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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THE BEE

I was recently asked to do a presentation at the annual meeting of the Kossuth County Historical Society about the “The Bee” -- the first “newspaper” in Kossuth County.  I thought that many of you might also enjoy knowing a little about this handwritten paper that first brought the local news to members of the Monday Reading Club.

ALGONA IN 1857  

Before we take a closer look at The Bee, it would be a good idea to see what Algona was like in 1857.  Lewis H. Smith had surveyed the town and a plat had been filed by Asa C. Call on December 2, 1856.  While the plat looks very official and gives the impression of settlement, you can see that the photo states, “The little cabins and framed shacks were connected only by paths in a tangle of weeds and the site was full of scattered ponds.”

At the time there were 16 residences (including the Blackford home which was technically outside city limits and Bachelors Hall which served as housing to various individuals for several years).  Also located on the town site was the Town Hall, St. Nicholas Hotel, the Benschoter blacksmith shop, Major Williams’ store, Lewis Smith’s office, and the Eggers Block.  Although I could not find a head count, I would guess that there were approximately 75-100 people that lived in Algona by December of 1857.

At the time, all news was received either by citizens returning after trips to replenish supplies or by stage coach mail delivery.  The stage road between Algona and Fort Dodge was well marked, with a stop in Irvington.  How regularly those stages ran in 1857 is not documented.  But no local news was reported in any formal way.

The majority of settlers in Algona were adventurers, giving up comfortable lives in civilization to venture out into the unknown frontier.  Now that they had chosen a permanent settlement to build into their own city, they yearned for more than just the physical comforts they had left behind.  Among the citizens were several college educated members such as Asa Call, Havens Watson, and Dr. Franklin McCoy, all of whom would go on to edit issues of The Bee. Many of the others had received a good education and all citizens yearned for social and cultural activities to enrich their lives of hard work and depravation.

SOCIAL AND EDUCATIONAL CLUBS ESTABLISHED

To nourish that hunger, several clubs were soon founded in the little settlement.  The Monday Reading Club was formed along with the Literary Circle and the Council Fire.  One of the other highlights was Father Chauncey Taylor’s Singing School.  Father Taylor was a big influence on the community being the driving force behind the building of the Town Hall which was also used as a school and a meeting house for church services.  It was likely he that persuaded his daughter, Harriette, to edit the first edition of “The Bee.”  And so on December 27, 1857, she stood on the board floor of the J. W. Moore log cabin and read the paper which consisted of seven handwritten pages and one page of magazine clippings.  The cabin was only 16 x 20 feet in size so it is likely that it was crowded, with people seated wherever they could find a place, which probably included chairs, beds, fireplace hearth, and possibly the floor.

I don’t know about you, but I have a tendency to get “drawn in” to stories, imagining what it would have been like to be present at these gatherings.  Who was there?  What kind of refreshments were served?  What were the weather conditions I would have had to travel through to get there?  Some of those who could have been in attendance were members of the Rist family including Mr. and Mrs. Luther Rist, their son, Francis, and his wife, Eugenia Kennedy Rist; Mary and Havens Watson; Lewis H. Smith; Asa and Sarah Call; and the Call brothers’ sister, Mary Blackford and her husband, John.  Others in the community who perhaps attended the event were James and Electa Henderson; Charles Gray and his wife; Oliver Benschoter; and Elias Weaver.

THE READING OF THE FIRST ISSUE

Can you picture it?  A young woman of 23, standing somewhat nervously and yet proudly in front of the members of the Reading Club and perhaps a few others in that log cabin on a cold winter’s night, sharing the stories she had either written, clipped from magazines or collected from contributors, including her father.  

She began with the following:

“We are happy to present to our friends this first number of “The Bee” as the first paper published in this “little world of Algona” and tho now small and may be insignificant in the eyes of many, still we have sanguine hope that it will thrive and before many years stand the first and oldest among our village papers.  A person when first starting in an enterprise like this feels rather delicately.  Many fears arise wether the paper will suit the readers.  Knowing there are as many minds as persons and also knowing that unless all these minds are satisfied we are the losers, we feel still more anxiety than we would otherwise.

“The Bee is intended to be strictly a neutral paper.  We shall strive to please all by offending none.  It will abound in wit and humor—be graced with sound intellectual studies and pleasing stories—have all the news of the day—we hope none of the gossip.  We have able correspondents for The Bee who will favour it with their productions from time to time.  A few advertisements will be inserted just to help pay expenses.  We have tried to tell you—imperfectly however—what we shall strive to make The Bee, and we humbly beg our friends to stand by us and not allow it to sink into obscurity as the paper in our neighbouring county has done.”

That issue of The Bee contained wide ranging articles.  Father Taylor questioned what kind of bee the newspaper would be comparing it to a honey bee or perhaps a quilting bee, encouraging it to be sweet and profitable, palatable and useful.  A gentleman with the pen name “Aldro Linden” wrote a delightful story about a wagon ride taken by a group of young people through a dark winter night to an unidentified log cabin where they surprised its unsuspecting resident.  Mr. Linden was sure that the identity of the revelers and their destination would soon be disclosed by the “Tattletown association.”  XYZ submitted a piece praising the establishment of a newspaper.  The marriage of Wm. D. Eaton to Nancy H. Kellogg, daughter of H. Kellogg of Cresco was announced.

THE LOST IS FOUND

According to the book “The Algona Bee” written by Harvey Ingham in 1922, no one knows how many issues were published of The Bee.  We do know however that 23 survived.  When they came into his possession, Mr. Ingham had them bound in a book which he delivered to the State Historical Society of Iowa in Des Moines for preservation and safekeeping. 

The Kossuth County Genealogical Society began a project five years ago to digitize all historical county newspapers.  As a part of that project we had hoped to digitize and offer online the surviving issues of “The Bee.”  However, when we contacted the State Historical Society to make arrangements, the book could not be found.  I discussed this with a representative of the Advantage Companies which is the company that has the contract to do the microfilming and digitizing for the Society.  She recommended that I contact Delpha Musgrave, a long time staff person at the State Historical Society.  I was told that if anyone could find it, it would be Delpha. 

I wrote to Delpha, giving her as much information as I could about the book to aide her search.  I believed that Harvey Ingham wrote his book “The Algona Bee” after 1920 and from references in “Early Algona” written by Florence Call Cowles and published in 1929, I knew that she had used The Bee book while writing her book.  To my extreme delight, Delpha soon contacted me to let me know that the lost had been found.  Rather than being returned to the area designated in State Historical Society records, the book had been filed with the personal papers of Harvey Ingham.

The Historical Society did allow the book to be released to Advantage Companies for possible digitization.  However, because it was handwritten with some fading ink on various sizes and colors of paper, they did not have the equipment to do the job properly.  We were disappointed at that news.  Delpha encouraged us to come look at the book ourselves so several of us decided it was worth a trip to Des Moines.  It was exciting to touch the manuscripts some of which were at least 158 years old.  We were privileged enough to be allowed to take photos of whatever we wanted.  We photographed each page.

We have started transcribing some of them and have found that they are not bound in order of publication.  Once we have them all transcribed, we will be able to put them into chronological order which will help us to piece together a better picture of life here in the 1850s.  

"THE ALGONA BEE" BY HARVEY INGHAM

I would encourage you to read Harvey Ingham’s book, “The Algona Bee” which is available at the Algona Public Library if you want to learn more about the life and times the Bee covered.  The book contains many excerpts from various issues of The Bee and puts them into historical perspective.  Harvey speaks of the early issues of the Bee reflecting the “effervescent spirits of the frontier before the panic.”  Later issues tell of the dampening hopes as the financial panic of 1857 spread across the country and of the wet summer of 1858 which caused a great flood of the Des Moines River.  The Bee suspended publication in March of that year and did not resume until November.

The last issue of The Bee was read in February of 1861.  By that time the Call brothers had acquired a printing press which had been hauled by Orange Minkler across the mud and sloughs from Des Moines.  The first issue of “The Kossuth County Press” was printed in August of 1860.  Ambrose Call purchased his brother’s interest in the paper and changed the name to “The Algona Pioneer Press” with the first issue printed on April 13, 1861.

“The Bee” filled a real need in the community, providing local news on a regular basis.  It also contributed to the socialization of the town as I am sure it helped to draw people to the meetings of the Reading Club.  I am thankful that those early settlers had the forethought to save a number of the issues of “The Bee” and that Harvey Ingham had them bound and preserved.  They truly provide us with an intimate look at life in the early days of Algona.  Harriette Taylor Stacy would be pleased to know that indeed her newspaper did not sink into obscurity, but instead is acknowledged as “the first and oldest of our village papers.”

Until next time,

Jean

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KOSSUTH'S FIRST MINISTER

Toward the end of the 19^th century, a group of early pioneers formed the “Old Settlers’ Association.”  They would meet on a regular basis, reminiscing about days gone by.  Quite often one of the members would prepare a story to be read at a meeting recalling a particular event or person of interest.

On September 11, 1895, J. E. Blackford presented a piece entitled “Kossuth’s First Minister.”  I expected the tale to be about the well-known Congregational pastor, Rev. Chauncey Taylor, or perhaps the Presbyterian minister Rev. McComb, both of whom served the small settlement of Call’s Grove in its early days.  However, Mr. Blackford’s story introduced me to a name I had never heard of before. I think you will find his story as interesting—and amusing—as I did. 

KOSSUTH’S FIRST MINISTER

_____

        On the evening of Oct. 10, 1855, I reached Algona—the Algona that was to be, for the town was not yet laid out.  As the guest of A. A. Call we stopped with the family of Levi Maxwell where he boarded.  Of all the good people among the pioneers of Kossuth county there was no family more kind and hospitable than that of Levi Maxwell.  His cabin was already full of boarders and how and where we all slept that night has been a mystery to me ever since.  It was an odd thing too that we slept our first night on the spot where we have since lived for forty years.

        I had lived in Indiana where that part of it was a wilderness, settling there before the Indians were removed from the county.  The early settlement of Indiana was made and the country developed in spite of the drawbacks and discouragements caused by the rough element found in most early settlements.  Drunkenness, fighting, gambling, horse racing and counterfeiting were common.  Among the good people were some of the very roughest characters then found in the west.  When I came to Iowa I was prepared, or at least expected to go through the experiences of my boyhood days, and to find and deal with the rough element usually found in new settlements.  Those of you who came here with the same fears know how agreeably we were disappointed.  But I did not then know it and you may judge of my surprise when I was told on the evening of the second day that we were to have preaching that night, and was more surprised to learn that this was the second visit the preacher had made to the settlement.  I want to recall a few things that I remember of this preacher.

        His name was Marks.  I do not know if he was the Marks that figured in Uncle Tom’s Cabin, but he did figure in the Maxwell cabin.  Presently he made his appearance.  He was long past middle life and dressed in the most ordinary clothing, no starch about him.  He lived at Polk City more than a hundred miles down the river.  He drove a span of ponies to a light wagon, and in the wagon, he had a sack of corn, and a very long rope.  There were no bridges in those days and the rope was to tie to the wagon to draw it over, after the preacher had swam himself and the horses across.  The corn was to feed the ponies, so that the settlers should not have them to feed.  Such a man was Marks our first preacher.  His first utterances proved him to be certainly the most ignorant man who ever undertook to preach.  I thought I had known one in Indiana who was the peer of any man living in that line, but he could not compare with Rev. Marks.  His scripture lesson was read after this style:  In t-h-o-s-e (spelling it out) those, days c-a-m-e came, John the B-a-p-t-i-s-t Baptist p-r-e-a-c-h-i-n-g preaching, in the wil, wil, w-i-l-d-e-r-n-e-s-s wilderness, say, saying repent ye, for the k-i-n-g-d-o-m kingdom of h-e-a-v-e-n heaven is at hand.  The reading of the hymn was after the same manner and the singing still more interesting.  He asked someone to start a tune, and I have never quite forgiven the good singers present that they did not do it.  He said:  “Well I don’t know as I can do it, but I’ll try,” and try he did and failed, and tried again and failed again.  He then whistled a bar or two, and then sang a line or two of some very familiar hymn, finally dropping down on the hymn selected.  Then followed the prayer.  It was the most unique one ever uttered anywhere.  He had a fashion of praying directly for what he thought we ought to have.  No beating around the bush.  He went straight to the mark.  A few examples.  Judge Call was building and talking Algona.  The preacher said:  “Lord God, please to put something in Judge Call’s head besides building a steam saw mill, and a town.”  He also prayed earnestly that the Lord would bless the old bachelors, adding:  “For Lord thou knowest their cabins are desolate enough without wife or children.”  He also put up a fervent petition for the young man with the wife and two little boys, who had come out from the big settlements.  That meant me, and he only alluded to me in that way because he did not know my name.  I felt to join heartily in his supplication, for if ever a man needed help and guidance, it was the man who had just came out of the big settlements.  Mrs. Maxwell was known as a religious woman.  He earnestly plead with the Lord to bless Mrs. Maxwell, adding:  “For Lord thou knowest she is the only Christian in all this country.”  And he made himself the Lord’s agent too, for the next morning she found a dollar under his plate.  The sermon that followed was in line with the prayer, a jumble of good thoughts and good advice, given in bad grammar and murdered English.  After a few weeks Marks made another visit and again preached.  It was a repetition of the same circus.  In his sermon he spoke of a body exhumed that had turned to stone.  He said:  “And when the grave was opened the woman was found verbatim.”  The broad smiles on the faces about him made him think he might be mistaken, and he was quick to acknowledge it.  He said:  “I see you laugh, I hain’t got much larnin.  I wonder if I didn’t get the wrong word?  Yes I know I did.  I meant that the woman was peter, peter, peterified.  Well maybe it is not quite right yet.”

        Marks had a brother in York state who was really a famous preacher of the Free-will Baptist church.  Mr. Snock, a boarder who knew the brother said so to the preacher, and Marks exclaimed, “And did you know my brother Joseph.  Ah well he was a smarter man than I am.”  And Snock who was a matter of fact sort of fellow answered, “That’s a fact.”   That night he went home with me.  He was a good deal depressed.  He said, “I made a mistake tonight.  I saw them laugh.”  And just like a child he asked me:  “What word did I want to say?”  I told him that petrified was the word, but that he had it pretty near right, and that I thought verbatim expressed his idea very well.  He said:  “I am so glad you tell me.  I’ll never forget that again.”  He wanted me to advise him what to study but I was a little modest in recommending Webster’s spelling book, and so I told him that I should think he himself would know in what branches he was most deficient.  “Well,” he said, “I don’t know.  Some folks tell me that I ought to study geography.“  He said:  “I have preached 38 years and I don’t know as I ever converted a single soul.  I don’t know as I ever said anything that anybody remembered an hour.”  I tried to cheer up the good man, and told him he could not know what a good influence he was exerting, and that many years before I had heard him preach when I was a boy, and that I remembered a part of his sermon very well.  He expressed the greatest pleasure and said if I had remembered perhaps someone else had too, and he should keep on preaching.  I was glad that he did not ask me what part of his sermon I remembered so well.  I will tell you the gist of it:  “He was a young man.  Went up the Connecticut river one Sunday.  Rested in a butternut grove.  Stole some of the butternuts.  On his way down the river his conscience smote him and he felt that he ought to take the butternuts back, but it was up stream, the current swift, and a hot day.  So he went on down the river, but he determined he would not eat the butternuts, and did not, but sold them and bought a bible, and thank God he has it yet.”

        At Judge Call’s he insisted against the Judge’s strong remonstrance, in chopping wood to pay his way and when he left he shook hands and gave us a cordial invitation to his home at Polk City.  He said:  “Your oxen will be hungry, and I may not be there, but you will find hay and sheds for your oxen, and something in the house for yourselves, and it may save you a dollar or two, and it will come good too, for though you may have gold to sling about now, the time will come when you will need all you can get.”  He said: “Come in welcome.  We’re pretty well off, but I tell you since we come to Iowa it has been root hog or die.  But I thank God,” and here he cast his eyes reverently toward heaven, “we’ve got the acorns by rooting.”

        Such was Marks our first preacher, who left his home to travel over a wilderness and ford swollen streams and bottomless sloughs to preach to us heathens, bringing his own feed and anxious to work for his board lest he should be a burden to the people he longed to serve.  No pay or hope of reward except the hope of doing good.  Many ministers have followed him, educated men, eloquent men, men who were faithful to their trust, but among them all no one has ever impressed me more favorably as an unselfish, devoted minister of Christ, and none whose memory I revere more than I do that of Reverend Marks, our first preacher.

Thank you, Mr. Blackford, for giving us a glimpse of life here in its earliest days.

Until next time,

Kossuth County History Buff

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THE WINTER OF 1978-79

Many articles have been written about the winters of 1915 and 1936-37 and from photos that I have seen, they were quite severe.  When I hear someone talk about a bad winter, however, my thoughts always turn to the worst winter I have ever experienced -- that of 1978-79.  My thanks to my mother-in-law, Irene Kramer, for sharing her photos of that time with me.

My husband and I had been married for several years and our first child had been born in May of 1978.  We lived in an old farmhouse about five miles southwest of Algona.  Not well insulated and with old leaky windows, it was heated with an oil burner in the living room and a wood stove in the kitchen.  We were on the old Irvington power line which frequently went down when high winds arose.  With a six month old in the house, we did our best to keep it as warm and cozy as possible. 

WINTER BEGINS

By the middle of November of 1978, winter had settled in with a six inch snowfall on the 17^th.  Traces of snow continued to fall for several days after that without leaving any measurable amounts.  Temps began to dip lower, with highs hovering around 15 degrees and lows in the single digits.  Thanksgiving Day brought two more inches and another inch on the 28^th finished out the month.

My brother-in-law and his wife lived just a mile north of us and were expecting a baby in early December.  Due to some issues with the pregnancy, it was recommended that the baby be delivered in Mason City which meant at least an hour long trip.  Several of the November snowfalls were accompanied by high winds.  The ditches along our gravel road at the time were shallow and narrow and it didn’t take long for them to fill in causing large drifts to accumulate on the road.  Although a date was set to induce labor, as each storm created more road problems, we worried that if she went into early labor she might not be able to make it to Mason City.  The day before the scheduled induction, five inches of snow was added to the growing piles increasing our concern.  We were thankful that everything went as planned with her safe arrival at the hospital on the 4^th and the delivery of their healthy baby boy later that day.

Electric line poles February, 1979

The December snowfalls were just beginning though.  A two-day blizzard arrived on the 8^th.  Although not much new snow arrived, the snowflakes that did fall were described as being “cotton ball-sized.” Those along with what was already on the ground were swept up in 30 mph winds creating large drifts and zero visibility at times.  Highs of -1° contributed to dangerous travel conditions.  School classes and all related activities were cancelled.

Although wind seems ever present on this prairie that we love, it didn’t even take a fresh snowfall for the winds to create problems that winter.  Drifting seemed to be a constant complication.  Then just a few days before Christmas we received another 4 inches of snow.  Besides creating travel difficulties, large drifts blew into farmsteads blocking entrances to farm buildings, clogging up feeding floors and endangering livestock. 

At that time we only owned one tractor with a cab on it which was not heated.  It did provide welcome relief from the prevailing winds, however, and my husband was thankful to have it.  All snow was moved with a bucket loader or by hand—no fancy snow blowers or other conveniences that we take for granted today.  Allen would usually move snow for a while and then come in the house to warm up near the wood stove where his gloves would be laid to dry. 

By this time our son was beginning to pull himself up and look out the window.  He loved to look out our south kitchen window where he could see Allen in the tractor moving snow.  The bitter cold kept us housebound and so those low placed windows provided much needed entertainment for him.  He delighted in seeing his daddy working outside.

JANUARY ARRIVES

We all looked forward to the beginning of 1979 in the hope that winter would have done her worst and we could begin the countdown to spring.  That turned out not to be the case. 

Snow plow going by on Jan. 14, 1979

A three-day blizzard began on January 11^th.  Eight inches of snow fell over that period.  Visibility was nil due to the high winds.  East-west traffic was non-existent.  Multiple vehicles, including a snow plow, became stuck in the drifts blocking Highway 18.  Local stores—Alco, K-Mart and Hood’s Super Valu—closed midafternoon on Saturday due to the severity of the weather and lack of shoppers.  On Saturday night, January 13^th, the thermometer read -17°.

An article in the January 18, 1979 edition of the Algona Upper Des Moines relates the story of the Ed and Judy Otis family who provided food and shelter to 27 stranded motorists during that storm.  Living along Highway 18 just east of Wesley, their home became a safe haven to storm weary travelers who considered themselves lucky to have found the driveway to the Otis home in white-out conditions.

Drifts between buildings

Piles of snow along the roads and in yards were getting higher and higher.  Roads drifted shut on a regular basis whether there was new snowfall or not.  Not that we lacked for additional snowfall—three inches on January 26th and two inches on the 27^th added to the growing snowbanks.  We could not count on regular mail delivery any more.  If and when you were lucky enough to get to town, you picked up the mail at the post office. 

In late January I went back to work for a local law firm, working in their tax department.  By this time the gravel road leading north from our home was almost impassable.  It was now a one lane path through a mountain of snow.  The few times that I had to take that road I prayed until I was more than half way through because that meant if I met another car, the other driver would be the one that would have to back up until it could get out of the way to let me to pass.  That winter my normal route became turning south out of my drive, turning east onto the blacktop at the first intersection, and catching Highway 169 to take into town.

One lane on gravel road

FEBRUARY BLAST

Snow plow going by 2/9/1979

The month of February arrived with cold temps but relatively little snowfall—a half inch on 3^rd and an inch on the 8^th.  About the time we got our hopes up, Mother Nature decided she wasn’t through with us yet as another blizzard blew in on February 15^th, lasting two days.  Both major highways were closed due to seven to eight foot drifts blocking all lanes.  Abandoned cars blocked roads leading to chain reaction pileups.  Clearing roads was nearly impossible and the State of Iowa called in their plows at 1:44 pm the first day of the storm.  Temperatures plunged over 50° in less than 24 hours with the mercury at -20° and wind chill at -70°.  Emergency calls took hours for response.

The severity of the weather caused a ripple effect throughout the area.  School closings had extended the school year well into summer.  Fuel and electric bills were at all-time highs.  Area businesses suffered as shoppers were unable to get into town except to prepare for the next round of storms.

FINALLY MARCH

Mailbox and road heading north

Toward the end of February, temperatures began to moderate and snowfall lessened to just an occasional trace.  March came in like a lamb with a high on the 1^st of 34° and a low of 19°.  However, Old Man Winter laughed at us once again.  On the weekend of March 4^th and 5^th, he dumped 8 more inches on us.  Rain had fallen before the snow began, creating an ice covering over all surfaces.  The blizzard conditions, coupled with the ice, created a treacherous travel environment.  Mayor Harold Van Allen made special arrangements with the city crews to keep the streets leading to Good Samaritan Center plowed and with the local police to transport workers to and from the nursing home so that care of the residents would not suffer.

WINTER ENDS

Snowfall for the winter finally stopped by the end of March.  In all, the area received more than 55 inches that season.  Kossuth County ended up spending $500,000 that winter for snow removal.  With their original budget estimate of $75,000 completely blown away, the excess funds that were spent had to be taken out of other parts of the budget causing the postponement of some road and bridge projects originally scheduled to be completed in 1979.  Spring flooding also caused a number of issues as the mountains of snow began to melt.

As for me, I was thankful to see that winter come to an end.  Our little boy hated to be bundled up to leave the house and he was anxious to get outside and explore the farm without the need for snowsuit, boots, caps and gloves.  I was ready for travel on our gravel road to return to normal and my husband to be relieved from the constant battle of moving snow.

We didn’t know it at the time, but 1979 would go on to be known for a much greater weather event than its hard winter, but that is another story for another day.

Until next time,

Jean, a/k/a Kossuth County History Buff

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THE PICTURESQUE SIMPKINS HOUSE

One of the most distinctive homes of its day is located at 504 East McGregor in Algona.  It is another of the houses featured in the book “Picturesque Algona.”  Most recently it has served as an apartment house, but at the time of construction, it was considered a “model of architecture and an ornament to that part of our growing young city.”

The owner at the time of publication of “Picturesque Algona” in 1900 was George Simpkins and his wife, Hulda.  They had purchased the home in 1889 when they retired from the farm. 

THE VAUGHN FAMILY

The house itself began its life in 1884 when it was built by attorney H.S. Vaughn and his spouse, Ella.  Harrison Samuel Vaughn had been born in New York State in 1846.  He enlisted in Company A of the 8^th New York Heavy Artillery, completing his service as a Colonel, but not before losing his right arm at the battle of Cold Harbor.  After receiving an honorable discharge from the army, Harrison went to law school at Wisconsin State University.  He came to Algona in 1870 and hung out his shingle.  The 24 year old was soon busy building his reputation as a litigator.

Vaughn’s personal life was blossoming as well.  In 1872 he married Maine native, Ella Delano, and their lives were soon filled with a growing family.  First daughter Mary Winifred was born later that year, followed by sons, Sidney, in 1876, and Harold in 1882.  With three children, it was definitely a busy household.  The young couple also enjoyed entertaining and often hosted gatherings including ice cream socials to raise funds for the Ladies’ Aid Society of the M.E. Church.

By 1884, it was time for a larger house.  Construction began soon after the Vaughns purchased the lots.  The new residence was described as 26 x 40 foot with 20 foot posts.  The cost of creation was estimated at $3,000.  The family moved in to their new dwelling in October, just in time for the birth of daughter, Florence, on December 20^th.  One more son, Courtland, would join the family in 1888.  The home was filled with the noise of their busy, bustling clan.

They were busy in the community too.  Harrison served one term as county auditor, helped to organize the Northern Iowa Normal School and served as president of its board, was on the committee to bring the Iowa Central railroad to Algona, and was a member of both the local G.A.R. post and the Odd Fellows’ Lodge.  It was a true loss to the community when the family decided to move to Denver, Colorado in 1889.  A farewell banquet was held at the Thorington Hotel in their honor, a silver berry dish was presented to Ella by her friends as a token of remembrance, and her Sunday school class from the Methodist Church (which consisted of all young men), arranged to have their photo taken with her at the Hudson & Shadle Photography Studio.

The house next passed to Charles Dexter who, it appears, never lived in the house.  Within a few months of purchase, he rented the house to George Simpkins who desired to rent for a year before purchasing.  He and his wife would go on to reside there for 10 years.

THE SIMPKINS FAMILY

George Simpkins was born in England and traveled with this parents to Wisconsin at the age of 7.  The journey was indeed precarious.  The drunken captain caused a shipwreck while on Lake Ontario and the family lost all of its worldly goods.  Devastated by this loss, the seven children went without shoes and had very little clothing the first winter spent in Wisconsin.  All of the children who were old enough were required to work to help support the family and at a young age George got a job on a farm.  While oiling a threshing machine, his clothing became entangled and he was pulled into the contraption, severing his left arm above the elbow.  Much like Harrison Vaughn, he would never let his disability hamper his future.

On July 4, 1864 he was married to Huldah Peck in Madison, Wisconsin and they moved to Kossuth County seven years later, settling in Union Township.  They went on to acquire 400 acres of land and built a large cattle operation despite the devastation caused by the grasshopper plague in 1872-73.  The couple had four children:  Henry, Nellie and Nettie who reached adulthood and little Charlie who died in infancy. 

The family was very active in the Baptist church.  George served on the building committee in 1892 when a new church was constructed and Huldah was active in its women’s group.  George was also an enthusiastic member of the Odd Fellows for 25 years. 

After spending almost 20 years on the farm, the couple moved into the Vaughn house on McGregor Street.  They enjoyed living in the beautiful home.  Unfortunately, by 1900 Huldah’s health began to fail.  It was recommended that she move to California in the hope that the moderate temperatures would be improve her situation.  By the time the book “Picturesque Algona” was actually published, the Simpkins had sold the house to E.J. Gilmore and left for California.  The move proved to be successful.  The Simpkins enjoyed their years there until Huldah’s passing in October of 1919.  After her death, George wintered in California and came back to Algona in the summer to spend time with their daughter, Mrs. Hugh Herman, until he died in December of 1923.

THE GILMORE FAMILY

Edwin J. Gilmore had come to Kossuth County from Illinois in 1881 with his parents, settling on a farm in Riverdale township.  He married Minnie Smith in 1884 and they farmed together for a few years.  In 1888 they came to Algona where E.J. opened a grocery store.  The turn of the century was indeed an eventful time for the Gilmores.  Besides purchasing the large attractive new home, Gilmore sold his store and opened a real estate and insurance agency in partnership with his friend, Archie Hutchison. 

Ed and Minnie were described as “staunch” members of the Methodist Church in Algona where Ed served for decades on the board of trustees, had served as church treasurer for many years and also was on the committee when the present church was constructed. Minnie participated in all activities of the congregation wherever she was needed.

The two had one child, Harold Gilmore, and two very loved grandchildren, Edwin and Mary Louise. 

The Gilmores spent the rest of their married life together in the home on McGregor Street until E.J.’s passing in 1939.   Minnie moved to a smaller cottage on South Minnesota Street where she died in her sleep in December of 1950.

The house in 2016

As I research these stories there often appears one or two facts or incidents that pull at my heartstrings.  In this particular situation, I find it interesting that this home served two men with devastating disabilities—the first who lost his right arm in battle to preserve our union and the second who lost his left arm working as a child to build a better future for his family.  The lives they went on to lead are a testament to their courage and resilience. The house itself has had many other residents since their day and will likely serve many more in the future, but none more remarkable than Vaughn and Simpkins.

Until next time,

Jean

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