LAUREL HILL CEMETERY

Nestled just south of the tiny village of Irvington is a cemetery known as Laurel Hill.  It is the final resting place of many well-known pioneers who came to Kossuth County with dreams of settling the frontier and becoming prosperous and successful.  Many of their descendants, neighbors and others are buried there as well.

IRVINGTON CEMETERY ASSOCIATION

The Irvington Cemetery Association was organized June 26, 1875 by a group of prominent men who realized the necessity of having a resting place for the dead.  Up to that time burials had been made at various places around the countryside.  A constitution was adopted and the first officers were President A.M. Johnson, Vice President David Sample, Secretary G. M. Parsons and Treasurer Richard Hodges, all of whom now rest there in the shade of the majestic trees scattered throughout the cemetery. 

On July 3, 1875, a tract of land was purchased from Mrs. Nancy Wright for $20.  Beautifully located on high ground with good drainage, the land was bounded on the west by Des Moines River and timber land.  A strip on the west side was reserved for those unable to buy lots.  Mrs. Wright’s husband, Jacob, had passed away in February of that year and had been buried in this area.  According to the cemetery records, burials had been made at the site for many years before it was designated as a cemetery.

The first annual meeting was held in September of 1875.  A constitution of 29 articles was adopted.  According to a news article published in the July 1, 1954 Kossuth County Advance, thirty-six charter members purchased one or more lots at $5 per lot. The cemetery consists of nine blocks with 24 lots per block.  Each lot contains 9 burial spaces so, if you are following along and have done your math correctly, you will have figured out that they each got 9 burial spaces for $5!  Quite a deal I would say.

Prior to the establishment of the cemetery, people were often laid to rest on acreages or in pastures.  After the cemetery was established, some of those bodies were recovered and brought to Laurel Hill for burial.  For example, Abraham Knight died in 1861 of typhoid fever and was first interred in a field in Sherman township.  In 1890, his remains were exhumed and buried here.

 

THE CEMETERY GROWS AND GAINS A NAME

In 1889, D.D. and Lydia Dodge deeded a strip of ground two rods wide extending along the entire length of the north line and a strip four rods wide along the west side of the cemetery, increasing it to the size it is today.  The deed provided that the strip on the north was to be reserved for use as a public thoroughfare, however, the cemetery association reserved the right to erect and maintain hitching posts.

In 1916 the Association purchased a new fence and the Irvington Aid Society donated the north gate.  Up until that time the cemetery had no name and it was left up to the Aid Society to choose one.  The name of “Laurel Hill” was suggested by Etta Cleary.  It is believed that it was named after a famous cemetery in Philadelphia with a riverside view.  Etta Smith came to Kossuth County with her parents when she was 2 years old.  She later taught school until she married Omer Cleary.  The couple had one child, Charles, who contracted croup and died when he was just four years old.  The Clearys lived in a home in this same section so Etta knew this area well.  Now Mrs. Cleary is buried in the cemetery she named.  

There are approximately 850 people buried there, some identified and others not.  In 1922 construction workers were digging in the Irvington gravel pit when two skeletons buried in walnut caskets were unearthed.  One news article of the time stated they appeared to be of an adult and a child.  The theory was that they were the remains of Indians as some of the old settlers remembered there being an Indian burial ground in that area.  That seems somewhat unlikely however because Indians did not normally bury their dead in wooden caskets.  The remains were never identified, but were reburied here at the Irvington cemetery at the direction of the Kossuth County Board of Supervisors.

JACOB AND NANCY WRIGHT FAMILY

A unique headstone marks the graves of Jacob and Nancy Wright, the original owners of this land.  The Wrights first came to Kossuth County in 1855.  The family was here during the Indian scare and several family members participated in building the fort which was erected at that time for protection.  The fort was hastily constructed in April of 1857 based on inaccurate reports of sightings of bands of hostile Sioux warriors nearby.  Plans were made to take the women and children to safety in Webster City while the men stayed back to complete the fort and defend the little pioneer community.

Jacob and Nancy Wright Gravestone

The Wrights’ daughter, Sarah, had become betrothed to William Moore, a carpenter and cabinet maker who had a combination home and workshop on one of the four corners of the main block in downtown Irvington.  Sarah had no intention of traveling to Webster City and being separated from William.  Since it would be inappropriate for a young, unmarried woman to remain behind, a wedding license was rapidly obtained.  The couple was married by Justice of the Peace George D. Wheeler on April 22, 1857, at the home of her parents.  Despite a heightened sense of danger, the locals in the community found time to celebrate the wedding and an evening of merriment was enjoyed by all.  The next day the fort building continued and all of the women and children were taken to Webster City, with the exception of Sarah and her sister who remained and served as chief cooks for the garrison.  It is interesting to note that the William Moore-Sarah Wright union was the first marriage to take place in the county.

William and Sarah settled in Irvington and started a family.  We know that the couple had a daughter, Laura, who was born in 1860.  When the War Between the States began, William enlisted on August 16, 1862 in Company A, 32^nd Iowa Infantry.  On December 30^th of that same year, he died at Cape Girardeau, Missouri, of illness.  His body was returned by the Army and buried here.  Little Laura followed her father in death when she was but three years old and is buried next to him. We do not know what happened to Sarah Moore as the cemetery records do not reflect that she is buried here.  Perhaps she married again and had another family, but that is a mystery not yet solved.

Gravestone of William Moore

Gravestone of little Laura Moore

As you will recall, Jacob Wright was buried here in 1875 before his wife, Nancy, sold the property for use as a cemetery.  Nancy herself passed away in November of 1891 content that a permanent resting place had been designated.  She was buried in the family plot marked with this distinctive headstone, surrounded by many of her neighbors and friends who had passed on to their eternal rest before her. 

MANY VETERANS AT REST

There are numerous veterans buried in Laurel Hill from all branches of the military and all wars or conflicts from the Civil War forward.  One lot contains the gravesites of three generations of veterans from the same family.  John Haines was born in New York in 1824.  At the age of 38 he enlisted in Company D, 126^th New York Infantry and served throughout the Civil War.  He was made a prisoner at Harper’s Ferry by Stonewall Jackson.  After his release, he rejoined his company and was present at Appomattox when Lee surrendered.  He came to Kossuth County with his family in 1870 and eventually pre-empted a claim in Garfield township where he resided until his death.

His grandson, Archie Haines, was drafted into WWI and was in the Kossuth County contingent that left September 22, 1917.  Promoted to corporal before leaving the states, he was part of Company F, 350^th Infantry that arrived in France in late August, 1918.  By the following month they were stationed near the front.  His company served in the trenches for several months before the war ended.  During this time they slept wherever they could find rest—on the ground, in a box car, in a hayloft, or even standing in the trenches between rounds of shelling.  His son, Orval, was born while he was overseas. 

Archie’s daughter, Irene Haines (later Elbert), enlisted in 1943.  She took boot training at Hunter College in New York.  The top 10% of the class was shipped to Washington, DC and Irene spent her entire service career there in Naval Intelligence decoding Japanese naval messages.  It was highly classified and extremely secretive.  For her service, she received the Presidential citation and the Navy Unit commendation ribbon along with a personal letter from the US Secretary of the Navy.  Her brother, Orval, served twenty years with the US Navy and two of her sons also served 20 years – one in the Army and the other in the Navy.

 

As I walk through a cemetery, I often think of the line from an old television show that went something like, “There are eight million stories in the naked city.  This was just one of them.”  There may not be eight million stories at Laurel Hill, but there are many waiting to be told.  Each and every one of its residents had a unique and interesting life.  I have touched on just a few in this post.  Perhaps we will visit Laurel Hill again one day to hear other voices from the past. 

Until next time,

Jean

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A (FUNNY) STORY OF EARLY PIONEER DAYS

I love a funny story, don’t you?  I came across the following article that was published in the Friday, March 18, 1903 edition of the Algona Courier and have to confess that it really tickled my funny bone.  The story clearly illustrates how much our ancestors loved pulling pranks and tricks on each other.  So sit back and enjoy a tale of marriage proposals and high jinks.

A STORY OF EARLY PIONEER DAYS

It is one that Should be Preserved in the Archives with those

Of Little Crow and Inkpadutah

Many interesting stories of the early days of Kossuth have been written and published, for which the people generally are grateful to the historians and no doubt future generations will also pay the tribute of gratitude to them.  They will read with consuming interest the stories of Little Crow and Inkpadutah, the Spirit Lake massacre, the hardships of early settlers from the inclemency of the weather, and their hair-breadth escapes from the scalping knives of the savages and the fangs and claws of wild animals.  But we think historians are too much inclined to magnify battles and warriors and to overlook the social side of history.  They should not neglect the growth of society and social life of the people, for in those features their history consists as well as in their struggles with human and animal enemies.  It is, then, to fill in between the sanguine chapters of Kossuth county that have been written, a short chapter of social life, that we essay this truthful and unvarnished tale.

From History of Kossuth County

published in 1913

Among the sturdy early settlers of Kossuth county there was none more sturdy or better fitted to grapple with the condition of frontier life than Samuel Reed who in early day moved from Illinois to Kossuth county and settled in Irvington township on the “Ridge” about six miles south-east of Algona.  He came to get good cheap land for himself and his several boys who were then quite young, some of them but children.  Mr. Reed was strong of body and of mind and being industrious and frugal he soon established one of the best country homes in the county.  He was known to all the settlers in the county at that early time and to many far outside its borders, and at about the time of which we write he was the sheriff of the county.  At that time there was but a small settlement about Irvington and Algona, one at Emmetsburg, at Estherville, and a few perhaps at Armstrong Grove.  Aside from those dots of civilization the country to the west and northwest was an unoccupied prairie.

As is the case in all new countries marriageable women were then very scarce in Kossuth, and distance was not as much of a barrier between neighbors and settlements as it is now.  Neighbors who lived ten or fifteen miles apart were quite intimate with each other, and some persons in the Algona settlement knew every person in the Emmetsburg settlement, and vice versa.  Under such conditions it is not surprising that Sam Reed was known far and near, and it is not surprising either that a good looking young marriageable woman was heard of a long distance from home.  And when the marriageable young woman was in the home of Sam Reed it is easy to understand how she was heard of even at Estherville.  The young lady that we refer to was a school teacher who was then teaching on the “Ridge” and was boarding at Mr. Reed’s.  It is not necessary for the purpose of this story to mention her name nor the name of the gallant who came all the way from Estherville, or somewhere in that neighborhood, to propose marriage to her.

It was one evening in midwinter in the year 18~ that a team with a lone man holding the reins drove up to Sam Reed's, and the man made enquiry as to whether he was at the right place, and being assured that he was he asked if he could stay overnight.  The Reed home was a hospitable one at which no traveler was refused food and shelter, and the man was made welcome.  When he had an opportunity he confided the object of his visit to Mr. Reed.  He said he was a widower and well-to-do for those times, and that he heard of the lady teacher and came there to propose marriage to her, though he had never seen her before.  Mr. Reed, always good-natured and willing to assist to every worthy enterprise, assured him that he would put no impediment in his way and wished him success.

The traveler was ushered into the house and introduced all around and presented with a little more formality to the school ma'am then to the others.  By some sort of mind-reading or mental telegraphy it was soon understood by the whole family what the object of the stranger's visit was, and no doubt the school ma'am's mind was as acute to the prevailing impressions as any one.  The family had supper as usual and after it matters and things in general were discussed, and the visitor being quite an intelligent man sustained his share of the conversation very creditably.

Among the very interested observers of all that was going on was the hero of this tale, B. F. Reed, a son of the old gentleman, then a promising youth in his teens, late editor of the Advance and not unknown to fame in other ways, and a hired man who was then working for Mr. Reed. They sized up the situation and enjoyed it.  Finally when the usual bed time arrived, Mr. Reed, after showing the stranger where he might retire when he got ready, quietly motioned all the others off to bed, leaving the stranger and the school ma’am sole occupants of the sitting room.  Ben and the hired man slept upstairs, and in order to utilize space the stairway intersected the partition or the partition intersected the stairway, so that the three lower steps projected into the sitting room. When Ben and the hired man were going to bed they left the door on the stairway a little bit ajar, and retired to bed in good order.  They listened intently to catch the thread of the conversation that they knew was going on below, but could not.  Finally the hired man suggested that they get out of bed and sneak down the stairway to the door and listen and peek there.  So out of bed they sneaked and down the stairway, Ben in the lead.  They did not bother to dress, and be it remembered that farmer boys in those times did not wear the long night robe that is so popular with some gentlemen now-a-days, nor did they even wear drawers.  Ben got his eye to the opening to see and his ear alert to hear, while the hired man stood above him and peeked also or obtained the situation second handed from Ben.  Ben saw the anxious and business-like suitor hitch his chair over nearer and nearer to the coy maiden, and he caught snatches of the story that he was pouring into her ear.  They maintained their position on the stairs several minutes, Ben all eyes and ears to what was going on below, but it seems that the hired man was beginning to feel cold or that Satan tempted him to pay a trick on his unsuspecting confederate, for while Ben was stooped over to catch every syllable that was spoken, he put his foot on Ben’s back and gave him a shove that sent him through the doorway and sprawling on the floor at the feet of the astonished couple. Their surprise and indignation may be imagined as may Ben’s shame and discomfiture.  He sprang to run upstairs, but lo, that fiend of a hired man was holding the door closed on the inside and he could not get upstairs or out of sight.  He looked in every direction for a place to hide as he tugged frantically at the door, but saw none and wished the ground would swallow him, when his friend finally took pity on him and let him up.

Benjamin F. Reed in a later, more dignified pose

What might have been the fate of the gallant widower’s suit had not this unexpected incident occurred at the crucial moment cannot be told, but certain it is that he utterly failed, and it is not improbable that to this day he is cursing the fellow who so unexpectedly and in such undress uniform broke in upon his eloquent and pressing plea to the object of his devotions.  The suit was all off for that night and the suitor went to bed in no very pleasant mood.  But he was not a man to retreat at the first repulse, and the next day he visited the school and took part in the recitations.  The class in arithmetic was reciting in mensuration, and he talked learnedly of acute and obtuse angles and of perimeters and diagonals, but all to no avail, for the fair teacher was obdurate and would give him no countenance.  He gave up the siege and returned to whence he came, and has since been lost to Kossuth people.  The young lady got married to another and lives not a thousand miles away, having reared a fine family.

When the news of this incident reached Algona it set the little town roaring with laughter, and so tickled was the last O. E. Palmer that he hitched up his team and took his friend W. H. Nycum, now also deceased, down with him to see the stairway from which Ben was shot as from a catapult into the presence of the lovers, and laugh it out on the spot.  

The writer of the article is not identified, but I agree with his observation that when we look back at the early pioneer days, we sometimes dwell on the obstacles faced rather than contemplate the humorous situations encountered.  All the photos I have ever seen of Ben Reed show him as an adult in a very dignified pose.  It is delightful to think of him as a teenage boy caught up in such a shenanigan. 

If you want to learn more about the Reeds and others who are buried in Laurel Hill Cemetery in Irvington, I cordially invite you to attend the monthly meeting of the Kossuth County Historical Society on September 4^th.  We will be conducting a mini cemetery walk during which you will hear some of the stories of the residents who rest there.  It all starts at 6 pm at the cemetery which is located on the south side of Irvington.  So bring your lawn chair and join us for a walk through Laurel Hill.

Until next time,

Jean

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EARLY-DAY IRVINGTON - Part II

We continue with our story about the building of the fort in Irvington for protection from the Indians following the Spirit Lake Massacre.

Bride Remains as Cook.

But to return to our little settlement, all the women and children had been sent with the caravan excepting the bride and her sister, who concluded to take their chances of being killed by the Indians, and were installed as chief cooks for the garrison, remaining so to the end of the war.  Early in the morning of the same day that the caravan started, we also dispatched two men on horseback to Webster City, to secure arms and ammunition and they were instructed to hire a team to bring at once such as could be purchased.

The day was a very busy one, and by night we had our fort about half completed, and the scouts who had patrolled the prairie north and west reported no Indians in sight.

On one corner of the cross streets was a two-story house made of hewn logs, which was used as headquarters and a boarding house.  There was also a house on the other three corners of the same cross streets, and in these four houses we all gathered for the night, with instructions in case of an attack by the Indians to flee to headquarters.  A guard was also selected to patrol the garrison during the night.

From 1896 Plat of Kossuth County - 
"Old" Irvington was located directly
north of Irvington Station

Troublesome Visitor Ducked.

We had some fun along with our work, and during one morning one incident occurred which afforded much amusement for all but the one most concerned.  I had been installed as foreman of the crew who were to run the mill, and we were well at work sawing plank when a stalwart young man came among us, declaring that we were a set of damned fools to think we could fight Indians, and that he had no doubt but the Indians were on the war path; that they were likely to make a raid on the town any night, and murder all who remained, and he for one was not going to stay.

We told him, all right, to leave, but he persisted in trying to convince us of our folly and danger in language which we resented.  Finally, in jest more than anything else, I said to him, “You get out of here, or we’ll chuck you in the river,” which was but a few rods from the mill.  He immediately jerked off his coat, threw it on the ground, and defied the whole crowd.  As he turned to reply to something said by one of the boys I leaped on his back, throwing my arms around both of his, and, clasping my hands tightly in front of him, sang out, “Come on boys, let’s chuck him in.”  It was no quicker said than done, and the whole crew made a rush, grabbed him by the arms and legs, and started for the river.

Victim Departs With Threat.

He was still defiant, and we lowered him feet first into the water up to his knees.  Still defiant, we dropped him in to his thighs, and gave him another chance to retract, but he became sullen, and would make no promises.  We then chucked him in up to his shoulders, with the admonition if he did not promise to get out at once the next chuck would be final.  This subdued him, and he said he had changed his mind, and if we would let him out he would go home, and inform his people of the situation and return to help us.

Guns and Ammunition Arrive.

At the end of the second day we had the wall of our fort all erected, and the messengers sent out to secure arms and ammunition had returned, closely followed by a team bringing about forty shotguns and rifles, with powder and shot, and lead for making bullets.  Percussion caps had come into use, but the guns were muzzle-loaded, and each charge of powder and shot had to be rammed in.

The men bringing the ammunition had met the caravan early in the morning, and heard their heartrending stories, but as they also had met the Californian on his return from Johnson’s Point they learned from him the true situation.

Unusual Sound Alarms Settlers.

About eight o’clock that evening an incident occurred which gave us a chance to show our bravery as Indian fighters.  While we were all assembled at headquarters, playing cards, swapping lies, and having a general good time, a mournful sound came from the barn which was located a few rods back of the house.  It sounded as though the cattle were lowing, either in pain or fear, and the sound was repeated at short intervals.  The immediate conclusion was that the Indians were torturing the cattle, causing them to make the mournful sound, for the purpose of drawing the settlers out into the open.  It was a well-known Indian trick for surprising unsuspecting settlers, and we concluded at once that Indians were responsible for the unusual sound. 

The command was given, “to arms,” and each man seized his gun.  A hasty consultation was held, and it was decided to send a small squad to the barn to investigate, while the balance of the company should be held in readiness for battle.  The captain called for six volunteers, and three times the number stepped forward.  Six men were selected, the writer being among the number, and we proceeded slowly towards the barn, guided by the mournful sound.  As we neared the barn the sound seem to come from behind it, so we made a detour to the rear of the barn, and finally locating the sound as coming from the roof of a shed at the rear of the barn.

Steer Cause of Commotion.

The rafters of the shed roof were round poles, placed about two feet apart, and these were entirely covered with prairie hay.  During the winter the snow had drifted in behind the shed above the eaves, and a two-year old steer had gone up over the snow onto the roof, and his weight had forced his feet through the hay, so he was suspended astride of a pole, his feet and legs hanging inside the shed, while his body rested on the roof.

The whole affair was so ridiculous that we shouted with laughter, and called the balance of the company to help us rescue the “enemy” and enjoy the victory.  After the steer was removed from his uncomfortable position, and placed in the barn for the night, the “soldiers” returned to headquarters, and enjoyed a good night’s sleep.  It was our first, last, and only battle; no shots were fired and no one was hurt.

Another time we were all prepared for an attack, but it proved to be only the old cat rattling the door knob, as was his habit when he wanted to come in.

Third Day Passes Quietly.

We spent the third day making two rows of portholes in the walls of the fort and spiking heavy slabs over the cracks outside.  The first row of holes was made four feet above the ground, and the other row eight feet from the ground.  Those for the rifles were four inches long, by two high, made by boring two holes side by side with a two-inch auger.  For the shotguns a third hole was bored above the center of the other two, making an opening four inches long, by four inches high in the center, running to two inches high at the outside.

The day passed without excitement or any unusual occurrence to disturb the peace and quietude of the garrison, and no further work was done on the fort.

From History of Kossuth County published in 1913

Scare Subsides Without Raid.

While all this excitement and preparation was going on, the small band of Indians that was the cause of it was hastening westward with its plunder and captives towards what was then known as the “Yankton Territory,” now South Dakota.  Shortly after leaving Spirit Lake they murdered two of the young women carried away, but the third was rescued about three months later, and returned to her home in Minnesota, and afterwards wrote a book giving the details of the massacre and the hellish deeds of the Indians.

Nothing more was done in preparation for war, and as the excitement soon subsided the military company disbanded.  The caravan that had gone to Webster City returned, families were reunited, and our little community settled down again to its usual routine.  No more work had been done on the fort, but it stood for many years in its uncompleted state, as a reminder of the imaginary Indian War, and it was three months before we fully recovered from the effects of the disturbance along the frontier in northern Iowa, and southern Minnesota.


This is perhaps the best story I have read about how the Irvington fort came to be.  The memories preserved therein obviously remained very vibrant in the mind of Mr. Robinson who chose to write them down so many years after they occurred.  I for one am thankful that he did.    

Until next time,

Jean

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EARLY-DAY IRVINGTON - Part I

Every now and then I happen upon a little gem of history when I am researching an entirely different topic.  The story that I am about to share certainly fits that bill.  My next two posts will share the memories of O. W. Robinson, an early settler of the Irvington area, as he recalls the building of the fort in Irvington during the frightening days following the Spirit Lake massacre.  This article was read at a meeting of the Kossuth County Historical Society and then published in the December 27, 1916 edition of the Kossuth County Advance.  Part I begins with the introduction from the newspaper article:  

  

The reminiscences of early-day Irvington at the time of the Indian war scare presented herewith were written by O.W. Robinson, who was boss sawyer at the Irvington sawmill at the time the occurrences which he describes took place.  Mr. Robinson was also one of the county’s first sheriffs.  He left this county after a short residence here, and is now living retired at Chassell, Mich.  This article was first published in some Michigan newspaper, a copy of which Mr. Robinson addressed to Levi W. Parsons, who died many years ago.  The paper was delivered to M. de L. Parsons, who gave it to President Reed, of the county historical society.  Mr. Reed selected from it the portions here given, as thus revised, the paper was read by Miss Zelda Reed at the recent annual meeting of the historical society.

News of Spirit Lake Massacre.

In April of 1857 there occurred at Spirit Lake, Iowa, a massacre committed by a small band of Sioux Indians.  At that time all of the northern part of Iowa, except along the Mississippi river, was called frontier, and the settlements were few and far between.  I was then living at Irvington in Kossuth county.

The first news of the massacre was spread by a young trapper who chanced to visit the settlement a few days after the tragedy.  As he approached the settlement he saw no signs of life, which he thought odd, and he received no response to his rap on the door of the first house he reached.  He opened the door, and entered the single room cabin, where he found piled in a corner and covered with straw the lifeless bodies of six people.  He did not wait to make further investigation, but sped on to the nearest settlement to spread the alarm, and as the news traveled it became exaggerated until the excitement and fear among the pioneer settlers became intense.

Military Companies Organized.

A volunteer military company was formed at Fort Dodge, and another at Webster City, and both companies marched immediately to the scene of the massacre, a distance of eighty miles or more.  They found no traces of the Indians, only the results of their hellish work, so they buried the dead, and retraced their steps homeward.

In the meantime the exaggerated reports had reached our little settlement in Kossuth county, but as we could trace none of the reports to an authentic source it was decided, at a hastily called meeting of the citizens, to send out a young man on horseback the next morning to learn the facts if possible.  He left early, and had gone about sixteen miles in the direction of Spirit Lake when he met the volunteer troops on their way home, learned from them the actual facts, and returned home the same evening.

Six Men Appointed Scouts

A meeting was held that night, and six men appointed as scouts to keep a lookout for Indians north and west of us, and to report each night.  They were furnished with fleet saddle horses, and directed to return at once if they saw any Indians.  No Indians were discovered in the neighborhood, so, after two days, the scouting was discontinued, and the settlers were becoming quite convinced that there was no immediate danger when a messenger appeared from the nearest settlement five miles north of us.  He informed us that Indians had been discovered some twenty miles north, apparently moving in the direction of our settlements.  He was greatly excited, and wanted our people to move up there, and join them in building a fort, as he felt sure that the Indians would reach the settlement in a day or two.

Another meeting was called that afternoon, and it was decided to send all the women and children to Webster City, and to build a fort and organize a military company at Irvington instead of going north with the messenger to his settlement.  About sixty men were enrolled in the military company, and a man by the name of Smith, from New Hampshire, was made Captain.  Mr. Carlon, from Pennsylvania, First Lieutenant, and myself Second Lieutenant.  We chose as our military advisor a man about seventy years old who had been a soldier and Indian fighter during the Black Hawk war.

Fort Built at Irvington

He drew the plan of our fort, which was a hundred feet square, with projecting corners, so that we could rake the four sides in case of an attack.  It was located on a level plat of ground, and constructed of four-inch plank, set endwise into trenches three feet deep, with twelve feet standing above the surface.  The plank were held together by two rows of plank spiked lengthwise along the top and middle of the uprights.  The material was donated by those having logs at a small custom sawmill there, and the mill-crew volunteered their services to help.

It was an exciting and busy day for all hands, but conducted in a systematic manner, and by nightfall everything was in readiness to begin our defense against a possible raid by the Indians, and the day closed with the impromptu wedding of a young couple who had intended marrying later in the year.

Wedding Interrupts Preparations

A license was hastily procured, and all hands invited to the wedding, which was held at the home of the bride’s parents at eight o’clock in the evening.  All the young people attended; the bride’s younger sister was the bridesmaid and your humble servant the best man.  A justice of the peace performed the ceremony, and after congratulations had been extended to the happy couple the festivities of the evening began, which, to say the least, were hilarious, and lasted a couple of hours.

The next morning everybody was up by daybreak and busy at the task assigned him by our military commander.  Some were digging the ditches for the fort, some sawing plank, others teaming them from the mill to the location of the fort, and still others setting them upright in the three foot ditches, and tamping the earth solidly around them, taking care at the same time to keep the sides in perfect line.

Women Leave for Webster City

The older men made the preparations for taking the women and children to a place of safety, as they were to accompany them.  Ox teams and prairie “schooners” were our only mode of conveyance, and by noon the caravan was ready, and started for Johnson’s Point, about twelve miles down the east fork of the Des Moines River.  Here they expected to camp the first night, and cross the prairie the next day to the Boone River, which they would follow down to Webster City.

They reached Johnson’s Point early in the evening, made camp, and were just in the midst of preparing supper when two young men from a small settlement three miles farther down the river rushed in, and said that Indians had been seen standing on a mound a few miles west of the settlement that afternoon.  They said the settlers had all been ferried across the river, and started for Fort Dodge, some thirty miles down the river, and that they had come to warn the settlers at Johnson’s Point and at other places along the Boone River and across the prairie.

Panic Over News of Indians.

This information created a panic and without finishing their supper everything and everybody were immediately loaded into the schooners, the oxen hitched up, and the caravan started on its way again, marching all night, with the two men leading it.  One of the women of the party told me afterwards that they spent a dreadful night.  She feared the reports might be true, and the Indians attack them, and she was utterly disgusted with the men who had charge of the party. The oxen were urged forward with a vigorous application of long whips, while only subdued tones were used in speaking, and a small dog which persisted in barking was held by the hind legs so the hind wheels ran over it breaking its neck.

About daybreak they reached some settlements on the Boone River, the first house being that of a young California couple, about three miles from the other houses.  The young men had walked in advance of the caravan, and they told the Californian of the situation, but as he was a man of some experience in frontier life, and at that time his wife was very sick, with a sister taking care of her, he was more concerned over her recovery than a probable Indian raid.  He sent the young man on, and, taking his rifle, went out to meet the caravan, which he did some two miles distant.

One Pioneer Not Stampeded.

He listened to the exaggerated reports concerning the Indians, their stories of having seen reflections of burning villages in their travel across the prairie, and their entreaties that he and his family join them in their flight to Webster City, and told them in no uncertain language that he did not believe a word of their reports, and ordered them to pass his house quietly, in order not to disturb his sick wife.  He piloted them past his place, rifle in hand, and then, leaving his sick wife in charge of her sister, he mounted his swiftest horse, and galloped across the prairie to Johnson’s Point, where he found young Johnson, who had also refused to join the caravan.

From Johnson he learned that there were no Indians in sight, and that no lights of burning villages had been seen, so he turned back and went home.

Meanwhile the caravan had reached Webster City in a state of frenzied excitement, and spread the groundless reports of their escape, the burning of the villages, and the probable massacre of those that stayed behind.  At the same time they entered Webster City from the north a volunteer military company entered from the Des Moines.  They had heard reports that the Indians were about to make a raid on Webster City, and had come to help defend the place. 

Stay tuned for Part II.

Notes from KCHB:  The military advisor described in the story would likely have been an older Irvington resident by the name of John Edwards who had been a soldier and Indian fighter. The bride and groom mentioned would have been the first couple married in Kossuth County.  They were William Moore and Sarah Wright who were married at the home of her parents, Jacob and Nancy Wright on April 22, 1857, by Justice of the Peace George Wheeler.  William later served as a soldier in Company A, 32nd Iowa Infantry and died at Cape Girardeau, Missouri, on December 30, 1862.

Until next time,

Kossuth County History Buff

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