Puckerbrush

Chapter V

     Puckerbrush!  What a Name! What thoughts it conjures up! Tangled undergrowth, dense, forbidding briars, the lair of reptiles, rabbits, chipmunks, frolicking squirrels and other denizens of the woodlands.  Evan an ideal hideaway for old time horse thieves!  The crackle of dry leaves and falling nuts, long curing canes of wild blackberries; the hush of deep snows, yet, in nature’s expertise with the bitter and the sweet, there were wild flowers, blue birds, the whispering wind and the twitter and chirp of early spring.

    Whence the name?  The early history of any community is shrouded in the mists of human memory, family traditions and legend.  There seems to have been a feud between two families, the name puckerbrush was coined, resented but caught on.  In time it was accepted, became popular and eventually was applied to the whole community.  Today there is considerable pride in having been a resident or the descendent of a Puckerbrush ancestor.  We have been given many interesting anecdotes, which space precludes giving at this time.  Lists of teacher’s names cannot be given because of inadequate records.

       A former resident, Dr. J. R. Johnson, Professor of History in the John F. Kennedy College at Wahoo, Nebraska, has written a book titled ‘The Puckerbrush Kid’.  Dr. Johnson lived there until he was 15 years old.  He says, ‘The book has all the characters I knew as I grew up and it’s full of folklore.  More than half of it deals with people and events.  Some names that appear are:  Haltom, Benge, Marker, Doherty, Nine, Cackler, Bennett, Penick, Ashby, Pennington, Clore, Blackstock, Barger, Sones, Edwards, Baker, Nicholson, Harvey, Mills and Webster.”
     Mr. William Osenbaugh was born and reared in this community and has given us much of interest.  His grandfather with three sons migrated from Illinois in 1873 looking for a location in brush and hill country devoid of chills and fever and where there was less danger of prairie fires.  The rest of the family came the following year.  At the time of state-hood the Federal Government set up ‘School 80’s’ in checkerboard fashion over the state.  After the district was laid out, the location of the building had to be decided up.  It was not always possible for it to be in the exact center of the district.  Some children would have to walk father than others.  A battle raged over this matter and one man blocked the road.  He was fined $300 and had to haul 13c corn to Chariton in the bitter cold of winter to pay it.  The school was built in 1874 named ‘Hazel Dell’, later changed to Otter Creek No. 3, then to Pleasant Ridge No. 3 and finally by common usage to Puckerbrush.  In 1889 the land passed into private ownership of Mrs. America Blackstock.

     The boundaries of the school district were definite but of this unique community, they were singularly undefined.  The whole region was individual, even queer in some ways, but of good citizenship.  Most of the people had little education but were substantial, honorable and kind-hearted.  Being removed from urban life, they were very appreciative.  High academic standards were not required of teacher.  Any persons 18 years or over who could pass the County Superintendent’s examination could teach.  This was standard practice in that day.  However, the lack of formal education was in part made up by the emphasis on basic subjects plus the building of good character, exemplary conduct, personal honor and integrity.  There were many capable and dedicated teachers whose high ideals thus came an integral part of the fabric of our culture and national life.

      The name of the first teacher is not available, but one of the earliest was Miss Lydia Lel Pfrimmer who taught in 1876-7.  Her certificate is dated March 15, 1876.  She later became Mrs. Thompson David Ashby, Sr. and in the fullness of time, two of her children, George and Nina Hanks followed in her footsteps and taught at Puckerbrush.  Until about the turn of the century, all rural schools had three terms each year – two months in the fall – November was corn husking month, and thus no school.  The winter term filled the next three months and this was the term when older pupils were in large attendance.  This was followed by the spring term of two or often three months.

    The district was six square miles instead of the standard four, thus including more families and resulting in larger enrollment.  The reason at that time there was a state law to the effect that children could not be required to cross a running stream.  Otter Creek divides about two miles north of the school house, one branch, called North Otter, running almost due west, the other running mostly south and along the east edge of the district.  The school lay inside that fork.  At one time there were 50 pupils and two teachers, each taking turns at conducting classes and keeping order.  Ages of pupils ranged from five to 21 years.  Some seats held five pupils, other three.

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     The school was a community center as were most rural schools of that time.  There were box suppers, literary meetings, talk fests in which current events and topics were discussed and there were itinerant teachers of singing and penmanship.  In one of these penmanship classes a prize was to be given to the one who made the greatest improvement.  One fellow of more while than others, wrote the first lesson with his left hand and the last with his right.  Yes they had them then too!

   In very early times there were no ordained ministers residing in or near these outlying areas.  Only when one came travelling through, could there be services such as marriages or funerals.  In cases of death, burial was made but the service was postponed until a minister came along.  In marriages a contract was drawn, the contracting parties signed in the presence of witnesses, the bride in one corner and the groom in the opposite.  The contract was torn perpendicularly down the center, the bride’s half given to the groom’s family, the groom’s to the bride’s family for safe keeping in case any question of legality should ever arise.  When an ordained minister came along, the service of holy matrimony was performed and it was not unknown for the couple’s child or children to stand with the parents during the ceremony.

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     In the school reorganization of 1960, Puckerbrush was the last to close its doors.  As with all rural school buildings, this one was put up for wale.  The local Historical Society wanted it and Mrs. Ralph Pim and Mr. and Mrs. William Osenbaugh raised the money in the neighborhood to buy it.  There were no other bidders so the school board sold it to them for $1.00.  The money that had been raised to purchase it then was allocated for its restoration.  Much more money and more work will be needed.

On February 1968 “Puckerbrush” school house became part of the Lucas County’s Museum complex.  Untold hours of hard work and a generous quantity of devotion had gone in to the preparation of the old building for the trip – the jacking up and reinforcement of decayed timer to stand the strain of 22 miles.  The day was cold, crisp and beautiful, the historic task, heart warming.  This school is to be a symbol of all rural schools in this county.  At 9 o’clock every man was at his post.  Keith Kent of Lucas, whose mother had been a teacher there, had his big machinery lined up with his customary precision.  The coterie of helpers was:  Glenn Burgett, L. H. Dearson, George Durham, Elmer Fullmer, Herbert Hamilton, George Kinkead, Frank L. Mott, Charles C. Noble, Bill Osenbaugh, Vernard Oxenreider, Louis Pearson, Young Pearson, Don Super and Carl Taylor.

There were men from Clark Electric Cooperative (it was in this school house that the Clark Coop held its first sign up for electric service) Iowa Southern Utilities Company, Lucas Co.  Road Maintenance Crew, Deputy Sheriff Albert Johnson, telephone men – all working together to accomplish a velvet smooth piece of history.  Mr. Kent skillfully maneuvered the long lo-boy under the building without shaving off even a toothpick.  Soon the heavy support timbers and jacks were removed and the building eased into her “saddle.”  (A venerable, well-loved old building can be as feminine as a ship, can’t she?)

   Not a movement was lost.  At 10 o’clock, the circuitous passage began – down the slope, curving across the ravine where it had been necessary to cut one tree and trim another, gently gracefully winding out to the steep incline where a ‘cat’ waited to hook on and give the added power pull to the highway.  The procession was on its historic way.  First the Sheriff’s car with blinding light atop, next the ‘caution’ car furnished by Mr. Kent and caring the huge warning sign.  Next came Puckerbrush in all the dignity of her 94 years of history and sentiment, riding majestically as a queen, her carriage so expertly making the curves and turns that she never once wavered.  A queen must have her retinue and this one no less – three truckloads of heavy cribbing material which, with certain tools were furnished by Renus Johnson, who also furnished the permit allowing the building to be moved through the streets.  Jeffries Construction Company and the Gillespy DX Station of Oakley also loaned equipment as did Dave Halferty.  At the city limits, the police met the procession and escorted it to the museum grounds where the work of restoration has already begun.  While the foundation is being run, the building rests on long strong timbers furnished by Ray Daugherty.

   There were in all 56 “wire crossings” where linemen lifted wires, either with long poles or with an Iowa Southern Utilities cherry picker for the building to pass under.  Three bridges were crossed, some with very limited clearance, and a few signs had to be trimmed a little:  Otter Creek, Whitebreast, and the Golf Club Lake bridge.  Crossing a railroad with a house on board is quite involved but this too had been carefully anticipated by Don Fuller, local Agent operator, who arranged with Walter Lauer signal inspector out of Chicago who just happened to be here.  D. E. O’Brian, signal maintenance man and C.C. Smith, Division Lineman – all of whom most cheerfully gave their assistance.  This project was community effort at its best.  Every man was there because he wanted to be and because of the satisfaction of doing something for the community in which he and those who follow can take just pride.

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