Tuesday, May 05, 2020

The life and times of Derby's Lorenzo Dow Westfall


Ron Rader photo
I'm willing to bet that few sensible parents would name a son Lorenzo Dow in this day and age, but back in 1850, this combination was among the most popular given names found in the federal census of that year. This can be attributed to the original Lorenzo Dow (1777-1834), one of the most widely known (and eccentric) preachers the Americas has produced.

Derby's Lorenzo Dow Westfall (1818-1911) was among those namesakes, reportedly named by an uncle who acquired the privilege by promising the infant's parents a suit of clothing in return. That's reportedly Lorenzo Westfall above with his first wife, Eleanor Crawford, and one of their daughters. And the tombstone in the Murray Cemetery (southeast of Derby) that he shares with his second wife, Miranda.

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Lorenzo Dow
Although Wesleyan in theological outlook, Preacher Dow was for the most part scorned by established churches but drew thousands to his frontier preaching sessions. He also preached in England and, in a burst of American protestant optimism, embarked as a missionary to Ireland to convert the Catholics (that didn't quite work out).

His journals, an autobiography and other works continued to be published (as best-sellers) long after his death. Here beside me this morning I have a hefty volume entitled "Dow's Journals," published in 1848, that belonged to my great-great-great-grandmother, Elizabeth (Rhea) Rhea-Etheredge-Sargent. 

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But this is about Lorenzo Dow Westfall, one of Iowa's earliest pioneers and a resident of the Derby area after 1880. We're fortunate enough to have his far shorter "autobiography," too, published in The Chariton Leader of Oct. 24, 1912. It actually was written by the Rev. A.W. Armstrong, Methodist preacher in Derby at the time of Lorenzo's 1911 death. Armstrong collected as notes the biographical material he later shared. Here's the result.

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My name is Lorenzo Dow Westfall. I write it simply "L.D." I was born on the Big Miami river, near Middletown, Ohio, December 23, 1818. At that time Lorenzo Dow, an eccentric Methodist preacher, was preaching in the neighborhood and an uncle of mine named John Burns offered my parents a suit of clothes for me if they would allow him the privilege of naming the baby. I don't know whether they got the suit of clothes or not, but I got the name. I heard Lorenzo Dow preach once in Middletown, but I was a babe in my mother's arms.

My grandfather was Colonel Jacob Westfall, a valiant Revolutionary soldier. My grandfather on my mother's side, Charles Burns, was also a soldier of the Revolutionary war. Colonel Westfall and his wife came from Virginia and settled in the Miami Valley in an early day. My parents lived near Staunton, where I was born. Their names were John and Rachael (Burns) Westfall, and both of them were devout Christian folks. My father had three brothers, Levi, Reuben and Cornelius Westfall. The latter was a lawyer of no small ability, being a judge. He laid out the town of Thornton, Ind., and died at Bushnell, Ill., some years ago.

I was married when I was 18. I married Eleanor Crawford, who lived ten miles from Crawfordsville, Ind., in Montgomery county. A Campbellite preacher, Gilbert T. Harney, solemnized the marriage. It made no difference. In heart, it was done as truly as if twenty ceremonies had been said, but we respected the law in those days and it required a ceremony. We wanted to honor the law.

In 1838, with an ox team and covered wagon, we came to Wisconsin Territory. I had a wife and a baby, which was born in Indiana, November 18, 1837, and my father and mother. When we reached the Mississippi river, I had only one dollar left, and after paying half of that to the ferryman, with the rest I bought a bushel of corn. There were only seven houses in Burlington at that time. We found a welcome with the settlers thirteen miles out from the river and spent the winter. March 10, 1839, at the age of 18 months, our first born child died. Rev. Barton H. Cartwright, who was on the Rockingham circuit that year, preached the funeral. My house was a preaching place for the Methodists.

When I was 20 years old under the preaching of Thomas M. Kirkpatrick, of the Rock River Conference, and with my wife, who was converted at the same time, I joined the Methodists. We lived in that part of the country until about 1853. I recollect attending a conference in September 1845, at Old Zion Burlington. 

Eight of our children were born in that part of the state. Sarah Rachel Westfall was born February 3, 1839; Eliza Jane Westfall was born October 10, 1840; Diana (Frank Penick's wife) was born February 10, 1843; Mary Eleanor, born January 25, 1845, died aged about three years. She was taken with a sinking chill. I went for the doctor at night and she was dead before morning. it was about four miles to Kossuth where Dr. Leatherman lived. I wanted Dr. Samuel Fullenweider, but could not get him. He died up at Creston some years since at the advanced age of 93 years. For a number of years he was the only doctor nearer than Burlington. The funeral of little Eleanor was preached by Daniel G. Cartwright, a brother of Barton Cartwright. He quit preaching and bought a farm within a mile and a half of my house, where he lived until he died.

George Milton Westfall, our second son, was born June 28, 1846, and died April 17, 1902, aged 55 years, nine months and 19 days. Allison Dow Westfall was born November 4, 1848; he is a Methodist preacher living out at Portland, Oregon. Wesley Addison --- well you know him; he is the post office man at Derby. He was born May 14, 1851. Margaret Armilda was born April 9, 1853; she married a Stodgehill. They live in Portland. I think they have a farm in Idaho. It is hard to keep track of our relations when one is old and they get so far away.

We lived near Burlington for 22 years. My house was a preaching place during that time for the early itinerant Methodist preachers. Joseph McDowell preached there, Michael See also had his appointments there. J.B. Hardy was a fine preacher. Isaac I. Stewart was "a bully good fellow." I knew him well. David T. Sween was a heavy-set, stout preacher. He preached at my house, too. But I had a great liking for Tom Kirkpatrick. Wife and I were converted under his preaching in 1838, and while I always had a liking for preachers generally, he was especially held in high esteem for what he did for us in leading us to surrender to the Lord. As our children began to grow up we felt the need of grace to help us to discharge our duty to them in bringing them up in the way they should go.

Indians? Indians, yes, I had some dealings with them. I have seen Chief Wapello and Keokuk and others. There was quite a band of them at Agency; and Blackhawk's purchase. I knew Street, who was the government agent to carry on dealings with them. Yes, I could tell you lots about the Indians in the early days of this wild region.

About 1854, we moved to Eddyville. My parents are both buried at Eddyville. They lived with us 22 years and without cost to them. We regarded them highly in love for both were exemplary Christians. We lived two years in the town and then moved to a farm. Julian Crawford Westfall was born June 6, 1855; he lives at Avery, Iowa; Francis Asbury Westfall was born March 16, 1858; he lives at Chanute, Kansas. Emma Westfall was born January 22, 1861; married J.F. Tedrick of Derby, Iowa. This completes the record of this family. In the old family Bible, in relation to his children, may be found the following: "Help us Lord to discharge our duty in bringing these little ones up in the way they should go." My wife died at Eddyville, December 24, 1861. It was a hard stroke to bear; she had shared with me the burdens and hardships incident to our pioneering with uncomplaining fortitude. She was a good wife and faithful mother to my children.

I was married a second time, to Miranda Brown. She was the daughter of David Brown and Rebecca McFarland Brown. She proved a good helpmeet and mother to my children. She died July 21, 1899, aged 72 years, 10 months and 15 days. She joined the church when she was 12 years old and lived in it. Her father, an old Methodist from a boy, talked with her and she died with a heavenly smile on her face. I never could talk for crying. My feelings get the better of me and I just break down and cannot talk.

Heard Banner Mark preach in 1862 at Eddyville. We lived on a farm near there. He married Frank Penick to my girl Diana. It was at my house. He came out from town for that purpose. There are a good many of the old preacher's names I have forgotten. Some came over from the Illinois and Rock River Conference before there was any Iowa Conference. Joe Arrington was at Burlington in 1839. Whitford was there in the 40s. Andrew Coleman was there about 1844, when the first Iowa Conference met. Some of the presiding elders I knew. Yes, Henry Summers, B. Weed.

I lived a number of years at Russell, Iowa, I worked for A.J. Woodman. He was a fine man to work for and we got along fine.

Yes, I sometimes get lonesome. But I have much to be thankful for, and so many past joys to recall and the way grows brighter and brighter for me. I have a good hope of meeting many that were dear to me over yonder. True, I have had my sorrows and my hardships, but I never was much given to repining. Life is what we make of it. I can say of a truth:

"Give joy or grief, give ease or pain,
Take life or friends away;
But let me find them all again,
In that eternal day."

Masonry? Yes. Try me. I joined the Masons in Derby. The lodge room was where Grimes store now stands. It got lonesome and we surrendered our charter. I hold a demit from the Masonic Lodge. I knew you was one the first time I heard you preach. But you did not mention it in your sermon. It just came in something you said was all.

Yes, I always like to hear preaching. I like to go as regular as I can, but am getting along pretty well, and my time will soon be through here. I want to have all ready so when He calls I can just be off.

1 comment:

Gordon said...

Thanks for sharing that Frank, I love to hear about how the pioneers of this area lived and survived. You bring back to life folks who have been long forgotten.