THE OLD MILL

One of my past posts told the story of the drowning of the young wife and two small children of Professor F.M. Shippey near the old mill.  Following that post I had several comments or questions concerning the mill itself and so I decided to delve into the history of the business. I grew up in the neighborhood where the mill was located and remember hiking in the area near the river as a child.

THE ERECTION OF THE MILL

In 1865 at the time the Civil War was still raging, a Mr. M. M. Foster began the construction not only of a saw mill but also the creation of a dam.  The mill was nestled on the south side of the bend of the river just west of the bridge across Old Mill Drive (which later became known as Highway 169) and north of today’s Veterans Park Drive.  In its early days, John Heckart, father of Sarah Call, operated a turning lathe there which he used to manufacture many pieces of furniture and other specialty items. 

Note wooden bridge over river

The original dam was constructed of brush and dirt by Mr. Foster which many locals believed to be unwise.  They were proven right when an enterprising muskrat burrowed his way through the dam.  Within an hour the rushing torrents swept away the dam and rolled the mill into the river.  Thankfully, J. E. Stacy came to the rescue, purchasing a half interest in the property.  With the help of the community a more substantial dam was installed.  The building itself was enlarged and a stone for grinding flour was added. 

Jerome E. Stacy

This was the first flour mill in the area.  Up to this time grain had to be hauled to either Iowa Falls or Fort Dodge to be ground.  There were no mills to the west or north of Algona.  Charging $5 per sack of flour, Stacy found grist milling to be a very profitable part of the business. 

Stacy bought out Foster’s interest in 1868 and eliminated the saw mill entirely.  D. W. King later purchased a half interest in the mill and actually ran it for many years.  In 1881 J.B. Jones purchased King’s interest and remained as co-owner under the firm name “Stacy & Jones.”  These partners would go on to operate the mill for 16 years.

1896 plat map showing mill and all three dams

During Jones tenure, two additional dams were installed to head off the river from cutting a new channel across the flat.  The old dam by the mill was also rebuilt on several occasions.  All of this came at a great cost to the owners.  It was estimated that over the years $5000 was spent in construction and maintenance of the dams alone.  They also enlarged the building, installed a boiler, an engine and improved machinery.

Note train on hill in background

The building was about 40x60 feet on the ground and 30 feet high.  The engine house was 18x30 feet.  The old portion of the building was framed in oak.

In 1897 Jones sold his interest to J.E. Stacy, making him once again the sole owner.  The following year Stacy sold a majority interest to Farmers’ Milling Company for $8,000.  The company had 125 shareholders with a board of directors consisting of C. Rickard, Myron Schenck, J.W. Wadsworth, C. Byson, H.W. Dryer, C.E. Heise, J.E. Stacy, James Nolan, and Sam Steussy.

A PHOTOGRAPHER’S DREAM 

The mill became a favorite for photographers of all skill levels.  It had been constructed on a scenic bend in the Des Moines river and the dam had created a mill pond nearby which was a popular spot for fishing, boating and swimming in the summer and ice skating in the winter.  The river in the area and the island to the north of the mill were lined with trees and shrubbery giving them a park-like appearance—just perfect for picture taking.  Postcards of children fishing along the banks of the river show the old mill as a backdrop and photos of the landmark graced calendars and other area advertising.

Metal bridge provided good view of dam

The bridge to the east of the mill was a favorite spot for spectators to view the dam, the mill and other activities in the area.  Visitors would sometimes spend several relaxing hours leaning on the side of the bridge watching the water tumble over the dam.

Unfortunately, the dam was also the site of several tragedies through the years.  In addition to the drowning of Mrs. Shippey and her children, Claude and Delta, a young Civil War veteran, O.A. Atwood, lost his life while swimming there on a hot summer afternoon.

A PIONEER RELIC GONE

While getting ready to turn in for the night around 10:30 p.m. on Friday, January 31, 1902, C.E. Heise happened to look out the north windows of his home located on the hill just to the south and noticed flames at the mill.  In a short time, many neighbors from the area rushed to the site.  Had buckets been available, it was theorized that the main part of the mill might have been saved.  However, by the time the fire department responded the flames were so hot the firemen could not get close enough to attempt to extinguish the fire.  The fact that the mill was situated beyond the water system of the city also limited the response.  Although not mentioned in the news articles of the time, the normal temperatures of a January night would surely have hampered any firefighting efforts.

The mill was soon engulfed with flames shooting up fifty feet high with the burning timbers giving off a white heat.  The main part of the building collapsed about 11:30 p.m. The intensity of the fire was sufficient to warp the new steel bridge over Old Mill Road slightly, but did not cause any serious damage. 

So how did the fire start?  Its origin was never officially pinpointed.  The mill had been closed that Friday for machinery repair.  When employees left that evening, there was no fire anywhere about the building nor had there been all day.  The blaze itself began on the north end of the engine room, away from the coal supply. 

There were several theories.  J.E. Stacy believed that someone fishing started a fire to keep warm and then did not fully extinguish the blaze before leaving.  The mill was banked with manure which could easily have ignited when an unattended fire spread to its location. 

A gentleman by the name of George Hollins claimed that when he was on his way home about 8 o’clock that evening he saw what appeared to be a lantern moving in the second story.  Had someone broken into the mill and started the fire?

Others thought the slack coal in the engine house spontaneously combusted causing the inferno.

Whatever the cause of the fire, it was soon discovered that the insurance policy covering the facility had expired just a few days before the event.  The milling company was incorporated which protected the private property of the stockholders with the exception of several board members who had guaranteed promissory notes.

Photo from 1913 History of Kossuth County showing road

PROTECTING THE DAM FOR THE TOWN

The community of Algona mourned the loss of this pioneer relic.  It wasn’t long, however, before citizens began to express their concern that the dam must be protected, especially if judgment creditors forced the property to be sold.  The high stage of water provided by the dam afforded a source of ice for Algona’s ice houses.  These businesses provided ice to creameries year round for a dozen miles in all directions. 

The City of Algona finally was able to purchase the dam for $250 in the spring of 1906 with plans of installing a dynamo to produce electricity, but also to provide a sufficient flow of water to clear sewage from the river so that ice could be provided to creameries and for other necessary uses.  I could not find any evidence that the dynamo project ever came to fruition.

TODAY

Today the bridge over the highway has been moved farther to the east and the “old mill road” has been redirected.  The channel of the river which cut to the north where dams were strategically installed to keep as much water flowing to the mill site as possible has been re-routed so that there is now only one channel that twists and turns through the north end of town.

Looking toward the site from the
bridge over Highway 169

It was said that J. E. Stacy would have died $50,000 richer if he had never seen the mill. Despite every effort to make the company successful, the old mill and the dams that served it were a poor business investment, due much to the fluctuating river levels.  Our early pioneers went to great lengths to bring innovation and progress to their new home, despite much personal financial and physical risk.  It is good that the memories of structures like the old mill linger on reminding us of their sacrifice.

Until next time,

Kossuth County History Buff

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THE ENTERPRISING LARS SORENSEN

The Kossuth County Genealogical Society received some photos and information from Jeanette Sorensen Ramseth who is the granddaughter of Lars Sorensen, long time grocer in Algona.  Among the materials she provided was a short rendition of her memories of growing up in Algona and facts about Sorensen Grocery Store which operated at the corner of State and Moore.  Those items in turn reminded me that Lars was featured in the book “Enterprising Men of Algona.”  With Jeanette’s permission, I want to use some of her materials along with my own research to recall the life of Lars Sorensen.

CAME FROM DENMARK

Lars was born in Albeck Skov, Denmark in 1869.  He was educated there and apprenticed as a butcher.  At the age of 21 he immigrated to the United States, coming directly to Kossuth County where he worked a time for Frank Winkel in his meat shop.  He left for a short period to work in Spencer and then in Chicago, but eventually came back to Algona where he opened his own meat market. 

He met a young woman by the name of Ida Olson and they were married December 11, 1895 in Burt.  Ida had come to the United States of America from Sweden four years before.  The newlyweds lived in Burt for three years before moving to Algona. 

Lars continued to run his meat shop until 1904 when another opportunity presented itself.  He and Wesley A. Dutton purchased the grocery business of Ed Gilmore and opened their own store known as “Dutton & Sorensen.”  Often known as the “Corner Grocery,” the business was located in the northeast corner of the intersection of State and Moore.  Besides stocking staples like flour and sugar, they carried a large selection of canned goods, meats and other grocery items.  They also carried China and Wedgwood creamware called queensware which was a big attraction to their lady customers.

The partners had purchased the Gilmore building and took great pride in its maintenance.  They repainted often and in 1913 installed an iron ceiling.  Although they were devoted to their business, the owners had a good sense of humor as well.  On April Fool’s Day in 1914, they cut a 2 x 4 on a slant and glued one to each side of a display window.  They then glued some pieces of broken glass to the window to give the impression of a damaged window.  That day many visitors stopped in the store to let them know that the 2x4 had fallen and broken the window, only to find the joke was on them.

Sorensen Grocery in the 1930s

Later that same year the two acquired the store of C.W. Cook in Hobart.  Jed Dutton was chosen to manage the store.  It was perhaps not as profitable as they had hoped as they sold it slightly more than a year later to Robert Vincent.

Storekeeping was not without its dangers.  In June of 1913, Dutton was getting a bag of flour from the back room for a customer when the pile of flour sacks – forty or fifty in all – toppled over on top of him and burying him and 12 cases of eggs, creating a mess and leaving him with bruises.  On another occasion, a Mr. Barker attempted to park his automobile in front of the store where he intended to sell eggs to the proprietors.  The gas pedal malfunctioned causing the vehicle to jump the curb and run into the front door of the establishment, breaking the door posts and its west window. 

The year 1914 saw the end of the partnership between Lars and Wes Dutton.  Sorensen purchased Dutton’s interest who went back into the flour and grain business. 

PERSONAL LIFE

During these years Lars personal life was busy too.  He became an American citizen.  He and Ida would go on to have eight children together, two of whom died in infancy.  Edna, Arthur, Russell, Evelyn, Harold and Richard grew up working in the store when needed.  He was active in the local Presbyterian church, serving many years as superintendent of their Sunday school.

Tragedy struck the family in October of 1918.  Ida was only 44 years of age when she contracted Spanish influenza which was sweeping the nation.  She then developed pneumonia.  It took her life after being ill for just one week, leaving her family motherless.  One of her sons, Arthur, was a soldier serving in France at the time of her death and word of her passing didn’t reach him until many weeks later. 

Just the month before Lars had sold the grocery business to S. J. Ramsey and Harry J. Liebenstein, retaining ownership of the building.  It is unknown what Lars’ plans were for his future following the sale of his grocery business, but with the loss of his wife, I am sure his world came tumbling down.  Over the next few years he worked in sales both at local stores and as a traveling salesman of products to grocery stores.

In 1924 Lars married Clara Stacy with whom he had a daughter, Frances. Unfortunately, the marriage proved to be an unhappy one and they were divorced in 1930.

THE “NEW” SORENSEN GROCERY

In 1930 Lars’ son, Harold Sorensen, was a newlywed working for Swift & Co. in Hutchinson, Kansas.  He and his wife, Mable, desired to move back to Algona and he and his father decided to re-open Sorensen Grocery which was quite an undertaking during the depression years.  Lars still owned the building at 201 East State Street where the original Sorensen Grocery had been located.  Ellis Runchey had been operating a grocery at the same location, but soon found another site to relocate.

Front: Woodrow Cook, Bert Randall, Ellen Pommerining,
Mable Sorensen, and Dick Sorensen;  Back: Harold Sorensen,
Robert Dutton, Julius Petersen and Lars Sorensen

Lars and Harold set out to make the layout of the store more convenient to serve their customers.  They left the refrigerated meat locker in the rear of the store which had been installed by Mr. Runchey where a rope operated, open elevator was also located which was used to move merchandise to and from the basement.  They remodeled the rest of the area moving the meat department closer to the front. They held their grand opening on January 31, 1931.

Mable Sorensen

The store was a busy place.  A true family affair, in addition to Lars and Harold, youngest son, Richard, worked there and Harold’s wife, Mable, would often work after hours stocking shelves while baby Jeanette napped in an orange crate.  The local telephone exchange was located on the upper floor of the building which added to the hustle and bustle as operators would come and go at all hours for the day.

In addition to selling meat and groceries, the proprietors also bought milk, eggs and produce from area farmers.  Many items such as sugar, nuts and candy came in bulk and had to be weighed and packaged by the pound.  The printed cloth sacks that flour came in became popular with customers who used them to make aprons and other items during those tough economic days.  Customers brought jugs to have them filled with vinegar from a big wooden barrel. 

TRIP BACK TO DENMARK

By 1936, Lars was yearning to visit Denmark.  In the 47 years he had lived in America he had only gone back once.  In July he and his niece, Mrs. Julius Petersen, began the journey of a lifetime.  They sailed for Europe, spending three months touring Denmark, Norway, Sweden and Germany.  Lars took his personal Chrysler auto along allowing convenient transportation during the visit.  Besides sightseeing he was able to visit many family members including spending the day with his sister when she celebrated her 80^th birthday.

Upon his return in October, he was shocked to learn of the sudden passing of his son, Harold, shortly before his return.  The family had refrained from notifying Lars and his niece of the death during their trip as they would have been unable to reach home in time for the funeral.

SORENSEN GROCERY ENDURES

With Harold’s passing, Richard “Dick” Sorensen and Harold’s widow, Mable Sorensen, operated the store.  During the next several years, Lars began to lessen his involvement in the enterprise.  He took another trip in 1938, this time a three-month sojourn in California.  In February of 1940 he and his friends celebrated his 71^st birthday and despite failing health, he took one more trip that fall to visit a sister that lived in Idaho.  A few days after his return, he traveled to Rochester for treatment.  Returning home, Lars died at General Hospital here in Algona on November 21, 1940.

The storefront today

Another view

Sorensen Grocery lived on for almost two decades, serving customers’ daily needs through the rationing days of World War II, numerous community events including the Centennial, and many holiday celebrations.  Dick Sorensen left the business in 1956, leaving Mable in charge.  Sorensen Grocery officially closed its doors in 1959.

Until next time,

Jean

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THE ASSASSINATION OF MERRILL CALL

Merrill Call is a grandson of Asa Call.  He is buried along with four generations of Call family members in the tomb located in Riverview Cemetery.  Today I want to share the story of the heinous crime that took his life at the age of 26. 

FROM ALGONA TO SIOUX CITY

Born in Algona May 8, 1878, Merrill spent much of his youth here until his parents, Asa Frank Call and Lucina Hutchins Call, moved to Sioux City when he was 10 years old.  He never lost his love for Algona and visited often – especially his mother’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. D. H. Hutchins.  He was an active cyclist—in fact when he was 16, he rode a bicycle here from Sioux City, making the trip in about 16 hours.  It is hard for me to imagine the condition of the roads that he had to travel on—it certainly would not have been an easy trip.  Earlier that same year, he placed third in the five-mile bicycle race at the Kossuth County Fair and won a fine sweater.  Don’t you think that given his love of cycling, he would have been an active participant in RAGBRAI if he was alive today? 

Merrill Call

He completed high school in Sioux City and later studied engineering at Purdue University.  At the age of 20 he became the superintendent of the Sioux City street car lines. 

In 1903 Merrill married Lucy Tolerton of Toledo, Ohio, and the two later had a daughter, Mary.  After their marriage, he agreed to take a job in the Tolerton family business.  Lucy’s father, in company with a number of Toledo associates, owned considerable mining property located in Yaqui Indian country in the state of Sonora, Mexico. 

TOLERTON MEXICAN INVESTMENTS

Among the holdings of the group in the Yaqui country was a smelter at Toledo camp, 35 miles from the nearest railroad station.  Merrill had recently been made a manager at a salary of $10,000 per year-more than the pay of a United States Senator. 

A trip was organized in January of 1905 to inspect some nearby mining properties for the Yaqui Mining and Smelting Company, of which his father-in-law was a stockholder.  There were eight members in the party, which included four other employees, two Mexican drivers and Charles Tolerton, his wife’s cousin, who came along as a pleasure trip.  It was on this trip that Merrill met his fate.

Realizing the unsettled and restless condition of the Yaquis, before setting out on the expedition, they had put in a request for a guard.  The Mexican authorities declared an escort to be unnecessary on account of the number in the party and the fact that the Indians were not particularly hostile to Americans.  Determined to reach the mines at any cost they set out without the guard, heavily armed with six shooters. Merrill himself carried a shotgun as did most of the rest of the party.  Charles also carried a rifle and a dagger.

They had completed the inspection of properties at camp Toledo and were returning in the late afternoon to La Colorado, a distance of about 75 miles, traveling in two four-horse stages.  Call was traveling in the second stage with Charles and two others. 

They proceeded along a broken road, each side of which was thickly grown up with mesquite grass.  The road itself was much traveled and not considered very dangerous.  Great quantities of silver bullion were hauled over the road every day to the railroad for shipment.  Unaware of any lurking danger, they proceeded along the desert road.  The horses were trotting slowly, the Mexican drivers sitting on top.  A low hill arose from one side of the road, which passed around the foot of the hill in a winding course, and was lost in the distance.  Inside the stages the men were chatting pleasantly when suddenly, without any warning, there was a volley at close range, and bullets whizzed in all directions.

Everybody jumped out of the stages in an instant.  Herbert Miller, a passenger in the first stage who was familiar with the country and its dangers, yelled “For God’s sake, boys, run!  It’s the only way you can be saved!” 

A FIGHT FOR THEIR LIVES

At a ranch house where they had stopped not long before, the members of the party had been joshing each other about being heavily armed, and it had been generally agreed that it would be better to make a good run than to stand and be shot in case of an attack by the Yaquis.  But at the critical moment most refused to run.  However, when Miller gave the warning, Charles Tolerton threw down his rifle and ran.  Charles, Miller and one of the Mexican drivers took to their heels and they are the only three who made it out alive.

The Indians must have numbered 75 from the way they fired, for bullets came thick and fast.  The first volley killed the Mexican driver of the second stage and he reeled off the rig, his body riddled with bullets.  Another volley snuffed out the lives of two party members, who fell in their tracks after jumping from the first stage.  A passenger in Merrill’s stage, Walter Steubinger, was the next victim.  He was killed after leaving the rig.  One of the four horses from the first stage was killed by a bullet from one of the rifles and the Mexican driver leaped to the ground and made it up the hill.

At the first volley, Merrill had jumped to the ground and took refuge behind a stump, where he used his shotgun in the hope of affording escape to the other members of the party.  He took one shot to the abdomen but was able to struggle up to his knees and continued pouring shot into the Indians, until a bullet in the neck ended his life.

The Indians frightened the horses and they started up the road at a breakneck speed.  As it rounded the turn of the hill, Charles was barely able to clutch the end gate of the wagon, and, swinging himself into the vehicle, drove with all speed toward town with five Indians in hot pursuit, yelling and shooting as they rode.

After traveling several miles, one of the horses fell dead.  Charles quickly leaped from the wagon and, cutting the lead team loose from the pole of the stage, threw an overcoat on one of the horses, and, leaping upon him, continued his mad ride.  The Indians stopped their pursuit when they reached the stage.  Tolerton rode on to Cobachi, about ten miles from where the attack occurred.  The village was made up of Mexican ranchers who did not speak English.  It took some time to find anyone who could understand English. 

Miller, in the meantime, had made good his escape and, closely followed by the Mexican driver, hastened to a town in another direction, running the entire distance.  He explained the attack to the inhabitants of the town and a rescuing party was quickly made up and hurried to the scene of the attack.

When the party arrived the Indians had escaped.  The Indians had stripped all of the bodies which had been beaten with rocks and clubs.  The bodies were removed to the home of a rancher.  The next day they were delivered under a heavy guard into the hands of an undertaker to prepare for shipment home.  It was only after all arrangements had been made that Miller finally had his own injury treated.  He had been shot in the hip and endured his pain and suffering until he was satisfied that the bodies would be safely returned.

BODY BROUGHT HOME

Merrill's mother

Merrill Call’s body was returned to Sioux City for funeral services.  From there it traveled by special funeral train to Algona accompanied by his wife, his parents and other family and friends.  The funeral cortege arrived in Algona very early in the morning and the party remained in the sleeper until about 7 am when friends in Algona sent carriages for them and brought them to the Durdall Hotel for breakfast.  His casket was removed from the train to the Call family vault here in Riverview cemetery prior to the gathering of friends.  The interior of the tomb was banked with carnations and roses.  A short service was conducted by Rev. Holmes.  There was a large attendance of sympathizing friends of the family at the interment, despite the zero weather prevailing.

INVESTIGATION OF ATTACK

Although it was originally thought that the attackers were Yaqui Indians, following the massacre Herbert Miller found inconsistencies and continued to investigate the matter.  Yaqui Indians were known to purchase their ammunition in the United States.  Empty shells picked up on the ground at the scene of the tragedy were of the Mauser type, which convinced him that they were purchased or obtained in Mexico as the Mauser was very little used in the United States.  He became confident that it was Mexicans -- not Yaqui Indians -- who were responsible for the murders.

During a follow up trip to Mexico, the Governor of Sonora demanded a meeting with Miller at which he accused him of plotting against the Mexican government.  In fact, the Governor went on to accuse Miller himself of committing the murders claiming that his mines were worthless and that he did not want the rest of his party to give out a bad report so Miller had the whole party killed.  Further the Governor demanded that Miller provide him with a statement relieving the Mexican government from all responsibility.  Of course, Miller refused to do so.

Miller joined forces with Merrill’s uncle, Joe Harry Call, of Los Angeles and Ex-Senator John M. Thurston of Nebraska to pursue an indemnity claim for $450,000 against the Mexican government.  He was convinced that it was the duty of the United States to demand instant protection for Americans from the Mexican government.  It threatened to turn into an international incident. 

THOSE LEFT BEHIND

Merrill's father

Merrill’s death was a particular blow to his parents as he was their last surviving child -- his brother Joe succumbed to typhoid several years before, leaving only Merrill to carry on the family name.  Many dreams of his parents died with him.  In fact, their grief was such a strain on their relationship that they later divorced.

Following his death, his widow and daughter first moved to Sioux City to live with Asa Frank Call, Meriill’s father, and then moved to Sonoma County, California, where his father owned a citrus farm.  It was near that home where his father was hit by a train and killed a few years after Merrill’s death.  Although he wished his ashes to be scattered “as though he had never existed,” they are interred here in the Call tomb.  Merrill’s precious little daughter Mary was Asa Frank’s sole heir.

In 1914, Lucy married Richard Kirkley.  She went on to have a second daughter and lived to the age of 97.  She remained in California for the rest of her life and is buried at Riverside, a half a continent away.  

Such a sad ending to very a promising life. 

Until next time,

Jean

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ELK HUNTS AND WHISKEY BARRELS

Last month I was scheduled to present a program on local history at the Water’s Edge Nature Center located on Smith Lake, north of Algona.  However, influenza had other plans for me and I had to reluctantly ask that the program be postponed.  Trust me, you would not have wanted to be around me.  I didn’t want to be around me.  The wonderful staff at Water’s Edge were very understanding and graciously postponed the program for a month to allow me to recover.  So we are going to try again this Thursday, March 9^th, at 1:00 p.m.  The program will be about some of the adventures of William Ingham, one of the earliest settlers in Kossuth County.  The program is open to the public so if you are hankering to take a step back in time, come on out.

In keeping with the Ingham theme this week, I thought I would share a story or two that I was not able to include in the program.  The story “Big Elk Antlers” comes from a book entitled, “Ten Years on The Iowa Frontier” written by Harvey Ingham, William’s son.  Here is that story:

BIG ELK ANTLERS

W.H. Ingham when he served in
the Northern Border Brigade

The November of 1856 was notably warm and dry.  But at the very end of the month came one of the heaviest snow storms ever known to Iowa.  It lasted for four days.  It was this storm that cached the Tuttle whiskey barrel, one of the events that was talked about in the settlements for many years.

When the storm was over, bringing out the home-made snow shoes of the winter before, Seeley and Ingham set forth on an elk hunt. After going up the Black Cat from their cabin to the grove now known as the Frink Grove, they came upon a buck elk carrying the largest antlers they had ever seen.  Of their efforts to capture those antlers Mr. Ingham writes:

“We saw a fine buck standing some thirty rods back from the creek, within easy rifle range from a tree we had selected from which to approach.  He was small of size but carried the largest and most perfect set of antlers I have ever seen.  We went around the creek channel some rods on the leeward side, and then turned down as far as we thought it safe to walk.  We then crept on the wind swept ice.  When within some four rods of the tree we saw elk ears moving on the crest of the bank some eight feet above us.  As we came to the tree we ran into a number of does on the ice below the bend and they saw us as we saw them.  There was now nothing for us but to rush the steep bank in the chance of getting a shot at the buck before he could take the alarm.  We sprang to our feet and started up the bank. When almost to the top we saw the old buck standing unconcerned within short range. Just then my feet slipped and when I stopped my face was much nearer the ice than I cared to have it.  Seeley had fared no better.  By this time the elk were crashing through the brush.  We rushed again for the bank and this time made it, only to see big antlers disappearing over the ridge not far away.”

As it was already growing dark, and too late in the day to think of following him, the hunters turned back to the cabin, fully intent on resuming the hunt in the morning.  They were up early and started off by moonlight, and found their elk bunched together on the prairie not two miles from where they had been the night before.  The buck with the antlers was alert and on the windward side of the herd.  He became restless as the hunters neared and they were forced to shoot at long range, killing a young buck.  It did not take them long to discover that those big horns were the reward of sagacity and watchfulness on the part of the wearer.  After a long pursuit they sent the dog out after the elk in the hope to scatter the herd.  He killed another young buck, and it being time to return they decided to drag the two elk to the cabin.  Mr. Ingham writes:  “Seeley always referred to this afterwards as the hardest thing he ever did.”

On reaching the cabin they fully decided to go again in the morning with loaded sleds and pursue big antlers to a capture, but when morning came Seeley found he had been lamed by the work of the day before.  It took some arguments to keep Mr. Ingham from setting out alone, and frequently later he expressed regret that he was dissuaded.  He believed that alone he could have captured the elk.

ANDREW SEELEY’S MEMORIES

Andrew Seeley shared his memories of that same hunting trip. 

Mr. Seeley writes:  “The winter of ’56 and ’57 will be remembered by all living in the west.  We did some good traveling on snow shoes that winter.  We went up the Black Cat Creek in December, saw about 30 elk, wounded one.  As it was late in the afternoon we thought it best to leave them till morning and come home.  The elk were not over one-half mile off when we started for home.  The next morning we were on their track before it was light enough to see the tracks plainly.  We came up to them between 9 and 10 o’clock, killed one and left it lay and followed the rest for quite a distance and killed one more, then it was noon.  We found a corner stake which said we were 15 miles from home.  The snow was so deep we couldn’t get out with a team or we might have killed all of them, as they were very tired.  We had all we could get in with.  They were not the largest, would have weighed perhaps 200 pounds each.  We did not think we could get them both in.  We started with the last one we killed, snaked it to where we left the first one.  They dragged very easy on the start but got very heavy before 10 o’clock.  At night when we made for Mr. Reibhoff’s for supper, which Mrs. Zahlten, then Miss Reibhoff, got up for us.  It was good, you bet.  I didn’t get mine quite to the house.  I left it on the ice in the creek, gun and all.  Peter and John Reibhoff had to pull them a little ways.  He said he didn’t see how we did it. We were very tired and our feet got very sore.  It was fun on the start but it got very old before we got through.  I think it the hardest day’s work I ever did.  We had snow shoes.  I wanted to leave them out eight miles; you that know the other fellow (Mr. Ingham) know the reason we did not.  He was always tougher than I was and I thought I could stand a little hardship those days.”

Can you imagine dragging a large elk eight to fifteen miles across deep snow while wearing snow shoes?  I never cease to be amazed by the super human feats some of these pioneers were able to pull off. 

THE TUTTLE WHISKEY BARREL

I thought I would include one more brief story.  At the beginning of the elk hunting story there is a reference to the “storm that cached the Tuttle whiskey barrel.”  I had not heard of that before and it made me curious.

The Upper Des Moines, of Algona, told the story of Mr. Tuttle’s troubles and recalled this incident:  ”Mr. Tuttle was a tall, heavy frontiersman, pretty well along in years, who in the spring of 1856 had pushed north to a little lake in southern Minnesota, which the Indians, with some sense of beauty, had named ‘Okamampedah’, but which he succeeded in having known as ‘Tuttle’s Lake’, by which plain and unornamental designation it still holds its place on the map.  After locating his family he had gone south with his boys for his winter’s supplies, and on the last day of November arrived with his wagons at the Horace Schenck cabin.  Mr. Schenck was pretty well fixed for the winter and with characteristic hospitality he entertained his visitors.  The last day of November was Saturday and it had been one of those beautiful days that so frequently ushered in the fiercest blizzards.  In the evening a light snow was falling.  In the morning the snow was coming faster and the wind was rising.  After some debate Mr. Tuttle decided to try for home.  He succeeded in dragging his wagons into the ravine northwest of the Reibhoff grove, and unhitching the teams turned in at the John James cabin.  Sunday night the storm was at its height.  All day Monday and all day Tuesday it continued unabated, and although the break came on Wednesday nobody ventured forth until Thursday, and then to look upon the heaviest coating of snow ever seen by a white man in Kossuth county.  The ravine in which the Tuttle wagons had been left was drifted full.  No trace of the wagons could be discovered.  The fact that one of the chief items of Mr. Tuttle’s supplies was a barrel of whiskey stirred him to great anxiety.  The thought of allowing that barrel of good cheer to lie buried all winter was too painful to the old gentlemen, and the ingenuity of the settlement was called upon to locate the wagons.  By cutting poles and pushing through the snow the wagon with the barrel was at length found.  Thereupon a well was dug directly over the barrel, and during the remainder of that long winter the well was kept open.  Succeeding snows increased the depth until finally a ladder was needed, which proved to be a temperance measure in its way, as it was not safe at any time during that winter to be incapacitated to clamber out of the well.  The Tuttles lingered until spring.  Finally the old gentleman insisted on starting for his home on foot, dragging a hand sled with a jug and some other cargo.”

I hope to see you on Thursday.  Until then, keep your whiskey barrel from being buried in the snow.

Until next time,

Jean

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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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