Cherie McNaul transcribed the following memoirs. The papers were given to
her by her great aunt Gelene, who had gotten them from J W Fisk's daughter.
Fisk, whose full name was John Wesley Fisk, was doubly-related to Susan Fisk—his paternal uncle, Edward Fisk, having
married his maternal (half) aunt, Araminta Wood:
I last find James W Fisk on the 1900 census for Pella, (Lake Prairie
township, Marion county) Iowa, page 143. On the same page is a Harvey T
Fisk, born Feb 1847 in Iowa. His father was also born in England so this
could be a younger brother of JW's.
There were spellng mistakes in the copy I received. Whether they were
committed by J W himself or the transcriber, I don't know. But errors of
the nature are distracting and sometimes confusing. I made corrections
where errors were obvious and left anything in doubt alone.
Des Moines, Iowa. Jan. 10, 1915
After a long lapse of time, I, J. W. Fisk, undertake to write my
memoirs. I have but very little data at hand, as my father's house was
burned in the summer of 1873 with the contents, the family records both of
our own family and my grandfather Fisk.
In the year of 1883 I procured a very accurate genealogy of my
grandfather's family which was taken from the Church records in Great
Britain, but I regret to say the same has been misplaced, and I am left at
the mercy of a very defective memory. I will endeavor to do the best I can
under the circumstances. Should any of the family become interested in these
notes after I am gone, they can be assured that they are absolutely true,
except that there may be a discrepancy in some of the dates.
My grandfather, John R. Fisk, was born in or near London, England,
in 1780 (the month forgotten). His father was Lord Richard Fisk. Said John
R. Fisk in 1805 or 1806 was married to Miss Mahola Kemp, daughter Lord Wm.
Kemp. To this union was born a family of six sons, to wit: Edward, William
H., Henry C., James, George, and John R. Fisk, two daughters, viz. Ann and
Susan. All were born in England except John R. who was born in this country.
My grandfather was engaged in the Mercantile business in the city of
London, and became involved and it took nearly all his property to pay his
liabilities. It will be observed that he was closely allied with the blue
blood of the Old County, hence very haughty and too proud to face his
friends.
He at once decided to emigrate to America, to which my Great
Grandfather Kemp very strenuously objected and went so far as to insist on
making up his lost fortune if he would consent to stay in London, but John
R. Fisk was not built that way; he would rather face the world among
strangers and die in a strange land. Accordingly he took what was left and
secured passage to New York City.
As the Reader has learned his means were so meager that it was
impossible for him to go into the Mercantile business, therefore there was
but one alternative left him, that was to go to the farm.
Accordingly in the year of 1821 or 1822 he went into the interior of
the state of New York and settled in Herkimer County, among the hills, rocks
and timber where it frosted ten months of the year, but it proved a good hay
country and it follows without saying a good dairy country. Here let me say
that is has since become very noted for the fine quality of cheese that it
produces. You can imagine a man that had never been outside of the great
city making war on the rocks and timber of that country, but as you have
learned, he had six husky boys, who all tackled the task with a will and
finally after years of toil succeeded in establishing a fine dairy farm,
that made for them a fine living. My grandfather was too haughty to perform
manual labor. The blue blood was too thick in his veins for that, but he
could find a market for their products at a good price.
My father, H. C. Fisk, together with his brothers worked there until
he was twenty-seven years of age, not on account of his father but wholly
for the sake of his mother and the smaller children. I simply make a note of
these hardships so that my children and grandchildren if any of them should
care to know, could trace their lineage and thus be able to know from whence
they come. I should state that I have several nephews and nieces that I am
sure will be interested. After the farm in the hills became remunerative my
father concluded that there must be a better country than old Herkimer. With
that idea firmly rooted in his mind he bid good-bye to the rest of the
family and started on foot and alone with his face toward the setting sun.
Be it remembered that all the worldly goods he possessed were the clothes on
his back, not a dollar in his pocket, but he possessed a strong and muscular
body. His other assets were a fearless disposition and last but no least, an
unyielding determination. It may also be said that his love of adventure was
a very prominent feature in his make-up.
I had forgotten to state that Henry Charles Fisk (my father) was
born in the city of London, England, in 1809. I will now resume his
wanderings.
As I stated before he was determined to explore the great West. He
worked his way across the mountains and struck the Ohio River not far from
its source. He walked every step of the way until he reached the afore-said
river. Of course he was not cumbered with a heavy pack. All he had was an
extra shirt and pair of underwear, but you will wonder how he managed for
board and lodging. People in those pioneer days were not like they are now.
Every man you met treated you as a brother. Of course a part of the time the
settlers were few and far between, but there was no trouble to ascertain
what the distance was to the next cabin and if the distance was too great to
make the trip in one day, the Lord of the manor would give him a liberal
piece of corn-bread together with some dried venison or bear meat or a few
potatoes which he could roast. As for coffee, they did not know what that
was, but the water gurgled in every brook the same as now. After he passed
the crest of the mountains, he by good luck, ran into a lumber camp and
readily secured employment at what he considered remunerative wages, fifty
cents per day and board. These colossal wages were all paid in cash. When he
had worked a month in the lumber camp, he thought he had acquired sufficient
means to warrant him in again striking the trail, which he did. On reaching
the river he found a company of men about ready to launch a raft of logs
destined for Cincinnati. He readily secured a job at the same old wages and
in due time the raft reached its destination and he received his money and
was happy. It was then late in the autumn of 1836. He thought he had found
Milton's "Paradise Lost." It certainly was a great change in comparison with
the sterile hills of the north woods of Herkimer County. He readily found
employment at the unheard of wage of seventy-five cents a day.
The next spring he engaged in truck farming on the shares with the
landlord, he doing all the work and marketing of the produce. The farm being
situated only a short distance from Cincinnati, the venture proved very
enumerative and he was at the close of the season the proud possessor of six
hundred dollars more money that he had seen since he had left London a mere
boy.
My father formed the acquaintance of a very estimable young lady by
the name of Julia A. Stites. The acquaintance afterward grew into real
friendship which resulted in marriage. This event occurred on the 25th of
December 1838. He then rented a farm on the Miami bottoms where I was born
Nov. 4, 1839. They farmed there two years and did very well, accumulating
quite a little start in the world. If it had not been for his wonderful love
of adventure our history doubtless would read quite differently. In the
spring of 1841, he determined to follow the Star of Empire westward. At that
time the wild-cat banking system was in full vogue, being one of the glaring
monumental blunders, not to say swindles, of the time-honored Democratic
Party. (Please excuse the diversion.) At that time the money that was a par
today was not worth a continental tomorrow. Father was not a man to be
swerved from his purpose, hence he proceeded to dispose of his holdings,
taking the aforesaid representative money in payment thereof, and forthwith
procured passage by steamer to Ft. Madison, Iowa, down the Ohio River to
Cairo, Illinois, thence up the Mississippi to the head of the navigation. It
will be seen that he went as far as he could by boat, another evidence of
his love of adventure. To his utter consternation when he arrived at Ft.
Madison, he discovered that the money he had received in exchange for the
holdings in Cincinnati was utterly worthless. With his little family, one
horse, a wagon, and a cow, together with some household goods thrown out on
the wharf, he landed at Ft. Madison with just fifty cents in silver in his
pocket. It can be imagined that things looked rather blue with nothing but
the vast expanse of wild unexplored Indian country between him and where the
sun dips into the great Pacific Ocean. Nothing daunted him. He proceeded to
pack his little belongings into the wagon, together with mother, myself and
baby sister, who was but a few months old. (pardon the digression.) As I
have stated before I have nothing but my memory to guide me and I had
forgotten to mention the little sister. She born in Cincinnati, Ohio, in
___. She was christened Sarah Ellen. Mother driving the horse, father
bringing up the rear leading the cow, the caravan wended its way westward,
traveling at the rate of fifteen to twenty miles per day. I think it was on
the fourth day he was confronted with an impossible barrier in the shape of
a large notice posted by the government reading; "Indian country. This far
canst thou go and no further."
It may be of interest to those that may chance to read these lines
to know where this particular place was. It was in the south-west corner of
Jefferson County, Iowa, about two miles north of the Des Moines river. At
that time it was a heavily timbered locality. Father had gone as far as he
could. Like the Arab he was forced to pitch hi tent, which he did, and then
proceeded to build a log cabin from the stately oaks that grew in great
profusion all around. It was but a few days until it was considered tenable
and moved in. I think my father was happy, feeling that he had gotten as
near sun-set as was possible for him or any other man to get and locate with
a family.
The aforesaid cabin is the place where the dawn of memory dates with
me. The preceding pages were delegated to me by parents, hence may be
termed tradition.
The Sox and Fox Indians were located on the west side of the old
purchase line, as it was then called, but the Indians roamed everywhere. A
little incident happened there that I will never forget. One day seven or
eight big husky Indians came to the cabin and unbidden walked in and sat
down all cozy enough. Those fellows were decorated, with large snake skins
stuffed with moss. They were as natural as life. The Indians were not long
in discovering that I was afraid of them. Those snakes were very ingeniously
wrapped around the Indian's body so that at a very slight movement the
snake's head would dart out in any direction the Indian desired. The action
was in keeping with his snakeship's movements when in the act of pouncing
upon his prey, but was concerned be most was that I seemed to be said prey.
You can imagine that those fellows had great fun at my expense. It scared me
almost to lunacy. I saw little but those snakes especially at night time for
more that a week. Those Indians were perfectly harmless as an Indian Agency
was only a few miles distant, where Agency City now stands in Wapello
County, about seven or eight miles from Ottumwa.
Another little instance may be worthy of mention in connection with
the Indians. One morning an old Squaw came to the shanty of a neighbor by
the name of Betterton carrying her papoose on her back lashed to a board. As
she entered the cabin she stood the papoose up outside of the door. While
she tarried in the cabin an old, hungry hazelsplitter sow, that had never
had anything to eat but meat happened along that way in quest of something
to eat and I suppose that the papoose looked good to her. At all events she
devoured the Indian all but the board.
I will now try to describe the aforesaid cabin. As my memory serves
me it was about sixteen by twenty feet and about seven feet to the caves,
chinked and daubed with mud. It was covered with clapboards and held in
place with weight poles. The door was also made with the same material as
the rood, held in place by wooden pins in lieu of nails and swung on wooden
hinges. There was not a single nail entered into the construction of the
entire magnificent structure. As for windows, there were none, but as a
makeshift, there was about six feet of one of the logs cut out and my mother
took wrapping paper and greased it thoroughly and pasted it over said
opening, which afforded some light. In one end of the cabin was built what
was known as a fireplace provided with a stick chimney plastered with mud.
This fire place had a face of about six feet in the clear by four feet in
height. The virgin earth served for a floor. I remember father would cut
large backlogs not less than two feet in diameter, loop a chain around them
and drag them in with a horse. Then with the aid of a hand-spike roll them
into the fireplace add about one half a cord of wood and start a fire. If
you cannot understand the situation take a trip down into the Ozarks, then
you will know all about it.
I suppose by this time you will begin to wonder what kind of
proinder we lived on and from whence it came. When we reached Fr. Madison,
father by the merest accident met Henry Catimole, the pioneer of the town
who had come over from the Old Country with grandfather's family and had
shared the hardships of the north woods in Herkimer County for at least two
or three years. Mr. Catimole gave whatever provisions they could transport
and would have gladly given more. I may state here that Mr. Catimole urged
father very strongly to go out west of Ft. Madison about ten miles where
West Point now stands, and take a claim and he would help him start his new
home, which he was abundantly able to do, as he had been one of the first
white men there. In fact, he located the town which, it is well known, is at
the head of navigation, hence the market of all territory west of the
Mississippi river. There is but one reason why he did not accept Mr.
Catimole's proposition. That his love of adventure, for that is a fine a
country as there is in Iowa or anywhere else.
Not very long after we had gotten settled in the cabin the rigors of
an old-fashioned winter was upon us together with its usual compliment of
about two feet of snow. By this time our larder was running low. We borrowed
a sack of corn-meal of neighbor Betterton and a piece of salt pork of
another neighbor by the name of Reprogel. Those people had preceded us to
the western boundary two or three years, had raised two crops of corn and
had quite a few hogs running at large in the big woods. In the fall of the
year they had flesh up quite a little, feeding exclusively on mast as the
nuts and acorns were called in that elder day.
It is due many of the pioneers to state that they were generous to a
fault as they would divide with a neighbor to the last mouthful. However
there was a class of renegades, cut-throats and thieves that were there for
the sole purpose of robbing the real settlers of which we will have more to
say later on.
To return to our story. It will be remembered that we had a cow I
think she was the best one I ever saw. She furnished us milk and butter
nearly the year round. Our sack of meal that we borrowed was not like the
Widow's curse of oil, it grew less every day until it began to get
dangerously near the bottom, and the neighbors' were the same as ours. It
was so cold and the snow so deep that they thought they could not get to
mill-the nearest one being thirty miles the way we had to go. The mill
referred to was located at Keosauqua on the Des Moines River. There was also
one at Bonaparte and another further down at Bentonsport, which was nearly
fifty miles from our haven of repose.
Father went around among the neighbors and told them if they would
furnish him with three yoke of oxen, a large wagon and a load of corn, he
would guarantee that he would get it ground, but of course he was to have a
share of the meal. However, he didn't expect more than one or two sacks. But
to father's proposition the settlers objected on the ground that he would
freeze to death, but he finally convinced them that he was inured to
hard-ships, as he had undertaken much harder tasks, and had never failed.
Everything being ready the start was made for the mill. The roads
were not broked for the first ten miles, consequently progress was slow. On
the third day he reached the first mill a little before night. To his
surprise he found it thronged with men on the same errand that he was, and
the miller would only agree to grind two bushels for each man. Accordingly
he left two bushels and they agreed to have it ground by the time he
returned.
He then started for the next mill hoping to find prospects better
there, but to his consternation the same conditions prevailed there that did
at Keosauqua. The mill at Bonaparte was owned by Mr. Meeks, an Englishman.
Father concluded if there was anything in blood he would get his corn ground
With this thought in view he sought and obtained an interview with Mr.
Meeks, told his story and made a very favorable impression on the miller,
who told him to unload about two-thirds of his corn and mark each sack to a
different man. In the night when all were asleep he would dump it into the
hopper and place the sacks in separate places, then he would drive down to
Bentonsport. That arrangement suited him very well. Without losing any time
he drove down to the next mill, but could not prevail on the miller to grind
more than the two bushels. Of course he was compelled to wait a day for his
grist. When he got back to Bentonsport, Mr. Meeks had his grist all ready,
but he still had several bushels that were not ground. The miller told him
if he would stay over night he would try to grind it all, and of course he
did. Father and Mr. Meeks were ever fast friends. This same man was the one
that years after wards established the famous Bonaparte Woolen Mills.
The next morning before anybody was astir, father was on the road to
Keosauqua and found his sack of corn ground. Then he was on the home
stretch.
Meanwhile, mother and the neighbors almost despaired of his safe
arrival, but I think on the fifteenth day he drove in, none the worse for
wear. Everybody concerned was happy as they would have plenty to eat until
spring. Those neighbors that had furnished the team and corn insisted on
father taking half of the meal, but he utterly refused. He told them that he
would take two sacks. He said that he had established his credit now and if
he ran short he could borrow.
Now you can begin to understand about the hardships the pioneers
were compelled to undergo to lay the foundation of the great state of Iowa.
I cannot begin to tell you or explain so that you can comprehend the
situation. Right here I wish to say that I am glad none of you will ever be
called upon to endure such hardships. This was the winter of 1842 and 1843.
Father went out on the prairie about two and one half miles from the
cabin and staked out a claim of one hundred sixty acres. I think it was a
fined land as I ever saw. A dog could be seen all over it from any point. By
some means he had secured two yoke of oxen. (I do not know how he got them
but I think he traded the horse for them that he brought from Cincinnati.)
They could be bought for five dollars a yoke if anyone had the money, but
there was no such thing as money in the territory at that time.
About this time my Grandfather Fisk with his three youngest sons, my
uncles, James, George and John, appeared on the scene on foot and without
baggage. They had left their belongings at Ft. Madison which sometime after
arrived all right. These consisted of house-hold goods, clothing, and a set
of carpenter tools which in after years came very handy. Without delay
father and my uncles made war on the mighty oaks that adorned the little
hill upon which our cabin stood, for the purpose of making rails to fence
the claim on the prairie, also to cut and hew the logs for another cabin.
There were no homestead laws in these days as now, but the settler
could hold a claim by building a cabin on same and making it a residence a
specified length of time. When the land came into the market it was
necessary to be on had with the price which was one dollar and a quarter per
acre. A failure to do this meant the loss of the land and improvements. It
is hardly necessary to state that perhaps two-thirds of the poor fellows
found themselves without homes the next morning after the land sales; all
owing to the loose, slipshod manner in which our government did business
those days. It was a little better than mob-law which will be shown later
on.
The death of my grandmother occurred in 1841 back at the old farm in
the hills of New York. That was the reason why my grandfather and uncles
came to the territory of Iowa.
By the time spring opened in April 1843 the rails and material for
the shanty were all on the ground. While two of the men began breaking the
virgin sod the other two build the house. Like the temple at Jerusalem it
was built without the sound of a hammer, as we neither nails of money. In a
few days we moved into the cabin. It is surprising how little people could
get along when necessity stared them in the face, but we got along and were
fat, healthy and happy.
Father planted about forty acres of sod corn which yielded about
thirty bushels per acre; sowed two or three acres of buck-wheat which made a
fine crop; also planted a fine patch of potatoes which yielded a good crop.
So you see we were in fine shape to live-another tribute to other soil which
has never in the seventy-three years that I have had the honor to live on
her beautiful prairies failed to produce plenty and to spare to feed her
population.
The next spring the government announced the sad news (sad indeed to
the poor settlers) that the land sales would come off in the near future (I
had forgotten the date.) Together with two-thirds of the people, as you have
before learned, father was penniless, but he again proved himself equal to
the situation by starting out on foot looking for some emigrant who had a
little money. He finally came in contact with Sam Emler, who had some money
and was looking for a location. He proved to be the man that father was
looking for They were not long in making a deal. I think father received
about one hundred and fifty dollars for his improvements. Mr. Emler went to
the land sales and entered the land and of course wanted possession of the
farm which he was entitled to, and he got it. That meant that we were out
doors, but it was not the first time. Think of one hundred sixty acres of
fine land, now worth two hundred dollars per acre, with cabin, fifty acres
broke and fenced, all for one hundred fifty dollars and the entrance money.
It looks incredible, but nevertheless, true. We had out teams, cow, and
plenty to eat.
At this crisis a man by the name of Darwin Fish appeared on the
scene. The government had conveyed to Mr. Fish the old Indian Agency, which
he proposed to lease to my father. It contained about three hundred acres in
all. About seventy acres were under cultivation, and the balance in pasture.
There were five log cabins built in ell-shape and one large log barn. He
desired to lease this to father for a period of years or rather wished to
farm in co-partnership, he to furnish the ranch and stock same with a dairy
of cows, father to have half the proceeds and half the stock at the
expiration of the lease. They consummated the deal and we moved in.
This place was situated on the old purchase line about one mile east
of the west line of Jefferson County. Mr. Fish employed father to go with
him down into Missouri to buy cows. They made the trip on horse back and
were not gone long until they returned driving forty head of very fine cows
for which Mr. Fish had paid from two or three dollars a head.
This ranch was a fine one, the old government trail running through
it from east to west. We raised a fine crop that year and made quite a lot
of cheese but it was a hard matter to dispose of the same. Mr. Fish sold a
lot of it in Keokuk. Father hauled it down there and it was shipped to St.
Louis netting a price from two and a half cents per pound. Not very
enumerative as you see but it was cash and that was quite an item those
days. We stayed on the ranch either four or five years, I am not certain
which. During that time my three brothers were born; Henry, M.F. and Elm
Kemp.
I think it was in the second year that we were on the place, Mr.
Fish sold the ranch to A.J. Davis, a boarder ruffian who was associated with
all the thugs, cut-throats and mobs in the western country. Davis owned a
little still house across the Des Moines River from Iowaville about two
miles below where Eldon now stands, and had his emissaries out selling
whiskey to the Indians in open violation of the government laws.
In the autumn of 1844 a prairie fire came down from the Indian
country accompanied by a stiff gale from the north-west which burned every
vestige of fence on the ranch, but did not burn the buildings. Davis
immediately notified father to vacate the ranch and meantime he could come
and get the cattle, also hay and corn. Father informed Davis' henchmen that
he declined to concede his kind advances, and further more that any time he
wished to call around he would try and entertain him to the best of his
ability. Davis knowing what that meant did not come. But the next spring
sent a big boarder ruffian by the name of Fry clothed with what purported to
be a legal notice, (subsequently proved to have been written by Davis
himself) to serve on father. Fry came to the door and rapped. Father
answered the summons and Fry with authority pulled out his document and
instead of reading it, he endeavored to push father to one side with the
evident intention of throwing us out bag and baggage. But the little scheme
did not work. In much less time than it takes to tell it, father's left hand
went out like a flash, and taking Fry on the under jaw, he lay at father's
feet a quivering mass. Father picked up the great mass of flesh, carried it
to the fence which was about twenty feet distant, and threw it over into the
road. We were not bothered by Davis any more.
We repaired the damage done by the fire and charged the same to
Davis and lived out the unexpired time of the lease. When the final
settlement came Davis settled without protest.
I have before intimated that the country was infested with regular
organized bands of marauders who gave the pioneers much trouble. Besides
dis-possessing many of them of their little homes, murder resulted in some
instances. (This was before the land sales.)
I have in mind one instance which will show you how they conducted
their nefarious business. There was a man by the name of John Mial who
pre-empted a very fine one hundred sixty acres four miles west of the Old
Agency where we lived and one mile south of Asheland in Wapello County. He
had built a fine cabin and forty or fifty acres under fence ready for a
crop. One fine morning in April Mr. Mail drove down to our cabins with his
ox-team, wife and children together with his household effects. Father
hailed him and inquired where he was going, supposing he had sold his claim.
On the contrary he informed us that the night before a lot of ruffians had
paid him a friendly call and ordered him to vacate under penalty of death
giving him twelve hours to make his get-a-way. You will observe he was very
prompt in obeying orders, knowing what would happen if he failed. Father
told him to bring the family in and turn the oxen in the pasture and have
breakfast, after which he would see what could be done.
I was a small boy at the time but I was all ears, being very anxious
to know what father was going to do, knowing full well that something was
going to happen as father was a man of but few words. As I had heard him say
before that it was time for such things to stop. After breakfast Mr. Mail
and father retired a short distance from the cabins and appeared to be
conversing very earnestly. I was playing around within earshot appearing not
to notice the conversation, but be assured I was not as noisy as usual and
managed to catch most of the talk. I heard father tell Mr. Mail to get the
wagon and the oxen out of sight and stay under cover that day, and he would
go and enlist ten or fifteen Germans that lived two miles north of us, and
that coming night they would ride up to Mail's cabin, secrete their horses
in the brush, go to the cabin and await the arrival of the mob.
A little after dark ten or fifteen men passed the cabins. As I was
expecting something to happen I was on the alert and saw the horsemen, but
it was too dark to recognize anybody. I had not seen Mr. Mail all day but
had every reason to believe that he joined the party, as our horse was not
in the barn after those horsemen went by. From what little I was able to
catch in after years I think I am warranted in making the following
statement. They rode in a round-about way bearing to the north and
approached the cabin from the west, it being heavily timbered on that side,
hid the horses, went into the cabin, lit a very dim light, knocked out some
chinking for port holes and quietly awaited the arrival of the mob. It was a
star light night but the cabin being located in the edge of the woods was
quite dark, and of course a man could be distinguished but a very short
distance. Father had told the Dutchmen not to move a muscle until he gave
the word. To cut the story as short as possible, in due time the mob
appeared upon the scene but instead of approaching stealthily, on seeing the
light, they held a short consultation and then charged the cabin but did not
capture the fortress. The next morning Mr. Mail inspanned his oxen, took his
family and went back to the cabin. I heard father tell him that he did not
think he would be troubled any more, which proved true as Mr. Mail lived and
died on the same farm. I may say I never was able to get father to tell
anything about the affair. I did hear him and mother talking about it after
we had all gone to bed and I was supposed to be asleep. They talked in a low
tone and I could not catch it all. We are left to guess at the rest. Judging
from the moral effect produced upon the outlaws of the frontier, it must
have been quite serious as that was the last attempt to rob the settlers of
their claims in that section of the country.
Let us go back to our story on the old ranch. You will recall that
it was located on the west line of the old purchase. As soon as the new
purchase was opened for settlement father pre-empted one hundred and sixty
acres immediately west of the old ranch, held the same until the land sales
came on when he paid the price and received his patent from the government
and proceeded to lay the foundation for a home. I think this happened 1845
or 1846.
We built a log barn filled the mow with hay and lived in it the
first year. We had previously broken and fenced about forty acres. The next
year father built a frame house about twenty feet square, and one story
high, the best house in that part of the country. We made our own shingles
also the lath and burnt the lime. The dimension stuff was hewn out with a
broad axe. Siding, floors, windows, and doors were hauled from a distance as
there were no saw mills in those days. I mention these things so you will
see how the father laid the foundation of the greatest agricultural state in
the Union.
It may not be out of place to give you an idea of how we managed to
secure our wearing apparel. We killed about (?) beavers per year, sent the
hides to the tanners and received half the leather. It was tanned with oak
bark. Father owned a kit of shoemaker's tools and made our shoes on the long
winter evenings, by the light of the tallow candles, which we also made at
home. I may add that one pair of those home-made shoes was the compliment of
the year. It was enough as we went barefoot in the summer. As there were no
grand balls or receptions in those days, we did not need fine shoes for
state occasions. When we got to wearing store shoes as they were called, I
have seen the ladies carry their shoes in their aprons to within a short
distance of the house of worship and sit down on the grass put them on and
walk into the church with as much dignity as if they had been arrayed in
purple and fine linen. As for the rest of our raiment, it consisted of
home-mades exclusively. I will endeavor to describe the "Modus Operandi!" as
nearly as memory will permit.
We kept a few sheep, sheared them ourselves took the wool to
Bonaparte where the Mr. Meeks referred to before in these memoirs had
installed a cording machine. The wool was there made into rolls about thirty
inches long and about one-half inch in diameter. These rolls were spun on
what was then called a large spinning wheel, my mother being the operator.
When the wool was converted into yarn we managed to buy what was then known
as chain, which was put into a home-made loom. The woolen yarn was then
wound onto bobbins that fitted the shuttle belonging to the loom. My mother
then proceeded to weave the cloth which was no small undertaking. When the
task was completed she had a fine roll of jeans.
The warp and wool of the cloth was colored before it was woven. Not
being able to purchase dye stuff we used hickory bark which produced a
beautiful yellow, or butternut bark or the hulls of the nut which made a
fine brown. Hazelnut hulls or pads together with peach leaves when
procurable yielded a dazzling green. These were all fast colors. If women's
time had had a money value those days, the cloth thus produced would have
been worth at least five dollars per yard. The cloth would wear like
buck-skin. To the credit of the women be it said that they were not too
proud to patch frayed garments considering them about half worn when they
reached the patching stage.
As for sheeting, shirting, toweling, summer garments, etc., all were
made of tow linen. The following will give something of an idea of how this
primitive cloth was produced. First we sowed a piece of flax, using the long
variety as it produced a fine fiber excelled by no other variety known. When
the see was ripe or matured, men, women and children pulled it up root and
branch, and tied it in nice straight bundles. After this it was taken to a
pond and carefully spread out in the water and weighted down so that it was
all submerged. It was left in that condition about six weeks. When it was
supposed that the woody substance had become sufficiently rotted, it was
taken out, spread in the sun and dried, after which it went through several
operations which I fear would wear your patience if I should undertake to
describe. Suffice to say that when it reached the women folks it was in the
shape of fine hanks of fiber which the good old mothers proceeded to spin
and weave into a very durable cloth that would outwear the shoddy stuff we
now buy about a dozen times. (Don't think that I have exaggerated.) All this
which looks to you as incredible is absolutely true, but the labor and sweat
it cost the women folks is beyond my ability to describe. Nevertheless, thus
were we clothed.
It will be seen that we were not like the lilies of the field which
took no thought of the morrow for what they should wear or what they should
eat. I think that if we had followed the beautiful figure here used, I would
not be here to pen these notes.
The primitive method of threshing wheat in those days was as old as
the hills. The first act dates back to Boaz's threshing floor, where Ruth
the daughter of a widow woman was sent to glean the wheat field of Boaz. She
being poor as well as beautiful to look upon, was compelled to sleep in the
fields. Boaz observed this, and being a very kind man offered her the
privilege of sleeping at his feet on his threshing floor. This may have been
a primitive method of courtship. Turn to Ruth 3-2 and read the story
yourself.
Now without farther introductory remarks, I will try to describe the
method. There were no threshing machines in Iowa at this time, and there
were no barns, just the endless expanse of prairie as it had come from the
plastic hand of the Creator. A level place was selected, the sod taken off
to the depth of about two inches. It was then sprinkled liberally with water
and tamped down as solid as necessary, after which it was allowed to partly
dry. (I should state that it was made in the shape of a circle about fifty
feet in diameter.) Then the sheaves of wheat were carefully placed around
the margin of the circle, then there was about four horses ridden around on
the wheat times without number until the grain was all shattered out of the
straw. A boy to ride one of the horses and lead the rest and two men to turn
and shake the straw could thresh from four to ten bushels per day, all
depending upon the condition of the grain and weather. After the foregoing
process, the wheat must be separated from the chaff, which was done by
throwing it up into the air with a scoop shovel, and allowing the wind to
blow the chaff to the four winds of heaven. The only difference between the
method of threshing here described and the old Bible method, is that they
used oxen in lieu of horses. In proff of which we quote from the scriptures,
"Thou shalt not muzzle the ox that treadeth out the wheat." So you see it
was no snap to make a living in those days.
You can readily understand why I do not sigh for the flesh pots of
Egypt. When I look around me now and behold the stately dwellings everywhere
that have superseded the cabins of the frontier, I sometimes am forced to
rejoice that they that come after me will not be compelled to put up with
the hardships that have been my lot to face. Again I find myself musing
thus: Would it not be better for the rising generations if they had to help
provide for themselves instead of calling on dad for everything they want? I
unhesitatingly answer, "Yes". The young damsel or butterfly of today says,
"Explain yourself old crank." Well, here goes. If you had to earn your own
living, pay for your own board and clothing, you would learn to economize.
You would dress decent. You would not appear on the street in hobble skirts
up to your knees and thus expose your person to the gaze of everybody when
you board a car or a buggy. Last but no least you would purchase good,
substantial, as well as comfortable clothing instead of the worthless gauze
that you now wear that is nearly as transparent as glass. Parents, do you
wonder that your daughters attract to themselves a lot of worthless
libertines that are a disgrace to the race and made thus by your dear ones
exciting and inflaming the lower or animal passions of the opposite sex?
Mothers, allow me to urge upon you the necessity of looking well to your
daughters. Tell them while it is yet time the evil consequences of thus
jeopardizing their future destiny.
In the year of 1848 and 1849 the gold fever ran very high. Father
and my uncle, Edward Fisk, were inflamed with the contagion, it being in
keeping with their natural wandering dispositions, but of course their
financial circumstances proved a very severe handicap, as it required
considerable money to fit out sufficient teams and other paraphernalia for
the long trip across the plains. Consequently, the scheme was blocked until
the year 1850 when father and two other men formed a partnership, fitted out
a very comfortable outfit, consisting of three yoke of oxen and a yoke of
cows, one of the cows being the one we brought from Ohio. (It will be
apparent later on why I mention this cow.) Thus rigged out on the first day
of May 1850, they started for the goldfields of California, with hopes and
aspirations running very high. All went well until they reached the Great
American Desert, where the grass was so scarce that the cattle died of
starvation or alkali poisoning.
Among others was the old cow which some of the men had dubbed Mrs.
Fisk, and somebody wrote home to their friends that Mrs. Fisk had died and
they naturally enough read it Mr. Fisk. The word was not long in reaching
us. We thought for several months that father was dead. Finally, we received
a letter from him stating that he and uncle Edward were in the mines and
doing fairly well. The letter contained a draft for $150.00 which we had to
send to St. Louis to get cashed, as there were no banks in Iowa at this
time, or at least west of the Mississippi River. Our merchants dealt
exclusively at St. Louis, as all the transportation was by steamboats and
our merchant was our banker, but he could not cash a draft for so large an
amount of money, and we had to wait about six weeks before he could get
returns from the city. I should state here that my sister Laura C. Fisk was
born Oct 4, 1850, so you see that mother had used for the $150.00.
But to return to the point where most of the cattle had died, of
course the Californians were stranded. This was on the Green River. At this
point the cholera broke out in its most malignant form and hundreds of
emigrants died. Father was not immune from the terrible scourge. He too was
stricken and lay in a dog tent on the bank of the river for about two weeks.
The men that were with him, being afraid of the disease left him and
reported him dead. A young man by the name of Ogg, a stranger, found the
condition he was in and procured a doctor, and Mr. Ogg waited on him and
administered the medicines. The second or third day the doctor told father
that if he had any business to look after he had better do it at once, as he
thought when the heat of the day came on that it would be all over with him.
About two or three o'clock in the afternoon the fever raged intensely. It
became so intolerable that it was unendurable and the cold ice water
gurgling down out of the snow-capped mountains was too irritating to be
endured any longer, it being but a few feet from where he lay in the hot
sand. He made a desperate effort and rolled down the bank into the river. By
some means he caught the willows that fringed the bank and held on like grim
death. He said after wards that he never felt as good in his life as he did
in the ice cold water, but after awhile it appeared to him that he had
awakened from a troubled dream and hardly knew where he was, but his first
impulse was to extricate himself from what appeared to be a perilous
position. Not realizing he weakened condition, he scrambled up the bank and
found that he could not walk. As he lay there in the sand he discovered the
little tent. Then after a moment's reflection he rolled over two or three
times and landed in the tent, covered himself with his blanket, fell asleep
and did not awaken until sun was shining the next morning. About eight
o'clock the doctor came to see if he was yet alive, expecting to find him
dead. He looked at father, felt his pulse and said, "you are better. If you
could be moved away from here and have any kind of care, you would get
well." But as I have told you before, his partners had left him for dead and
had taken their out-fit with them.
Right here let me say that Uncle Edward did not go with father to
California. He went at the same time, but with another outfit, hence they
never saw each other until sometime after they reached the mines. I mention
this in the connection lest the reader should conclude that Uncle Edward had
deserted father in his dire calamity.
Mr. Ogg came to the tent shortly after the doctor had left. When
father told him what the doctor had stated, Mr. Ogg said,
"Friend, I hardly know what to do, but be assured that I will not leave you
here to die." As a matter of luck, that day a train arrived at
the crossing which had come by a different route, and their teams were in
better condition than those that had come over the main
trail.
It may be well here to explain what is meant by a train. When the
gold seekers reached Platsmouth Nebraska, they formed themselves into
companies or trains of some fifteen or twenty wagons and selected one of
their number as captain and bound themselves together by subscribing to
certain by-laws by which they should be governed, the captain having
exclusive control to the extent that his word was law and could not be
disregarded without a majority vote of the company or train. This was done
for protection from Indians.
Mr. Ogg found a man who had a very fair team and one of his men had
died leaving a vacancy. He arranged to have this man haul father for one
week for the sum of forth (?) dollars. He immediately loaded father into the
wagon and they began their irksome journey, making from six to ten miles per
day, Mr. Ogg following on foot carrying his pack. Father told Mr. Williams,
the man own owned the team, if he would allow Mr. Ogg to put his pack in the
wagon he would pay him any reasonable sum for the favor when they reached
the mines. Williams finally agreed to accept the offer. (Mr. Ogg had lost
his team.) Ogg thus relieved of his burden was foot-loose. He borrowed a
gun, shot a sage hen, made a gallon of broth, took it to the wagon and told
father that was his allowance for a week. At the expiration of the time
allotted for him in the wagon, he had recuperated so far that he could walk
fairly well, but he neither had money or provisions as his partners did not
think a dead man had any use for either. Mr. Ogg bought him twenty pounds of
flour and a piece of bacon, paying one dollar a pound for each. They then
shouldered their packs and started for the mines, which were six hundred
miles from where they then were. They made very slow progress the first few
days, owing to the weakened condition in which the cholera had left father.
When they reached the Sierra Nevada Mountains, the great sandy waste
was behind them. The last one hundred miles that they had covered beggared
description, as it was one sandy waste almost void of water and grass. They
passed thousands of famished men as well as teams.
Father suggested to Mr. Ogg that if they could procure a team that
they could be the means of saving many lives besides their exchequer which
had run dangerously low. They found a man who had preceded them two or three
weeks. This man had a vine team of mules that had recuperated so that they
were able to travel. Mr. Ogg bought them at a very low figure. They
immediately started back to meet the emigrants with water which they were
compelled to sell at one dollar a gallon, as there were so many who had no
money and to them the water was gratis.
They continued the business for three or four weeks. When they found
themselves the possessors of about five hundred dollars, father told Mr. Ogg
that the money and the team were his, as he could not take a cent of it and
feel that it was his, saying that had it not been for Mr. Ogg his carcass
would be lying on the banks of the Green River. But Mr. Ogg would not have
it that way and finally persuaded father to accept one hundred dollars.
They then started across the mountains. When they reached the
summit, they fell in with the prospectors who had left them mines and were
in quest of richer diggings. They persuaded father and Mr. Ogg to go with
them. It was finally agreed that father would go with the prospectors and
Mr. Ogg with the team. The prospectors had four good ponies and let father
have one. Thus they started out into an unexplored region infested with
Blackfoot Indians, they being a very hostile tribe. It was necessary to
proceed with caution. When about fifteen miles from the trail they stopped
for the night and having discovered fresh Indian signs did not start a fire,
consequently ate their victuals raw.
The next morning they washed a few pans of dirt which showed
considerable color. The prospectors said it would pay for working. They then
blaze the trail for the purpose of finding the place again. They then
mounted their ponies and started further into the interior. On crossing a
little creek they discovered quite a large camp of red-skins about a mile
distant. They stopped and held a council of war. Father advised going back
to the trail and organizing a sufficient force of men to awe the Indians.
They stopped and held a council of war. Father advised going back to the
trail and organizing a sufficient force of men to awe the Indians. They
stopped and held a council of war. Father advised going back to the trail
and organizing a sufficient force of men to awe the Indians. He contended
that the result of their discovery the night before would be sufficient
inducement to enlist all the men necessary to carry out the enterprise
successfully, but those hot-headed prospectors swore they were not afraid of
the red devils. The facts were they had never seen wild Indians, being old
miners from the state of Georgia. Father on the other hand was familiar with
the treachery and cunning of the wild Indian. The Georgians absolutely
refused to hearken to his counsel. Accordingly one of their number road
ahead at full speed and in a few minutes they heard the report of his rifle.
In a shorter time than it takes me to tell it the fellow came back faster
than he went pursued by an innumerable host of the red men. Father,
realizing full well that the situation was precarious, urged the men to
stand their ground and await their arrival, knowing that if they showed the
white feather the day was lost. It being a wooded country the Indians would
naturally suppose that the white men were in considerable numbers and would
approach with caution. The sequel proved that father was right. He then
assumed command of the little squad. He ordered the three men to see that
their guns were well loaded, he himself led the ponies and the men were
ordered to separate a rod or two in the brush so that the Indians would not
know how many there were of them. He also told the men not to shoot until
they could kill an Indian and if they succeeded in killing one or two they
would not be likely to charge them. Finally the Indians got a little bolder
and approached a little too closely and the men were lucky enough to bring
down one or two which had the desired effect upon the skulking foe. The
white men had but a few rods to go to reach the creek mentioned before, but
on approaching the creek they found the Indians had beaten them to it and
were concealed under the bank. It was now apparent that they were completely
surrounded and trapped. It may be said that the Indians are not only
treacherous but cunning foes. Father ordered the men to march on as though
there were nothing to fear and he told them not to shoot until they were
sure of their man. The prospectors suggested the abandonment of the ponies
but father said no, as the Indians would then realize that they were whipped
and all would be lost. The arrows were then flying thick and fast and the
ponies were hit several times. Father had last his hat on the Green River.
Mr. Ogg had secured an old fashioned velvet cap with a large roll stuffed
with cotton and gave it to him which he was wearing at the time of this
flight. One of the arrows struck that roll just above his right ear. The
arrow penetrated the roll and left a scar which he carried to his grave.
They were but a few rods from the creek when father ordered a charge, he
leading way with the ponies. As they approached the bank and the Indians
came into full view they fired and killed three Indians. The red-skins were
so confused that they ran in every direction while the men crossed the creek
and gained the opposite bank, two large husky bucks were trying to rally
their hordes, yelling like demons. Father ordered the men to stop and shoot
the two big Indians on the opposite bank which they did. Thus the fight
ended with a clean victory for the pale-faces.
They went back to the trail and the Georgians had had all they
experience with the red-skins they cared for, so there was nothing said or
done about raising a company to go back to investigate the find. They soon
overtook Mr. Ogg and he and father pursued their journey to the mines
without further incident.
Uncle Edward and father came in contact in the mine at Hangtown.
They staked a claim and unbed it in partnership which proved reasonably
remunerative. A little incident in connection with that claim occurred which
may be worthy of note. One morning Uncle Edward went down to the mine before
father as he had some culinary duties to look after before he went to work.
Uncle soon returned wonderfully excited. Father asked him what the trouble
was, and he said the McCleary boys and Fry were filling up the ditch that
drained their claim, and that would make it untenable. Father said that he
would go down and see about it. Uncle protested saying that these ruffians
would kill him, as they had been boarder ruffians in Iowa and were apart of
the gang that I have referred to before. Notwithstanding the earnest protest
of Uncle, and undaunted as usual, father took his brace of pistols and went
down to the mine. He at once without parley ordered Fry to take the dirt out
of the ditch which he proceeded to do without further ceremony. The McCleary
boys joined in and they soon had the ditch clear. They took their tools and
left for parts unknown and never troubled them again.
There was no law of any kind in California at that time and every
man became a law unto himself. Crime became so rife that decent men were
obliged to organize for protection. They called a meeting of miners and
father was elected chairman by a unanimous vote. There were about three
hundred miners present. Father told them that if would be necessary to have
some kind of code by which their deliberations be governed and the burden of
preparing it fell upon the chairman. Father then told them that if it was
agreeable they would assemble at the same place at the noon hour, and he
would submit the documents for their approval or rejection and it would be
their prerogative to amend or change the same to meet the approval of the
majority. This appeared to be satisfactory. The next day at the appointed
time they were all there. But one change was made. The law provided that
punishment for robbery and murder should be forty-nine lashes vigorously
administered on the bare back. That did not suit the miners. They demanded
that the death penalty for the aforesaid crimes should me meted out when
positive proof of guilt was forthcoming. Father with some show of dignity
yielded. Then it was necessary to elect a judge. Father was nominated and
elected by acclamation.
There was never but one case that came before him for hearing. That
was a case of one partner stealing all the gold dust that they had both
accumulated and tried to get away but was caught. Of course, the court was
convened and he was found guilty, but the evidence was not quite positive. I
should have said the jury imposed the death penalty. Father was very
reticent about signing the findings of the jury and forthwith laid aside his
dignity as judge and assumed the role of attorney for the defendant. After
an oral argument he finally got them (the jury) to change their findings to
forty-nine lashes on the bare back giving him one hour to leave the camp
never to return under penalty of death. The penalty was administered and
most of the miners were satisfied.
In the year and a half that father remained at Hangtown, there was
no more crime in that jurisdiction. Sometime in March father made
preparation to return to Iowa, reaching home in June of the same year (1853)
without anything occurring worthy of note. I never shall forget that
homecoming as we were taken unawares thinking he was California not
expecting to return until Autumn. The greeting of the little sister Laura
who had come to stay with us in his absence, appeared to be the center of
attraction with him. Father had made up his mind to sell out and move to the
coast, but times being hard he could not find a buyer. Therefore that
enterprise fell through.
December 25, 1854 sister Cynthia was born, the youngest of the
family, she was my father's idol.
In the summer of 1856 we sold our farm and moved to Marion County,
Iowa, six miles north of Pella where he farmed with varied success.
Father was stricken with Nervous Prostration rather early in life, I
think when he was about forty-eight years old, from which he never recovered
although he lived until he was eighty-four years of age.
I will now impart what little I know of my mother's family which is
not very much. I have always regretted that I knew so little of their family
record. All that I know is what I learned from my grandmother, who was a
very intelligent woman, and I think the best posted in both profane and
sacred history of any woman I ever knew. Furthermore she was able to impart
it to others. I was but a small boy when she died; hence I remember but
fragments of the story.
She was born at Cap May, NJ (the year forgotten) but it was not far from
1770. Her maiden name was Carson.1 Her ancestors came over in the
Mayflower and underwent all the hardships incident to the blazing the way to
laying the foundation of the new world. It will be seen that about one
hundred and fifty years after the landing at Plymouth Rock that Grandmother
was born. She saw General Washington many times as he was at their house
often. Her father was a commissioned officer under General
Stark.2 She had molded bullets many times all night to supply
the soldiers rifles. She carried powder and balls through the British lines
and also messages to the commanding officers at the Fort. She being but a
slip of a girl and fearless as a tiger. Of course, it was attended with
great danger but General Washington said she would be much more apt to
succeed than a man. The guards knowing when the expect her would slip out as
close to the enemy's lines as possible and meet her, thus relieving her of
the burden as quickly as possible. This was a slow process of supplying the
garrison, but you will see by consulting Smith's History of the U.S. that it
was the means of enabling them to hold the Fort.
Grandmother's people, that is the male element, were mostly military
men. They emigrated together with quite a number of other families to Ohio
in an early day. There being no defined roads they were forced to move with
pack horses and finally settled in what is now Clark County, Ohio, then a
stark howling wilderness.
A little incident occurred on the journey. One night they camped
near a cabin that proved to be occupied by a family by the name of Leeman.
Shortly after they had eaten supper the young people from the cabin visited
the camp. There being a young man of their number of marriageable age, he
fell desperately in love with one of the emigrants girls and his advances
appeared to be reciprocated. He was not slow in proposing to here. She
consented provided that he would join their little band and settle with them
in Ohio, which he did. Some time in the night Young Leeman procured the
license and was on hand with a minister early in the morning. Without
further ado the knot was tied. He mounted his horse, his fair bride in the
saddle he riding behind. Thus the journey was resumed. As this couple died
rich, I believe that short courtships are the best. The little band of
wanderers in due time reached their destination. They finally succeeded in
providing themselves with substantial homes. Thus the stately forest was
made to blossom as the rose. Here is was that Grandmother was married to
Captain Stites. To this union were born two daughters, Julie Ann and
Doindia.
The first mention was my mother, born in Feb. 22, 1815. She being a
woman of very strong family ties made a devoted mother. She was a fine
disciplinarian. Her children obeyed without the application of the lash. I
think she never punished me but once. That was sufficient. She had the
faculty of commanding the respect of all who came in contact with her. After
grandfather Stites either died or became estranged from grandmother, (I do
not know which) she as left in straitened circumstances. At the age of ten
years (1825) mother went to live with Mr. James Langdon near Cincinnati
where she and father were married. When my folks came to Iowa, Dr. Langdon a
very learned physician (a some of James Langdon) told her that the doctors
in a new country were not generally trustworthy. He said he would fix up a
medicine chest with contents labeled and give a course of instructions that
would enable her to administer to her own family in case of sickness.
I think there was no healthier family raised in the territory than
ours. For several years mother was the neighborhood doctor. It must be
understood that the suffix M.D. was not necessary in the olden days to
minister to the afflicted. She went for miles on obstetrical cases. I think
she officiated in more than a hundred cases. She never lost a case. I
believe with less dope and more common sense we would live longer.
My parents were very devout Methodists, and my father's house was
the home of the minister.
Father and mother lived with myself and the youngest sister many
years before they died. They both died at my house. Father died August 23,
1893 and my mother May 4, 1897. Both died as they had lived and if only
their children have not been as they should, it cannot be said that the
parents were to blame. I know of no finer tribute that I could bestow upon
times than the foregoing.
The reader will please bear with me as I have said before I have
nothing but memory to guide me. What little I know was imparted to me when I
was a mere child. Therefore many things are hard for me to recall.
My grandmother was married a second time. It was several years after
my grandfather Stites either died or became estranged. She married a man by
the name of Woods. To them were born three children. John in 1824 or 1824
(?), I cannot recall the month; Minty two years later; Polly sometime in the
year 1827 or 1828.
Uncle John Wood was a man of sterling worth. He together with his
mother's family moved to Iowa in 1844 and succeeded in establishing himself
in later years on a farm in Marion County, Iowa.
Uncle Edward Fisk married Aunty Minty Wood. They raised a large
family. Their oldest son William served in the Union army during the Civil
War, was a good soldier and an honorable man.
Aunt Polly married a man by the name of Turner who owned a farm in
Marshall County, Iowa. They have both been dead many years.
It is with some reluctance that I will not try to give those who may
chance to read this little pamphlet as near an unbiased account of my life
as possible. When I think of the blunders and short comings which I have
made since I reached my majority, I quail at the thought, but I guess I am
not alone. However, that it poor consolation.
In the spring of 1849 I worked three months for my brother-in-law,
Mr. Havens. I received twelve dollars a month or was to. It may be stated
here and truthfully too, that such a thing as money was not known among the
common people. It was all barter and trade. People measured in dollars and
cents. But no money changed hands. If the farmer's produce came to more than
he cared to purchase the merchant handed him his change in the form of due
bills payable in goods at C. D. Jones' store. This was in the latter part of
Buchanan's administration. Another evidence of the effects of free trade
which had been in uninterrupted vogue for about fifty years. You will see
that I took my pay out of the store. This was the last of my working by the
month. After that I worked by the job as I could earn about double that way.
The next year being presidential year (1860) was a very hard one, as
politics run very high. Everybody was excited beyond my ability to describe.
People neglected their business running to political gatherings, and
indulging in all kinds of riots and fist encounters, consequently everything
went to the dogs, so to speak. The old people of today will bear me out in
this statement.
The next year, 1861, the Civil War broke out upon which it is not
necessary for me to comment. In June of that year I enlisted under the first
call for troops, and joined my company at Oskaloosa and stayed there about
three weeks. At this time there came an order from the War Department to
disband our regiment as the call was full and we would not be needed. I
returned to the hum-drum life of the farm. In about three weeks our colonel
notified us to appear on the scene and answer the roll call. I had learned
in the meantime that we had only been sworn into the State's service;
therefore, the U.S. had no jurisdiction. By that time my ardor had cooled.
My dreams of military glory had faded, and above all other consideration I
concluded that I was not big enough to stop the bullets. In plain terms I
was too much of a coward. The consequences were I never saw or experienced
the glories of military life. I have always felt ashamed of myself every
time I met a man wearing a G.A.R. button as I had no legitimate excuse. I
fain would have passed this matter by in silence but I have set out to tell
the truth and nothing but the truth.
On September 5th, 1861, I was married to Miss Rachel Price a very
esteemed young lady of our neighborhood. She was beloved by all who knew
here-a lady beyond reproach. She was one year my junior. She was born in
Piqua, Ohio, in 1840. Her family was of Dutch, Irish and English descent.
I deemed it my duty to pay a tribute in these pages to her mother.
In the eighteen years of my acquaintance with Mother Price, I never say her
out of humor, frustrated, or show the least sign of impatience. Besides
these traits of character, she was methodical. She never made false moves.
For instance, if she had a spoon, knife and a pepper shake, which were in
the cupboard, she never made but one trip. In short, she killed two birds
with one stone. In all these years I never heard her say a harmful word of
any person. Always cheerful and pleasant-besides she was one of the best
mothers in the world and I may add, mothers-in-law. I still love and revere
the old lady's memory, though she has been dead many years.
The next spring after we were married, my wife suggested that life
was too short, that we should engage in farming, I said that was all the
occupation that I was familiar with. She protested saying she could make a
living by raising a garden and milking cows which she could as she was no
wall flower or a useless piece of humanity as many of the young ladies of
today are.
I often think of the scanty outfit that we adorned our first house
with. I think I could have moved our entire outfit on a push cart, but we
were therewith content. Love in a hovel may not be as grand a thing as
portrayed in song, but it is far preferable to hell in a mansion.
However, I do not sigh for the Flesh-pots of Egypt, as my lot has
for the most part been cast in pleasant places. I sometimes think in looking
back at my past life that I have much to be thankful for.
The few draw-backs have never entered into my home life which has
always been a paradise to me.
In the year of 1863 a very large majority of the able bodied men
were in the army. The prices for farm products were thus inflated and the
stay-at-homes were in a position to make good. We farmed that year (I say we
- - my wife helped) and raised a good crop. After we invoiced our holdings
we were quite a bit to the good. The next year proved a good crop season. We
realized better prices than the preceding year which enabled us to buy a
home of our own.
It was situated near Galesburg, Jasper County, Iowa. That year we
succeeded very nicely as prices were still advanced. In the year 1866 my
wife's father concluded to move to Kansas as he owned some land there
situated in Coffee County. My wife had a very strong desire to accompany
them to the new country. However, she didn't insist but wanted to know what
I thought about it, she appeared to think that with what we could command we
could make quite a showing in a new country. I told her that pioneering was
no snap, as I had not forgotten my father's experience in Iowa. I found that
it was very hard to part with her folks. While she said nothing, I could see
that she was greatly disappointed. Accordingly I sold our farm, made a sale
and auctioned off what little stuff we could not take along. We moved down
to Kansas with teams as there was no railroad those days, and we were about
three weeks making the trip.
We camped one night about twenty-five miles south of Lawrence,
Kansas. That afternoon I noticed three of four Mexicans, I think three
times, and of course I knew that they had an eye on our horses as we had
some very good ones and I had learned that there were a lot of small bands
of greasers that were in the habit of stampeding emigrants' stock and
driving it off. That night I camped near a cabin and secured a place inside
of the cabin for my wife and children to sleep and constituted myself a
committee of one to watch the horses. About one o'clock in the morning the
horses began to snort and I saw that it was going to require some effort to
hold them, as I could see by the flashes of lightening some objects about
one hundred yards distant moving very rapidly back and forth, every time
coming a little nearer. I waited as long as I thought it was safe when I
gave them a salute with my revolver. I do not know whether I touched any of
them or not, but that was the last of my Mexican friends as far as we were
concerned.
The rest of the trip was made without further incident worthy of
note, excepting that a few days later I was taken with a very violent case
of fever and ague, which stuck to me for three weeks during which time all
the nourishment I took was buttermilk which apparently cured me. Never
before in my life could I drink buttermilk or any other kind of slop.
Father Price found his land together with an old log cabin which had
not been used since 1861. We set about to repair the old shack which we were
not long in doing, camping out until it was tenable. We then built us a barn
if it is worthy of the name. It at least served the purpose. I did not take
any money with me, hence was forced to do something to make a living. I told
my wife that we would leave our means in Iowa as I did not intend to
squander what little I had in Kansas providing the country did not prove to
be to our liking, and I did not want to adorn our wagon cover with the
proverbial inscription of the Kansas emigrant - - "Busted" you know the
rest.
As I told you before I had to make a living. I noticed that there
were no repair shops in the towns and father Price and I talked the matter
over. We concluded to build a carpenter's shop adjoining the cabin. Then I
hauled some saw logs to the mill which was about three miles distant. We
soon had sufficient lumber to build our ship which we soon had in readiness
for our enterprise. We put up notices far and near letting people know where
they could be accommodated. It was not long before we had all the work we
could do and this made a good living.
That winter I helped move some families down on the neutral strip
between Kansas and Oklahoma to where the city of Baxter Spring. This man was
very homesick therefore he urged me to trade my team and wagon for his
claim. I being young and greener than I was young, refused to let him make
me rich. Three years later there was a town of two thousand inhabitants and
three railroads there - - but such is life.
On the return trip, myself and the two neighbor boys that
accompanied me had a little experience that I shall never forget. We had two
teams and wagons. I being in the winter time we were forced to camp on the
creeks for shelter, fuel and water. The creeks were frequently a long
distance apart. It happened one afternoon that we were compelled to go to
camp about two o'clock. I noticed a large camp of Indians about one half
mile below us. I was fully aware that they were strictly harmless and I
thought nothing about the matter. We pitched our tent and had everything in
fine shape. Early in the evening the boys were soon asleep. At about ten
o'clock those red devils set up the most hideous yells that ever saluted the
ears of mortal man; dogs howling squaws screaming, in short, pandemonium
reigned; in spite of all the moral courage that I could command, I took the
worst scare imaginable. It is not necessary for me to say that I did not
sleep a wink that night. Every since I have sympathized with a person who
was afraid. Notwithstanding, I was fully aware of the habits of the red men,
having played with them when a boy. I know they were having a drunken orgy,
further, I knew that when they were drunk they had no idea of mischief. When
bent on some crime they never herald their coming. The next day we reached
home without further incident. We did not like Kansas as there was a failure
of crops that year. Corn could not be bought at any price. Accordingly, we
made preparations to return to Iowa. Father Price disposed of his land the
coming summer and joined us in Story County, Iowa, where I had bought some
land, paying two dollars per acre for it. The same is now worth one hundred
and twenty-five dollars per acre.
Story County was one of the wettest and sourest sections of Iowa
before it was drained. Now there is no finer county in the State. It may be
said here that almost any country depends largely on the intelligence, push
and thrift of the people who occupy it. To be sure it requires time to
develop any country, but there is more in the community occupying it than
there is in the soil. The New Englanders were thrifty despite the rocks,
timber, hard unyielding clay soil, frost eight months out of the twelve.
They accumulated a competency. Many of them died comparatively rich. If we
had the draw backs in Story County that existed in the country just alluded
to, I doubt if we would ever have made a livelihood, but fortunately all
that (torn edge of original paper) a country was an excess of moisture,
which was readily and easily (???) come.
Nature provide old Story with a deep black sandy loam as she had
nearly all of the entire state. Iowa comes the nearest being one eternal
corn field of any state in the Union. I am glad that my lot was cast in
Iowa. I never go out of the state, no matter which way I go, but that when I
return it looks grander, greater and nobler than before. Then again I have a
preference for her people. They are for the most part honest, industrious,
frugal, generous and extremely friendly. To be sure I may be charged with
prejudice. Be that as it may, give me Iowa first, last and all the time.
Iowa never begged. She always had plenty and to spare. But why this tribute
to Iowa? Because I cannot help it, and again it is true. I here challenge
successful contradiction.
Let us go back to the humble little home in the north-west of
Collins Township, Story County, Iowa, where several years of my young
manhood were spent. I was happy for several reasons. First, my family were
also happy. Second, I do not think that anybody had better neighbors. We
were on an equality always ready to accommodate one another, each owning a
little principality in our own right. I will say in this connection that I
have always regretted leaving that community, although nearly all the old
neighbors are dead. Wyatt Carr, and Jake and Abe McCord are about all that I
can recall at this time. They were young men at this time, and I may add,
were fine fellows. To us were born, William H. Fisk, August 29, 1862; Mary,
May 20, 1864; Joseph, March 15, 1868; Charles H. Fisk, April 28, 1871; Rose
B., April 10, 1873; Alice C. April 17, 1875; James W. Fisk, April 10, 1878.
William died January 15, 1868 and Mary February 16, 1868, just one month
apart, with Scarlet Fever. Joseph died March 1, 1875 and James in infancy.
Michael Cooley's footnotes:
1. Fisk's grandmother's name Charity Corson, as proven by her 1818 marriage
to John Wood.
2. I believe this is actually a reference to Charity's grandfather
(not father), Captain Benajah Thomson, killed during
battle in 1780.
