THE PICTURESQUE J.F. NICOULIN HOUSE

Thorington Street in Algona is lined with homes that were featured in the 1900 publication, ”Picturesque Algona.”  One of the most charming is that built by J. F. Nicoulin, a prominent photographer in town.  Located at 408 North Thorington, it was built in 1888 in Carpenter Gothic style by Peter Purvis, Mrs. Nicoulin's brother-in-law.  The front door features etched glass and the house has hardwood flooring throughout. A small balcony is located off the master bedroom on the upper level and there is a bay window on the first floor.  The front porch railing is lined with decorative spindles catching the eye of a passerby.  Knowing that it was built by a photographer, I always thought it would make a quaint setting to pose subjects for a photo or two.

WHO WAS JOE NICOULIN?

The photographer in question was Joseph Francis Nicoulin, born in North Adams, Massachusetts in February of 1847.  When he was eight years of age, the family moved to Dodge County, Wisconsin.  His father drowned while building a bridge over the Rock River.  His mother remarried several years later and relocated to Appleton, Wisconsin, where J.F., at the age of 14, began working as a store clerk.  The migration west was in full swing following the close of the Civil War. We don’t know if Joe was seeking adventure or fortune when he left Wisconsin to travel to the unknown or if he had Algona in mind as his destination when he left, but we do know that he arrived here on May 1, 1870. 

Within a short time, Nicoulin opened his own photography gallery.  The popularity of having your picture taken at a studio was becoming more and more popular as technology began to improve. In later years Joe had a camera for life-size photographic and landscape work.  It would produce a picture 18 x 22 inches in size which was a marvel at the time.

Besides working with top of the line cameras, Joe spent a winter in Wisconsin studying with an artist to learn the art of retouching.  He soon built a very enviable business and had many customers.  His gallery was quite busy taking photos of wedding parties, infants and families.  If you happen to have family photos taken during Joe’s tenure in Algona, it is likely you will find the Nicoulin Photography logo somewhere on the border.

JOE TAKES A BRIDE

Isabella Galbraith also came to Algona in 1870 at the age of 18 with her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Will Galbraith.  Her parents had emigrated from Scotland around 1845, settling in Janesville, Wisconsin, where Isabella was born.  The lure of cheap land brought them to Kossuth County. 

It is unclear if the couple knew each other from their days in Wisconsin, but since they did not marry until 1880, it seems that their arrival in Algona the same year was coincidental.  Mrs. Nicoulin was quite striking.  The couple loved to dance and Nellie Gray Bowyer recalled watching the dancers from the sidelines.  The Nicoulins stood out among the couples on the floor, not only for their dancing abilities, but also due to Belle’s long black hair which cascaded down her back in waves which was a popular style at the time. 

Irvington was a popular place for dances and many locals would travel by horse and carriage and wagon and oxen to attend.  They would start at four o’clock in the afternoon and last all night.  The dancers would take a break for supper and lunches. 

The courthouse was another dance venue that was popular.  The courtroom would be cleared and, because of the rough, uneven surface, a large canvas would be stretched across the floor, laced to fasteners on the baseboard, and sprinkled with powder to allow smooth movement by the dancers.

BUILDING CAREER AND FAMILY

In 1884, Joe decided to construct a new business building on State Street.  He rented much of the space to other merchants and businessmen but operated his gallery there as well.

Four years later the Nicoulins began building their new home, settling into their it in 1889.  Thorington Street was abuzz with new construction and landscaping at the time.  Sidewalks were being installed up and down each block and new trees were being planted. 

After ten years of marriage, the Nicoulins welcomed a son, Joseph Fernley Nicoulin, in 1890.  Fernley was the light of his parents’ lives.  In addition, Olive Salisbury, the niece of Belle, often stayed with the couple and they became so close that they considered her to be their daughter. She was actually married in their home to John Walker in November of 1899.

AHS Debate Team -
T.H.Chrischilles,
Fernley Nicoulin,
and Harry Nolte

Years passed as they always do.  Fernley grew to manhood, well liked by all around him.  He was a good student in high school and was a member of the debate team.  His best friend was T.C. Chrischilles who lived just across the street.  A talented singer and violinist, he traveled with the Glee Club while a student at Beloit College.  After two years at Beloit, he transferred to Minnesota state university.  Health issues plagued him throughout life and he was forced to drop out of college before obtaining his degree.  He returned home where he got a job at Algona State Bank where he remained for two or three years.  Fernley then resigned to operate a farm owned by his uncle, George Galbraith, in the hope that the outdoor air would be beneficial to his health.

By this time, Joe was nearing retirement.  The Nicoulins had spent several winters in California enjoying the break from the cold Iowa winters.  Joe decided to sell his photography gallery, they rented their home to John McEnroe, and the family then moved to Hollywood, California, in 1921.  It was there that Fernley once again took up the banking trade, taking a job at the Beverly Hills bank. 

Joe was now in his mid-seventies and his health was beginning to fail.  His high blood pressure and hardening of the arteries eventually brought about his demise in May of 1924. He was buried in Hollywood Forever Cemetery.

BELLE AND FERNLEY CARRY ON ALONE

Isabella (Galbraith) Nicoulin

As the years passed, Fernley continued to live with his mother in her Hollywood home.  His health still was precarious and depression and anxiety often caused him additional pain.  By February of 1931, it became too much for him to handle.  He took a leave of absence from the bank to deal with his condition.  He went to Palm Springs for a few days and when he returned he seemed to be in a better state of mind.

It proved not to be true, however, as he decided to take his own life.  An article printed in the Los Angeles Evening Herald recounted the story:

        "With nonchalance, J. F. Nicoulin, 44, officer of the First National Bank of Beverly Hills, conversed with a neighbor and friend early today while he shot himself to death with a pistol in the yard of his home at 1253 North Havenhurst drive, according to a police report.

        Hearing a shot, George Lee, living in a house at the rear of Nicoulin’s home, peered out of the window and saw Nicoulin pointing a gun at his breast, Lee told police.

        “What are you doing there, Nick?” shouted Lee.

        “I’m shooting myself,” Nicoulin replied.

        With that, Lee said, Nicoulin pulled the trigger again and a bullet plunged into his breast, just over the heart, knocking him to the ground.  Lee carried Nicoulin into the house where he died in the arms of his mother."

Fernley was in fact just a few days short of his 41^st birthday at the time of his demise—not 44 as stated in the news report.  He was remembered by his lifelong friend, T.H. Chrischilles, as being “Friendly and affable, with a kind word for all and malice toward none, he had that gracious faculty of attracting people toward him.”

Devastated by her loss, Belle was able to turn to her beloved niece, Olive Walker, who cared for her the rest of her life.  She passed to her eternal reward on September 19, 1936, and was buried next to her husband and son. 


The Nicoulin house still stands proudly on Thorington Street after 128 years.

Until next time,

Kossuth County History Buff

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CHARLES E. PUTNAM, EARLY PIONEER

Charles E. Putnam was an early pioneer of Kossuth County and although he did not remain a citizen for long, he spent three enjoyable years living with W. H. Ingham, Andrew Seeley, and Thomas Covell in the Ingham cabin along Black Cat Creek.  Putnam was born in New Hampshire in 1839 and moved with his parents to Cedar Rapids when he was 15 years old.  The very next year, 1855, he accompanied Covell on an expedition to Kossuth County where he remained, enjoying frontier life—hunting, fishing and living off the land.

In 1897 he responded to a request by Harvey Ingham to share his memories of an Indian encampment in the county in the summer of 1855.  His response was published in the Upper Des Moines June 16, 1897 and was later included in Harvey’s book, Old Indian Days.  Putnam recounts those carefree days as follows:

       “Since receiving your letter of recent date, asking about the movement of Indians in your county in the summer of 1855, I have endeavored to recall some of the incidents of my life as a pioneer of Kossuth county.  While I have an indistinct recollection of a party of Indians camping on, or near Plum Creek during the fall of 1855, the event is not clear enough in my mind to give any particulars, for which you asked.

        “I think it was that fall that a band of Sioux came down from Minnesota, and deploying to cover as much territory as possible, made a wide detour through Kossuth county, driving all the large game ahead of them, expecting to round it up in southern Minnesota that they might have game all winter.  They went around Algona, and about three or four miles southeast of town killed a buffalo.  That night they built a large bonfire, and called in all the braves; feasting, dancing, and pow-wowing being indulged in the greatest part of the night.  I think that they remained the next day to give the squaws time to “jerk” the meat.  If Mr. King (David King) is still with you he can tell who the parties were that visited the Indians and ordered them to leave the county, and let the game remain; and he can also tell how near he came to being a charge upon the county, when, the next day, he came upon two Indians carrying off all the provisions in his cabin.

        “It will be forty-two years on May 8 since I landed at the little old cabin, built by your father (William Ingham) and Mr. Seeley (A. L. Seeley) on the Black Cat.  And while my life has seen many varied years since, I think those three on the frontier were the happiest, because of youth, and the absence of all care and responsibility.  When I recall the years so long ago, the memory of the incidents of that life so fills my mind that it would, with elaboration, fill a book.  But it is the memory of the home-life in that little cabin which remains most distinctly in my mind.  And while, of course, I remember in general the movements of the Indians and the events which transpired, I was too young to appreciate the fact that we were making history.

        “The winter of ’55 Covell came to Cedar Rapids for provisions, and when he returned with the supply of winter stores there was a banquet at the Ingham cabin.  Covers were laid for four:  Ingham, Seeley, Covell, and myself.  Delmonico never spread such a feast; oysters and crackers, sardines and cheese, corn bread with butter, and after all cigars.  Could mortal man want more, especially after having tasted nothing for three weeks but parched corn, ground in a coffee mill, and made into something we called bread?  About midnight, while the meal was still in progress, being the kid, I was requested to go for a pail of water.  As I approached the well—a hole in the ground a few rods from the cabin—my hair bristled at the sounds of distress which came from the well.  I rushed back to the cabin with the news that somebody was drowning.  An adjournment was quickly declared, four would-be heroes going forth to the rescue.  After an hour of very damp and slippery labor, strong arms had raised Nellie, the pet elk—and the baby of our household—from what might have been a watery grave.  She was taken to the cabin fire, and, by vigorous rubbing, her life was saved, only to end in a violent death the next fall.

        “Although Seeley was the acknowledged chef of the Ingham hostelry, by a flash of culinary inspiration I made a gooseberry pie that spring which was the beginning of Seeley’s downfall.  After that triumph my wits turned kitchenward and I was forever seeking new dishes in that land of wild meat and cornbread.  One day I went down to the settlement and discovered Smith (Lewis H. Smith) making doughnuts.  Could it be another Richard had come onto the field!  I beheld my new laurels tremble—I must make doughnuts.  I started home formulating a recipe in my mind; it was certain that flour was the basis; then the fat in which they were fried would make them short; then something to make them light; molasses would furnish the sweetening; and a little cream of tartar coming in contact with the molasses would create an effervescence, and surely the deed was done.  Luckily, no one was in the cabin when I got home, and I set at once to work on my doughy problem. It was the work of a few minutes to have the twisted beauties in the skillet of hot lard, but they never grew light nor brown.  They were still pure and white and tough when in despair I buried them in the ravine behind the hill.  I found out the next day that saleratus or yeast was the missing quantity that would have made them light, and all that could be desired.  The remains of that first batch, I have no doubt, may still be found in the deep ravine back of the old cabin.  And when the future scientist explores the hills and valleys of old Black Cat he will undoubtedly discover fragmentary ore that will trouble him to classify, or to tell whether it belongs to the Paleozoic or to the Tertiary period.

        “Craw and Linderman, who had built a cabin over on the East Fork, about two miles from the Ingham claim, occasionally made us a call, when we would send them home laden with game or fish to enrich their scanty larder.  It was early in June when we told them if they would come over some night we would give them all the fish that they could carry home. They responded one moonlight evening when the fish were “running” well.  We all went down to the ford a few rods above the mouth of the creek.  The water at the ford was shallow, and it was difficult for the larger fish to pass over it.  Craw and Linderman were told to take off their boots, roll their pants, and wade to the middle of the creek at the ford, while Seeley and myself went below to drive the fish up stream.  Armed with sticks we went where the water was deep, and started toward the expectant fishermen, striking the water with our sticks, driving everything before us.  When the school of fish, many of them so large that they were half out of the water, came to the ford, Craw and Linderman began the slaughter.  Grabbing them with their hands they excitedly threw them to the banks.  Ingham, who laughed from a safe shelter, afterwards declared that they threw the fish eighty feet in the air.  We continued to thrash the water until we had nearly drowned the poor fellows.  Then with their fish strung on withes and hanging from a pole, the happy fisherman, drenched to the skin started home.  And I was afterwards told that they had fresh fish, and fish not so fresh, all summer.

        “Poor Craw, I wonder in what vineyard he is working now.  He was of a very religious turn of mind, guileless and innocent of the world as a child.  Once when he complained of the unreliability of the weather prognostications of Ayer’s almanac, and was told that he must not expect correct predictions of the weather in a country that had not been surveyed, he accepted the explanation as good logic, and was never heard to criticize the weather man again.”

At the end of his stay here, Putnam moved back to his father’s farm west of Cedar Rapids.  He taught school while attending Western college until the Civil War broke out.  He enlisted in Company G. Thirteenth Iowa infantry in September of 1861 and served with honor until he was mustered out November 2, 1864, having attained the rank of Captain. An article giving a sketch of his successful career was published in the Cedar Rapids Evening Gazette in 1892 and contained the following tribute:

        “Captain Putnam was a brave and gallant soldier.  He participated in all the battles and campaigns of the army of Tennessee from Shiloh to Atlanta.  He especially distinguished himself Oct. 3, 1862, at the battle of Corinth and in the official report was particularly mentioned for his fearless service.  He was right in the hottest of the fight and his enthusiasm and thoughtlessness of self did much toward keeping up the spirits of his men.  In the battle of Atlanta the 13^th Iowa was in the thickest of that baptism of blood which lasted from noon until 7 o’clock, June 22, 1864, and out of 427 men present for duty, 247 were killed or missing.  During these seven hours Captain Putnam fought bravely.  He was in the midst of the carnage, losing both his lieutenants, and out of the 42 men who entered the battle but nine were left to answer at roll call.  The balance, except four who were captured, were either killed or wounded.  Company G also distinguished itself at Shiloh and Vicksburg.  The regiment marched through Georgia to the sea, and was the first to enter Columbia, S. C., and their colors were the first to wave over the old southern capitol.

        “Captain Putnam was considered a fine officer, was a strict disciplinarian and loved by his men.  By his manly, soldierly qualities he won their hearts and always has retained their respect and friendship.”

After the war, Putnam ran a mercantile for a few years and then was elected Linn County recorder where he served four terms.  He then became cashier at Merchants’ National Bank where he was employed for many years until being appointed a state bank examiner.

He married Mary A. Fawcett on March 29, 1864 while home on furlough from the army.  Three children were born to the couple, two of whom survived to adulthood.  Captain Putnam passed away May 23, 1913, at his home in Cedar Rapids after a long battle with heart disease.  His funeral was held on the lawn of his residence with the minister speaking from the front porch, and his body was then interred in Oak Hill Cemetery.  

I think you would agree that an outdoor funeral seems a fitting tribute to the young teen who so enjoyed his three years living the frontier life on the prairies of Kossuth County.  

Until next time,

KC History Buff

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Reminder:  The posts on Kossuth County History Buff are ©2015-17 by Jean Kramer.  Please use the FB “share” feature instead of cutting/pasting.