Let’s head back towards Salem. Salem, Iowa is one of a string of Salem’s across the country. I don’t know how many there are but it seems like almost every state has a Salem. It is a Quaker community founded by a man named Aaron Street, about 1835.
The town is rich with history and the stories abound. I can’t possibly do it justice. It seemed like every time we passed through the community Dad had a new story to tell. I will tell you some of them as we pass through.
Growing up the guys from Salem were considered to be pretty tough. No one you would really want to mess with any of them. I don’t know why they had that reputation and I never tested it. It’s interesting, though, that it is a community that was built on Quaker principles including pacifism and temperance.
Salem is probably best known for its role as a stop on the Underground Railroad. Quakers were adamantly opposed to slavery and were willing to take grave risks to help slaves escape from their southern owners.
There were several houses in the community that had secret places, trap doors, tunnels, etc. to hide runaway slaves. Most of those places are gone now but one or two of the houses survive. The best known is probably the Lewelling Quaker Shrine.
Henderson Lewelling once owned the house. He built the house with the full intent of providing a hiding place for runaway slaves. It has been recognized in the National Record of Historic Places. It is open to the public and we have visited there several times. During a routine renovation a second tunnel-hiding place was found in the house.
For years there was a quilt hanging on the wall in the house. It was embroidered with the names of those who created it. My Grandparents names are on it. It was, of course, made long after the civil war but was still a great source of pride for me.
Many stories have been told about things that have happened at the house. One story is about how two runaway slaves who had passed through Salem and were later overtaken by some men who said they were their masters. On their way back to Missouri through Salem the locals demanded to know by what authority they were taking the two men. Just as the trial was about to begin the two men took “leg bail” which was term used for running away. They weren’t quickly found and the slave hunters were forced to return to Missouri without them. Two hundred dollars was offered for the runaways.
The runaway slaves eventually revealed themselves to the local Quakers who then set out to take them further north to safer territory. Unfortunately, they were overtaken by other slave hunters who at gunpoint took the two slaves back to Missouri. The three Quaker men who aided the runaways were fined $500. in the territorial court. That was a hefty amount in those days and likely took several years for the men to pay.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Sunday, October 19, 2008
SW Rides X
If we go strait east Franklin Avenue is about a mile down the road. We can turn on Erickson and head south. There is a pond near that intersection that we have fished with success many times. That is the place where once, when I was a kid, Mom took a nap in the grass while we were fishing. A little bunny came along and woke her up. We took it home for a while. My Mom secretly released it back into the wild after a few days. I wasn’t very happy with her!
On the way south on Erickson is the Cedar Friends Church and then the cemetery where many of my ancestors rest. We go south but turn left when we get to the church and head up the dirt road that leads to Franklin Avenue. As I have said before my Dad just couldn’t resist a dirt road.
When we reach Franklin we turn south. The old Mendenhall farmstead is on our right. All of the buildings are gone except for the shed my uncle built on the east side of the road.
My Dad talks about his memories of the farm. He talks about Herb Beards father who was killed by a bull on the farm just east of there. We both shudder at the thought of being attacked by a bull.
We move on past the old Cooper place and head for Salem. Salem is worthy of a book or two all by itself and I’ll get to it soon enough. First, we are going to turn west just as we get to town. This is the old stagecoach road to Glascow. Most of the roads in Henry County run east and west or north and south, but his one runs diagonally off to the northwest.
A few miles west this road crosses the Big Cedar. Today, we will travel just a half-mile west of what was, before the bridge, called Bales ford. There are two stops we need to make before turning back toward Salem. One is the Savage woods and the other is the Stone House.
The woods were developed with the encouragement of Myra Savage who lived nearby. She is an incredible story herself. She lived on a farm by herself and had more dogs than I could count. She was an earthy woman full of wisdom about the earth and life in general. During the 1970s she worked with Maynard Bittle, a junior high science teacher, to develop the woods as an outdoor classroom. I had some interesting times there and enjoyed Myra’s visits to the site to check up on what we were doing.
The Savage’s own the Stone House, too. It wasn’t always in their family. It does seem to have always been a place of fascination for my family
It was built in 1888 or 89 by Leonard Farr. It is said that he built it for his wife but she refused to live there. The stone used to build the house came from a location just west of the house. The walls at the basement level are nearly a yard thick and taper as they go up. It is built into the side of a hill and is three stories tall. It’s worth a visit if you haven’t been there!
On the way south on Erickson is the Cedar Friends Church and then the cemetery where many of my ancestors rest. We go south but turn left when we get to the church and head up the dirt road that leads to Franklin Avenue. As I have said before my Dad just couldn’t resist a dirt road.
When we reach Franklin we turn south. The old Mendenhall farmstead is on our right. All of the buildings are gone except for the shed my uncle built on the east side of the road.
My Dad talks about his memories of the farm. He talks about Herb Beards father who was killed by a bull on the farm just east of there. We both shudder at the thought of being attacked by a bull.
We move on past the old Cooper place and head for Salem. Salem is worthy of a book or two all by itself and I’ll get to it soon enough. First, we are going to turn west just as we get to town. This is the old stagecoach road to Glascow. Most of the roads in Henry County run east and west or north and south, but his one runs diagonally off to the northwest.
A few miles west this road crosses the Big Cedar. Today, we will travel just a half-mile west of what was, before the bridge, called Bales ford. There are two stops we need to make before turning back toward Salem. One is the Savage woods and the other is the Stone House.
The woods were developed with the encouragement of Myra Savage who lived nearby. She is an incredible story herself. She lived on a farm by herself and had more dogs than I could count. She was an earthy woman full of wisdom about the earth and life in general. During the 1970s she worked with Maynard Bittle, a junior high science teacher, to develop the woods as an outdoor classroom. I had some interesting times there and enjoyed Myra’s visits to the site to check up on what we were doing.
The Savage’s own the Stone House, too. It wasn’t always in their family. It does seem to have always been a place of fascination for my family
It was built in 1888 or 89 by Leonard Farr. It is said that he built it for his wife but she refused to live there. The stone used to build the house came from a location just west of the house. The walls at the basement level are nearly a yard thick and taper as they go up. It is built into the side of a hill and is three stories tall. It’s worth a visit if you haven’t been there!
Sunday, October 12, 2008
SW Rides IX
As we drive past Kirk’s pond Dad talks about the families that live in the area. He did that kind of thing all the time. He seemed to know who owned each piece of land almost everywhere we went. I was amazed by his ability to do that. He not only seemed to know each family but also knew something unique about each one of them.
The Mills family owns a lot of land in this area. Hallowell’s own the land on the east side of the road here. Clayton Avenue tees at 275th Street. We turn left here and head east towards Franklin Avenue. A right turn would have taken us down to and then across Big Cedar. My Grandmother, Elsie Van Doren, grew up in a house just across the creek there.
Before we go very far Dad says, “Denova.” There is nothing really there but a fencerow with a few trees and the faint sign of the old K-line railroad bed and a farmhouse. Dad looks around as if he sees it how it must have been years ago.
This community was originally called Bangall. Sometime around 1890 the name was changed to Denova. I have no idea where the name came from. We still have letters Grandma wrote Grandpa when they were courting. Several of the letters have Denova written at the top as part of the return address. The post office was discontinued in 1905.
Besides a post office, Denova had several other buildings. One of the buildings was Maple Grove No 6 School. I assume that this is where my Grandmother went to school when she was a child. I wonder about the kids who went to school there. Richard Breazeale told me he went to school there and remembered the railroad track west of there.
There were several houses there. An old map of the community shows three on the south side of the road and at least one on the north side near the school. There are some others nearby. The community also had a blacksmith shop and a store.
What made the community, though, was the railroad. Denova had it’s own depot. That brought people there to board the train to ride to Salem or Mt. Pleasant. My mother tells of when she was a child, seeing the train smoke puffing along the track about a mile west of her house. I think she may even have ridden the train a few times.
A few trees mark the old railroad right of way on the north side of the road. There was a siding there. On the south side there was another siding and stockyards. Now I can’t see any indication of what must have been there.
My Dad talks about the Lamm family that lived in this community years ago. One of them had a huckster wagon and traveled around selling items to families. It’s just about two miles from my Grandpa’s farm. It is much closer as the crow flies.
The Mills family owns a lot of land in this area. Hallowell’s own the land on the east side of the road here. Clayton Avenue tees at 275th Street. We turn left here and head east towards Franklin Avenue. A right turn would have taken us down to and then across Big Cedar. My Grandmother, Elsie Van Doren, grew up in a house just across the creek there.
Before we go very far Dad says, “Denova.” There is nothing really there but a fencerow with a few trees and the faint sign of the old K-line railroad bed and a farmhouse. Dad looks around as if he sees it how it must have been years ago.
This community was originally called Bangall. Sometime around 1890 the name was changed to Denova. I have no idea where the name came from. We still have letters Grandma wrote Grandpa when they were courting. Several of the letters have Denova written at the top as part of the return address. The post office was discontinued in 1905.
Besides a post office, Denova had several other buildings. One of the buildings was Maple Grove No 6 School. I assume that this is where my Grandmother went to school when she was a child. I wonder about the kids who went to school there. Richard Breazeale told me he went to school there and remembered the railroad track west of there.
There were several houses there. An old map of the community shows three on the south side of the road and at least one on the north side near the school. There are some others nearby. The community also had a blacksmith shop and a store.
What made the community, though, was the railroad. Denova had it’s own depot. That brought people there to board the train to ride to Salem or Mt. Pleasant. My mother tells of when she was a child, seeing the train smoke puffing along the track about a mile west of her house. I think she may even have ridden the train a few times.
A few trees mark the old railroad right of way on the north side of the road. There was a siding there. On the south side there was another siding and stockyards. Now I can’t see any indication of what must have been there.
My Dad talks about the Lamm family that lived in this community years ago. One of them had a huckster wagon and traveled around selling items to families. It’s just about two miles from my Grandpa’s farm. It is much closer as the crow flies.
Sunday, October 05, 2008
SW Rides VIII
So far I have given the reader a taste of what Gibson Park has to offer. There is more, much more! It’s a rich area with lots of wildlife. This area was flooded when the Illinois lobe of the Wisconsin Glacier pushed across the Mississippi from about where Clinton is now down to near Ft. Madison.
A large lake formed and it drained right over the top of this area and then southeast near where Salem, Iowa, is now, to the bed of the Mississippi River. Some say that lasted as many as a hundred thousand years. Others say maybe only about ten thousand years. Either way it was about twelve thousand years ago and it lasted a long time by human measures.
A lot of water for a long time meant many things were picked up and then buried some place along the way. Dad knew about this so when the Big Cedar was re-channeled here he walked up and down the banks looking for anything interesting. Just below the bridge on the west side is where he found the single vertebra of a mammoth elephant. We found several other smaller bones and tusk splinters in that general area.
In time the bank was covered with eroded dirt from above and became overgrown. One family who lived nearby did find several bones and mammoth teeth right in that area, too. Dad and I, eventually, had to settle for looking at the riffle down stream from the bridge if the water was low enough and hoped we might find something that washed out of the bank.
We turn around at the bridge and go back to the dirt road that leads to the place where bugs walk on water. The road is called Clayton Avenue and we are careful not to go that way if we have had a lot of rain recently. It quickly becomes impassable and isn’t maintained by the county.
Down the road a quarter of a mile is an old bridge that crosses the little stream where the bugs walk on water. If the conditions are right we might get out and look for fossils. Other times we keep on going. In a short time the road turns left and starts a slow right turn climb up the hill. It’s steep and rocky. Sometimes we have to stop and get out to move a rock or tree limb out of the way.
On top of sand hill we come to a spot that is special to me. This is the place where I found my first whole arrowhead. I have written about that in another piece. The soil is very sandy here and my piece is really the only good one we have found here. Some of Dad’s friends, though, have told us they had success here.
We move on down the road and around the corner to Kirk’s pond. We have fished it a few times with success, although once Dad caught a big snake on his fishing line here. We didn’t fish there much after that. Kirk’s pond was a place of legends when I was in high school. There were all sorts of stories of beer drinking and skinny dipping parties there. I don’t know if the stories were true and never attended one myself.
A large lake formed and it drained right over the top of this area and then southeast near where Salem, Iowa, is now, to the bed of the Mississippi River. Some say that lasted as many as a hundred thousand years. Others say maybe only about ten thousand years. Either way it was about twelve thousand years ago and it lasted a long time by human measures.
A lot of water for a long time meant many things were picked up and then buried some place along the way. Dad knew about this so when the Big Cedar was re-channeled here he walked up and down the banks looking for anything interesting. Just below the bridge on the west side is where he found the single vertebra of a mammoth elephant. We found several other smaller bones and tusk splinters in that general area.
In time the bank was covered with eroded dirt from above and became overgrown. One family who lived nearby did find several bones and mammoth teeth right in that area, too. Dad and I, eventually, had to settle for looking at the riffle down stream from the bridge if the water was low enough and hoped we might find something that washed out of the bank.
We turn around at the bridge and go back to the dirt road that leads to the place where bugs walk on water. The road is called Clayton Avenue and we are careful not to go that way if we have had a lot of rain recently. It quickly becomes impassable and isn’t maintained by the county.
Down the road a quarter of a mile is an old bridge that crosses the little stream where the bugs walk on water. If the conditions are right we might get out and look for fossils. Other times we keep on going. In a short time the road turns left and starts a slow right turn climb up the hill. It’s steep and rocky. Sometimes we have to stop and get out to move a rock or tree limb out of the way.
On top of sand hill we come to a spot that is special to me. This is the place where I found my first whole arrowhead. I have written about that in another piece. The soil is very sandy here and my piece is really the only good one we have found here. Some of Dad’s friends, though, have told us they had success here.
We move on down the road and around the corner to Kirk’s pond. We have fished it a few times with success, although once Dad caught a big snake on his fishing line here. We didn’t fish there much after that. Kirk’s pond was a place of legends when I was in high school. There were all sorts of stories of beer drinking and skinny dipping parties there. I don’t know if the stories were true and never attended one myself.
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