lane, M. F. Shine --- prominent state officials, represented by such men as Shepherd Leffler, James B. Browne, G. W. Teas, W. H. Wallace, I. N. Lewis, S. B. Shelledy, W. S. Chapman, Bernhart Henn, Gen. S. R. Curtis --- these, and scores of others, among the most prominent as politicians and otherwise in the Territory and State, spent many enjoyable hours with him at that home on the Des Moines River, where he was never so happy as when surrounded by them or like friends; and none happier than then when resting, it may be, upon freely furnished beds upon the floor and enjoying his hospitable if not most sumptuous table. So keenly did he enjoy these and other friends that I doubt if he ever felt well treated if they passed his house whether in summer’s heat or winter’s cold without a call, and utterly regardless of the hour, night or day. Then, too, when I add that no man however poor was ever turned from his house needing food or lodging, or raiment even, if within his power to supply his wants, we can measure somewhat his generosity and hospitality. One result was that he never accumulated much of this world’s goods; but he did have a supreme consciousness of doing his duty, and if he died leaving fewer dollars than some others, he nevertheless led a happy and blameless life and left a name which his children and friends can ever cherish with the greatest pride and satisfaction.

Of his family, though there were others --- and all an honor to his name --- I have time only to mention Samuel T., a successful merchant and banker at Eddyville, and who twice represented, and with distinction, Wapello county, in our state legislature; another Benjamin F., for years a prominent business man in Wheeling, (West) Va., and lately mayor of that city --- the third Henry C(lay), known to all the people of Iowa, for years a leading lawyer of our State, a member of our legislature, distinguished in military service during the late war, United States District Judge, and now as Circuit Judge of the Eighth Judicial Federal Circuit. If he was blessed in his home he surely was in his noble and successful children. And in this connection I remark that few worshipped their children with a sincerer devotion, and this was returned with interest most usurious and constantly compounded. And well they might for he had the brains to know the right and the honesty to do it. Of him it may be said he had “courage without whistling for it and joy without shouting to bring it.” He was one of those who believed that the only religition which can “save a man is that which makes him a good man.” And I believe he tried to so live as to be honest with his neighbors and his God, “and hence did not need a big income to make him happy.”

Thus lived and died Van Caldwell, one of the best and highest types of Iowa’s pioneers. It is true he was not learned as of the schools, but he was strong in vigorous common sense. Though not polished as society goes, he had a face so genial, and a natural courtliness of manner, which, with his imposing presence made him ever welcome in the cultured circle or the most promiscuous or mixed assemblies. Such men helped make Iowa what it is in all its greatness and glory. Give us of this class now and for all time, and years will be add to her splendor. Blessed with such men fifty years since, so we are, and I believe now, and as I hope will be for all time. Confident of this, let us hope as the past is secure, so of the future no one need be afraid. Des Moines, Iowa, 1895.

MORE ABOUT VAN CALDWELL

There are a few mysteries (to me at least) about Van Caldwell’s family. He apparently was married four times, twice in Virginia and twice in Iowa. Samuel Tomlinson Caldwell (ca. 1824-1878), his eldest son, apparently was by a first marriage, which may have occurred ca. 1822. Poking around to see who his mother might have been, I found two (unreliable) references in information submitted to the LDS, one to an “Elizabeth” and the other to a “Miss Cockayne.” Neither reference is to be trusted, however.

Ohio and/or Marshall County, (West) Virginia, marriage records show that he was married to Susan Moffit on 13 July 1826. They seem to have had two of the sons mentioned by George Wright, above, Benjamin Franklin Caldwell (14 April 1828-1 January 1910) and Henry Clay Caldwell (4 September 1832-16 February 1915) and then divorced. Susan was living with their son, “Franklin” when the 1850 census of Wheeling, (West) Virginia, was taken and Benjamin Franklin Caldwell lived and died there. Susan still was living when the 1880 census of Wheeling was taken. The Caldwells probably became estranged on the Iowa frontier and Susan returned to Virginia taking Benjamin F. with her, but leaving Henry Clay and Samuel T. behind with their father. This is only a theory.

Whatever the case, Van was single on 28 September 1845 when he married Rachel Dickerson in Wapello County. They settled down on the riverside farm and had four children in quick succession: Adeline, who died 16 February 1847, age 5 days; Murat, born 29 August 1848 or 1849 (died 28 February 1924 in Clay County, Kansas); Belle, who died 5 October 1852, age 1 year, 10 months and 23 days; and Belle R., died 15 July 1854, age 2 months and 15 days. Rachel died at Belle R.’s birth, on 30 April 1854, age 29 years, 8 months and 21 days. The graves of Rachel and the Caldwell daughters, all marked, are with Van’s in the Iowaville Cemetery.


Finally, Van married Margaret Smith on 2 June 1855 in Van Buren County and they were living together at the time of his death.

Following Van’s death, Murat went to live with his half-brother, Samuel T., a farmer, merchant and banker in Eddyville in far northwest Wapello County. Henry Clay went on to become an acclaimed jurist, serving as a federal judge in Little Rock, Ark., but dying in California. He is buried, however, in Little Rock.

The taller the building, the more satisfying the splat

I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad the last few days as politicians and bankers run around Washington like startled leghorns in the henhouse squawking and flapping their wings without a clue concerning what to do about what’s scared them --- as Wall Street lays the egg.

Dad watched his grandfather, Daniel Myers the first, go down the tubes financially --- not because he’d lived lavishly or bought expensive toys --- but because he had felt obligated first to help set each of his children up in farming and, second, to try to bail them out when they turned out not to have his managerial skills or common sense. Among all those children, only two I believe, including my grandfather, managed (barely) to hold onto their land. And Great-granddad , who once had owned hundreds of acres, died in the 1930s with only the 40-acre homestead --- only because they couldn’t take that away from him. It was a struggle, Dad said, to come up with enough money for his tombstone.

Dad worked first as a farmhand, then as a sharecropper, for nearly 20 years to earn enough money to buy a farm himself without going into debt to do it. To say that he and my mother lived prudently would be an understatement. Their goal was to eat well, live comfortably but never lavishly and put enough aside to see them through old age until death. That they did.

At first I was thinking, “I’m sure glad he didn’t live long enough to see this.” But now I’m not so sure. It’s surely nothing that would have surprised him, although he’d not have wished it on anyone. But even he liked to say “I told you so” now and then.

I know Dad would be worried about his modest stash of cash. Not that he had ever done anything to endanger it --- many who grew up during what until now at least we’ve called the Great Depression didn’t, and don’t. But the concern always was, and is, that damnfoolishness will trickle down to the most well-managed banks and the most rock-solid and conservative investments and wipe out everyone --- not just those who richly deserve to be wiped out.

That’s the way a free-market economy works when greed trumps common sense and not a thought is given to sustainability. We’ve been in that mode for a long time now.

I don’t know about this bailout. It’s tempting to want to just stand back and watch financial empires come crashing down. On the other hand, if that happens many who do not deserve to suffer undoubtedly will and we may be among them.

I do know one thing, though, about a requirement any bailout should carry with it --- that those who led their financial institutions into disaster should be required to jump from the tops of their headquarters buildings in return for assistance. The taller and more lavish the building, the more satisfying the splat.

My dad, Daniel Frank Myers, is up top. My great-granddad, also Daniel Myers, is at left. And I am Frank Daniel Myers and proud of them both.

Chiggers and geraniums

At first Tuesday when my ankles started to itch and small welts arose there and elsewhere I decided the office carpet had fleas --- then chigger attack occurred to me, bites of which start to itch up to 24 hours after the little critters have had lunch.

It's the worst and most widespread chigger assault I've experienced since I was a kid and that's odd since (a) I spend quite a bit of time tromping around outdoors and (b) this is not the time of year, supposedly, when chiggers are most active. I suppose the fact it's been a cool and wet late summer/fall has something to do with it.

I could have become a chigger cafe down around Lake Rathbun Monday afternoon, since I was in and out of tall grass with the wrong kind of shoes; but most likely invited them aboard that morning while crawling around on hands and knees and sitting cross-legged on the ground out at the cemetery clipping around tombstones and getting rid of faded summer floral tributes.

The itching's about gone now, but the geraniums are still blooming --- and that's the positive thing to report. It's nice that they're still so enthusiastic as frost nears, adding color around the house as everything else (other than chrysanthemums, asters and marigolds) fade. I miss the chrysanthemums killed off during the great spring freeze a year ago last Easter and need to remember to plant more.

One thing that's been clear this year is that the coneflowers have gone out of control and will take over everything unless I do some serious surgery in the flower beds next spring. I've also run out of anywhere to plant more fall bulbs, so it's time.

The thing I've been admiring most this fall is the modest clump of Indian grass I planted out in the back forty last year. It obviously recognized a friendly environment when it met one and now is tall, gone to seed and waving in the breeze. I wonder what the neighbors would say if I decided to return that big patch of grass back there to its former prairie state. Maybe I'll move some of the coneflowers out there.

Since I failed to photograph the Indian grass, here are two views of the geraniums. They're living on borrowed time since first frost can't be that far away now.

The high life on Honey Creek

The new Honey Creek Resort on the north shore of Lake Rathbun opened its doors over the weekend and I went down Monday (kind of a gray day) to nose around. Wow! If state legislators (via the Department of Natural Resources, which owns the resort as well as Honey Creek State Park) were going to spend $19.6 million on Iowa's first "destination resort" anyway, bless their little hearts for doing it in southern Iowa.

Lake Rathbun is in my back yard, dedicated by President Nixon in 1969 or 1970, I forget which --- when I was in Vietnam; and Honey Creek always has been my favorite spot along it because a lot of it is old-growth oak and hickory timber, the views out across the lake are among the best and it's prime wildlife-watching territory. And yes I complain sometimes about everything that went under when this stretch of the Chariton River valley was flooded --- but none of that today. The lake's there, it's not going anywhere other than gradually downstream through the dam and I've learned to enjoy it.

Anyhow, the resort's been on the back burner since the lake was built and when private developers politely declined to build as years passed the state decided to step in. It's in a previous undeveloped area east of the part of Honey Creek Park I've roamed around in for nearly 40 years.

A wet summer put construction far behind schedule, so a mad scramble is going on now to finish up --- and will continue through next spring I'd guess. The entrance just east of Iconium (or west of Moravia if you're coming in from that direction) is right through a paving plant that will go away when streets fanning out among as yet unbuilt cottages down by the lake are complete. But the heavy lifting's been done and the hotel, convention center and new 18-hole golf course are fully operational.

The final landscaping phase is just beginning, however, so workers were crawling like ants all over the park planting trees, shrubs, etc.

The long paved entrance drive twists and turns south and east through the lakeshore hills, where the golf course is located, but finally you get to the hotel itself, perched at a northeast-to-southwest angle so that lakeside rooms and all the public areas, including the restaurant and bar, look out across the Honey Creek bay to the main lake.

The hotel itself has 105 rooms on three floors, a soaring lobby, 6,500-square-foot convention center, restaurant, bar and indoor water park. There also is a 50-boat-slip marina and will be a fishing pier and beach. The golf course has its own club house, and once the cottages are built the complex will be complete.


The whole thing is built in that vaguely Prairie School style that's been increasingly popular in Iowa for the last few years and that's especially evident in the lobby with its national-monument-sized fireplace (although I was surprised at how small the two fire boxes were --- and of course they're gas, so you'll not be toasting your toes before a blazing wood fire here). Still, it's an impressive place.

I wandered around through oceans of lavishly carpeted spaces, poking around where I could without actually trying to open closed doors. Then stumbled around the as yet undeveloped lakeshore to see what I could see back there. Yea, I'd be delighted to spend a few days here --- even through it's not much more than half an hour from home, I don't golf and don't boat either. And I'll certainly go down (when dressed more appropriately) to try out the restaurant.



So you-all come down, too, and help support the thing. Appropriately marketed and managed, it should work. Here's hoping so.

Visiting with the clerk at the front desk, she asked me if I ever thought I'd see "anything so beautiful" in southern Iowa. Now them's kind of fighting words --- but I didn't tell her that. There's a multitude of far more beautiful places, people and things to see in southern Iowa, and always has been. And that kind of thinking kind of reflects the thought from more elevated places I've heard before: "Why would you put something like that there?" Just don't start with me on that!

But I've got to admit it's impressive.


Finally, I drove back around to "my" Honey Creek to hike down a trail to the lakeshore and take a photo from there.

On the way to the trailhead, you pass a series of 16 buial mounds from the Woodland era along the Chariton --- a quiet reminder that for all its glitz, Honey Creek Resort is not the first community here where the creek and the river join.