Bright lights, Friday night

Well, we had a great night on the square. Big crowd, terrific lighted floats, warm hospitality all around. I'm old enough to remember vaguely old-fashioned Saturday nights on the square, when everybody came to town. This is as close as it gets to that atmosphere these days. And it wasn't that cold, although if you stood around long enough you were likely to freeze in place. Plenty of free hot chocolate and cider, though.

The big Hotel Charitone sign flashed back to life on cue after 50 years, immediately after the "three, two, one" countdown. And that was great to see. Night photography is a tricky thing, so the actual colors aren't evident here: "Hotel" is green; "Charitone," a bright orange-red. This looks right to me, although there's still a little discussion about what the original colors were.

I was happy with the number of people who turned out for the earlier walking tour, then stuck with it. My toes were frozen by the time we got to the end on the west side, so went home and put on warmer socks after that.

Preoccupied with other things, I failed to catch the Historical Society float standing still, which is about the only way to get a decent photo after dark. So Kay kindly loaned me one of hers. I'm not sure people who haven't worked on one of these things realize just how complicated it is and a tremendous amount of work went into this. So thanks! We did win a prize; I'm just not sure yet which one.

The activity on Piper's Corner was indicative of what was going on all around the square --- crowded sidewalk outside, crowded aisles inside (free popcorn and hot cider at the back) and a live presentation in the front window.

And for various reasons I didn't get much farther after the parade, but then I do get a piece of free candy for each photo of Piper's published here (in my dreams).

Making Christmas lighted

The square was looking a little empty last night, but that won't be the case this evening as Chariton kicks off the season with what in effect is Holiday Homecoming, although it's never been called that. 

Starting at 6 p.m., the community memorial Tree of Lights will be illuminated and there will be live window displays, a scavenger hunt starting at the gazebo and antique tractor and pony rides. Just before 7 p.m. the Hotel Charitone sign will be relighted for the first time in more than 50 years; and at 7, the lighted Christmas parade will begin.

Santa will be in the gazebo after the parade and Miss Merry Christmas and Little St. Nick will be crowned. There will be open houses, with refreshments, at many of the businesses around the square from 6 until 8 p.m., so it should be lots of fun.

I'll be leading a twilight walking tour of the square at 5 p.m. for anyone interested --- just show up at the Chamber/Main Street office. This little event is oddly timed, which is for the most part my fault, so it's unlikely anyone will be trampled. But it did motivate me to work up a modest brochure about the square last night that should be available at the Chamber/Main Street office in a few days for use by those who wish to walk around on their own.

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What's the deal with Thanksgiving and the volume of food consumed?

Yesterday's big dinner was vegetarian --- wonderful healthy stuff. Well, maybe the chocolate pecan pie was a little over the top.

Although the components were healthy (tasty, too), we sat there and shoveled it down, then shoveled more down, as if the possibility existed that Lucas County was going to run out of food and this was our last chance.

The end result was minor misery --- and a long nap. It was nearly dark by the time I regained consciousness. You'd think we'd learn.

A little thankfulness ...

Some Facebook friends have been doing a couple of things lately that catch my eye --- posting daily reasons for gratitude and composing numbered lists of stuff no one else (supposedly) knows about them. 

I'm too lazy to do the former. And when a guy sits down day after day, year after year, to write blog posts, there's little left for the latter. Except for those things you really don't want the world at large to know about --- and we all have them.

My assigned number in that list business was six (didn't carry through); and I'm grateful for all sorts of things nearly every day. Here's a combination then: Six items I'm grateful for on this morning of thanksgiving:

1. Life, which always comes in handy. I figured I'd die in Vietnam, but didn't. Then I figured I'd die of AIDS, but didn't. Now there's the possibility I'll die of old age --- unless something else nails me first. Two out of three ain't bad.

2. Curiosity, which exercises brain cells that otherwise might atrophy. Question everything, challenge everyone who assures you he or she has the answer. So much to learn; so little time. Isn't it wonderful?

3. Writers. The answer to everything is somewhere in a book, a learned article or online --- or will be eventually. Thanks to all who share their insights --- on paper, in blogs, via Facebook or otherwise.

4. Musicians, all who compose or perform and have been doing so since humanity learned to whistle and pound on a rock with a stick. Some say music reflects the glory of God; I say music is God.

5. This glorious landscape that I live smack in the middle of, and all its interrelated components. Plus eyes to see it, ears to hear it and time to enjoy it.

6. Twenty-seven-ounce glass jars of Borden's classic original None Such mincemeat with raisins and apples. I do love me some mincemeat pie.

Football & lutefisk: Chariton's 1913 Thanksgiving

Although undated, this postcard greeting arrived at the home of my maternal grandparents in English Township from a niece in Miller, South Dakota, about 1913.

I got to wondering the other day what Thanksgiving in Lucas County had been like 100 years ago, late November 1913, and so leafed (digitally) through back issues of The Herald-Patriot to find out. This was the start of the holiday season that preceded my dad's birth, during February of 1914 --- so to me at least it doesn't seem that long ago, but these things are relative.

In the first place, Thanksgiving 1913 was considerably warmer than the one we're in for this year. The Herald-Patriot editor asked, "Why go to California when the weather in Iowa is so balmy and springlike? The grass was never greener, dandelions are in full bloom and the lilac bushes are putting forth leaves. Some people are even boasting of having garden sass. Mr. H.A. Shirer has lettuce and onions in his garden, on which he and his family have been feasting for several days, and others report onions and lettuce, too."

Those were heady days economically in Chariton, too, as the coal mining industry prepared to take off in central Lucas County and northeast to Williamson, Olmitz and Tipperary in English and Pleasant townships. Coal mining was by no means new --- the industry had passed through boom and bust cycles in the Lucas vicinity since the 1880s; but this was the first time Chariton had been poised to enjoy the full economic benefits.

The new Rock Island rail line had been completed through Chariton during June and a brand new depot was prepared to dispatch and receive passengers, including miners taking the "man train" to and from work.

This new rail development turned Chariton into one of the busiest rail centers in the region, supplementing C.B.&Q. trains that already traveled the main east-west line as well as spurs headed southwest to St. Joe and northwest to Indianola.

Shaft No. 1 of the Central Iowa Coal Co., not far north of Chariton, had begun production about two weeks before Thanksgiving of 1913 and it was estimated that about 200 men were already at work in and around it. Hundreds more would flood into Lucas County before mining reached its peak.

The Herald-Patriot of Nov. 20 reported that, "Children of Chariton, and some grown persons, too, have been given the sight of the first coal miner in their experience this week. To those unfamiliar with the sight it was quite a novelty and even yet the miners attract considerable attention as they swing through the streets with buckets over their arms and torch firmly fastened to their caps. The "man train" is running regularly now and it carries the miners to and from their work morning and evening, more than 100 of them riding to the mine each day."

The average two weeks' pay for good miners was expected to be $50, according to the Herald-Patriot, and "with such a wage scale paid twice each month to 200 men it is only reasonable to believe that merchants of Chariton will feel the impetus of this new money that is brought into circulation here."

The principal difficulty for the miners that holiday season was finding adequate housing for their families, although that problem was being rectified. The Herald-Patriot editor had done his own count and concluded that 52 new houses intended specifically for rental to miners already were complete or would be finished soon.

You can still, a century later, see many of those small homes scattered around town, including the six "miner's row" bungalows along Eighth Street, just north of Yocum Park.

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Then as now, good food would be a major Thanksgiving attraction and Chariton grocer Edwin Jarl wasn't missing a bet in the Herald-Patriot's Nov. 20 edition, advertising in both English and Swedish --- on separate pages.

 "Thanksgiving will soon be here," he announced to those who favored English: "We have lots of good things to eat. We will have plenty of good oysters, celery, lettuce, sweet potatoes, cranberries, mince meat, pumpkins and in fact everything that goes to make up a good dinner." Morrel's Iowa Pride Hams were available at Jarl's, too, priced at 18 cents per pound.

For those who preferred Swedish, Jarl offered lingonberries, skorpor, Bond ost and Kummings ost (cheese), medvurst (salami), anchovies, Norwegian sardines, fisk boller (fish balls), knackebrod and (last but hardly least) --- lutefisk!

Most stories in Chariton closed at 11 a.m. on Thanksgiving Day, so picking up a few last-minute items would not be a problem, but if you were expecting your groceries to be delivered, Joe L. Piper warned that his only delivery that day would be at 9 a.m.

A few stores, however, planned to be closed all day, among them S. Oppenheimer, A.J. McCaughey, Palmer's Department Store, C.J. Israel and the Chariton Dry Goods store.

Most if not all of the schools in the county planned to be closed both Thursday and Friday, giving the younger set a two-day vacation.

And of you were interested in a holiday buggy ride to Lacona, the ladies of First Christian Church there were planning a bazaar on Thanksgiving Day. A turkey dinner would be served at noon (25 cents) and supper at 6 p.m. (15 cents for leftovers).

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On the big day itself, the union Thanksgiving service commenced at 10:30 a.m. at the United Presbyterian Church and reportedly was largely attended. According to the Herald-Patriot of Dec. 4, the sermon by the Rev. H.J. Bryce, pastor of First Baptist Church, was a "masterly effort."

Shortly thereafter, the serious eating began. Most was confined to homes. Mrs. Elizabeth Newsome, for example, opened her house to a potluck dinner for more than 50 family members who, before dispersing, posed for a group photograph.

But 18 members of Chariton's younger set drove out to Slab Castle, on bluffs above the Chariton River south of Salem Church, for a holiday picnic prepared at the castle and "lacking none of the details of a perfect Thanksgiving dinner."

"A most hilarious time was had all day," the Herald-Patriot reported, "and the occasion will long be remembered by those present." 

Since families were together anyway, some couples chose Thanksgiving Day to get married.

At noon at the home of Mr. and Mrs. J.J. George in Derby, Miss Ethel R. Johnston, daughter of Mrs. Goerge, married Herman F. McCollough, son of Mr. and Mrs. C.E. McCollough. A three-course Thanksgiving dinner was served immediately after.

Back in Chariton, Miss Crete Hendrickson and William W. Scull tied the knot Thanksgiving evening at the home of the bride's grandmother, Mrs. Lou Hendrickson. A two-course supper followed.

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But the big event of the day, then as now (there were no Black Friday sales then), was football --- commencing early in the afternoon when the Chariton High School team hosted the Simpson College Freshmen on the home field.

"The weather," according to the Herald-Patriot, "was favorable for a fast game and a large crowd testified their appreciation of conditions and interest in the game by turning out in a vast throng.

"The band playing martial airs and college tunes, followed by the team bedecked with their blankets and a joyous shouting and singing array of high school rooters paraded the downtown streets on their way to the field."

It turned out to be a great day for the Chargers, who defeated the Freshmen 9-6. The game capped, according to the Herald-Patriot, "the most successful season of the school's football career.

"For this season Chariton has totaled 95 points to opponents' 12. Chariton high school is champion of south central Iowa and have the banner awarded them by the high school football association hanging in their assembly room."

Finally that evening, "the members of the high school football team were entertained at a 6 o'clock dinner by Mrs. E.S. Jones, her son, Kirk Jones, being captain of the team. Covers were laid for 24. The table decorations consisted of pink and white carnations and ferns. The occasion was one of rare enjoyment and will long be pleasantly remembered by those present."

And a Salubrious Solstice, too

Neighbors up the street, as of last night, are ready for Christmas --- me, too (although I usually just light candles on the front steps Christmas Eve through Epiphany and leave it at that; maybe a wreath, too).

Or the holidays, whatever; equinoctial extravaganza maybe. Thanksgiving is upon us and the seasons are about the change.

I'm listening right now to the choirs of St. Mark's Cathedral, Seattle, performing An Advent Procession based on the Great "O" Antiphons. Great stuff.

In fact, the only thing I don't like about the season is when it ends and everybody turns the bright lights out just when we need them most, yanks down the greens and puts on grim January faces. Just call me Auntie Mame, but a little more Christmas --- year-around --- might be useful.

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There's something in the season for everyone, including Scrooges. The "war on Christmas" volume will crank up soon and it won't be long before our Facebook friends are sharing "put the Christ back in Christmas" posts. Others will start complaining that the whole thing is just too commercialized.

I look at it this way: Self-righteousness can be very satisfying, so offering others the opportunity for it can be a gift, too. Happy holidays!

Besides, just because somebody wishes me a happy holiday doesn't mean I can't have a merry Christmas, too. So lighten up. Nor is anyone forcing me to participate in Black Friday madness, although I do think "Black Friday" sounds a little grim. How about Twinkle Time?

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If you want to be really Christian about this whole holiday season, how about slipping a little Advent into your personal equation?

The ancient calendar of the church turns a new leaf this weekend as the season after Pentecost ends and Advent launches the new year, pointing toward Christmas in a reflective, quiet and candle-lit way.

The Christmas season, then, begins officially on Christmas Eve and continues 12 days until Epiphany. That's the time for "Merry Christmas." Until then, "Amazing Advent," "Salubrious Solstice," even "Happy Holidays" will do just fine.

November rambles & leftovers

Sometimes, a guy runs out of month before he runs out of ideas, so as November winds down here are a few photos taken for blog posts that never quite got off the ground.

I had planned to get out to the Freedom Cemetery last week for a longer stay, then the weather turned. It was my fault; sat around talking when I should have been driving on what turned out to be the last Indian summerish day of the week, and by the time I finally got down into Warren Township it was getting dark.

But I did take a couple of photos of the road to Freedom, established in 1851 north of the village (long vanished) of the same name that was platted during 1856. Cemetery signs pointing to road signs that read "dead end" never cease to entertain me.

The well-kept lane back to Freedom is about half a mile long and as nearly as I can tell has never been widely traveled. When one of Allen Edwards' daughters died back in 1851, her parents buried her on a wooded rise above a small branch of Wolf Creek. Maps going as far back as 1875 show that the route of public roads in this neighborhood really haven't changed much, so the little cemetery seems always to have been off the beaten path.

Driving in, I met a buggy full of Amish kids hot-rodding up the road toward me after a short detour on the road home from their school to the west and their homes, to the northeast.

The Freedom gateway was erected by the late Dorotha and Morgan Many in memory of Dorotha's parents, Charles and Nettie (Tuttle) Fluke, and grandparents, Harvey and Louisa Tuttle. All are buried here.

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A couple of weeks ago, I stopped briefly at Prairie Trails Museum in Corydon to take a photo of Lewis and Emily Miles' cabin, parked temporarily atop cribbing as it awaited a new pad and shelter. I haven't been back by to see if it's reached ground level yet.

The Miles reportedly built this cabin, although probably without the generous glazed windows and fieldstone chimney, in 1853, not long after their arrival in Corydon. The cabin was relocated to Walden Park by Daughters of the American Revolution in 1928 and, in 1970, was moved to a location just east of Prairie Trails. not far from its original location.

Now, getting older and fragile, it's going to be incorporated into and sheltered by a new machine shed display building that will join the big museum barn on the east.

Sometimes I amuse myself by locating the graves of the builders of historic buildings, so here are the obelisks in the Corydon Cemetery that mark the graves of Emily Miles (left), who died in 1865, and William, who died in 1879. As noted previously, the second Mrs. William Miles, Phebe, is buried in the Sproatt mausoleum.

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There are some mighty chunks of granite in the Corydon Cemetery, a majority of the largest  placed during the late 19th and first quarter of the 20th century, before the Great Depression put a dent in the tombstone market, too. One of these days, I'm going to do a post about my favorite granite extravaganzas in Wayne, Lucas and elsewhere.

This is one of the favorites at Corydon, announcing in no uncertain terms the prominence of banker William Hughes. Both William and his third wife, Sarah Jane, and their daughter, Etta, have smaller headstones north of this mighty family stone.

Love the exuberant flowering plant springing forth from a relatively small pot, symbolic resurrection. I'm wondering if the number of blossoms has significance. Old William has three wives and several children scattered around the cemetery.

Not far to the south is this mighty cross, marking the graves of the Rev. Philip J. Vollmar, a Methodist preacher; his wife, Katie (Goranflo) Vollmar, and their son, Luther H. The three all died during 1924, Philip during August, Katie during September and Luther, during October.

If you're interested in granite, here's a link to one of my all-time favorites, over at Stringtown on the road from Creston to Corning.

One horse open sleigh

There seems to be general agreement that James Lord Pierpont wrote "Jingle Bells" back in the early 1850s to be performed at Thanksgiving, not Christmas. But exactly why --- another matter. Some say it was written in Medford, Massachusetts, inspired by popular sleigh races. Others, that it was written in Savannah, Georgia, for a Thanksgiving program at the Unitarian church. I'm putting my money on Medford.

Whatever the case, it's darned close to sleighing weather here. Sand was required to navigate the steep slope down to the patio in front of the barn yesterday morning, the ground was crusted with snow and it was darned cold (it's 5 degrees this morning!) when we got together at the museum to do a little decorating. Yes, we waited too long. But it got done anyway.

Our one horse sleigh has been loaded aboard a trailer and outlined with garland and lights in preparation for the lighted Christmas parade next Friday evening. So we worked a while on that. 

The signs out front acquired some greenery, as did the front door of the Stephens House. Then we climbed up to the front porch balcony to hang 20 feet of garland. 

It not only looked cold, it was cold.

Finally, we went inside to drink hot chocolate and coffee and eat cinnamon rolls. Thanks Kay! As well as Rex (who had to use a blowtorch to get the barn door open), Jim, Hugh, Kathleen, Kylie and Karoline.

John Brown's Iowa boys

One thing leads to another, and after finishing Lowell J. Soike's Necessary Courage: Iowa's Underground Railroad in the Struggle against Slavery on Friday, I wanted to know more about the four young Iowans, all in their 20s, who accompanied abolitionist John Brown on his ill-fated raid at Harpers Ferry, (West) Virginia. It's a great book, by the way.

Their names were Jeremiah Goldsmith Anderson, brothers Barclay and Edwin Coppock (also spelled Coppoc) and Stewart Taylor. Anderson and Taylor were killed during the raid; Edwin Coppock was captured and hanged; and Barclay escaped, only to die two years later while serving the Union cause during the Civil War.

Most who know something about Iowa history are aware of John Brown's extensive links to Iowa, including the fact several of his men trained during the winter of 1857-1858 at the Cedar County Quaker village of Springdale. And that during late February and early March of 1859, Brown, 12 slaves escaping from Missouri and 10 Brown followers spent two weeks there during a last trip across Iowa.

The raid at Harpers Ferry commenced on Sunday night, Oct 16, 1859, and ended harshly on Monday, the 17th. John Brown was captured, tried in Charlestown, (West) Virginia, and hanged on Dec. 2, becoming instantly the greatest of abolitionist martyrs. His body was released to his wife, Mary, and transported to the Brown home at North Elba, New York, where in arrived on Dec. 7, funeral services were held and burial occurred. But what of the others? Ten of Brown's men died, five were captured immediately and two more, captured later. All of those captured were tried and hanged.

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Jeremiah Goldsmith Anderson was a native of Putnam County, Indiana, born April 17, 1833, youngest in the strongly abolitionist family of John and Anna (Westfall) Anderson. He removed during the 1840s with his family to Des Moines County, Iowa, where John Anderson died on May 8, 1847. When the 1850 census was taken, Jeremiah, age 17, was living with his widowed mother and siblings near Yellow Springs, occupation given as farmer.

Soon thereafter, Jeremiah made his way to Galesburg, Illinois, where he graduated from Knox Academy during 1852. For the next few years he reportedly worked as a peddler, farmer and sawmill operator before moving in 1856 to the Little Osage River in Bourbon County, Kansas, joining free-state partisans and becaming a trusted lieutenant to free-state guerrilla chief James Montgomery. Reportedly imprisoned twice, he accompanied John Brown on his Dec. 20, 1858, raid into Missouri to liberate the enslaved Daniels family and their friends, 12 people in all.

At Harper's Ferry, Anderson remained at Brown's side until he was bayoneted by a U.S. Marine. Dragged outside, his body was abused by bystanders until he died. He was 26.

After the battle, Anderson's body and those of seven others slain were jammed into two packing boxes and buried in an unmarked location along the Shenandoah River shoreline about a half mile from Harper's Ferry. Forty years later, on July 29, 1899, the crates containing the bodies were disinterred. The bones subsequently were placed in a single casket and taken to the John Brown farm at North Elba and buried next to the remains of the old abolitionist and his son, Watson.

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Edwin Coppock and his younger brother, Barclay, were sons of a Columbiana County, Ohio, Quaker couple, Samuel and Ann (Lynch) Coppock. Edwin was born June 30, 1835, near the village of Winona. Only 6 when his father died on Nov. 8, 1841, Edwin reportedly spent at least parts of the next eight years with the family of John Butler, an abolitionist active in Ohio's Underground Railroad, who influenced him profoundly. His mother, too, was an abolitionist.

Ca. 1849, the widowed Ann brought her family west to Cedar County, Iowa, then returned to Ohio during 1856 to marry Joseph Raley and the family then settled near the Quaker community of Springdale.

The Coppock boys were first exposed to John Brown and his men during the winter of 1857-58, when several of the Brown men trained for three months in and near Springdale while Brown traveled elsewhere rounding up support. They were present, too, when Brown made his final visit during 1859 and  signed on for the Harper's Ferry raid.

Edwin was among those captured on Oct. 17 and it had been he who fired the shot that killed Harper's Ferry Mayor Fontaine Beckham. Transported to Charlestown, (West) Virginia, he was tried for treason  and sentenced to death. The hanging occurred on Dec. 16, 1859, after Edwin and co-conspirator John Cook had ridden, seated atop their coffins, in a wagon to the place of execution. He was 24.

Edwin's body was claimed by his uncle, Josiah Coppock, who had traveled from Ohio to witness the execution, and transported to his home in Winona, Ohio, where funeral services were held on Dec. 18. Burial followed in the Winona burial ground.

There was a good deal of unease, however, as rumors spread that pro-slavery activists were planning to snatch and desecrate the body. Armed guards were posted at the cemetery and on Dec. 30, Edwin's remains were disinterred, placed in a cast iron coffin and taken to nearby Salem for reburial in Hope Cemetery. The new grave was deeper than the original, the coffin and its protective box were topped by boulders and other precautions were taken to ensure that the remains would not be disturbed.

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Stewart Taylor, born Oct. 29, 1836, in Uxbridge, Canada, arrived in Iowa during 1853, settling at West Liberty, where he worked as a wheelwright. There, he was befriended during 1856 by George B. Gill, also of West Liberty but a veteran of anti-slavery activism in Kansas. 

The two men traveled together to Springdale during March of 1858 and volunteered to join Brown's militia. Although Gill had the good sense to remain in Iowa when the others headed for Harpers Ferry more than a year later, Taylor stuck with the old abolitionist to the end. The most frequently told tale regarding Taylor is that he was a spiritualist who foresaw his own death at Harper's Ferry, but felt that he could not abandon his mentor.

Taylor was fatally wounded during the raid and reportedly lived for three hours thereafter, begging his comrades to end his misery. He was 23. As was the case with seven others, his remains were gathered up after the raid, jammed into a packing crate and buried along the banks of the Shenandoah. During 1899, 40 years later, the bodies were disinterred, bones placed in a single casket and they eight were buried together adjacent to John Brown and his son, Watson, at North Elba, New York.

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Barclay Coppock, born Jan. 4, 1839, in Columbiana County, Ohio, became familiar with John Brown and his men during their visits to Springdale, as did his older brother, Edwin.

He managed to escape with four other Brown men during the Harpers Ferry debacle and made it back to the farm house that had served as a staging area for the raid. Led out of the area by John Brown's son, Owen, he finally made it home to Springdale.

Although Virginia's governor made repeated efforts to have Coppock extradited for trial, Iowan's --- including Gov. Samuel J. Kirkwood --- successfully shielded him until outbreak of the Civil War made his fugitive status a moot point.

During the spring of 1861, Coppock was commissioned a first lieutenant in Co. C, Third Kansas Volunteer Infantry --- James Montgomery's "John Brown Regiment." On the night of Sept. 3-4, 1861, returning to Kansas from a recruiting assignment in Ohio, Barclay was aboard a train bound from Hannibal to St. Joseph, Missouri, that crashed off a bridge over the Little Platte River east of St. Joseph that had been sabotaged by bushwackers. He was 20 at the time of the Harpers Ferry raid and 22 at death.

His remains were taken to Leavenworth, Kansas, and buried in Mount Aurora Cemetery there, but that cemetery later was abandoned, then destroyed by the city of Leavenworth and his remains were lost. Also lost at Mount Aurora were the remains of the parents of Iowa native William F. "Buffalo Bill" Cody, Isaac and Mary Cody.

It's beginning to look a lot like ...

... winter. For the record, there's a crust of icy snow over everything this morning and the high at 4:49 a.m. is 23. Wait, it gets better. Saturday night's projected low is 7 in Chariton, zero up in Mason City where I used to hang out. Brrr.

Thanksgiving, too. And Christmas.

Out at the museum, the Grounds Committee has loaded our sleigh aboard a trailer and decked it out in garland and lights. Next will come a pickup to haul the sleigh and a generator to power aforementioned lights. So we're almost ready for the lighted Christmas parade and other activities scheduled for Nov. 29 on the square, the Friday after Thanksgiving.

The parade begins at 7 p.m. and the newly re-installed Hotel Charitone sign will be officially relighted just before.

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Some have asked if we'll be holding, with assistance from our friends at First Lutheran and others, the annual Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols this year at St. Andrew's, usually scheduled for late afternoon on the first or second Sunday in Advent (Advent begins on Sunday, Dec. 1).

The answer, regrettably, is "no," although we expect to follow that form in a lower-key sort of way on Christmas Eve and bring the full festival back during 2014.

The big deal at St. Andrew's this year during early December will be the ordination as a transitional deacon of Fred Steinbach who, if everything goes according to plan, will be ordained an Episcopal priest during late 2014 and then succeed the late Rev. Sue Palmer as our vicar.

The ordination service, also involving three other candidates for the transitional diaconate, will begin at 1 p.m. on Saturday, Dec. 7, at the Cathedral Church of St. Paul in downtown Des Moines. All are welcome. Be sure to wear red! It's a festive occasion and you'll be attired in the liturgically correct color.

We thought about trying to pull off both the festival and the ordination, then primarily because we're a small parish, decided that there was some danger our collective head would explode.

In the meantime, the Rev. Paul Walker of Burlington will be serving as Fred's mentor during the transition and also will continue to rise at the crack of dawn to make the trek at least once a month to Chariton with daughter Heather for a Sunday service. Other Sundays, Fred leads us in what used to be called in Episcopal circles GOMP --- Good Old Morning Prayer.

Christmas Eve at St. Andrew's will begin at 6 p.m. this year with a potluck supper, heavy on soup, following for all to share.

Pardon me, but I'm reading ...

Two books mentioned here during the last couple of weeks --- Jim Sleeper's vintage (1973) Turn the Rascals Out: The Life and Times of Orange County's Fighting Editor Dan M. Baker and Lowell J. Soike's brand new Necessary Courage: Iowa's Underground Railroad in the Struggle against Slavery --- arrived this week. So I've been reading.

The first title is out of print so my new copy is used and cost practically nothing --- hard cover, dust jacket and all; Necessary Courage, published only in paperback, was considerably more expensive and most likely won't last as long.

But both are well-written, well-researched, lively and good reads. They even work together in a way, since one adds insight to the other even though there is no direct relationship between Lucas County's (and California's) Dan M. Baker and heroes of the Underground Railroad movement in Iowa.

Soike points out in an excellent prologue that the abolitionist impulse developed and gained strength in southern Iowa, settled initially in large part by pioneers with southern sensibilities --- from Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee and southern Indiana and Illinois, plus of course Missouri --- as new pioneers with northern roots and northern sensibilities moved in.

The earlier southern element had not necessarily owned slaves nor did it necessarily want Iowa to be a slave state, but shared the outlook honed in places of origin --- that black people were inferior and that it would be scandalous to interfere with the "property rights" of those who owned them in other states and territories.

The new wave of northern settlers brought with them a different sensibility, especially those with religious convictions influenced by emerging evangelical denominations, some quite new --- Wesleyan Methodists, for example; and break-away Presbyterians. Congregationalists with New England roots were foundational among abolitionists, as were Quakers. Nearly all of the fierce abolitionists in the south of Iowa during those years leading up to the Civil War were affiliated with those denominations.

An interesting illustration in Necessary Courage is based upon a study of 1856 state census data and shows Iowa townships where 20 percent or more of citizens during that year had been born in the South. The biggest concentration of those townships was in Wayne County and Decatur, which joins it on the west. Three of Lucas County's four southernmost townships, adjacent to Wayne, demonstrated the same characteristic.

This is useful information because traces of Underground Railroad activity have not been located in either Wayne or Lucas, among all counties in the three tiers adjoining slave state Missouri.

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The Bakers, who arrived in Chariton during 1853 when Dan was 11, were part of that southern contingent. William Walker Baker was a native Tennessean and his wife, Eliza, a native Kentuckian. They were living in Brown County, Indiana, before heading west to Iowa. Brown County, like much of southern Indiana, had been settled largely by pioneers from states where slavery was part of the culture.

Sleeper makes the case than the Bakers, staunch Democrats --- at that time the party of slavery and the South --- would have qualified as Copperheads during their time in Chariton, generally sympathetic to the southern cause although not sympathetic enough to head south and enlist.

Dan M. Baker may or may not illustrate that Copperhead tendency --- he simply didn't talk or write much later about his views during the Civil War years. He did not, however, enlist --- and the early 1860s were a time when most young, and not so young, Lucas County males were heading off to fight for the Union cause, most willingly.

We have no idea what Dan was doing during the opening years of the war because he left no record, but in 1864 he headed west to Montana, where he remained from 1864 to 1867. Quite a number who chased precious metal and other things in Montana during those years were southerners or southern sympathizers with strong feelings but no desire to die --- so they removed themselves from the potential of conflict by heading west.

In 1872, Dan, who had returned to Chariton to practice law after his Montana adventures, founded The Leader as a Democrat alternative to the Republican Patriot with his law partner, Napoleon Bonaparte "Bone" Branner, a veteran of the Confederate Army, and others. 

Although Baker consistently deplored the institution of slavery and war in general in The Leader and later life, embedded racism still is evident in his writings during those Chariton years. But, of course, Democrats did not have the racism market cornered.

Half an hour with David Woollis

David Woollis, 81 now, estimates that maybe 100 people lived in Cambria when he went into business here --- about the same number as in 1900, when passenger trains rolled through town.

Today, there are about 50 and things have changed. Some would say not much is left, others would say there's just enough.

Street Trading Post still is in business, and Woollis once was a partner there --- Street and Woollis --- then moved down the street a ways and started Woollis Feed & Gas. Now, he sells mostly fire wood.

I spotted him Monday working his big wood pile on main street, stopped and asked if he'd mind if I took his picture. 

This is a part of the country where a wrong number can lead to a half-hour conversation, so he said, "sure you can," allowing that since he didn't have as much energy as he once did he had just been looking for an excuse to take a break anyway. There's another big wood pile in town and more where this came from out in the country. Woollis delivers widely.

It's not much of a trick to strike up a conversation in Wayne County, where pockets of I'm-not-in-that-much-of-a-hurry remain.

So we fiddled around for a while looking for someone to talk about and finally alighted on my shirt-tail cousin, Warren Lee, because I'd noticed the new house he'd built not that long ago while driving into town from the east. 

The Relphs are johnny-come-latelies at Cambria, having moved into the neighborhood in 1944. The Woollises arrived in 1859.

Since Warren Lee's mother, Louise, started life as a Linville, we moved on to her brother, Richard, late and much lamented after dying with a grandson some years ago in a house fire.

Then, because David had delivered wood not long ago to one of Connie Smith's boys up by Chariton, we talked a little about the Curran boy, badly injured in a farm accident a few weeks ago. He's kin to the lady friend.

And so it went, from topic to topic and person to person. We did not talk politics, or religion.

And after a while I got into the truck and drove away and David got back to work. Half an hour well spent.

At Cambria: Killing time with "Uncle Nat" Kimberlin

There were about a dozen things that seemed important to do Monday afternoon, then Nathaniel Kimberlin intervened --- in the form of a clipping from The Chariton Patriot of Jan. 17, 1877, laid aside some time ago.

Here's how it reads, in a column of Wayne County news: "Nathaniel Kimberlin, for 16 years a resident of Washington township, died Jan. 5th, aged 87 years and 5 months. The (Corydon) Republican says he was a Virginian by birth; served in the War of 1812; used tobacco both chewing and smoking for 70 years; was never married; had his coffin made for four years; buried in the Cambria Cemetery."

Now honestly, who wouldn't want to know more after a send-off like that? And it was another beautiful November day --- so I just jumped in the truck and headed down to Cambria to pay the old guy a visit.

I see by John Snook's 1977 history of Cambria and Washington Township that the Cambria post office was established in 1849 and the town laid out about a mile east of its current site --- nearer where the cemetery still sits --- during 1855. In 1879, when the railroad went through, Cambria was on the move again, relocated near the tracks (long vanished) where it finally came to rest.

Nathaniel's grave is in the oldest part of the big and beautifully maintained cemetery, clear to east, next to the graves of his sister and brother-in-law, Nancy (Kimberlin) and Morris Greenlee. The government-issue tombstone that marks it was ordered up by Effie Garton, the Cambria historian of her day, back in 1933. Effie's husband, Charles W. Garton, was almost --- but not quite --- related to the old veteran, too.

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Nathaniel, born Sept. 2, 1789, was a native of Bath County, Virginia --- named for its healing springs --- and came with his family to Mason County, (West) Virginia, ca. 1803. So he was a part of that vast cloud of voluntary Mason County refugees, including members of my Boswell family, that began to settle over Wayne County, Iowa, during the early 1850s.

He seems always to have spelled the name "Kimberlin," but the most common way to spell it these days is with a "g," "Kimberling. I've run across the surname many times in other circumstances, while resarching my Boswell and McDaniel families in Mason County.

When he was 23, Nathaniel enlisted to serve in Capt. Bryan's company of Virginia Militia, then after things settled down, went to work as a boatman on the Kanawha and Ohio rivers. His War of 1812 service, however, was rewarded eventually with two military land warrants, and those may have been a factor in the decision to head west.

Nathaniel came west from Mason County with Allen D. and Caroline (Kimberlin) Garton about 1851 and they were enumerated in the 1856 special Iowa census as residents of Clay Township, Wayne County. His occupation was given as cooper. On June 3, 1856, Nathaniel received title to 40 acres in Clay Township that he had entered earlier by pre-emption claim on the basis of one of those military land warrants (he most likely sold the other one). 

He still was living with the Allen Garton family in Clay Township during 1860, occupation given as "retired," although Caroline had died during May of that year.

One interesting twist here is that family historians have never, to the best of my knowledge, figured out exactly how Nathaniel Kimberlin and Caroline (Kimberlin) Garton were related. The logical explanation would be uncle and niece, but she does not fit in among the known children of his siblings.

Allen Garton remarried after Caroline's death (Charles W. Garton was a son of that second marriage) and moved to Washington Township, probably bringing Nathaniel along. When the 1870 census was taken, however, Nathaniel was living in Washington Township with the family of his grandnephew, Morris Nelson (son of William Arbuckle and Nancy Greenlee Nelson). It's not clear who he was living with when he died.

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It's very rare to be able to add the flesh of personality to bones as old as those of Nathaniel, but by poking around online I was able to come up with an article published in the 1983 "Kimberling Kin from East to West, 1750-1983" and apparently published first in The Jackson (Ohio) Standard soon after Nathaniel's death.

The implied author is Davis Mackley, another of Nathaniel's nephews, and editor of The Standard at the time. He incorporated into his article an article from The Corydon Republican that had been republished in the Point Pleasant-based West Virginia Monitor, and that's about as convoluted a way to retrieve information as it gets. 

But the detail is wonderful, and maybe it'll inspire you to stop out at the Cambria Cemetery one of these days and visit, too. 

PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS

"A short time ago I spoke of the death of my uncle, Nathaniel Kimberling. My mother always spelled the name Kimberlin, but I notice that my cousins now living in Point Pleasant spell it Kimberling.

"The West Virginia Monitor published at Point Pleasant has the following article, credited to the Wayne County (Iowa) Republican. It appears to have been written before Mr. Kimberling's death.

SOLDIER OF 1812 - NATHANIEL KIMBERLING

He was born in Bath Co., Va., September 2, 1789, near the noted warm and hot springs, one of them being so hot that an egg would cook in a short time. Near the hot springs are several springs of very cold water, quite a contrast. His parents emigrated to Mason Co., and settled on the great Kanawha nine miles above the mouth of the river, and was among the first settlers of that country.

At an early age he had a taste for music, learned to play the violin, and was considered the best violinist, in his day, on the Kanawha and Ohio Rivers. Often times had the youth of the land tripped the fantastic toe to the sound of his violin. He related an incident while traveling through Indiana, of stopping at a house to stay over night, there being a dance on hand and six well dressed young folks on the floor. He was requested to furnish the music and commenced on one of his best pieces. He played a short time, but the dancers stood still in astonishment and when asked the reason they did not dance, they replied "they could not stand the music."

At the age of 23, he enlisted in the service of the U.S., in Sept., 1813, under Captain Andrew Bryan, at Point Pleasant, Va., in the 2nd infantry. Shortly after enlisting he marched to Camp Delaware, near Sandusky, Ohio, and went into winter quarters. During the winter he, with a number of others, got the privilege of hunting deer and wild turkeys; in their wanderings they got among the British and Indians, who were also out on a hunting trip. There was about 6 inches of snow on the ground and they were in imminent danger of being captured, as their trail could easily be followed. They started for camp on "double quick" and the enemy followed then within a short distance of camp, but did not succeed in capturing any of them.

While in camp the soldiers suffered from exposure to the cold, having but scanty clothing and few blankets, (wages $8 per month) but they made the best of it by having an occasional dance in the snow, on the frozen ground, to warm up their chilly limbs, and he was always honored with the privilege of doing the fiddling on such occasions. When tired of dancing, singing was in order. Kimberling considered himself the best.

While in Camp Delaware his elbow was dislocated by a fall on the ice. He was discharged in March and returned home, but entered the service as a substitute as soon as his arm was well, and remained until the close of the war, which took place soon after his re-enlistment.

He being a cooper by trade, he spent some time in making barrels for holding pine tar, also salt barrels, to be used at Kanawha Salt Works, the only works of its kind in the west at the time, and occasionally teaching school. He spent 14 years boating up and down the Kanawha and Ohio Rivers. The boats were then propelled by manpower as the steamboat had not yet disturbed the western water nor was the whistle of the locomotive heard in all the land. 

The boatmen were a jolly set of fellows and often indulged in the flowing bow. He was personally acquainted with most of the boatmen, among which was the notorious Mike Fink, of whom he tells some amusing stories, being an eye witness to some of his daring exploits, such as setting a cup of whiskey on the head of some of his comrades, stepping back thirty or forty paces, and putting a rifle ball through the center of the cup. This would be considered dangerous sport in this day and age of the world.

Kimberling now bears the mark of a cut finger that Mike gave him while preparing a mess of spareribs for supper. Mike in one of his shooting exploits missed the cup and killed the holder, and was afterward killed in a row. 

Kimberling came to Iowa about 20 years ago, with A. D. Garton and made his home there for several years. He is now living in the home of A. D. Garton. He never married and consequently never knew the joys and comforts of a home of his own, has not been able to work for a number of years, is lively and quite talkative, is extremely fond of children, is now quite deaf, has been losing his hearing since 1834, at which time he had a severe attack of cholera, which somewhat impaired his general health.

Rather singular in his notions and has his coffin now made of nice black walnut, and neatly trimmed and ready for use, is now drawing a pension of eight dollars a month for his services in 1812. It surely is a great comfort to the old soldier to feel that the government did not entirely forget him in his declining years. 

He is not a member of any branch of the Christian church, but all through life has been noted for his uprightness in his dealings with his fellow man, and has ever been a favorite among his neighbors and acquaintances; is always made welcome by them; is a great smoker, has used tobacco from his youth, (some seventy five years) is now in his 85th year, has good health as could be expected for one of his years; and has an excellent memory, is quite interesting in conversation; but the only way he can understand what you want is by making signs with the fingers which he can understand easily.

"As my parents came to Ohio before I was born, I never saw my uncle until I was near 14 years of age. This was in the summer of 1832. He was always known in the family as "Uncle Nat", and I had heard so much of his skill as a player of the violin, that I was much elated when he came to pay us a visit. He arrived on Sunday, and several of the neighbors, who had formerly resided in Virginia, and who had known him there, came to father's house, and they had some good singing. As my parents were Baptists, there was no fiddling on the Sabbath.

"I have heard some among the best performers on the violin, but I am certain "Uncle Nat" could surpass any, or all, I ever heard. His music on the violin was so sweet --- so heavenly, that I have ever since loved to hear this instrument, when in the hands of a good performer.

"Many and many a time have I noticed the scar made by the knife of Mike Fink. I used to watch his fingers while he was playing the violin. This scar was on the back of the finger, next to the little finger, about an inch from the end of the finger. Uncle Nat was a very fine looking man in the year 1832. He then was in the prime of life, being about 43 years of age. He was over six feet in height and very straight. He probably weighed 180 pounds. He was very graceful in his movements, and was remarkably polite and gentlemanly in his actions and conduct. He was a universal favorite, and I never heard of him having an enemy."

Parr Cemetery: High, Wide & Windswept

I first came to Parr Cemetery out in Liberty Township many years ago with my late Uncle Joe Miller because this is the burial place of Mary, matriarch of all Lucas County Krutsingers, and my Aunt Helen (Krutsinger) Miller was one of her descendants. For that matter, so was my Uncle Kenneth Krutsinger, married to Mary (Miller) Krutsinger. There used to be a heck of a lot of Krutsingers around here, and still are quite a few. So a lot of non-Krutsingers married Krutsingers, including two of my mother's siblings.

Neither Uncle Joe and Aunt Helen nor Uncle Kenneth and Aunt Mary stuck around Iowa, however, preferring Colorado.

Parr is not a difficult cemetery to find, providing you know where you're going, but the most entertaining shock-and-awe way to get citified Krutsinger cousins out there, when they visit, is up through Swede Holler then left across the Wheeler Bridge. Keep going west on that old dirt road to the top of the hill, turn left, briefly, when it "Ts" with gravel, and then watch for the sign beside a driveway into a hayfield on your right.

If you're in a hurry or the roads are muddy, you can just take the Poverty Ridge road out from Chariton.

Once you spot the sign --- and it's fairly recent so this whole operation used to be more of a challenge --- you've got to have faith that if you turn in and start bumping up over the hill the cemetery will be there.

But there it was Friday out in the middle of a recently harvested soybean field with views to the east and south into the White Breast valley and the hills beyond. It really is a pretty place, although a little too high, wide and windswept for the tastes of some. I even had company out there --- somebody was fishing at a pond farther over in the hills.

The name "Wheeler" on the sign is a little misleading because there are no Wheelers buried here.

This is the Parr Cemetery, founded by Andrew Jackson and Eleanor Parr near the north line of their claim back in 1855 when their daughter, Mary, died at age six months. Other neighbors were buried here, too, as the years passed, but the Wheelers had nothing to do with it, other than the fact one of old Sam Wheeler's grandsons, also a Sam Wheeler, purchased the farm where the cemetery is located back in the early years of the 20th century.

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Mary (Smith) and Martin Krutsinger brought their family of five sons --- Thomas S., Elias B., William W., Andrew J., and James C. --- to Lucas County from Indiana in 1856, entering land in Otter Creek Township just a couple of miles west of the A. J. Parr home in Liberty Township. Three additional sons were born in Lucas County: Lewis C., Noah L. and Jacob.

Six months after Jacob was born on Jan. 28, 1862, Martin was overcome by patriotic fervor and decided to enlist (on August 9) at age 40 as a private in Co. E, 34th Iowa Volunteer Infantry. This may have seemed like a good idea at the time, but it wasn't.

Perhaps because of his age, Martin reportedly was assigned to work as a nurse and cook at the military hospital on Arsenal Island, also known as Smallpox Island, at St. Louis, Missouri.

He became ill and died there --- of smallpox --- on March 5, 1863, leaving the widowed Mary to raise their sons, the youngest of whom was just over a year old, alone. Martin's unidentifiable remains were gathered with many others after the war ended and relocated to Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery where he rests among the "unknowns."

Mary Krutsinger survived her husband by only eight years, dying at age 48 on Nov. 29, 1871. She was the first family member to be buried in the Parr Cemetery and soon thereafter a stone was erected at her grave that also contains a memorial inscription for Martin. The death date on that inscription, March 7, is slightly at variance with the March 5 date found in official records.

Three years later, on Dec. 10, 1874, Jacob Kruitsinger died at the age of 12 and was buried near his mother. No other members of the Krutsinger family chose to be buried here.

William W., Andrew J., Lewis C. and Noah Krutsinger all raised families in Lucas County, but Mount Zion Cemetery north of Oakley became the family's preferred burial place.

More about Parr Cemetery another day.