Chapter XIV
LaGrange
LaGrange in the eastern edge of Lucas
county, was a flourishing little city in the middle 1800’s. It was 11 miles east of Chariton on what is
now highway 34 but was then the state road.
It was said to be the largest town in the county at one time, but no
statistics are available to substantiate this.
It had a school, three churches – a small Methodist church, Cumberland
Presbyterian which burned down, a Christian Church with a cemetery which is
still there, a post office two hotels and three doctors. It had four dry good stores, a drug store, a
wagon repair shop, a chair shop, a cabinet maker and furniture store, a shoe
shop and two blacksmith shops, one of which is vividly remembered by Everett
Goltry, whose birthplace it was and who still lives on the land that has been
in the family since 1855. In the late
1870’s the school had 63 pupils, one third of whom were Allen’s.
Joseph D. Youtsey, grandfather of Mrs.
Noel(Iva) Cloud and Mrs. Mae Aton, gave an organ to the Christian Church. It brought a storm of protest. “How could anyone bring this instrument of
the Evil One into the house of God?” they asked. What was the world coming to? It should be assumed that these pious souls
had read their Bibles but with lenses that phased out such passages as “Sing
unto the Lord with harp, with trumpet and with sound of cornet; sing with the
psaltery and on an instrument of ten strings; sing a new song and play
skillfully with a loud noise.” The
magnanimous Mr. Youtsey with all patience and understanding, removed the
organ. The storm died down. Time with its healing balm, worked in
LaGrange just as it had with the Children of Israel in their wilderness
wanderings. The organ scars healed and
the instrument somehow divested itself of its sin and was reinstated in the
holy place.
In the 1840’s the stream of humanity began
flowing into this area. Every man was
seeking a place where he might sit under his own vine and under his own fig
tree. In 1846 when Iowa became a state
and the counties were set up, Monroe the big county, was divided into two
counties, Monroe and Lucas, the latter named for Iowa’s first territorial
governor. The state road was one of the
main thoroughfares across the state.
Covered wagons without number were streaming in from the east. Clear as a summer day was the future of this
area – or so it seemed. David J.
Prather, grandfather of Sterling Martin, foresaw a growing population,
purchased considerable land and piloted the state road from a point three miles
east of his homestead to a point eight miles west in Lucas county, making it
the longest straight stretch of road in southern Iowa.
Samuel J. Prather, a relative, also bought
land and had 40 acres of it platted for a town which he named LaGrange. This was in 1852. The next year the Western Stage Coach Company
established one of its trunk lines through here and LaGrange was made a
depot. It was the largest “stop” between
Eddyville and Ottawa. The horses were
stabled there with all the attendant business that accrued from that
enterprise.
A lumber mill was established at Eddyville
and lumber was freighted into this area by ox teams. Frame house began to appear among the log
cabins. There are several of these early
houses, hand framed of oak and walnut still being lived in. After more than a century, they are still
plumb and solid. The most noteworthy one
is the “Salt Box” house on the Sterling Martin farm. It has been occupied by five generations in
the family. This is the type of house
much used in Colonial Connecticut, having two stories in the front and one in
the rear. This farmhouse was an inn
during Stage Coach days and called a Tavern.
Let us remember that language changes with time and usage. A century ago a tavern was not what we call a
“tavern” today. It was a hotel where
travelers could enjoy a good meal and a night of peaceful rest before the
rigors of the next day’s journey. There
is a receipt for $5.00 dated 1862, issued to David J. Prather for a license to
operate this tavern for that year. This
is the only house still standing that was there all through the life of
LaGrange. There was another in a very
large, two story colonial type house which accommodated travelers and which was
said to be a link in the “underground railroad.” Those were the days of the Fugitive Slave
Law. The family of Mrs. Emma Price who
celebrated her 95th birthday in April of this year and who is now
living in Chariton with her daughter Myrtle, lived in that house several years
later and described the secret passages.
One stairway led from the second floor to the back porch where it
connected with the underground tunnel to the barn. The second exit led from the ground floor to
the tunnel. One day two of the Price
boys decided to try going through the tunnel.
After some crawling effort, they wormed their way backward in the pitch
darkness convinced that only a man desperate for his life and freedom could
endure the ordeal. They never tried it
again.
A third one of the fine sturdy, hand built
old houses is the home of Mr. and Mrs. Everett Goltry. It was built in 1865 by Jacob Goltry after he
returned from the Civil War. The timbers
are of oak and walnut, mortised and pinned with wooden pegs. There were no nails nor “spikes.” The second floor boards are of random width
pinned on oak beams with wooden pegs. On
the lawn of this home stands three cedar trees brought from Indiana about 1855.
“There is nothing so permanent as change,”
said a philosopher. The Burlington and
Missouri River railroad decided it was time for them to be building through to
the west. Their surveyors came in. The government granted large tracts of land
from which to select their roadbed, then the land was given back to the
government to be sold at $1.25 per acre.
Everyone was sure the railroad would come through on level land,
following the stage route, but just as the settlers had wanted timber for their
homes and fences, the railroad wanted “fodder” for its “iron horses” – the most
coal, nearest the surface, easiest to mine.
To the consternation of everyone, they selected the roughest land,
because that was where the coal was. The
road bed was located about two miles south of the stage route. That spelled doom for LaGrange but it gave
birth to Melrose, Russell and Lucas and didn’t hurt Chariton. The railroad also sank mines of their own and
built mining camps at Tyrone, Zero and Cleveland.
“Princes and lords may flourish
or may fade; a breath can make them as a breath was made.”
LaGrange, which had had such a promising
future, met a slow death. Steadily and
inexorably the population declined, the vacated houses were moved or torn down
and the land reverted to farm land. The
school continued until the School Reorganization of 1960. The mining camps lasted only until the coal
was mined out. Melrose, Russell and
Lucas were permanent railroad stations.
The single track was laid to Russell in 1867 and across the county in
1868.
LaGrange, as other parts of Lucas county,
gave to the world its share of noteworthy persons. James C. Van Nice, a descendant of Samuel Van
Nice and Cousin to Every Goltry, grew up and went to school in LaGrange. He
went to Chicago, operated a drug store, sold out, went to McLaughlin, South
Dakota and established a bank. His last
will and testament evidenced his wide interest in humanity and the furtherance
of institutions that benefit people. T
he long lists of bequests including numerous women’s organizations in churches
of various denominations and faiths. One
of these beneficiaries was the women’s organization of the Presbyterian Church
in Chariton. The money was used to build
bookshelves and cabinets in the minister’s study in the church.
Dr. Lloyd Allen, son of Tandy Allen, Sr.,
grew up in LaGrange and went to Iowa Medical School. After receiving his degree, he went to
Colorado Springs and established a clinic.
Worth mentioning is the fact that Samuel Van Nice and Tandy Allen, Sr.,
came our here in 1853 on horseback from Danville, Ind. Each bought 120 acres of adjoining land,
built log cabins, returned to Indiana, married each other’s sister and came
back to Iowa to build their careers. The
Allen farm is now owned and occupied by Mr. and Mrs.Robert Sims and the Van
Nice farm is owned and operated by Mr and Mrs. Everett Goltry.
Thomas E. Martin, brother of Sterling
Martin, grew up east of LaGrange, attended the University of Iowa, graduating
in liberal arts, then entered the armed services in WWI. After his service, he returned to the
university, taught military tactics and coached track teams. He reentered the university and received his
law degree in 1927 and then attended the University of New York for a year of
post graduate work in law. He returned
to Iowa City, served as police judge, then as mayor. In 1932 he took his first trial at state wide
politics on the Republican ticket for railroad commissioner and was defeated in
the Democratic landslide of that year.
In 1938 he was elected to Congress from the First District and served in
that office for 16 years, then was elected to U S Senate in 1943. At the end of his six-year term, he retired
and now lives in Seattle, Wash.
Sterling Martin made his four-year high
school course in three at Russell and Albia, then entered Iowa State at
Ames. He was a charter member of the
Iowa Farm Bureau and from 1932 to ‘41 Agricultural Agent of Lucas County. Later he was State Representative from Monroe
County and in 1954 was elected to the State Board of Public Instruction where
he served for ten years and received the ISEA layman’s award for “Distinguished
Service in the Support of Education in Iowa.”
Mr. and Mrs. Martin now reside on the home farm which was acquired by
his forefathers in 1846 when Iowa became a state.
LaGrange was the boyhood home of Everett
Goltry. In 1919 he joined the Navy, was
sent to Great Lakes Naval Station, whence his outfit was sent to Cardiff,
Wales, a journey of 22 days on a lake boat.
Their assignment was transporting coal across the turbulent English
Channel to France. While there he made
friends with the radio operator. No
voice had, as yet, been heard over radio.
Messages were sent in telegraph code.
Then the detector tube was invented which enabled radio to transmit in
voice. After his discharge from the
navy, his interest in radio continued and much to his father’s disgust, he
spent time building them. In 1920-21 he
built sets that sold at an average cost of $400 each.
The Iowa radio corporation beckoned to Mr.
Goltry and while he was with them, he met Powell Crosley, Jr. who was manager
of Crosley Radio in Cincinnati, Ohio.
This Company asked him to join one of their distributors in Des Moines
who also handled Edison phonographs. The
dynamic speaker was just then invented and the sale of the sets
skyrocketed. Mr. Goltry with two other
officials of the company flew to Chicago in a sister plan of Charles’
Lindbergh’s “Spirit of St. Louis."
They carried orders with them for $10,000 worth of phonographs with the
new speakers. Later, Mr. Goltry formed
his own company to building intercom sets for public buildings but was
interrupted with WWII . He then joined Solar Aircraft in the production of tail
pipes and manifold assemblies for aircraft.
In the final years of the war, jet engines were invented and Mr. Goltry
was chosen with 40 other men in a secret project to develop engine parts for
aircraft. He was then transferred to the
Chicago office as Midwest Division manager for Solar. From there he retired to his farm in the old,
historic LaGrange area.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Zero
The long forgotten mining camp of Zero
came to life one morning recently on the front porch of the Russell nursing
home when Mr. William Conner traveled down memory lane and revised his part of
that vanished era. He is now 97 ½ born
in Scotland six months after his father had come to America in quest of better
living conditions for his family. In his
native land Mr. Conner was a coal miner but the small wages allowed nothing for
education or opportunity and there was little freedom. He came to Brandonville, Ill. and soon saved enough money to send for his wife, two
daughters, two sons and the six-month old William. Later they moved to Happy Hollow mine north
of Ottumwa and later to Zero. William
started working with his father in the mine at age 11 and mining was his life
work. He was “king” last year when
Russell celebrated its centennial. Mrs.
Leota Taylor, grandmother of Mrs. Virginia Brown, was “queen.” Zero was never a big mine, turning out at
best only 15 or 20 railroad cars a day.
The water there was unfit for the boilers so they sank a well some
distance away, built a cistern near the mine and hired men to haul water from
the well to cistern. Two of these water
haulers were the late Miles and Charles Price – the latter, the husband of Mrs.
Emma Price, mentioned earlier in this article.
Zero had a newspaper, “The Zero Mercury.” “The Melrose Times” of 1887 has a reprint of
items from the “Mercury” one of which was the timetable from the C B & Q
railroad signed by the late John Massman, telegrapher and father of John
Massman, who now lives north of Russell.
Zero also had a nice school building and Miss Isabel Allen, later mother
of Everett Goltry was one of the early teachers there. Long after the mine was worked out and not a
shred of the town was left. Everett
Goltry and his playmates would go down to old Zero, sit on the edge of that
hole in the ground, kick off rocks and listen for them to hit bottom. Ah!
What power it is that keeps small fry alive long enough to grow up?
Henry Gittinger, late uncle of Mabel
Gittinger, operated a general store and post office at Zero. Cal Force, father of the late Guy Force of
Russell, was at one time associated in the store with Mr. Gittinger who later
became editor of the Chariton Leader, about 1906. Mr. Aquilla Kern was associated with Mr.
Gittinger for a time but later operated the post office independently and
continued until the town and mine were no more.
The houses were sold or moved way but Mr. Kern retained his and lived
alone. One day he went out to hunt a
squirrel for his dinner. He was crossing
the track and failed to hear the train as it sped down the hill and around the curve. Two seconds to live… one second to live…” for
that fell sergeant death is strict in his arrest” … no seconds to live.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Tallyhoma
Tallyhoma was the western most stage stop
in Lucas county. It was northeast of
Lucas. With two guides, Glenn Burgett
and Bill Bell, the writer visited a portion of this historic route. Mr. Bell led the way to the spot where the
early settlers felled a great tree to change the course of Whitebreast River
which was subject to flooding. In the
spring of 1849 Whitebreast was half a mile wide following the terrible winter
of 1848-9 when the snow was three feet deep on the level. The course of the stream was then moved
northward and when the stage route was established it veered north of the river
on high ground. Clambering down into the
old waterless bed of the stream, through grasses and brush more than head high
and with trees thick on the old north bank one had almost the feeling of the
forest primeval. Farther “downstream”
was lovely cattails but one could almost hear crafty old Mother Nature chuckle
as she said to herself” “I’ll put these out of their reach.” Looking up and cross to the next hill, Mr.
Bell pointed with a circular motion of his arm.
“See where the road veers off to our left?” The stage route veered to the right and west
westward north of the river and on over the high rolling ground. It terminated at Plattsmouth, Nebraska.
A short drive from there to
Tallyhoma. There stands the old barn and
granary. They alone are all that is left
of what was here 115 years ago. This is
historic ground. One stands
thoughtfully, almost reverently, reading in timbers and stones the history of
all those years.
Examination of the barn shows large rocks
on which rest the heavy, hand hewn sills eight inches’ square. Other timbers are six and four inches and all
are hand mortised and pinned with wooden pegs.
One visualizes the craftsman patiently slicing, trimming and smoothing,
with his broad axe – such as is already in your museum so that future generations
may see and learn about this part of our fantastic history. One wonders how he could mortise these joints
so neatly and so sturdily that they would stand the stress of more than a
century and still be so perfect. Room
here for eight horses – two in a stall.
Before us is the feed box and the manger. Beyond is the “drive through” where perhaps
the stages and freighters were stored for the night. Behind us on the wall are the wooden pegs to
hang the harness. Men, horses, stages –
all are gone, but somehow their presence seems very real. The silence is deep. It was here and at other spots on the map
where men and animals gave their all in a big part of the drama of our nation’s
growth.
One can almost see the heavy coach come
lumbering in, the passengers alight, stretch their legs and look around. The horses are tired for the load was heavy
and the road rough. The mail is thrown
off, a few men are ready to pick up their own and that of their neighbors – thus
was the mail delivered in that day.
Fresh horses are brought and its time to load and be off. There is goes, bounding over the rolling
terrain, pointed out by one who learned it from his forebears.
Comes the realization that the sky alone
is the only thing that was here and unchanged more than a century ago! Changeless, yet ever changing is the
beautiful deep blue yonder with a patch of the whitest possible cloud
resembling nothing so much as a luscious dollop of whipped cream served on a
gigantic platter with a brilliant ruffled edge of shining silver! Reverie gives way to the brutal fact of
progress. The heyday of the stage coach
was 15 years from 1853 to 1868 when the railroad laid its tracks and bridged
the streams and gulches. The stage lived
and died and no one thought to record its demise. The railroad has spanned a century. Part of that time running as many as 60
trains a day through here. Now, at the
end of a tremendous century, passenger travel is in eclipse and if two trains
are discontinued, as has been announced, it will have been a hundred years
almost to the day. Many will fell a deep
sadness yet conscious of the onrush of time and progress, which have brought
the auto and the airplane.
“Little of all that we value here
Wakes on the morn of its
hundredth year
Without both looking and feeling
queer
In fact, there’s nothing that
keeps its youth
So far as I know, but the sky and
the truth.”
Apologies to William Cullen Bryant
Pages 53-61
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