Memorials › Mary A. Greathouse Slack

Mary A. Greathouse Slack

4 Jan 1823 – 14 Jul 1889

Birth	4 Jan 1823
Death	14 Jul 1889
Cemetery	Hartford Cemetery Hartford , Warren County , Iowa , USA
Added by	SPC on 10 Nov 2011
FaG	https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/80216330

Gravesite details

Lyon Co., Kansas, Historical Society info from Daisey (Ferguson) Grimes, stated that Mary died in Emporia KS. So, quite likely, she moved in with the Ferguson family after selling the farm in Iowa.If so brought back to Iowa for burial

Bio

age 65y 5m 16d wife of William Slack MARY's OBITUARY (from Becky Doan) The Emporia [KS] Weekly News, 18 Jul 1889, Thursday Mrs. Mary G. Slack, formerly a resident of Emporia, died at her home in Hartford, July 14th. Mrs. Slack was 65 years of age and was well known in Lyon county, having lived here for a number of years. She had been ill for about ten months previous to her death, and had suffered great bodily pain. Mr. T. H. Harvey and Mrs. W. O. Ferguson, daughters of the deceased, were with her during her last weeks of sickness. The remains were sent to Mrs. Slack's old home in Iowa for interment. FAMILY: In the 1860, 1870, and 1880 U.S./Iowa census reports, Mary Slack gives her birthplace as Illinois. In a biography of Mary compiled by Daisy Dutton Ferguson, her granddaughter, Mary's birthplace is listed as Hagerstown, Washington Co., Maryland (src: Lyon Co., Kansas, Historical Society, Emporia, Kansas). Daisy may have confused this with Mary's mother, whose birthplace is given as Maryland by Mary in the 1880 U.S./Iowa census. Her father was born in Kentucky and her mother in Maryland- src: 1880 US/Iowa Census. Mary's father may have been John. S. Greathouse, who served as Adjutant for the Spy Battalion of the brigade formed to fight in the Blackhawk War of 1831 - src.: History of Cass County, by H. Perrin, p. 26.) MARY AND WILLIAM'S LIFE: On 12 July 1842, William married Mary A. Greathouse, who had been born in Maryland. Their first four children, all girls, were born in Illinois, between 1844 and 1850. Between 1849 and 1850, the family emigrated to a farm near Hartford, Iowa. When they first arrived in Polk County, Iowa, they lived with the John Leonard family. The 1850 U.S./Iowa census of Polk County [The northern tier of townships of Warren County were a part of Polk Co. at that time] shows the family as being a part of the Leonard household. Those listed with William (29y) are Mary (26y), Catherine (8y), Mary A. (6y), and Rebecca (ly). Missing is Josephine, who was a little over one year old and may have been left in Illinois with her grandparents, being considered too young to make the trip. Rebecca was most likely only a few months old and had to go with her mother. Their fifth child, John Uriah, was born in Hartford, Iowa, in 1851. William's father, John Slack, and at least a portion of William's siblings, must have emigrated at about the same time. Records show that John purchased lot 1, block 5 in Hartford in 1852. William and Mary and their children moved to Emporia, Kansas in 1866. They stayed only a few years and then returned to Iowa (prior to 1870, because they are listed in the Warren County, U.S./Iowa census for that year). So far a record of William's purchase of the twenty-acre farm at the west edge of Hartford (sec. 20) has not been found, but it was about at this time because his ownership of the property is shown on the map of Richland Twp., dated 1872. Twenty acres was a very small holding on which to raise a large family -- eventually there were ten children. I think it is clear that by the time of his father's death in 1872, William was in need of property and was most likely expecting to receive a portion of his father's estate. But it didn't happen; somehow his sister Sarah's husband, Joe Taylor, became the owner. As reported in John's biography, the transfer of ownership may have occurred even prior to John's death. A running dispute over the division of the property ensued and intensified during the summer. On September 9, 1873, William encountered Joe in front of a store in the center of Hartford. Their ongoing argument was resumed and became very bitter. Words led to a physical encounter, with William swinging at Joe. Joe returned the attack by swinging his knife at William and slashing him across the abdomen. William picked up a stone and began hitting Joe repeatedly, inflicting severe injury. By-standers eventually separated them and got them to their homes. Joe survived, but William died two days later. Joe was eventually acquitted, and his attack on William was ruled self-defense. This left Mary to support three children still at home: Eva 13, Lizzie 11, and Henry 8. Somehow, they managed. John Uriah (Uncle Bud) was still at home and probably Josephine and Cornelia were home periodically. John probably ran the farm and Josephine and Cornelia, who were teachers, may have contributed occasional assistance. William died intestate and Mary, his wife, was appointed administrix of the estate on 27 September 1873 [Warren Co., IA, Probate Records, Book E, p. 169-170. Mary's appointment approved on 30 Sep 1873, Book E, p. 179]. The heirs listed are shown below: Age Catherine Furgison (sic) 29 years AnnaMunion 26 years Josephine Slack 25 years Rebecca Harvey 23 years John (U.) Slack 22 years Eva Slack 14 years Lizzie Bell Slack 11 years Henry Slack 8 years All were listed as residents of either Iowa or Kansas. On 9 October 1873, Mary presented an inventory15 ofthe estate ofher husband; excerpts follow: Real Estate- "The half of the southwest quarter (112 SW 114) of the northeast quarter (NE114) of section no. twenty (20) in township seventy-seven (77) north of Range no. twenty-two (22) west of the 5th P.M. Iowa. Except the one-tenth part of the undivided interest of a minor heir which is conveyed by the said grantor (? - overwritten and illegible) by deed of quit claim, it being the true intent of the grantor to deed by warrantee 9/10 of the above described land, (sec) 20, (twp) 77, (RN) 22, Acres 18." Personal Property (Chattle Property)- "Three (3) horses, 1 cow, 30 sheep, 6 hogs, 6 pigs under six months old, 1 wagon, 2 plows, 1 double sett of harness, 1 sett blacksmith tools, 1 crosscut saw, some augers, chisels and handsaw, 1 scythe and cradle and mowing scythe, 3 beds and bedding and other household and kitchen furniture." James Talbott, H. W. Higby, and Albert Spain were appointed by the court as appraisers of William Slack's estate, and on 13 October 1873 they presented their report to the court [Warren Co., Iowa, probate records, Book E, p. 241-242]. Excerpts follow: "We the undersigned appraisers-- do certify the following to be a true list of property and money set off, and allowed the widow and minor children under fifteen years of age of said deceased for their support for one year from date of death of deceased." -Articles- "Money set off and allowed the widow and 3 minor children for support for one year --$300.00. Schedule of property exempt from execution and left in the hands of the widow of said deceased. All wearing apperal on hands and trunks to contain the same. 1 musket, the team consisting of 2 horses and harness, 1 wagon, 3 plows, 1 cradle scythe, and mowing scythe, 1 spade, 2 hoes, all books and family Bible, portraits and pictures on hand, 1 cow, 36 sheep and the wool there from, 5 hogs and 6 pigs, 100 bushels corn, 2 tons of hay for animals -- (missing) -- for the same, 1 spinning wheel. All household and kitchen furniture on hand." "An appraisement bill of the goods, chattles, and personal estate of William Slack" (apparently, this was the part of the estate that was to be sold). -Articles- Iron gray mare $65.00 1 black sow 5.00 1 sett (sic) black-smith tools including bellows, anvils and vise 35.00 50 bushells (sic) corn@ 20¢ (per bush) 10.00 80 bushells (sic) wheat@ 75¢ (per bush) 60.00 5 augers 1.30 4 plows 1.50 1 broad axe 1.00 2 chisels .35 1 square foot adze and froe 1.75 1 hand saw, cross cut saw and bow saw 2.75 1 cane boiler 4.00 1 pile lumber 1.50 Total $189.15 On 28 August 1876, Mary stated before the court that she had "Collected all debts due the estate, paid all court costs and expenses of administration and last sickness and funeral expenses and paid my allowance 122.25 (part payment)." She stated further that she had "no other property belonging to said estate with which to pay the other debts (apparently, a note for $15.00 and another for $39.08 and an account of $40.00 at the local general store= $94.08) and would therefore ask to be discharged as the adm. and my suretys on bond released." [Warren Co., Iowa, Probate Records, Book H, p. 35.] On 19 October 1876, the court discharged Mary as administrix ofthe William Slack estate, based on her final report of 28 August 1876 [Warren Co., Iowa, Probate Records, Book H, p. 116]. The probate of John Slack's estate in 1875 showed Mary as a resident of Kansas. Most likely, she was living for a time with her daughter Catherine's family in Emporia. However, by 1880 she was recorded in the census as a resident of Richland Twp., Warren Co., Iowa. Apparently, she lived on the farm until 1884, when she sold it and lots 3 and 4 in block 8, Hartford to J. H. Wetzel. [Warren Co., Iowa, Deed Book 32, p. 572, 20 A. W 1/2 I SW 1/4 I NE 1/4 sec. 20, Twp. 77, Rn 22, Oct. 16, 1884, and town lots - Hartford, Book 28, p. 530, lots 3 and 4 block 8. On the same date, her son, John U. Slack, also sold 30 acres near her farm (NE 3/4 / SE 1/4 / NE 1/4, Sec 20, Twp 77, Rn 22) to Mr. Wetzel.] Mary died on July 14, 1889. I don't know who she lived with during her last five years. In the information supplied to the Lyon Co., Kansas, Historical Society by Daisey (Ferguson) Grimes, it is stated that Mary died in Emporia. So, quite likely, she moved in with the Ferguson family after selling the farm. If that is the case, she was brought back to Hartford, Iowa for burial. SLACK FAMILY HISTORY BY David Earle Tyler (Second Part of Book - starting at Chapter IV - see Sarah Penn for Chapters I through III) CHAPTER IV Descendants of William Slack and Mary A. (Greathouse) Slack William Slack; Father: John Slack, Jr.; Mother: Nancy McDonald; Born: 25 July 1819 (src: tombstone; 1850 U.S./Iowa census indicates 1821 as birth year) Where: Washington Co., Kentucky (1870 and 1880 U.S./Iowa census). Married: 12 July 1842 in Cass Co., Illinois (src: Marriage Book, Vol. 1, License No. 153 Cass Co., Illinois, records). Died: 11 September 1873. Where: Hartford, Iowa, aged 54 yrs., 1 mos., 17 days (from tombstone). Buried: same. Occupation: Farmer (1850 U.S./Iowa Polk Co. census, under occupation, he is listed as a cooper). Mary A. Greathouse; Father, b: Kentucky; Mother, b: Maryland*; Born: 04(?) January 1823 (src: tombstone; 28 Jan 1824, Tohlen). Where: In the 1860, 1870, and 1880 U.S./Iowa census reports, Mary Slack gives her birthplace as Illinois. In a biography of Mary compiled by Daisy Dutton Ferguson, her granddaughter, Mary's birthplace is listed as Hagerstown, Washington Co., Maryland (src: Lyon Co., Kansas, Historical Society, Emporia, Kansas). Daisy may have confused this with Mary's mother, whose birthplace is given as Maryland by Mary in the 1880 U.S./Iowa census. Died: 14 July 1889, aged 66 yrs., 6 mos., 10 days (from headstone). Where: Hartford, Iowa (Daisy [Ferguson] Grimes stated in information provided to the Lyon Co., Kansas, Historical Society that Mary died in Emporia, Kansas). Buried: Hartford, Iowa. Occupation: Housewife * (Her father was born in Kentucky and her mother in Maryland - src: 1880 US/Iowa Census. Mary's father may have been John. S. Greathouse, who served as Adjutant for the Spy Battalion of the brigade formed to fight in the Blackhawk War of 1831 - src.: History of Cass County, by H. Perrin, p. 26.) William Slack William, who was born 25 July 1819, was the second child of John and Nancy Slack: The family was living in Kentucky at that time. In 1827, the family moved to Morgan Co., Illinois. On 12 July 1842, William married Mary A. Greathouse, who had been born in Maryland. Their first four children, all girls, were born in Illinois, between 1844 and 1850. Between 1849 and 1850, the family emigrated to a farm near Hartford, Iowa. When they first arrived in Polk County, Iowa, they lived with the John Leonard family. William, and part of his family are listed in the 1850 U.S./Iowa census of Polk County as being a part of the Leonard household. Their name is spelled "Slock" instead of "Slack." Those listed with William (29y) are Mary (26y), Catherine (Sy), Mary A. (6y), and Rebecca (ly). Missing is Josephine, who was a little over one year old and may have been left in Illinois with her grandparents, being considered too young to make the trip. Rebecca was most likely only a few months old and had to go with her mother. Their fifth child, John Uriah, was born in Hartford, Iowa, in 1851. William's father, John Slack, and at least a portion of William's siblings, must have emigrated at about the same time. Records show that John purchased lot 1, block 5 in Hartford in 1852, The earliest land record I have for William is from a deed dated 17 June 1852 (Warren Co. deed records, Book F, p. 146), which shows that William bought 40 acres in the NE¼ of the SW¼ of section 14, Twp 77, Rn 22 from A.Y. Hull for $40.00. His father purchased the 40 acres just to the south of this land on 13 May 1853. Both sold their forty acres on 29 Feb 1856 to William Linda wood for $ __ . What happened to cause them both to sell out at the same time isn't known. The story becomes even more confusing. On 26 Apr 1856, William bought another forty-acre tract in Section 12, which is located just diagonally to the northeast of the land he had just sold. The problem is that the land was located in the northeast corner of section 12, which was across the Des Moines River and in Polk County. It was definitely on the flood plain. Now, more confusion: he sold this land less than two months later on 16 Jun 1856. It certainly wasn't a money-making proposition; he bought it for $120 and sold it for the same amount. Still more confusion. In the Deed index book, William's name is spelled "Slack," while on the recorded copy of the deed it is spelled "Stack." This could.be explained as a copy error. But, how do we explain that on the copy of the deed for selling the property, William's wife is given as "Elizabeth Slack" (no crossing of the "l"), instead of "Mary"? The description and dates for all three entries are essentially in agreement. William must have decided it was time to follow his father's example (John had bought lots in Hartford: lot 1, block 5, in 1852 and lots 3 and 4, block 6, in 1853) and moved to town. William bought lots 1, 2, 3, and 4 in block 7 on 8 Apr 1856 and lots 7 and 8 in block 5 and lot 4 in block 3 on 15 June 1857. What he did to make a living for his large family (they had eight children at home in the 1860 U.S./Iowa Census of Warren Co., Iowa) isn't known. On this census, his occupation was given as farmer, but where was he farming? He could have been helping his father who still owned 40 acres west of Hartford, but that land had only about 30 tillable acres, which wasn't enough to support one family, let alone two. If the entry on the 1850 U.S./Polk Co. census is correct, he may have resorted to his recorded occupation as a cooper (barrel maker). His estate appraisement in 1874 showed that he had the tools for barrel making and blacksmithing. The next real estate transaction I find for William is the sale of lots 7 and 8 in block 5 and lot 4 in block 3 on 19 Mar 1866. This date coincides with the year William moved his family to Emporia, Kansas. What he did there has not been determined. They stayed only a few years and then returned to Iowa (prior to 1870, because they are listed in the Warren County, U.S./Iowa census for that year). I have yet to find the record of his purchase of the twenty-acre farm at the west edge of Hartford (sec. 20), but I expect it was about at this time because his ownership of the property is shown on the map of Richland Twp., dated 1872. Twenty acres was a very small holding on which to raise a large family -- eventually there were ten children. I think it is clear that by the time of his father's death in 1872, William was in need of property and was most likely expecting to receive a portion of his father's estate. But it didn't happen; somehow his sister Sarah's husband, Joe Taylor, became the owner. As reported in John's biography, the transfer of ownership may have occurred even prior to John's death. A running dispute over the division of the property ensued and intensified during the summer. On September 9, 1873, William encountered Joe in front of a store in the center of Hartford. Their ongoing argument was resumed and became very bitter. Words led to a physical encounter, with William swinging at Joe. Joe returned the attack by swinging his knife at William and slashing him across the abdomen. William picked up a stone and began hitting Joe repeatedly, inflicting severe injury. By-standers eventually separated them and got them to their homes. Joe survived, but William died two days later. Joe was eventually acquitted, and his attack on William was ruled self-defense. This left Mary to support three children still at home: Eva 13, Lizzie 11, and Henry 8. Somehow, they managed. John Uriah (Uncle Bud) was still at home and probably Josephine and Cornelia were home periodically. John probably ran the farm and Josephine and Cornelia, who were teachers, may have contributed occasional assistance. William died intestate and Mary, his wife, was appointed administrix of the estate on 27 September 1873. The heirs listed are shown below: Catherine Furgison (sic) 29 years old Anna Munion 26 years Josephine Slack 25 years Rebecca Harvey 23 years John (U.) Slack 22 years Eva Slack 14 years Lizzie Bell Slack 11 years Henry Slack 8 years All were listed as residents of either Iowa or Kansas. On 9 October 1873, Mary presented an inventory of the estate of her husband; excerpts follow: Real Estate - "The half of the southwest quarter (1/2 SW 1/4) of the northeast quarter (NEl/4) of section no. twenty (20) in township seventy-seven (77) north of Range no. twenty-two (22) west of the 5th P.M. Iowa. Except the one-tenth part of the undivided interest of a minor heir which is conveyed by the said granter (? - overwritten and illegible) by deed of quit claim, it being the true intent of the granter to deed by warrantee 9/10 of the above described land, (sec) 20, (twp) 77, (RN) 22, Acres 18." Personal Property (Chattle Property) - "Three (3) horses, 1 cow, 30 sheep, 6 hogs, 6 pigs under six months old, 1 wagon, 2 plows, 1 double sett of harness, 1 sett blacksmith tools, 1 crosscut saw, some augers, chisels and handsaw, 1 scythe and cradle and mowing scythe, 3 beds and bedding and other household and kitchen furniture." James Talbott, H. W. Higby, and Albert Spain were appointed by the court as appraisers of William Slack's estate, and on 13 October 1873 they presented their report to the court. Excerpts follow: "We the undersigned appraisers -- do certify the following to be a true list of property and money set off, and allowed the widow and minor children under fifteen years of age of said deceased for their support for one year from date of death of deceased." - Articles - "Money set off and allowed the widow and 3 minor children for support for one year -- $300.00. Schedule of property exempt from execution and left in the hands of the widow of said deceased. All wearing apperal on hands and trunks to contain the same. 1 musket, the team consisting of 2 horses and harness, 1 wagon, 3 plows, 1 cradle scythe, and mowing scythe, 1 spade, 2 hoes, all books and family Bible, portraits and pictures on hand, 1 cow, 36 sheep and the wool there from, 5 hogs and 6 pigs, 100 bushels corn, 2 tons of hay for animals -- (missing) -- for the same, 1 spinning wheel. All household and kitchen furniture on hand." "An appraisement bill of the goods, chattles, and personal estate of William Slack" (apparently, this was the part of the estate that was to be sold). - Articles - Iron gray mare $65.00 1 black sow $5.00 1 sett (sic) black-smith tools including bellows, anvils and vise $35.00 50 bushells (sic) corn @20¢ (per bush) $10.00 80 bushells (sic) wheat@ 75¢ (per bush) $60.00 5 augers $1.30 4 plows $1.50 1 broad axe $1.00 2 chisels $0.35 1 square foot adze and froe $1.75 1 hand saw, cross cut saw and bow saw $2.75 1 cane boiler . $4.00 1 pile lumber $1.50 Total $189.15 On 28 August 1876, Mary stated before the court that she had "collected all debts due the estate, paid all court costs and expenses of administration and last sickness and funeral expenses and paid my allowance 122.25 (part payment). 11 She stated further that she had "no other property belonging to said estate with which to pay the other debts (apparently, a note for $15.00 and another for $39.08 and an account of $40.00 at the local general store = $94.08) and would therefore ask to be discharged as the adm. and my suretys on bond released." On 19 October 1876, the court discharged Mary as administrix of the William Slack estate, based on her final report of 28 August 1876. The probate of John Slack's estate in 1875 showed Mary as a resident of Kansas. Most likely, she was living for a time with her daughter Catherine's family in Emporia. However, by 1880 she was recorded in the census as a resident of Richland Twp., Warren Co., Iowa. Apparently, she lived on the farm until 1884, when she sold it and lots 3 and 4 in block 8, Hartford to J. H. Wetzel. Mary died on July 14, 1889. I don't know who she lived with during her last five years. In the information supplied to the Lyon Co., Kansas, Historical Society by Daisey (Ferguson) Grimes, it is stated that Mary died in Emporia. So, quite likely, she moved in with the Ferguson family after selling the farm. If that is the case, she was brought back to Hartford, Iowa for burial. Children of William and Mary A. (Greathouse) Slack 1. Margaret Catherine (Kate) Slack (Nancy, according to Ferguson family Bible - see in Lyon Co., Kansas, Historical Society, Emporia, Kansas), b: 13 April 1844 in Cass Co., Illinois (Jackson, Morgan Co., Illinois, according to her obituary); d: 30 August 193620 in Emporia, Kansas; buried: Maplewood Cemetery, Emporia, Kansas; m: William Orville Ferguson (b: 17 April 1831 in Preble Co., Ohio; d. 13 January 1913) on 18 August 1867. He was a carpenter and builder, grocery merchant, and baker. He served in the Kansas 9th Cavalry, 16 December 1861 to 27 November 1864, during the Civil War. Occupation: Housewife. Catherine was still with the family during the U.S. census for Iowa in 1860. She was listed as 16 years old and as having attended school the previous year. She was not listed in the 1870 census, having emigrated to Emporia, Kansas, with her parents in 1866, where she met and married W. 0. Ferguson on 18 August 1867. She spent the rest of her adult life in Emporia. Catherine read widely and collected news items of interest from the local and surrounding communities, which she placed in scrap books. These scrapbooks were also reputed to contain much history of her family. Catherine was an avid gardener and planted many of the trees and shrubs around her home at 718 Constitution Street in Emporia. During the summer, she daily cut flowers from her garden to decorate her home. At different times during the 1870s and 1880s, most of her brothers and sisters lived with the Ferguson family while they attended the Emporia Normal School or the Emporia Business College. Two of her sisters, Rebecca and Eva, were married in her home. Catherine was in declining health for 16 years, and during the last five years her condition had been critical much of the time. She was a member of the First Christian Church of Emporia. Catherine and William had two daughters: (i.) Loulou (Lu) Etta Ferguson, b: 5 May 1869, Emporia, Kansas; m: never married; d: 28 December 1940 in Indianola, Iowa; buried: Maplewood Cemetery, Emporia, Kansas. Lu received her degree in elementary education from The Emporia Normal School in 1892. Her teaching career extended nearly half a century. She taught in the Industrial School for Girls in Beloit, Kansas, 1892-93; the city schools of Louisburg, Kansas, 1893-94; the Soldiers' Orphans Home, Atchison, Kansas, 1894-97; the city schools of Atchison, Kansas, 1897-1900; the city schools of Kansas City, Kansas, 1900-04; and The Walnut School of Emporia, Kansas, from 1904 up to the time of her death in 1940. Lu served for many years as principal of The Walnut School and retired in May 1940 to return to teaching the fifth grade. During a visit to her Aunt Cornelia (Slack) Switzer in Indianola, Iowa, in December of 1940, Lu suffered a stroke and died on the 28th. Her body was returned to Emporia for burial in Maplewood Cemetery. The following is excerpted from "A Tribute to Lu Ferguson," presented by Mrs. Alfred D. Smith on 6 January 1941 at a meeting of The Walnut School PTA: Miss Ferguson possessed a cheerful, inspiring disposition. Her dynamic personality was ever alert. She was not a dreamer. Hard work and long hours meant nothing to her, if they added to the happiness and progress of her pupils. As a teacher she was concientious [sic], assuming the responsibility for her pupils in a most interesting manner. She could have easily written interesting books of history. She was fair, making each child feel his importance to the group. She believed that 'all play and no work makes Jack a dull boy.' She realized her work was teaching and was reluctant to take school time for tea time. I have visited her room many times and her work was always going in full swing - a busy rustle. Her pupils received a good taste of the satisfaction that comes after accomplishing their work well. Her thoughts were for others rather than herself. On this Christmas vacation trip she stopped in Kansas City to see the Hansel and Gretel Opera and wrote back to her children that she would tell them all about it when they all were back after the vacation. May we parents always praise all teachers as Lu Ferguson, whose personality influences the lives of our children all through the years. We are most thankful for the life of Lu Ferguson. In addition, this portion of an editorial from The Emporia Gazette (3 Jan 1941) in tribute to Lu Ferguson nicely sums up the esteem held for her by the Emporia community: Probably no other citizen of this town has done so much to influence it in the way it has gone in the last generation as Miss Lu Ferguson, school teacher here for nearly forty years, who was buried Tuesday. Hundreds of men and women now in this town received from her the example of a gentle spirit and through her had contact with a keen, well-ordered mind. As children, her influence was a part of their spiritual environment. Their own children have come under the sway of her noble spirit. (ii.) Daisy Dutton Ferguson, b: 16 March 1871, Emporia, Kansas; m: Bradford Robbins Grimes (b: 29 September 1857, Matagorda, Texas, d: 19 July 1948 in Emporia; bur: Maplewood Cemetery, Emporia), 11 March 1908, Emporia, Lyon Co., Kansas. Mr. Grimes came to Kiowa Co., Kansas, in 1908 and eventually became a rancher near Ashland, Clark Co., Kansas. In 1945, he and Daisy retired to Emporia at the old Ferguson residence at 718 Constitution Street. He was a member of the Episcopal Church of Emporia. Daisy graduated from The Emporia Normal School, receiving a degree in elementary education in 1889. Daisy taught in area schools for years, and at some point became a teacher in The Normal School in Alva, Oklahoma (Emporia Gazette, 7 January 1907 - note saying she was returning to her position there after spending the holidays with her parents). Since she and B. R. had no children, expect she continued teaching when they moved to the ranch near Ashland, Kansas, following their marriage in 1908. For several years before her sister's death, Daisy and B. R. spent the winters at the Ferguson residence at 718 Constitution Street in Emporia and became full-time residents in 1945. 2. Mary Ann Slack, b: about 1845 in Cass Co., Illinois; d: __ ; m: __ Munion, Occupation: teacher. Mary Ann was listed as being 15 in the 1860 U.S./Iowa census and 23 in the 1870 U.S./Iowa census. I expect the 1870 census is in error; the date of 1845 for her birth year fits in better with the birth dates of the siblings on either side. In the 1870 census, she was listed as a teacher and still living at home. In 1875, she was listed as Mary A. Munion and residing in the State of Kansas (from list of heirs in the probate of John Slack II's estate). (i.) Child: Cora Munion was listed as a niece of C. J. Switzer in her will dated 8 July 1940. There is also a photo of her as a child (32 [?] months old) taken in San Francisco. Her last name on the photo, as it was in Aunt Shug's will, was spelled "Munyon". 3. Josephine Slack (Aunt "Jenk") (Plate III, Fig. 7), b: 5 December 1849 (src: Warren Co., Iowa, Death Records, Book 4, p. 262) in Cass Co., Illinois; d: 1 October 1933, aged 83 yrs., 9 mos., 26 d. (src: Warren Co. Death Records Book, 4 p. 262) in Hartford, Iowa; buried: Hartford, Iowa; m: L.B. (Byran) Nunnally (b: 14 July 1833; d: 29 March 1909; src: Tombstone - Hartford, Iowa, Cemetery) 15 September 1878 in Hartford, Iowa (src: Warren Co. Marriage Records, Book A). Occupation: teacher, housewife. I suppose that Aunt Jenk got her nickname from a younger sibling who couldn't say "Josephine." I was only 5 years old when she died, so I don't remember her well. She was small in stature, thin, and had sharp facial features. Josephine taught school for a number of years. She is listed as a teacher in the U.S./Iowa census of 1870. In a pamphlet about the Parmelee cabin26 it is reported that she taught three short terms of school in the west end of the cabin during 1865 (she was 16). On 15 September 1878, Josephine married L.B. Nunnally, a widower with three children. In the 1880 census, she was 31; L. B. was 48. The children's names and ages were listed as Edgar, 20; Mary, 16; and George, 13. Mr. Nunnally and Aunt Jenk had no additional children. L. B. owned and operated a drug and dry goods store on the southwest corner of Vine and Elm Streets in Hartford. The old building still stands as of this date (1999) and has housed many businesses over the years. It was a cafe, run by Delmar & Willard Barr, when I was growing up. The Nunnallys lived in a beautifully styled house just across the street to the east from their store. It had a front porch with two pillars and a roof that formed a small balcony. Two large maple trees were at each corner of the front of the house. Aunt Jenk must have been well schooled, probably most of it on her own. She and two of her sisters, Cornelia and Elizabeth, authored a book of short stories entitled Out of the Past by Sisters Three. The stories are well written and characteristic in style and content for popular literature of that time. In August of 1933, Aunt Jenk fell on the steps of the south entrance to the Agricultural Building on the Iowa State Fair grounds and broke her hip. As with so many older people of that time, the fracture was lethal and she died a few weeks later. Visiting at her home with my parents on the evening before her funeral was my first experience with viewing a dead person. I vividly remember seeing her lying in the casket in the front room of her home. The color gray comes to mind, as I see her lying there. I don't think she was dressed in gray, but her casket and, maybe, the lining (although they were usually white) were probably gray. She seemed so awfully old and so unmoving. The house deteriorated after her death, with renters taking a heavy toll. It was eventually torn down (in the '50s, I believe) and replaced with a much less grand dwelling. 4. Rebecca Slack (Aunt Becky), b: about 1850 (src: Warren Co. Probate Records Book E, pp. 169-170, 1873, age listed as 23) in Cass Co., Illinois; d: ___ ; m: Tom H. Harvey (b: 1845 in Ohio) on 15 August 1869, Emporia, Lyon Co., Kansas (src: Lyon Co., Kansas Marriage Book B, p. 58; Occupation: housewife. Rebecca was listed in the 1860 census with the rest of her siblings but was not there in the 1870 census because she had married by that time. Her husband, Tom Harvey, was a baker, according to my mother. She also referred to him as being "one nice man," so she must have known him. Becky and Tom lived in Emporia, Kansas, for many years and were still living there in 1883, when they hosted a party to celebrate her mother's 60th birthday (she was born in 1823). In the article, which had appeared in a local newspaper (Emporia Gazette?), the Harveys were listed as living on Merchants Street. Those attending the party were Mr. and Mrs. T. H. Harvey and their children Court, Percy, and Pearl; Henry Slack; Cora (Cornelia) Slack; Lizzie Slack; Mr. and Mrs. W. 0. Ferguson; Daisy Ferguson; Lou Ferguson; and Mr. and Mrs. W. J. Brogan. The article was found as a clipping in one of my mother's (Bea Slack) scrap books. Since this was considerably before her time, she must have scavenged it from some old correspondence of her father's. They had three children (src: most of this information came from a very brief history of Henry Slack's siblings by Bea V. [Slack] Tyler): (i.) Cortland Harvey, b: 1870 in Lyon Co., Kansas. Cortland was a King Edward Tobacco salesman, but later became a reporter for a newspaper called The Democrat. I don't know in which city. Cort's first wife died and he married a half-breed Indian, Rose Wright. They had two boys; a girl died in infancy. (ii.) Percey Harvey, b: 1872 in Lyon Co., Kansas. Percey was also a King Edward Tobacco salesman. His wife was named Sally and was considered "so nice" by my mother. (iii.) Pearl Harvey, b: 1874 in Lyon Co., Kansas . There is a picture in the Slack File of a little girl about two years old that was taken in Emporia, Kansas. The name on the back is "Pearl Hervey" (note spelling of surname). Pearl married ______ Shultz, and they moved to Oklahoma. Pearl was well known in Emporia for her "sweet" singing voice and had been greatly missed in musical and social circles "since her move to" Oklahoma (from an article that appeared in The Emporia Republican Newspaper of Emporia, Kansas, 22 June 1901 - Lyon Co., Kansas, Historical Society Archives). The 1880 U.S./Kansas census for Emporia, Lyon Co., Kansas, recorded the following data for the Thomas Harvey family: Name Relation Married Gender Race Age Birthplace Occupation Birthplace Father Birthplace Mother Thomas Harvey self M Male w 35 Ohio Baker Oh. Oh. Rebecca Harvey wife M Female w 24* Illinois keeping house Ill. Ill. Curtland* Harvey son s Male w 10 Kansas Percey Harvey son s Male w 8 Kansas Pearl Harvey dau s Female w 6 Kansas J. Hennessey other s Female w 26 Illinois servant (Src: LDS Family History Library, film 1254387, NA Film #TD-0387, p. 191D.) * Errors - other records show Rebecca's age to be 30 in 1880; Rebecca's father was born in Kentucky; Curtland is misspelled, it should be Cortland. 5. John Uriah (Uncle Bud) Slack, b: 5 January 1851 (src: 1936 Tax Records, Hartford, Warren Co., Iowa, and 1930 U.S./Iowa census) in Hartford, Iowa; d: 30 January 1939, aged 88 years (src.: Warren Co. Probate Records Book 9, p. 100, #5755), Hartford, Iowa; bur: Hartford, Iowa; m: Donna Catherine Cain (in the 1870 census, she was 8 years old and living with her family, who were neighbors of the Slack family). She was born 25 June 1862 in Iowa and died 4 July 1939 in Hartford at 77 years of age (src.: Warren Co. Probate Records, Book 10, p. 308-403, October 2000, DET). They we.re married in 1883 (src: 1930 U.S./Iowa census. Occupation: farmer. John was known to us as "Uncle Bud," and for much of his married life he lived on small farms at the north edge of Hartford. However, in 1866, at the age of 15, he emigrated to Emporia, Kansas, with his parents. While there, he worked some as a teamster, hauling goods from Topeka to Emporia. Among these items were fire brick, for the construction of the ovens in his brother-in-law's (W. 0. Ferguson) bakery (clipping - Emporia Gazette, 25 Oct 1920 - see Slack File). He returned to Iowa around 1869, helped support-his mother after his father's death in 1893, married Donna Cain about 1883, and settled on a farm at the northeast comer of Hartford. In 1935, this farm consisted of about 95 acres. The home place was just across the road to the east from the Hartford School. I remember frequent visits to Uncle Bud's and Aunt Don's house (she was called Aunt "Don" by my mother). They were always congenial and easy to visit with. Aunt Don's house was always neat and clean. The 35 acres that Grandma Slack bought in 1891 from Uncle Bud (see Florence Josephine [Guthrie] Slack's biography later) became the original home place for her and Granddaddy. Over several years, Granddaddy eventually sold most of this land back to Uncle Bud. Uncle Bud and Aunt Don had two boys, William and Court. (i.) William (Billy) Gilbert Slack, b: 26 January 1885 in Hartford, Iowa; d: 14 September 1967, aged 82 years (src: Warren Co. Death Records, Book 6, p. 161), in Hartford, Iowa; buried: Hartford, Iowa; m: Alice Lorraine Johnson (b: 6 June 1885; d: 28 July 1964, aged 79 years, src: Warren Co. Death Records, Book 6, p. 63) about 1908, src: 1930 U.S./Iowa census. Billy and Alice lived about three blocks to the east of Uncle Bud and Aunt Don. The house was a well kept frame house that sat at the south edge of Uncle Bud's farm. After his parents died and the farm was sold, Billy and Alice moved to Livermore, Iowa, where they operated a drug store. Billy had been trained as a pharmacist earlier in his life. Two sons were born to Billy and Alice: (a) Male infant, b: 19 February 1913; d: 1913, Hartford, Iowa. (b) John Maxfield Slack, b: 01 December 1914 in Hartford, Iowa; d: 25 June 1996, aged 81 years; m: Aileen Barger (she was the daughter of a federal veterinarian). In a phone conversation with John on February 3, 1996, the following information was related about this branch of the family: John graduated from the University of lowa in accounting and journalism. His career, however, was that of a food broker in Omaha, Nebraska. He was the owner of Kohn Brothers Brokerage until 1979, when he and his wife retired to Naples, Florida. He served in the army during WWII and received a severe back injury, which plagued him throughout the rest of his life. He and his wife traveled extensively, having completed a trip around the world in 1995. They had two children: John V., who is an architect in Omaha, Nebraska, and JoAnn, who is a primary owner ofMediVac helicopter service. She has married three times, the last to Dan Parker of the Parker Pen family, and lives in Dallas, Texas. She had two children by a previous marriage: Randal Rawson, who is in the business of heavy machinery in Charleston, SC, and Lee Ann Rawson, who lives in New York and works with a company that settles VAT claims on European goods for American companies. It was good to visit with John. I don't remember meeting him, but I surely did because he was around Hartford until the mid '30s. As soon as he answered the phone, I knew I was talking to a member of the Slack family; his voice sounded just like I remember his father's voice. (ii.) Court Justin Slack, b: 17 May 1886 in Hartford, Iowa; d: 16 August 1969, aged 83 years (src.: Warren Co. Death Records, Book 6, p. 418), Hartford, Iowa; buried: Hartford, Iowa; m: Sara Faye Gwinn (b: 1 June 1891; d: 13 February 1943, aged 52 years) (src.: Warren Co. Death Records, Book 5, p. 39). Court farmed with his father and brother Billy most of his life. He married Faye Gwinn late in life. They had no children. He served as Mayor of Hartford for several years (1937 - 1943). Court and Billy are best remembered for the sorghum mill they ran at the north edge of Hartford fronting on Highway 60 (back then, but now 5). According to John Slack (Billy's son), the mill was built around 1930-31. The original mill, which was fired by wood, burned and was replaced by the structure that still stands (but unused) today (1999). Because the wood firing was considered too dangerous, the power and steam for the new mill were supplied by an old Case steam engine. Through September and into October, the mill was a busy and fragrant place. Farmers from many miles around would bring in their sorghum cane (previously stripped of its leaves before it was cut from the field) to have sorghum syrup made. The process involved running the stalks through a rotary press. The juice ("squeezins") flowed from a catch basin through a shallow bed of clay, which removed impurities and clarified the juice. This was an important part of the process and was the secret to the high quality of sorghum they produced. After passing through the clay beds, the clarified juice was passed to a covered holding vat adjacent to the cooking shed. The interior of the shed and large flat boiling pans were kept scrupulously clean. To help vent the steam from inside the shed, the upper half of the walls was open on two sides and on the west end where the door was located. The open areas were all screened, and flies and other insects were religiously kept out. Insects were a real problem around the mill because of the attraction of the juicy cut cane stacked around and the aroma coming off the boiling juices. The cane juice was boiled (steam heat was supplied by the coal-fired Case steam engine that sat just to the north of the shed) and the skim scooped repeatedly from the top by the miller. I can still visualize Billy Slack, wearing a clean white apron, working the boiling juice and greeting us as we came in the screen door. Free samples of freshly prepared sorghum in small paper cups were readily passed out to those who asked for them. When the boiling was complete, the sorghum syrup was poured into new gallon pails and sealed with a press down lid. I remember their label was yellow, and I think it said "Slack's Sorghum-Hartford, Iowa." It probably said more than that, but that's all I can remember. The syrup was clear and light amber in color. I have never found sorghum syrup to equal it anywhere; it was truly a quality product. The Hartford school was only about half a mile to the west of the mill, and when the wind was just right the steam from the boiling juice was caught by the breeze and blown through the open windows. What a wonderful, delicious fragrance it was. My father (Guy Tyler) dearly loved their sorghum and used it as a dressing on many foods, such as cottage cheese, all kinds of fried foods, pancakes, soup beans, mixed with peanut butter, etc. The mill was sold in the '50s to "Whistle" Campbell, who moved it lock, stock, and barrel to his new farm in northern Missouri. What became of it after that, I do not know. 6. Susan (Shug) Cornelia Slack, b: 28 March 1855 in Hartford, Iowa; d: 11 March 1942 (src.: Probate record, #6116, of her last will and testament, Warren Co., Iowa) in Indianola, Iowa; buried: Hartford, Iowa; m: Henry J. Switzer, 9 July 1904. Occupation: Teacher, housewife, landlord. Susan was known as "Aunt Shug." I don't know who gave her this nickname, but it was probably obtained in childhood and was short for "sugar." This seemed strange to me as a child because she always seemed to be more on the "sour" side when we visited her. She was well up in her years at that time though, so I'm sure that had something to do with her "sourness." Aunt Shug taught school for many years in California (Los Angeles, mostly) and married late in life (50 yrs) to Henry J. Switzer, a major land holder in Warren County, Iowa. They lived in Indianola, Iowa, in a large white house in the eastern part of town. 35 She and H. J. had no children. Aunt Shug was also a very competent author, and together with her sisters, Josephine and Lizzie, published a book of short stories entitled Out of the Past by Sisters Three. Aunt Shug owned the farm on which we lived from March 1, 1932, to March 1, 1937. It was known as the Switzer place and was located about 3 to 4 miles south of Hartford on the road to Sandyville. (See David Tyler biography for more information about the farm.) I rarely visited at Aunt Shug's home, but I remember that her living room was more like a library, with glass fronted bookcases along one wall. Not only were there many books within the cases but many mementos from her travels as well. I don't remember what they were, now except that I do vaguely recall a starfish. Anyway, we children found it a fascinating place to visit. Aunt Shug died 21 March 1942. She left some of her furniture and her piano to my mother, which greatly enriched her life and ours, too. Her brother, Henry E. Slack, was named executor of her estate and also received the remainder of her property, which included lot 15 and W. 80 feet of lot 14, Sinnard's add. in Indianola; and Wl/2 / SEl/4 (80 acres) Sec 32, Twp. 77 (Richland), Rn 22, Warren Co., which were valued at $6,800, less mortgages, giving a total value of $3,000. 7. William (Billy) C. Slack, b: 23 December 1856 in Hartford, Iowa; d: 28 July 1871 (src.: Tombstone Hartford Cemetery) in Hartford, Iowa; bur: Hartford, Iowa. Billy died in childhood from injuries received during an accident on the farm. If I remember the story correctly, it had something to do with haying. He evidently lingered for quite a while and slowly wasted away. A heart-rending letter written by his mother to one of her children about his last day is present in the Slack File. 8. Eva Mae (Isadora, 1860 census) Slack, b: 29 December 1859 (src.: 1860 U.S./Iowa census and Warren Co. Probate Records - Book E, p. 169-170, William Slack estate - list of heirs - Eva - 14 yrs. old) in Hartford, Iowa; d: 26 June 1930 (src: Texas death certificate no. 27181) in San Antonio, Texas; buried: St. Mary's Cemetery, San Antonio, Texas; m: William James Brogan (b: about 1855 in Iowa; d: 2 January 1918; src: Texas death certificate no. 1274) 10 December 1879, Emporia, Kansas (src: Lyon Co., Kansas, marriage records, Book C, p. 380. William's parents were immigrants from Ireland. In the 1880 US/Kansas census, William and Eva were living in Elmendaro, Lyon Co., Kansas. The occupation for William was given as merchant. Eva's occupation: author (dramatist), artist, housewife. Eva apparently moved to Emporia, Kansas, in the mid-1870s and stayed with her sister, Catherine Ferguson, and family. Most likely, she attended the Emporia Normal School. My mother (Bea Slack) stated that Eva was a dramatist and an artist. Evidence to support the former is found in a program of a concert directed by Eva Slack, May 20 & 21, 1879, most likely, presented in Emporia, Kansas. After her, marriage, Eva and William, who was also from Lyon Co., continued living in Emporia. They were still in Emporia on 22 June 1901, when Eva and Daisey Ferguson hosted a party at her home to honor the visit of their recently married cousin, Pearl (Harvey) Shultz ( clipping from the newspaper, Emporia Republican [?] from the files of The Lyon County, Kansas, Historical Society archives). At some point after 1901, the Brogan family moved to San Antonio, Texas, where Eva continued her artistic activities. In the Slack File is a copy of a photograph of one of her paintings entitled The Madonna of the Battlefield. The painting was presented to the American Legion on Armistice Day, November 11, 1921, at San Antonio, Texas, in honor of those soldiers who died during WWI. The original hung in the old Alamo museum for many years. It was no longer there when I visited in 1993. Eva and William had three children: (i) William F. Brogan, b: ___ ; d: 26 September 194639 in San Antonio, Texas; bur: St. Mary's Catholic Church Cemetery, San Antonio, Texas; m: Louise They belonged to the St. Mary's Catholic Church, San Antonio, Texas. This-church is located on St. Mary's Street, in the River Walk region of San Antonio. In the 1927-1928 San Antonio, Texas, city directory, William was listed as the manager of the service department for the San Antonio Light, a newspaper. William's and Louise's Children: --- (a) Mrs. Gene Johnson. This is probably the Mary C. Brogan listed in the 1927-28 San Antonio city directory at the same address as William F. and Louise, at 216 Peck. She was listed as a student nurse at the Santa Rosa School of Nursing. Children: Gary and Bill Johnson. She had a son (children: Patrick and Mary Brogan). --- (b) Son, _____ Brogan. Children: Patrick and Mary Brogan. (ii.) John Vincent Brogan, b: ___ ; d: 27 July 1952 (src: death records, City Library, San Antonio, Texas) in San Antonio, Texas. His death notice listed only a niece, Mrs. Gene Johnston, as a surviving relative. He was a member of the St. Mary's Catholic Church. At one time, according to my mother, John had worked for a San Antonio newspaper. (iii.) Evelyn Brogan, b: _______ d: ___ . Evelyn was an author. Titles of three of her books are The Old Spanish Trail, James Bowie, a Hero of the Alamo, and Famous Horses of American History. I have two copies of the latter in the Slack file. The inscription in one reads, "To Bea-Guy and their three cowboys from their cousin." The other copy was inscribed "To Aunt Jo and Uncle Henry with best wishes of the author." The books, appropriately, are bound in horsehide. Famous Horses of American History was published in 1923 by the Forum Publishing Co. of San Antonio, Texas. Most of the stories are about the mounts of famous generals and of presidents in U.S. history through WWI. I don't know whether she married or not, but a picture of her in 1942 (see - Slack File) is identified only as Evelyn Brogan. 9. Elizabeth (Lizzie) (Kizz) Slack, b: 15 November 1862 (src: Probate Records - William Slack estate Book E, pp. 169-170 lists her age in 1873 as 11 years, and from death records) in Hartford, Iowa; d: 21 December 1921, aged 59 years (cause of death was listed as asthma) in Indianola, Iowa; bur: Hartford, Iowa (src: Warren Co. Death Records Book 4, p. 4 [1st section]); m: W. H. Mason. Lizzie is the third of the Sisters Three authors. She also must have been well schooled and was probably a teacher. A picture in the Slack file has this caption, "Kizz and Shug in the rose garden at their home in Los Angeles, Calif." From this, it would appear that Lizzie lived for a time in California and probably taught there, as well. She married W. H. Mason and had no children. She was my mother's favorite aunt, referring to her as having, kind personality. Lizzie was living in Indianola, where she died at 6:00 a.m, December 21, Granddaddy Slack was with her when she died. At the time of her death she left much of her furniture to my mother, which served our family well, because there was little furniture added to my mother's holdings for the rest of her life. 10. Henry Elsworth Slack, b: 07 May 1865 in Hartford, Iowa; d: 21 January 1943 in Sandyville, Iowa; buried: Hartford, Iowa; m: Florence Josephine Guthrie, 25 March 1891 at Hartford, Iowa. Occupation: real estate sales, teacher, farmer. Henry Elsworth Slack According to records (U.S./Iowa census of 1870 and 1880 and Warren County marriage records), Henry Slack was born in 1865. Family tradition and notes from his wife suggest that the year was 1867. Not only is there controversy about the year, but the month, as well. Some in his family believed that the date was March 7. He and his wife always celebrated May 7 as his birthday. The best I can do with the records available to me is to set Henry's birth at May 7, 1865. He was born on a small farm near Hartford, Iowa, to William and Mary Greathouse Slack. He was the last of ten children born to this union. Apparently, the family was quite poor, because they had such meager land holdings. On a map of Richland Twp., dated 1872, there is only a small 20-acre tract listed for W. Slack. It is in the right location for the site where Henry was born. (Oral history from Granddaddy Slack, also photos - see Slack File.) It is located about 1/4 mile west of the railroad tracks on the cemetery road that leads to the west from the southwest corner of Hartford. As you travel west down a small hill from the tracks, a little creek is seen running to the north. The house, according to Granddaddy, was set back from the road about 50 yards and located on the west bank, up off the flood plain. A photo in the Slack File, taken in the late 1930s, shows Granddaddy sitting on a camp stool at this very spot. The house had long since disappeared. I know nothing specifically of Henry's childhood. The only male sibling anywhere close to his age would have been Billy, who was 9 years older. Although there were two young sisters, Kiz, 3 years older, and Eva, 5 years older, it would appear that he had to go outside his family for playmates. Several neighbors lived nearby, so I expect they were the source for friends. Two events occurred early in Henry's childhood, which I believe had a strong influence in developing certain strong attitudes for the rest of his life. The first of these was the death of his brother Billy in 1871 at the age of 15, as the result of an accident on the farm. It is not clear how the accident occurred, but oral history related it was a pitchfork wound, resulting from Billy's fall from a wagon of hay. The wound was not immediately fatal and Billy lingered for several days before dying (see letter in Slack File from his mother at the time of his death). Henry was only six years old at this time, and the events following Billy's accident, lingering illness, and eventual death must have had a marked psychological effect. This would be especially true if he held his older brother in high esteem, as children of this age often do. The next event probably evolved as the result of his Grandfather Slack's death in 1872. Although never stated as such, it may have been the division of his estate that instigated the argument over land between William Slack and his brother-in-law, Joe Taylor (Joe was married to William's sister, Sarah). In any case, the argument became vicious, and William was fatally stabbed. Henry was 8 years old when this happened in early September of 1873. Oral tradition states that the fight occurred at the center of town (Hartford) and was witnessed by many. Joe was later acquitted. Can't you just imagine the comments of town folk and, especially, the merciless teasing issued by his classmates when he returned to school that fall? I am sure that this last event, and the community's response to it, heaped on top of his grief and bewilderment about his brother's death previously, led to his bitter feelings toward the people of Hartford. Granddaddy never had kind words for much of anyone who lived in or around Hartford. I think that this bitter resentment also engendered a strong desire to succeed and show these sanctimonious souls, and the rest of the world for that matter, that the Slacks, and especially Henry E. Slack, were worthy of respect. Throughout his life, he was persistent in making scathing attacks on certain residents of Hartford. At the same time, however, he was always protective of the poor and downtrodden. He hired many who were down on their luck, or who had been rejected in some way by society, to work on his farms over the years. He believed strongly in fairness and that all, no matter what their station in life may be, should have an opportunity to better themselves. I suppose that Henry received the eight years of elementary education that most did at that time. He most likely would have finished school at Hartford in the spring of 1879, at the age of 14. Depending on his physical stature, he probably began hiring out to neighbors as a farm laborer. How long he continued working as a laborer and what additional education he achieved is not known. He may have taught school himself in his later teens and early twenties; it didn't take much schooling in those days to become qualified as a teacher. Most of his sisters became teachers in their mid-teens (census records). The earliest record we have of Henry Slack's adult life takes us to Emporia, Kansas. How, when, or why he got to Emporia isn't known. However, his oldest sister Kate (she was 21 years older than Henry) had married William Ferguson when she emigrated to the Emporia community in the mid-1860s. It is likely that Henry moved "west" to establish his fortune. We don't know how long he had been there, but on March 7, 1887, at 22 years of age, he paid 0. W. Miller, Director of the Emporia Business College, thirty dollars in tuition for one year's study (see "scholarship" in Slack File). Just two months later, Henry paid Mr. Miller ten dollars for a course in typewriting (see receipt in Slack File). He finished the course of study in business in less than a year and was awarded a diploma from the Emporia Business College on January 15, 1888. It states, "has completed the regular course of Business and Practice in this Institution and is an Intelligent and Competent Accountant. " What Henry did between January and May is not evident, but on May 11, 1888, he rented an upstairs office at 506 Commercial Street in Emporia from Mr. E. N. Evans. In the lease, it states that the "room was to be used as a general real estate, loan and brokers business office." The lease was for one year and the rent was $9.50 per month. I don't know how successful he was in this venture or for how long he engaged in it. He must have had thoughts about changing, though, because in December of 1889 (about 1 1/2 years later) he had his professor from the Business College, 0. W. Miller, fill out an evaluation of his qualifications for superintendent of education for an Indian reservation school. Since the evaluation was never sent, Henry must not have made the application. Reviewing the evaluation responses, however, revealed a bit of new information concerning his residency in Kansas, and Emporia, in particular. Mr. Miller stated that Henry had resided in both for five years. This would have put his arrival in Kansas at 1884; Henry would have been nineteen years old. This date, by the way, coincides with the year in which his mother, Mary Slack, sold the twenty-acre farm and moved into Hartford. When Henry returned to Iowa isn't known, but on April 25, 1888, he purchased the "E ½ of the out lot between Hartford and Spry's addition." The deed, however, was not filed until March 13, 1889. This lot was in the southeast comer of Hartford. When or if he occupied this lot is not evident. At the same filing date, Henry also recorded the purchase of lots 1, 2, and 3 in block 1 of Spry's addition on 12 April 1889 (Deed Book 35, p. 483). He later sold these lots on 9 March 1891 (Warren County Deed Book 41, p. 550). On November 17, 1891, Henry and his wife Josie sold lots 2, 3, and 4 in Block 2 and lots 1, 2, and 3 in Block 3 in Maddock's addition (Quit Claim, Deed Book 31, p. 603 ... for the lots in Block 2; Warranty Deed for those in Block 3; Book 41 pp. 552 and 603). As yet, I haven't found when or from whom they acquired the lots in Maddock's addition. They sold them to Henry's sister, Josephine Nunnally. The next record we have for Henry is his marriage to Florence Josephine ("Josie") Guthrie near Hartford, Iowa, on March 25, 1891.4 Oral tradition relates that Henry and Josie met at the Iowa State Fair at the old fiddler's tent. This must have been in August of 1889 or 1890. Tradition continues on.to say that whenever they attended the State Fair in subsequent years, they always included a visit to the old fiddler's tent (story related by their daughter, Bea). On December 3, 1890, Josie's 23rd birthday, her father, Newton Guthrie, gave each of his children 40 acres. Josie and her brother Elmer jointly received the south 40 acres of the unattached 80 acres in section 26 and the 40 acres that were attached to the original 160 acres of Newton's farm in Section 22. Her brother Ed was given the north 40 acres of the original 160 acres. Josie sold the 20 acres of her half of the 40 acres in section 22 to her brother Ed on January 3, 1891. On April 13, 18 91, just three weeks after her marriage, Josie purchased 3 5 acres, about 1 /2 mile west of Hartford, from Henry's brother John ("Bud") Slack (apparently, at least in part, with the money from the sale of the 20 acres). This property contained the house that comprised the homestead of Henry and Josie's first farm. Josie deeded this property to Henry on November 5, 1892.9 My mother, Beatrice, their only child, was born there on April 22, 1892. The next record available is a deed for the purchase of two adjacent 40-acre tracts of land on August 14, 1893.10 Henry paid $2,800 for the 80 acres ($35/acre). This land was located about 1/2 mile to the west of their home place, about where the Pyle place was located that Granddaddy bought and we moved to in 1937 (48 years later). Seventy acres was added to the west and north of the home place on February 25, 1895. With this purchase, the home place consisted of 105 acres, 81 acres along the north side of the Hartford Road (now Hwy. 5) and 24 acres north and east, attached to the northeast comer. To pay for this addition, Henry sold the 80 acres in section 19 that he had bought in 1893. He made a profit of $500 on the transaction. Henry must have supplemented his income from farming by teaching school in the winter months, at least in the early years. In the Slack File, there is a Teacher's first-class certificate, dated November 1, 1892, certifying that H. E. Slack had passed the examination, authorizing him to teach in the schools of Warren County for eight months. On the back, it shows an extension of the certificate to Nov. 1, 1893. Where he taught isn't evident. Sometime, probably before or shortly after his marriage, he may have taught in the schools around Milo and Truro in the southern part of Warren County. This is based on oral history from my mother. On February 20, 1899, Henry again added to his holdings when he purchased the farm across the road to the south. The purchase price for this 80 acres was $4,000. The total acres in the two farms was now about 180 acres (a small segment had been sold earlier off the east side of the original 35 acres). This farm had a large stylish house and an extensive set of outbuildings. Henry improved the farm and its buildings even more and named it Hill Crest Farm. Over the driveway, he placed an arching sign with the farm's name on it. Additions of 40 acres to the west side of Hill Crest Farm and 70 acres to the north of the original home place were made in December of 1901. This brought the total acres for the combined farms to about 250. Henry continued to prosper, but in February of 1905 a major change occurred. He sold the 120-acre Hill Crest Farm and purchased a farm two miles to the north, bordering on Middle River and extending back south over the bluff. Shortly thereafter, he purchased land directly across the river on the expansive Des Moines River bottom. This farm was named Riverside Farm, but later, as he purchased more of the bottom land to the north, it was renamed the Island Farm. The farm included a portion of the original 320-acre squatter's right taken in 1842 by John D. Parmelee, the first settler in Warren County. Also present on the farm was the log cabin built by Parmelee in 1843. Parmelee had permission from the U:S. government to settle here early, so he could build a saw mill on Middle River to supply lumber to build Fort Des Moines, about 12 miles northwest at the confluence of the Des Moines and Raccoon Rivers. At the time of the purchase, the outbuildings on the farm were modem, but apparently the cabin was the only dwelling. In any case, this primitive building (50 to 60 years old) was to be the Slack family home for the next fourteen plus years. Henry doted on history, so I expect he was thrilled with the opportunity to live in such an historic site. I doubt that Grandma and Bea shared his enthusiasm. It was about this time, though, that Bea was sent to boarding school at St. Joseph's Academy in Des Moines, so she was able to escape to a more civilized setting, at least during the school year. But what a comedown for Grandma, from the large modem home on Hill Crest Farm to a simple, confining, and deteriorating pioneer cabin. Grandma was always a good sport though, and I'm sure she made the best of the situation. The cabin, as described in a newspaper article in 1916 by Grandma's brother Elmer Guthrie, consisted of two rooms, each 18 feet square. Originally, they were separated by an open space often feet between them. This style was called a "dog trot" cabin, because this is where the family dogs laid in the summer; the roof provided shade and the open space created a breeze-way. This space had wisely been boarded up years earlier to create a 10- by18-foot kitchen and dining area. The walls were apparently still the rough hewn log surfaces. A large fireplace had been located at the end of the east room, but it had been removed and bricked up when iron stoves became available. I suppose the living room was on this end and the bedroom on the other. I don't know what they created for Bea's bedroom when she was home. Although Henry was lavish in his expansion of the outbuildings, little was done to the cabin. This was always made a point of contrast in articles written about the farm, the simple dwelling and the large modem farm buildings. The following story, taken from an article in the Des Moines Register, October 20, 1918, pretty well typifies the feelings of those making this contrast and Henry's feelings toward the contractors. One of Mr. Slack's workers was chauffeuring some visitors around the farm and he related this story: "One day Mr. Slack was standing on the bridge [over Middle River] when a car drove up and the driver pointed at our farm. 'Look at all those buildings and improvements,' he says; 'And they say the rich old devil that owns all this lives in that little shack' [the cabin]. "'Well,' said Mr. Slack, 'if it suits me, it ought to suit you.' And you ought to have seen that fellow drive on." I'm sure that the storyteller or the author of the article deleted the spicy language with which Henry would have embellished his response to the stranger. One of Henry's first projects was to renovate and expand the outbuildings. Pictures in the Slack File reveal that the barn, which stood some distance to the northeast of the cabin, was one of the early recipients of change. After it was remodeled, it became the bearer of the farm sign, which had now been changed to "Island Farm - H. E. Slack proprietor". The name "Island Farm" was derived from the local name given to this area. E. E. Guthrie, in his article about the Parmelee cabin, described it thusly: "About two miles above the junction of the Des Moines and Middle Rivers a cutoff joins the two. This channel is about the size of Middle River and the direction of its current is governed by the relative height of the water in the two rivers. This makes about 1500 acres of land embraced by these waters a true island". Early in his tenure on the Island, Henry decided to emphasize the feeding of cattle. Two cattle sheds, each of which was about 100 feet long, were built about 150 feet back from the road and east of the cabin. A fence enclosed the area between the sheds and the road, creating two separate lots. Similar lots were constructed to the north of the cabin. A clipping from the Des Moines Register, February 27, 1916, shows this layout very well. Soon after the sheds were built, double, connected silos were erected at the northeast comer of both sets of lots. These silos each measured 50 feet in height and 18 feet in diameter. The silos were connected by an enclosed drive-through and measured about 50 feet across the front. The drive-through had huge wooden doors that swung to the inside. Apparently, the purpose of the enclosure was to provide a protected area for loading silage into wagons. The silos and connector were covered by a very low-pitched roof. All in all, they were very impressive structures. The exact date of their construction isn't known, but the west silo has a date stone of 1913. It is difficult to make out the structure behind this second silo in the news clipping, but it appears to be another set of cattle sheds. I don't know how many cattle were put through these lots each year, but I expect it was around 200 head. Early in 1918, Henry apparently decided to make a drastic change in his livestock operation and in his dwelling. From Grandma's day journal of 1937-40, the following excerpt is taken: "Feb. 18 - 1940 - 22 years (ago) today (1918) and tomorrow we had a two days sale. Sold all the stock and machinery, also car. Was bitterly cold. No snow but the ground so rough-roads (were)bad traveling. Many came on the C. B. & Q Train which stopped next to the pond (north of the east twin silo) to let men off to attend the sale. Next day, the 19th was not so cold. Doc Nooder, Henry's riding horse, was sold. Proceeds were given to the Red Cross. He brought $500. Bought by a Colfax man. Everything sold at high prices. Sale brought $50,000. On March 8 (1918) we left for Kansas City then on down to Vicksburg, New Orleans and other cities. Came back the latter part of April (They were gone over a month and a half). Stopped in Des Moines, bought new car, drove back home to the cabin. In June went to Denver then to lake-Lost Island (near Ruthven in NW Iowa)." During the next two years, the following changes occurred: The cattle sheds and pens were removed, the original barn and out buildings were tom down, a dairy barn was built behind the west twin silos, a mule barn was built to the southwest of the west silos, a three-story southern styled brick mansion was built just to the north and slightly east of the cabin, dairy cattle were purchased, and a milking operation initiated. The mansion (to be known for the rest of its existence as the "Slack Mansion") was southern Greek revival in style with four two-story columns in the front. I expect Henry researched the style for their new home during their visit to the South in 1918. It was constructed of rough surfaced red brick, laid in an alternating end-side-end pattern. the roof was covered by grooved, shingle-shaped red clay tiles. It was three stories high and had a full basement. The front was graced by a two-story porch, with paired, white-glazed, fluted terra cotta columns. supporting each comer. The columns were capped by ionic scrolls. The porch extended from the covered portion to each comer along the front of the house and was enclosed by a terra cotta balustrade. There were five broad steps leading in pyramid-fashion up to the columned portion of the porch. Large triple-windowed dormers at the third-floor level extended from the east and west sides of the roof. A double-columned drive-through portico was on the west side, and a double-columned porch on the east gave the structure symmetry. There was one large chimney in the center of the north roof. Approximate outside dimensions were 60' wide, 50' deep, and 40' high. There were five outside entrances to the first floor: 23 one at the rear at ground level (also opened to the basement), one from the portico on the west, two at the east- one to the kitchen (north) and one to the library (south), and the arched entry from the porch at the front (south). On the east side were the kitchen (24 square feet) with a breakfast nook at the northeast comer and the library, with a comer fireplace flanked on either side by built-in book cases at the southeast comer. The west side consisted of the dining room at the northwest comer, which was paneled with gumwood and had built-in buffet and china cabinets, and the living room, located at the southwest comer. A large entrance hall was in the center of the south side. The ionic column motif from the front of the house was repeated in the hall. The hall opened to the library and living room, and a wide, winding staircase led to the second floor. There was probably an entrance to a back hall, which communicated with the kitchen and dining room. Upstairs, there were four bedrooms and two bathrooms. The third floor was unfinished and apparently remained so for the life of the house. There was a full basement, which contained coal-fired furnaces and a large boiler. The house was heated by steam. During the time that Granddaddy & Grandma lived there, the furnaces were handstoked. An elevator shaft was included between the basement and the second floor. An elevator was delivered, but it was not the right size and was returned. Another one was never ordered. A two-car, matching brick garage was built at the back and to the northeast of the house. All of this for an estimated cost of $60,000. The exact time of construction isn't known, but was probably through 1919. We know that it was finished by January 6, 1920, because my mother and father were married there on that date. It was reported in the newspaper article by Herb Owens that Grandma continued to live in the cabin for several months after the mansion was built. I have never heard this before, but if it occurred it was probably because new furniture had not yet arrived. Grandma wasn't the type to pull pouty fits. It was Granddaddy's intention to move the old cabin to a more suitable site on the banks of the pond, back of the east silos. However, when the workmen began dismantling it for the move, it was found to be in such a state of decay that it was simply torn down and discarded. A sad fate for such an historic edifice. The farm consisted of approximately 500 to 700 acres during the last fifteen years that Granddaddy owned it. Other than the farmstead, a tree-lined pond, and the forested area along the river, the land was all tillable and of excellent quality, as is true of most bottomland. Being bottomland, it was always subject to flooding, but I don't remember anyone telling of any "great flood" that wiped out a major part of their crop for one year. There was a levee running from northwest to southeast, on which the C, B & Q railroad ran. I expect this gave some protection from flooding of the south part of the farm. The power to till the soil and harvest the crops was supplied by mules and many hired hands. One report states that 34 teams of mules were used; that's 68 mules if you clarify a team as consisting of two mules. However, sometimes, especially for plowing, teams were made up of 5 mules. I expect, though, the reporter meant 2 mules per team. The mules were housed, when they were being worked, in the old barn and adjacent buildings. Sometime after 1916, the mule barn was built near the west silos. Pasture was to the west of the barn and around the pond. If all 34 teams were being used, at least 34 men had to be hired to drive them. That's a lot of hired hands. It probably never reached that level, but a lot of manpower was required for field work and for caring for the livestock. Henry solved his labor needs, in part, by working out an agreement with the State Patrol Board for a portion of his work force. Mostly, he selected married parolees with families and furnished them with housing. I expect he felt a parolee with these kinds of commitments would make a more stable and dependable worker. For the most part, he was apparently right. Other than a few stories of bad conduct among workers from this source, most turned out to be quite valuable. Steam engines, which may have been contracted from commercial sources, provided belt power for threshing, silage cutting, and baling. Later, in the 1920s, tractors began to be used more and more. There is an excellent picture in the Slack File of two early International Harvester tractors plowing at the Island Farm. My father, Guy, is driving the rear tractor. Still later, the tractors became more compact, as illustrated in the accompanying photo of a Fordson tractor. As mentioned before, the livestock enterprise changed around 1919 or 1920 to dairy farming. Just when the dairy barn was built isn't known, but it was not in the newspaper photo of February 27, 1916. I expect it was built in 1918 or 1919. Coincidental to the switch to dairying was the marriage of Bea to my father, Guy Tyler. Guy had done all the interior and exterior painting of the new mansion in 1919. This provided the opportunity for Guy and Bea to become better acquainted and eventually led to their marriage in the new house on January 6, 1920. Following a brief honeymoon, Guy was given the responsibility of supervising the dairy operation. Guy kept a day journal from December 1, 1921, to March 28, 1922. During that period, they were milking 50 or more cows and they were sending, on the average, about 8 ½ cans (20-gallon cans) of milk to a Des Moines dairy each day (Plate IX, Fig. 24). Milking was done by hand by three full-time milkers; Guy filled in as needed (which was often). The milkers were each paid $24.00 per month. Two milking machines were demonstrated during this writing, but neither was purchased. Sometime later, however, milking machines were obtained. We had one of the last cast-aluminum buckets from that machine until we quit farming in 1950. During Guy's reporting, at least 21 head of new milk cows were purchased in Kansas City and shipped by rail to Hartford. Apparently, these were to replace 20 head that had been culled and sold from the herd at about the same time. They received $0.05/lb. for the culled cows (they averaged 1,220 lbs., so each cow brought about $60.00). The journal did not state what the replacements had cost. Mention is made in the journal of Mr. Slack purchasing 21 feeder hogs (probably about 100 lbs. each) at a sale. I don't know how much the feeding of hogs contributed to the livestock enterprise during the final ten years on the Island Farm, but I don't think it was significant. The acreage in the Island Farm has been variably stated to be around 500 to 1,000 acres. I expect that it varied considerably over the years, as Granddaddy was always buying and selling land. In my research for this biography, I found records for over 50 land transactions made by Henry from 1888 to 1940.26 A rather mysterious deed is among the papers in the Slack File. It describes a 489.15-acre farm along the Des Moines River in Marion County. I checked its location on a map and found it was a few miles about straight east of Swan in the northwest corner of the county. Reading about this area in an 1880 Marion County history, it described a portion of this tract as belonging to the "Butcher's Prairie," which was considered to be excellent farm land. The mysterious part of the story comes from the fact that the deed shows this land was "sold" to Guy Tyler for the sum of $1.00 and love and affection. The date of the sale was 14 February 1920. This was just one month after Guy and Bea were married. At first, this looks like a wedding present, but I doubt it. It may have been a way of "hiding" property to protect it from creditors. In any case, I am sure that Guy and Bea never lived on that farm and never realized anything from its eventual sale. When Granddaddy obtained the farm and when he sold it, isn't known. A part of the Island Farm was the "lake property" at the northwest comer of the Island. It was a farm adjacent to the main farm and still had a set of buildings on it. Guy, Bea, Hank, and Sid lived on this farm for a few years, probably from 1925 to early 1928. They had to leave by at least that time, because I was born on July 12 of that year in the "red house," which was about 3/4 mile west of the mansion. The family remained at the red house until they moved to Sandyville in 1931. There were several houses and small farms scattered along the periphery of the Island Farm. These were used to house married farm hands, some of which may have also been engaged in limited sharecropping. Henry was a sharp businessman, always looking for a good deal and a way to tum a profit. He was constantly involved in the buying and selling of land and livestock. I think the dispersion sale he had in February 1918 was his way of taking advantage of high war-time prices, probably realizing that they would soon come down at the war's end. At least, that's the way it worked out. He was also involved in promoting causes other than the farm. An interesting article in the October 20, 1918, issue of the Des Moines Sunday Register describes a trip along the newly created Everett Powers Road. This trip was hosted by Granddaddy, who was apparently one of the primary promoters of this road. The author describes Granddaddy's appeal to a group in Knoxville concerning the need for graveling this new road. Their support was promised, and the group headed back toward Des Moines on a slick, muddy dirt road; a shower had come up during the meeting. This was fortunate, however, because it certainly added emphasis for the need to gravel the road. Granddaddy apparently was well respected, at least by some, in the Warren and Marion County regions. In January of 1926, Granddaddy legally established The Beatrice Land and Livestock Company (B. L. & L. Co.) He was president and Guy was secretary. Shares were subsequently issued to immediate family members. On January 27, 1926, H. E. Slack and Florence J. Slack deeded the entire land holdings of the Island Farm to the newly formed company for "$1.00 and other good and valuable consideration." After this transaction, the farm consisted of 728 acres. The last major addition to the Island Farm was made on 23 September 1929.29 The B. L. & L. Co. purchased the 130-acre Gwinn estate, which was located in an "ox bow" along the south side of the Des Moines River, at the northeast corner of the farm. This brought the holdings of the Company to approximately 780 acres (76 acres had been sold earlier in 1926, making a total of 650 acres prior to the Gwinn estate acquisition). Following World War I, the agricultural economy fell sharply and continued in a downward spiral throughout the 1920s. Agriculture was in a state of depression well before the economic collapse of late 1929. Henry, like many other farmers, found himself overextended with debt and was caught in the recall of mortgages, as the bank at Carlisle failed. Many throughout the region blamed the bank's fall on Granddaddy; a rumor no doubt started by the bank's administrators to cover their own incompetencies. As the collapse became imminent, the B. L. & L. Company sold the recently purchased 130- acre Gwinn property to Henry's wife, Florence, on 25 March 1930 for $1.00. Apparently, the loan on the rest of the farm did not include this land, and to protect it from creditors, ownership was transferred to a nonmember of the company, Florence. Also included in the transfer was the twenty acres of bluff land, just across Middle River from the mansion. When the dust cleared, on July 11, 1930, the bank received ownership of all of the Island Farm, with the exception of the 130-and 20-acre tracts deeded to Florence Slack in March. The 130- acre tract was mostly tillable, and over his remaining years Henry either farmed it himself or rented it out. It proved to be a thorn in his side, because access to it was by a farm road through the original Island Farm. The person who bought the farm from the bank wanted to purchase the 130 acres from Henry, but he wouldn't sell. So, to force the issue, the new owner would periodically lock the gates along the road, denying access to the remote piece of land. His excuse was that Henry's renters or hired men were careless and damaged his crops along the road. Legally, this couldn't be done, and the situation usually wound up in court, with Henry eventually regaining access to his land. This situation occurred several times during the 1930s. A sale was held sometime in 1930 or early 1931 and all the livestock and most of the machinery and mules were sold. Somehow, Henry was able to recoup sufficient funds to purchase a 280-acre farm 1 mile north of Sandyville, Iowa. The farm was placed in Florence's name and then in the name of his sister, Cornelia Switzer, to protect it from creditors. He also retained enough cows, mules, and machinery to begin farming again. Granddaddy and Grandma and Guy, Bea, and their four children moved to the Sandyville farm during the spring of 1931. The farm was a hill farm and had been poorly managed over the years. There was extensive erosion and depleted soil and the buildings were in a sad state of repair. There was a deeply ravined creek that ran from about the middle of the farm off to the northwest comer. It was heavily forested on each bank with mostly oak and hickory trees. There were five major springs around the farm, thus its name -"Five Springs Farm." Henry's first order of business was to hire a carpenter (I think his name was Dan Turner; I'm not sure about the last name) and several young men from the Sandyville region. Dan and his helpers remodeled the house, doubling its size, enlarged and renovated the shop and garage, built a new-style hog house, and improved the barn. Dilapidated buildings and accumulated clutter were cleared away. Old, rundown fences were pulled out and the wire placed in gullies to retard the severe water runoff. Hog lots were enclosed with woven wire and bred Hampshire sows were obtained for fall farrowing. Apparently Granddaddy had experienced all of the dairying enterprise he could stand and launched off in a new direction, hog farming. I don't know where he got his ideas about raising hogs, but his plans were well developed by the time he arrived at Five Springs Farm and he continued using them with little change up by to the time of his death, 12 years later. Basically, the sheds were constructed of oak poles (obtained from the farm timberland) set in the ground, enclosed on the ends and back, and covered with corrugated steel roofing; they were open to the south. Large lots extended to the south of each shed. The sheds were generally about 60 feet in length. Henry believed that hogs should not be shut in tight and that they should have ample room to range away from the shed during the growing and fattening periods. Gates were set up temporarily in the sheds to create pens at farrowing time and then removed at weaning time. The sow made her nest in bedding at the back of the stall, and after farrowing, she and her pigs were penned for a short time (3 weeks??), then turned out with other sows and their litters in the large common lot. Eventually, the sows were separated from the pigs and moved to another shed and lot for breeding. Two litters were farrowed each year, early spring and fall. The pigs were fattened on ear corn, scooped out daily on the ground in front of the shed. They also had access to feeders containing ground oats. I don't think there was much supplement, other than mineral blocks, added to this ration. It took about seven months to fatten them sufficiently for market (around 225 lbs) Henry routinely vaccinated against hog cholera shortly after weaning, and male pigs were castrated at about this time. He always used a veterinarian for vaccination, but local castrators performed the castration. One castrator that I remember was Frank Smith, a carpenter, from Sandyville. Henry's hog-raising program called for hog-tight fences around lots and fields. The fences were constructed of woven wire about 36 inches high. Posts were split oak from his own timber. The fence was anchored at the corners by oak posts about 18" in diameter, which were set at least four feet deep. All postholes were hand dug and hand tamped when the posts were set in place. The posts were set along a strand of barbed wire that had been pulled tight and fastened securely at each corner post 2" above the ground. The woven wire was unrolled flat to the ground along the inside face of the posts and then lifted into place against the posts. At one end, it was securely fastened to a corner post, and at the other end to a stretcher clamp bar. Chains led from the· clamp bar to a well-anchored come-along crank pulley. The pulley was cranked by hand until the wire was very taught. The wire was held tightly against each post and stapled where each horizontal wire crossed the face of the post. When the distant corner post was reached, the wire was stapled at several locations around the outside and wrapped all the way around the post and wired by its free end to the incoming wire. Two more strands of barbed wired were fastened to the corner post, strung tightly above the woven wire and stapled to each line post. Each was wrapped around and stapled to the distant corner post and wired to its incoming portion. The bottom barbed-wire strand served to discourage hogs from rooting under the fence and escaping. This, however, was not a fool­ proof preventative, and escapes were rather frequent. The top two strands were to prevent horses or cattle from jumping over and/or reaching over the fence for "greener pastures." The last step was to place two to three paired pickets at intervals between the posts, giving the fence a great deal of stability. The pickets were sawn hardwood lumber, about 6 feet long by 2.5 inches wide and 3/4 inch thick. The pickets were placed one on each side of the fence and nailed together. The procedure took two men, one to hold a five-pound mallet on one side of the pickets and the other to nail them together. The pickets and posts were sawn off evenly at· about five feet above the ground. The finished product looked very good and lasted much longer than fences built in the more common way. Most were still quite functional when we left the farm in 1948. Granddaddy also used a unique gating design. If the gate was to be single, two posts, about 16 feet tall and 12 inches thick, were set in the ground about five feet deep at each side of the gate opening. A double-strand bracing wire (9-gauge) was placed at the top between the posts and twisted together. The gate was made of sawn hardwood lumber (1" x 4.5") and nailed to two- by-fours at each end and in the middle. The gate was around eight to ten feet long. The spacing between the five boards was, from the bottom, 3, 4, 5, and 6 inches, giving a height of around 48 inches. The gate panel was braced by parallel diagonal l" x 4" boards. The one on the free side of the gate ran from the top of the free edge to the bottom of the middle vertical two-by-four. The other ran from the top of the middle verticle brace to the bottom of the hinged side. The gate was hung by two hinges. Each hinge was composed of two parts and made of thick steel. A female end was bolted to the top and bottom boards and to the end two- by-four. The male portion, which had an upright, round rod (about 2" long and 1" in diameter), was attached to a 1" x 6" long wood screw. This part was screwed into a hole bored into the gate post. They had to be accurately spaced so they could insert into the hinge portions attached to the gate. Once the gate was hung, the hinges greased, and the swing checked, a fastener was installed in the middle of the free edge. This usually was a free-moving, long, metal pin that was inserted into matching holes through the free-edge two-by-four brace and the gate post. Granddaddy made great use of wide lanes connecting one lot with another. A double gate, with a wood panel between them, was placed at both ends of the lane. This allowed closed connection with four other lots or fields. By using the gates and lanes, hogs could be readily herded from one lot to another. At the end of 1931, Guy decided to start farming for himself, and in March of 1932 he moved his family to a rental farm (probably 360 acres, about 200 tillable) located about 2 miles north, along the road to Hartford. The farm was owned by Cornelia Switzer, Granddaddy's sister. When the split was made, Guy received some livestock, a team of workhorses, probably one or two teams of mules, and machinery, which most likely included a plow, disc, and cultivators. Granddaddy's economic situation improved slowly, even in the face of a deepening depression and the onset of a drought cycle (1934-1936). In 1934, he purchased a new four-wheel Case Tractor, two-bottom (16" each) plow and disc, and in the fall of 1936 a new Ford V-8 sedan was bought. He continued to add hog lots and hog houses around the farm and increased the number of litters farrowed each year. By 1937, he was marketing 500 to 700 hogs. Every bit of cultivatable land, including the 130 acres left over from the Island Farm, was used to grow com. Being able to grow most of his feed and with minimal investment in housing and labor, he was able to establish a profit margin, even in the face of disastrous farming conditions. It wasn't great, but he was able to expand his holdings and make improvements. Henry purchased the 80-acre Chambers place, which was located across the road from his farm, in 1939 and moved his farm supervisor Elbert Porter and his family into the house on this property. Interestingly, Mrs. Porter (Edna) was a daughter of the Chambers and probably had been raised on that farm. This was a rough farm, with only about 50 tillable acres. However, there was a good timbered section where two more hog houses and lots were built, and they increased the hog production by about 200 head. Early in 1937, Granddaddy bought the Pyle place (168 acres), one mile west of Hartford. He had convinced Guy to move our family to this farm and to supervise its operation. The move was made March 1, 1937. By May, Granddaddy and Guy had decided that they could not work together. We were allowed to continue living there, but Guy was to have nothing to do with the operation of the farm. My brothers, Henry ("Hank") and Sidney, were to help hired hands with the farm work. A Farmal F-20, two-bottom (14") plow and disc were purchased by Granddaddy for the farm. He immediately began improving the buildings and fences and constructing two hog houses and lots. Ten (approximate number) bred sows were brought to the farm in the late summer for the fall farrowing. From this point on, until he left for the Navy in 1942, Hank was essentially in charge of the farm, including the hog operation. Granddaddy bankrolled the operation and, of course, sold the hogs and pocketed the profit. I never knew what Hank got for his effort, but I am sure that he was at least modestly paid. Granddaddy made it known that he was grooming Hank to eventually take over the operation of all his holdings. Sid, who worked only periodically, was probably paid hired­ hand wages. Guy returned to his trade as a house painter and paper hanger, but maintained his small dairy herd (about 8 cows), from which the cream was sold. Taking care of and milking these cows was work for all of us boys. Granddaddy had poor health for many years. He suffered greatly with asthma and was subject to severe responses from respiratory infections. I can still remember the acrid smell of the Asmador fumes he inhaled to open up his bronchial tree. The powder was placed in a small metal canister and lit with a match. He would drape a towel over his head then lean over the smoldering medication, inhaling the fumes. I suppose it must have helped because he continued to use it whenever he had an asthma attack. There were other problems as well, but I never understood just what they were. He and Grandma were always going to doctors and health spas (e.g., Colfax, Iowa - mineral waters). During the late '30s and into the '40s, Granddaddy's health declined steadily. My mother would go to the Sandyville farm and stay for extended periods while Granddaddy was bedfast. Eventually, he would slowly recover and Bea would return home. In the meantime, we younger children would stay for periods with Aunt Rose and Grandma Tyler in Hartford or, at least, have our lunch with them. Rarely, Aunt Rose would come out and stay with us at the farm. Those periods when Bea was away were always stressful for the whole family. His last illness was in January of 1943. The weather was bitter cold and it was decided that I would accompany Bea to help out around the house, e.g., keep fires burning, bring water from the well, empty wastes, etc. I was 14 1/2 and in the 9th grade. I remember taking my world history book with me to study. Since Bea was to sleep in the bedroom next to Granddaddy's room, I was given the old couch in the dining room. Even with piles of covers on me, I can still recall how cold I was. When we arrived, Granddaddy was barely conscious and soon slipped into a coma, from which he never awoke. I think it was on the subsequent night that Bea woke me (it was after midnight) and asked me to come to his bedroom. She and Grandma were crying, as we stood by his bed and looked down at his still form. I remember feeling very empty and sad and I am sure I must have cried too. Granddaddy died at 12:45 a.m. on January 21, 1943. The funeral was two days later on the 23rd and was held in the home at the Sandyville farm. The weather had moderated and was mostly sunny. Many relatives and friends came; the front room and kitchen were filled. I don't remember the service, other than Bea playing several hymns on Grandma's organ. The casket was in the living room at the front window, and Hank's picture (he was in the Pacific in the Navy) was sitting on it. One thing that pervades my memory of this time was the persistent moaning noise made by the turning of the windmill north of the house. At the time of his death, Granddaddy's land holdings totaled about 680 acres. The Island Farm came to a sad end. In 1964, the farm was condemned because the land would be periodically flooded as a part of the flood pool for the Red Rock Dam that was being built across the Des Moines River and valley near Pella, Iowa. It was a sad thing to see when I went with my brother, Henry, for a last look in December of 1964. The mansion stood open and the interior had been ransacked. The huge silos were empty and their great doors swung freely in the wind. The following spring, all the buildings were demolished, leaving no trace of Granddaddy's great dream. Today, the land is rented out by the Federal Government and farmed when conditions aren't too wet. The following are special memories I have of Granddaddy. In the fall of 1936, Granddaddy and Grandma drove over to our farm in their new Ford V-8 sedan. They had brought us beef steak (that is what we called round steak in those days) to celebrate the reelection of President Roosevelt. Granddaddy was a "yellow dog Democrat" -- he would rather see a yellow dog elected than any Republican. In 1940, he wanted to hear the broadcast of the night session of the Democratic Convention, when President Roosevelt was to be chosen to represent the party for a third term. Since Granddaddy strictly adhered to going to bed around 6 to 7 p.m. each night and since he allowed no radios other than Grandma's crystal radio in the house, he thought he was going to miss the broadcast. Hank solved the problem by driving our car (a '39 Mercury), which had a radio, up to his bedroom window. It was summer, so his window was open, and with the radio turned up he had a front row seat (or should I say bed) to witness the historic event. I can remember sitting in the car with Hank (I don't know who else was there) and listening to the speeches. Granddaddy was known for his salty language and his strong opinions of what was right and what was wrong. Mixing the two together usually resulted in vivid expostulations. He also liberally used rather vulgar sayings to emphasize his points. One he commonly used when referring to someone's incompetence was "he doesn't know enough to pour piss out of a boot with directions printed on the heel." But Granddaddy wasn't all storm and bluster. He was fascinating to listen to when he would talk to us about historical events, especially those that had occurred in our general area of Iowa. Around 1939, he and Grandma took Hank, Sid, and me on an all-day trip to visit several sites around the historic region of Red Rock. One of the stops was on a high bluff overlooking the broad expanse of the Des Moines River valley. As he talked, I could readily visualize Indians skulking along the river and the covered wagons of pioneers being drug through the sloughs by mighty oxen. Another stop on this trip was at the home of an old man who had a great collection of Indian artifacts and who told us stories about the Red Rock area. It was truly a great day. I wish we had had more like it. At the Sandyville farm, Granddaddy had a large shop that was well supplied with a variety of hand tools (electricity didn't arrive in this community until after we left the farm in the late 1940s). Early on, I received basic instructions about using the tools and was soon given permission to use the shop. Granddaddy kept a good supply of lath, 3-penny nails, and cedar shingles for us to use. Whenever we visited Grandma and Granddaddy, a session in the shop was always included. We made airplanes, boats, play farm buildings and equipment, stilts, etc. My love for working with wood began in Granddaddy's shop. Cockleburs were one of the really bad weeds that contaminated Granddaddy's fields. Cultivation would get rid of many of them, but those within the rows would continue to thrive. The only way they could be eliminated was with a hoe. This was done in August, the hottest time of the summer, generally by hired hands, but when we got old enough we also became part of the work force. Granddaddy paid us; I don't remember how much, but it seemed like a small fortune. We saved our earnings miserly so we would have money to spend at the State Fair at the end of the month. It would usually pay for a few rides on the midway, cotton candy, a frosty mug of root beer, and a trinket or two. When Granddaddy dressed up to attend some important meeting, he really looked quiet distinguished. He wore the same style of clothing throughout the 1920s, '30s and '40s. Primarily, it consisted of a single-breasted, light-brown suit, a white shirt with detachable starched collar with winged tips, and a narrow tan-colored woven tie. His shoes were generally oxfords, and on occasion he wore gray cloth spats. His hat was a very trim, light-brown fedora. His attire may have appeared dated, but it certainly did look sharp. Mostly, we saw Granddaddy in his work clothes, which were quite casual. In the summer, he wore a loose­ fitting, plain-colored cotton shirt and loosely woven cotton trousers, which were held up by suspenders. Early, he wore broad-brimmed felt hats (never straw hats), and in the 1930s he began wearing molded pith helmets. When these wore out, they became our prized possessions, and we really finished wearing them out. Steve was particularly fond of these hats. Granddaddy also wore gum boots in the morning, because of heavy dews, and, of course, at any time it was raining. These also came down to us when new ones were required. On us, they were more like boats than boots, but they were fun to slosh around in. Granddaddy's work attire was completed by a pair of leather gauntlet gloves. These, also, were highly prized when they came down to us; they became "cowboy gloves." In the 1930s, Granddaddy, on occasion, went squirrel hunting in the fall. He wore a light­ brown corduroy jacket and cap, a tan silk scarf at his neck, and he carried a 12-gauge shotgun. We never went with him, nor do I remember if he brought back squirrels. I was very fond of his hunting attire, and when he died it was given to me. I wore it for years as a work outfit in the winter months. The 12-gauge shotgun also came down to us, but we rarely used it because it kicked so hard. I have also related the following story in Grandma Slack's biography, but, since it so clearly reveals Granddaddy's philosophy on life, I feel it deserves being told twice. Granddaddy and Grandma rarely came into our house; they usually stopped their car at the driveway entrance, honked the horn, and waited for us to come out. We didn't get in the car but stood on the running board. Granddaddy would then ask us, "what are the five things you need to do to be successful in life?" Whereupon, we would answer in unison, "don't lie, don't cheat, don't steal, don't be afraid to say no, and don't let anyone run over you." He would make some approving remark and then he and Grandma would give each of us a piece of candy; quite often, it was candy orange slices. We would then be dismissed and he and Grandma would visit for a while with our mother. Granddaddy loved a humorous story, and when it struck his funny bone he would throw back his head and laugh raucously. As Bea would say, "You could hear him in the next county." Even when he was reading, if he came to a humorous section he would laugh right out loud. His favorite place to read was in the dining room, sitting tipped back in a big rocker with his feet propped up on a small book stand. Grandma had made a special pillow for the top of the· stand, for his feet to rest on. I still have this stand and use it to hold phonograph records, where he kept the books he was reading. Granddaddy would read and reread books that he especially liked: One of them was David Harum, a story about a country philosopher. He had read it so often that Grandma had to repair the binding with cloth. This book is in my collection of family memorabilia. Granddaddy liked beef jerky, and each winter he would make his own. He hung thin strips of salted round steak from a string that was stretched across the pantry doorway, which was next to the heating stove. As it hung there over a couple of months, it got very dry, tough, and, of course, very tasty. When we visited in the winter months, small sections were sliced from one of the strips and given to us for a treat, and what a treat it was. In the summer months, the beef jerky was replaced by thinly sliced dried beef that came in small juice-sized glasses; Grandma often used it to make dried beef and gravy, which was mighty good when spread thickly over toast. The small glasses, of course, were saved for juice glasses. Granddaddy wore a mustache until about 1924. What caused him to shave it off isn't known, but he never wore one after that. He used a shaving mug and brush to apply lather to his face and a straight razor to shave. I used his mug (which has his name on it-H.E. Slack) and brush when I first started shaving, but not his razor. The mug and brush are in my collection. There were two things that Granddaddy kept in his bedroom that fascinated us children. One was Smith Brothers cough drops, which he kept along the bed rail at the head of the bed. I'm ashamed to say that we found these irresistible, and when the time was right we would sneak in and help ourselves. If you aren't familiar with them, then you can't imagine how good those licorice-tasting cough drops were. The other item of interest was much more dangerous. It was a blue-steel 32-caliber Smith and Wesson revolver. It was kept under the mattress at the head of Granddaddy's bed. Undoubtedly, we discovered it while searching for cough drops. Always, we just looked at it and put it back. But one day, Steve and I decided we wanted to fire it. I don't remember how old we were, I was probably around 12 and Steve was 8. As I recall, no one was around that afternoon, so we carefully removed the revolver from its hiding place and walked down to the creek, south of the house. We selected a huge cottonwood tree to fire at. I was the designated shooter. I aimed carefully and pulled the trigger. Blam.!! I think my ears rang for a week after that. I have no idea whether we hit the tree or anything near it. Steve declined a tum, so we quickly returned the revolver to its rightful place. I don't recall ever looking at it again, until we were a lot older. Thank God for guardian angels. Granddaddy had a phonograph record that he really enjoyed. I had it in my collection for years, but I can't find it now. It was titled "Great Granddad," and it went something like this: "I have a little song I'll sing to you, it ain't particularly funny, it ain't particularly sad, it's a song about my great granddad. Great granddad was a busy man, he cooked his grub in a fryin' pan, picked his teeth with a huntin' knife, and wore the same suit all his life. Twenty one children came to bless the old man's home in the wilderness. Twenty one boys and not one bad. They didn't get tough with old granddad, for if they had, he'd have been right glad to tan their hide with a hickory gad. There was more, but I can't remember it. Florence Josephine Guthrie Slack Was born on December 3, 1867, at her parents farm near Hartford, Iowa. She was the last of nine children born to Newton and Fanny (Truitt) Guthrie. Her mother was 43 years old at the time of her birth; her father was 45. When Grandma was around seventy years old, she wrote a brief, but very descriptive account of her childhood, which I am incorporating at this point. CHILDHOOD MEMORIES FLORENCE JOSEPHINE (GUTHRIE) SLACK Typed as true copy from the original handwritten manuscript TO MY GRANDCHILDREN I am jotting down some incidents of my childhood days, hoping they may interest you. I have often regretted I never questioned my parents about their childhood days, just the things they sometimes spoke about. I wasn't interested so much then as I have been in later years. I will write down as much as I remember about them. My father was born in Montgomery County, Virginia, on March 16, 1822. He used to say there were three smart men born in that month, their birthdays following each other, his the 16th of March, St. Patrick's the 17th, and General Grant's the 18th. His father owned a plantation and slaves. His name was John Guthrie. His mother's maiden name was Peggy Miller, who had been married before. Her husband had died leaving her with one child named Jacob Henry Wysor. My father was named Newton. The others were named John, James, Rush, Milton, Stennett, Talitha Ann, and Rufina Jane. When my father was 13, his father sold his plantation, gave his slaves their freedom., moved his family to Indiana. I never heard my father say much about his home or mention the Negroes by name, except one, Dinah. He told us about him and Dinah going up the mountain to pick berries. They saw a bear and Dinah gave a screech, said "Lawdy-massy, thars a 'Bar."' He said the bear was as scared as they were and ran into the bushes. · He and Dinah made tracks for home as fast as they could. He never spoke of the journey to their new home in Indiana nor of the home there. After his mother died, his father was ill quite a while. My father took care of him until he died. He had some leisure at that time and studied at home. He had a wonderful mind and memory, remembering everything he read, tales and incidents, a great historian and bible student. After the death of his father he came to Iowa, taught school at Sommerset and somewhere near where Swan is now. And down near Red Rock he taught a subscription school, and was paid in part with crockery ware. He borrowed a yoke of oxen and went about the country peddling them. After a short time he purchased 160 acres of land, then went back to Indiana where he and mother were married and started for Iowa. Aunt Rufina and Uncle John coming with them. They were married the 25th day of September, 1850. They lived in a one room log cabin that first winter. Uncle John Ribble had bot a farm in Marion County near Otley, moved there the following spring. After they had gone, mother had very few things to keep house with and no place near to get them. She said she made coffee in a skillet for some time until they could get a coffee pot. But to her doing without things was a great joke, she managed as best she could, never was home-sick a minute. Sorrow came to them in losing their first children, four little girls, dying in infancy. Their names were Melinda Alice, Rufina Jane, Mary Ellen, and Caroline. Then were born to them - Edward Rufus, Horace Stennett, Martha Ann, Elmer Elsworth, Florence Josephine (myself, the youngest). I was named for Uncle James' wife, Josephine Denning, they had one daughter, Eulalie. Uncle Rush's wife was Patience Moore. They had four children - Ambrose, Clara, Elma and Elmer - twins. Uncle Henry Wysor and his wife, Sarah, had two sons, Harry and Will, a daughter, Martha. Uncle Milton's sons were John, James, and David. Stennett died at an early age. Aunt Talitha married Thomas Points, their children were John, Charles, Carrie, Addie, Rufina, Maggie, May, and Juliette. Aunt Rufina's children were David and Newton. Mother's maiden name was Fanny Truitt. She was born in Ohio. Her mother died when mother was six-weeks old. Her father married again (and) they moved to Indiana. Mother's father's name was James Truitt. His first wife's name was Mary, his second was, I think, Eliza. They had four children Jesse, Milton, Mary Ellen and Joseph. Milton married Louisa Smith- had three sons, John, James, and Jerry. Jesse's wife was named Eliza. They had one son, James. That is about all I know of father's and mother's families. My earliest recollections are sitting in my little arm chair before a blazing fire in the fireplace, gazing at the pictures the coals made. As they formed various shapes, Elmer and I would fancy we would see animals, houses, trees, many things - it was very interesting to us. Then there were two large sugar trees in front of the house. On one large limb we had a swing, a long rope swing. I remember brother Rufus (later he was called Edd) swing me, making the swing go high, my feet touching the leaves on a high limb. One time I had the ague. Every other day I would get so cold and how I would shake. They would build a fire in the fire place. I would sit as closely as possible to the fire in my little arm chair, then when my fever would rise, begin pushing back from the fire. What a time they had getting me to take my medicine. It was called "The ,Wonder of the World." I'll never forget how terrible hot it was and how I hated to take it. I would go out and walk round and round one of the big sugar trees, mother following after with bottle and spoon, coaxing me to take my medicine, would promise me new dresses, a doll, other things that appealed to me, finally I would give in and take the nasty dose. Guess it finally cured me. At least I got well. I remember the trundle bed in which sister Mattie and I slept. A trundle bed was a little low bed that could be pushed under a big bed, out of the way in the day time, then drawn out in the room to sleep in at night. We would lie there looking at the fire when the weather was cold til we would fall asleep. All warm and comfy in a feather bed with warm woolen blankets. In the room where the fireplace was there was the big bed, the trundle bed, a book case and table, two big cupboards on either side of the fire place. They extended clear to the ceiling, one of them with upper glass doors in which were the dishes on the shelves. The other cupboard was called the clothes press - in the lower part mother kept the bedclothes. Sometimes I would open the doors, crawl in, lie down on the blankets and go to sleep. Mother didn't scold me for doing that, in fact she didn't scold me often, not that I didn't need scolding tho. We must have been crowded in the winter time for we moved the cookstove in front of the fire place, brot the table in too. The other big room had three beds and a lounge, a heating stove also. Most of our furniture was black walnut or cherry wood made by a carpenter or cabinet maker. His name was Jerry Church. (I have the walnut safe and the cherry table, and Steve has the bureau, lounge, and walnut hutch and cabinet [Grandma's cherry table, Fig. 38 - walnut pie safe]. He always called me Fonta and Elmer he called Ebby. I was called a good many variations of my two names, Florence Josephine, Florence and Fonta, Josephine, Josephus, Joses, Josie, Jo, Joppa, Joseph, Jose, Jodie, and Joie. My brothers I called Fussy, Harry, and Ebby. My sister, Mattie. My mother had a spinning wheel on which she spun yam and knit the yam into stockings and socks two pairs apiece. How fast she would knit and with her eyes shut some of the time. Mattie knit her own stockings, but I, well, mother would start me to knit-ting, but I would drop stitches and knit too tight, it all ended in her taking it over.at last. And how I did dislike to piece quilts. I did piece two, was a long time about it. Mother made me finish them tho - told me I must finish them before school opened or I couldn't start. I pitched in and finished them as I wouldn't miss school for anything. When I was three years old I remember brother Rufus was severely cut when helping with the threshing. Someone was cutting bands that bound the wheat in bundles. In some way the knife slipped, cutting brother in the chest near the lung. It didn't heal readily so they sent him out to the mountains to Colorado. I remember very well the day he left - there was a broken board in the walk leading to the well. I was sitting on the walk, he came out to tell me goodby and he stumbled over that broken board, he had tears in his eyes, he picked me up and kissed me. Mother was crying, I didn't understand what it was all about. Colorado seemed a long long way off then and he was only sixteen. I don't know how long he was gone, must have been two or three years, tho. He taught school out there after he was there sometime. At first he worked on a ranch for Mr. Rand. He told us a lot about Hattie Rand, a daughter, how she could ride horse back, help round up the cattle. When he returned home he was quite well. I remember his telling about staying all night, somewhere, and they · didn't have much to eat but a big dish of hash and the children ate so hearty and fast, they would sing out "hash - more hash." My father was elected to the State Legislature but I don't kno)V what year it was, maybe before my time. He was elected Justice of the Peace at one time and most everyone called him Squire Guthrie. He was well read in law, was retained in many law suits, was a good pleader. I remember a great many coming to him for advice. When he was Justice he was called upon to marry a couple. After the ceremony one of the boys went out, caught a sheep with a bell on, brot it in the house to jingle the bell. These folks lived on a hill near South River, west of Pleasantville. I learned to read and write before starting to school. Was reading in McGuffeys second reader, was nearly seven years old. My first teacher was Sarah Hayes, a cousin of Birdie's father. She had peculiar ways, or so people thot, different from the teachers that had taught before her. I was sort-of scared of her I know. The school house had one room and an entry to hang our wraps and a long bench to set our lunch boxes or pails on. The seats and desks were carpenter made of walnut lumber, two long benches for recitations. The next summer they built a new school house which was used for many years until it burned down, was known as the Brown School. It was situated on comer west of the Pendry place. One little boy who had just started to school, one day chewed a button off his waist, and gave it to me. Poor little chap, when the next term of school opened, he was no more – had died of diptheria - his little sister, also. They were Alec Pendry's brother and sister, Bennie and Muggie. I still have that button, also a tiny hickory nut Jim Brown gave me. One day Lou Art came to play with me. She had 'a loose tooth just ready to drop out, she let me wiggle it and it did drop out - fell among the leaves under the big sugar tree. We hunted a long time to find it and couldn't. Lou cried and cried because we couldn't find it. She was all broke up about it. Lou and I walked to school together many a day. We scholars had great sport in the winter when there was snow. We would slide down hill on a long board, a big boy with two sharpened sticks to pilot the board sitting in front, the rest of us as many as could pile on, squatted down holding to each other, the board was soon worn slick and would scoot down the road real fast. Then we would walk back up the hill and slide down again and again. We had Literary readings and debating sometimes, and spelling schools, I was rated a good speller. The last day of school we spoke pieces, I liked to speak. About the first time I spoke at school I was much concerned about getting out from where I was sitting, that was between two women, so when my name was called I dropped down to the floor, crawled beneath the desk, took my place and began to speak, but there was such a roar of laughter at my performance that the teacher told me to sit down a while, which I did. I didn't see anything to laugh at and wondered why they all laughed so. I remember so well how the teacher looked, tears in her eyes. She laughed so hard. Billie Brown, Jim Brown's father, mentioned that occurrence to me many times, he said I sure looked funny crawling out from under the desk, my curly hair falling about my face white pantalets below my dress, 'looking sober intent on speaking my piece. I don't remember what I spoke, but I do remember what I spoke on another occasion - this brot down the house too, much to Elmer's disgust. He had selected a piece for me, and I had learned it well, but for some reason I decided to speak this - Shoe a horse, shoe a mare, but let the little colt go bare. Then there was the time when the teacher told the class to each write a composition. I turned this in - "One day when there was snow on the ground, Elmer and I took the dogs and went rabbit hunting. We saw a rabbit run in a hollow log. The dogs ran in after it and the rabbit ran out a whoppin." This was also a hit, creating a lot of laughter but Elmer was bored, didn't think very highly of my literary efforts. I read well and when I rose to recite, the whole school paused to listen. I never was punished and seldom reprimanded, tho hard to keep from laughing when anything struck me funny. At home Elmer and I played church a great deal. He did the preaching, would get up on the old cherry table (which I still have) would preach awhile, would then repeat the lines of a song, one line at a time, which we would sing. The songs we sang were seldom church music. A favorite song was this: … I have mentioned mother's spinning. Hard to tell you that you can understand how it was done. It was a large wheel, as large or larger than a big wagon wheel, fastened to a sort of frame with legs and stood on the floor and at one end a sort of post on which the spindle was fastened. There was a wheel band connecting with the spindle, which had a sharp pointed, large, long needle on which the yarn was spun. The wool was carded into rolls with wire bats. They were round about the size of a finger and about a half yard long. Mother would give the wheel a whirl, place the roll, one end on the whirling needle, then walk backward with the roll. It would spin out in a small thread. Then she would connect the end, of the roll with another, running the thread that was spun on a big spool. When the. spool was filled, she wound it off on a reel, which was a small wheel fixed so it would snap off after so many revolutions and this made a "hank of yarn." Then mother tied the yarn in places so they wouldn't tangle. She made a dye of blueing and dipped the yarn in the hot dye and hung the skeins out on the fence to drip dry. When dry, she wound the yarn into balls. imagine all that work for socks and stockings. As I think back, I can vision mother walking back and forth at her spinning. The hum of the wheel which made me feel lonesome, always, tho it was a pleasant enough sound. Mother made candles for lighting out of beef tallow. She had a candle mold that would make twelve candles, and another would make four. Then sometimes when the candle supply was low, we had a grease lamp to bum. It was an old teakettle lid set upside down in a tin cup filled with grease, a rag placed in the grease, a small end sticking out, which was lighted and it didn't smell so good. We had a neighbor, a very peculiar man, who often came of an evening to sit and talk with my father. He had a wonderful memory, didn't talk very plainly, had a habit of clearing his throat. The noise he made sounded like this - Ca-hoom, but Elmer and I got the most pleasure in listening to John (his name was John Hall) eat apples. Whenever, he came we immediately brot a pan of apples, set them down by John, and the fun began. He made so much noise in eating, cracking his teeth together so loudly, it gave us great joy to hear him. We would stand back by the door leading into the other room and how we would laugh, not aloud tho, we would have been reprimanded very severely by father if he had heard us. Sometimes John would tell a creepy story about ghosts and visions, which made us fairly shiver. Then there was old man Wellens, Jim Wellens' grandfather. Very hard of hearing, great to argue scripture, a really good old man. He worked for my father - mauled rails and other work as long as he was able. When the men sat down to dinner, he was about the first one down and at once begin to return thanks. Quite often the men would not all be seated, he didn't notice if they weren't. If there was pie on the table, he would often eat it first thing. Onetime after Elmer had finished eating a hearty meal, he said "some way I'm not hungry." The old man said "What, my son are you sick?" Was real concerned about him. His being so deaf often made it difficult for him to get the right understanding of what we were talking about. I remember one time, father told him he was part Irish, that his grandmother's name was Mac-in­ tosh. He said "Macintush, -he-he- Why I knew him well." When he grew too old and feeble to work, he went about to visit his ''old friends and neighbors" as he put it. Would often stay all night. When leaving would say "goodby, ifl never see you again on earth, I hope to meet you in heaven." He would come down sometimes to get a pail of sweet milk, on his way would set his pail on the gate post and drink from the pail then go tottering along. He lived to be ninety­ seven, was never sick a day in his life, just got feeble and thinner. Lay down one evening after eating supper and quietly passed away. Then there was an old minister Uncle Henry Warson, an odd old chap who couldn't preach so well, but could make a fine prayer. I can vision him dismissing the congregation. He was tall, with white hair and drooping mustache. He would rise very erect and both hands uplifted and with an impressive voice say "And now, may the grace of God and the communion of the Holy Spirit rest and abide with each and every one of you now and forever more, for Christ's sake, Amen." Then there was the Presbyterian minister, a fine old man named David Craig. His sermons well worth listening to. Often did something that amused us. I remember one time during his address, he would stoop down and jiggle the key to the door in his pulpit, which as usual with young people, always ready to laugh, made it hard for us to hold in. There was a man who sometimes came to our house named Sam Johns. I think he lived near Sandyville. He was tall and dark. His mind a little off, used a thick crooked stick for a cane. We had many varieties of fine apples, but the ones he liked best were small seedling apples, not named, so we named them the Sam Johns apples. Then there was a Negro, Black Andy, who had been a slave in the South and came to Iowa with the folks who had owned him. I remember how frightened I was when I saw him coming up the path to our house.. Mother said "It's old Black Andy, he won't hurt you." He asked for a drink of water and was very polite. The folks lived near Palmyra. They sold their farm there, moved away, left poor old Andy behind to shift for himself. He was getting too old to work and was taken to the poor farm, where he later died. I remember an old couple, Uncle Ebb and Aunt Hitty Hull, coming to our house. Uncle Ebb smoked a pipe, Aunt Hitty took snuff, which fascinated me greatly. And an old woman, Aunt Jane Burtnutt, who washed for us. She smoked a pipe. Would sit down by the woodbox, smoke and spit in it, which annoyed mother, but she didn't say anything to her. Uncle Tom Pendryis birthday and mine were the same day, the third of December, also Rob Art's. He was Uncle Tom's grandson. Uncle Tom had a stroke of paralysis and could scarcely talk, but would say to me whenever he saw me "just fifty older." Meaning he was fifty years older than I and he would laugh. I am sixteen years older than Rob. When he was seven, I think, I gave him a pretty handkerchief and he gave me a dress, a blue - yellow barred print. Early in March, preparations began for making maple sugar and syrup. The trees were tapped, the sap run from the trees thro wooden spiles into large crocks. When crocks were filled with "sugar water" they were emptied into barrels which were hauled from tree to tree on a low sled, then brot in and emptied into large pans placed on a furnace over a roaring fire, boiled down into a syrup, then carried to the house, strained thro a cloth, let settle, then boiled again in kettles on the stove. We often had the young folks of the neighborhood in one evening to eat wax made from the syrup. If snow was available it was placed on a plate and the thick syrup dripped on the snow to harden, making a delicious golden wax or cold water was used if there was no snow. We used to roll big snow balls to be used if there was snow. This wax was the most delicious sweet imagineable. Mother would take eggs, break and pick off the shell at one end, making the hole large enough to get the yolk and white out, then fill the empty egg shell with thick syrup, which would harden into sugar when cold. These sugar eggs she gave to children that came to our house. How puzzled they would be about those eggs, but they liked them when they picked away the shell and tasted them. In the fall we had apple cuttings. We would make a lot of cider, have pie and cake, invite the young folks in. They would peel and pare apples for drying, drink cider, eat pie and cake, play and sing. Mother had a-scaffold built up high for drying the apples out in the sun. When the wheat was harvested it was cut with a reaper. The wheat bound into bundles by men stationed a little distance apart. They would pick up an arm full of straw, bunch it together, bind it about with a sort of rope made from the straw that they made as they went along. They bunched the bundles in shocks, let stand awhile, then stacked them together, let stand awhile, then had them threshed by a horse power thresher. It took a number of men to thresh and often some of the machinery would break and they would have to stop the threshing, someone would have to drive to Des Moines for repairs, which would take several hours, and delay the threshing. We never knew how many meals we had to serve before the job was finished. What a lot of cooking there was to be done, but there was always plenty and the neighbors came in to help, rather a gala time at that. We once had an old black horse named Nig. He had grown old and was sway-back. We children rode him, all five ofus at the same time. Rufus handling the bridle reins, holding me in front, then Mattie next behind him, Elmer next and Horace at the tail end, not much room for him. Old Nig didn't like us piling on him like that either. Then there was old Wooly, a gentle old cow that Elmer and I milked together, one on one side, one on the other. She never kicked or in anyway objected. We had another cow, a red and white spotted, who wore the bell, always at the head of the bunch, a long string of them. I used to drive them up from the pasture, one behind the other, the bell jingling ahead, the dog named Sooner trotting behind. Elmer had a big old hog he called General Grant, had him in a rail pen to fatten. We would climb up the pen, stick our toes thro and General Grant would nip at them. I had a pet squirrel too, that would climb up my dress to my shoulder, where I would feed him. One time an old ewe had twin lambs and one of them she wouldn't claim. It was given to me, I raised it on a bottle. It took up with the dogs, would run after them. When they ran over the steps it would jump over, comical to see three dogs and a lamb chase after, a wagon going along the road. We had many dogs and cats. The first dog I remember was a big black and white dog, a ring of white hair around his neck. We called him Ring. I had a playmate named Clara. What a lot of fun we had. She wasn't a Tom-boy like I was tho, afraid to climb and jump. I remember her sliding down in a wheat bin, catching her dress on a nail, tearing it badly. I ran to the house, got a needle and thread and sewed up the tear to my satisfaction, tho not to hers. She was so careful of her clothes, mine didn't worry me much. I would climb way up in the trees, walk the beams in the barn, roll down straw stacks, things like that. I thot I could do every-thing Elmer did. Mattie was several years older than I, didn't play with me much. She was a very pretty girl, sunny disposition, never complained in her illness. When she developed T.B. or consumption as it was then called, Brother Edd took her to Colorado but she lived only a short time. Was brot back in a casket (only 22 years old, she was). Horace had T.B. also before Mattie had died, two years before she did, he was 22 also at the time of his death. He didn't like to go to school so well but was a good worker, kept the barn so neat, the harness all mended in good shape. Liked horses so much kept them all trimmed up and curried. The horse he owned died just a few days before he did. We never told him about it. He called his horse Calico. He was an odd marked horse. Horace would sing the songs they sang at parties and would whirl me around and around. He couldn't carry a tune but he sang just the same. He was such a tease and would catch me up and tickle me under the arms. I would most explode with laughter. I remember his saying after returning from school one day, guess who got a whipping? Well I did, then leaned his head against the mantel and burst out crying. Billie Moore was the teacher. I think Horace didn't go anymore after that. I don't know what he had done to get whipped but mother said to him "Well, if you got a whipping you likely deserved it." Poor Horace, he wanted so to get well, was sick quite awhile. Went to Colorado, but it did him no good, so came back home. Kept up til the last. Died with his clothes on, sitting on the old lounge, fought for life til the last minute. There was a man drifted into Hartford, whose name (so he said) was John Jerusha Hopkins. An old sled lay out to one side of the street. This man stepped up on it and began to preach (or tried to). After finishing his discourse, he made this announcement "100 years from today John Jerusha Hopkins will speak to you again from Talbotts old sled." One summer Eli Gunlock worked for my father. He sang or whistled at his work. I was quite amazed and entertained too at some of his songs. One I remember about a man's wife being so mean he couldn't stand her any longer so he got the "Devil" to come and take her away, he did so, "He took her up on his back and off he went with her Clickety-Clack." Well, when he got her home, she landed on the Devil and all his imps. They all ran from her and hid "One little devil peeped over the wall saying Dad take her back she'll kill us all." Well he did take her back, so the old man wasn't rid of her long. I can't remember just how it ended. It was a long drawn out story but fascinating to me. When we built our house we had a girl to help with the work. Elzora Byers, red headed, quick and excitable. Boys were always thinking up something to get her going. She was making soap one day, had put a hogs head in the kettle of soap, had tied it to the handle so it would stay in place. Zora was eating her dinner when Horace came hurrying in and said, "Zora, that hog has jumped out of the kettle." She jumped to her feet, ran out there to see, it was all right, and wasn't she mad. Horace had hurried away before she came back in. She would get me to wash the dishes. I would stand on a little box and wash all the dishes until I came to the pots and pans, then I would make a break for outdoors. She would call me back but I didn't go back. She too sang a lot of songs, "The faded coat of blue." Another one, "I wouldn't marry an old man for anything I know, I'd rather marry a young man with pockets lined with silk than to m.µzy an old man with forty cows to milk, sing hi-jinny, hi-jinny-ho, I wouldn't marry an old man for anything I know." Another, something like this - "I'll give to you a paper of pins, for that's the way that love begins, if you will marry me. I'll give to you a little black dog to stay at home when you go abroad, if you will marry me." More of it I don't remember, but the girl didn't fall for him." Just before the battle, Mother" was another one I remember her singing. One Saturday night I went home with her to stay all night til Sunday evening. Horace came for us. Zora showed me her dolls she had kept and the cradle she had been rocked in. We slept in a high feather bed. The house was a log cabin and stood across the road south from Frank Miller's present home. Miller's house and Kathryn Parson's house stands where there was a beautiful grove known as Myric's Grove, in which there was fourth of July celebrations for many years. What great times we had then. The fourth of July was the great day of the year. People came for miles around in wagons loaded with people and great baskets of good things to eat. Sitting on boards put across the wagon box or chairs placed in a wagon bed, jolting along, but happy, oh so happy. We first drove to Hartford, the drum would be beating, the fife playing. Sam Morris was the drummer. Ves Badley played the fife. We drove old Dick and Dolly, and how old Dick would prance at the music. He didn't like it at all. We children would laugh and so would Pa laugh. I remember one time it had been very dry, our wagon tires had become loose and Pa drove into the pasture where there was a slough of water to soak up the tires. For two or · three weeks before the fourth we had been preparing, making new dresses, getting new hats and shoes; One dress I remember I had was white, full skirt, with many tucks, tucked waist and sleeves, all made by hand at that. With this I wore a long red ribbon sash, a red ribbon on my hat, long streamers hanging. I was some proud, I'll say. And the good things mother prepared, 2 roasted chickens with dressing, cold boiled sliced ham, apple sauce, dried apple sauce, cherry pie, currant pie, sweet apple preserves, plum jelly, grape jelly, cheese, pickles, cake, maybe more, I can't remember. Nearly always, someone ate with us. My father was one of the Speakers, always. One time Brother Edd read the declaration of Independence. I remember I felt quite proud of him. But what interested me the most was the dancing. One boy, I recall, wore a white shirt, red suspenders and he got all warmed up while dancing, and the red in his suspenders got all wet from perspiration, the color running into the white of his shirt. He had on new shiny boots too. The girls, some of them had a cord around their waist with a fan hanging, also a skirt supporter to raise one side of their dresses to keep from tripping as they were made down to the floor. And we brot back enough for several meals. My father gave us some spending money. About the first thing we would get a drink of lemonade, made in a wooden tub (a new one) buy an orange candy and peanuts. Mother would say don't eat a lot and spoil your dinner. I guess we saved room for the dinner. Anyway, we did full justice to it, how very good it was. Then the declaration of Independence was read. One time Brother Edd read it. He had practised reading it at home til I had learned the first part pretty well and one day I got up on the table and began "When in the course of human events it becomes necessary" - I got no further, for the folks broke into laughter and I stopped right there, stuck my mouth out and got down from the table in a huff. My father always made an address, he always spoke well, was well received. Well, we didn't give much attention to the speaking, other things interested us more. There was the swing, a horse hitched in the center to the post that turned round and round as he walked in a circle. A man with a whip to touch him up when he lagged. I used to feel sorry for the old horse, he grew pretty tired. We paid five cents, how we enjoyed it. When I grew older, boys would ask me to swing. One time George Black asked Martha Dashille and I to swing. We did and when the swing stopped George hopped out leaving us girls in the swing to get out ourselves. I wonder if Martha remembers that. We both felt pretty cheap, I know. The boys all had new boots, how their feet must have hurt. I remember the first time I saw the dancing, mother stood me on a stump near the dancing. I was greatly taken with it all and when we got home I said "I am going to dance when I get big." I can vision the crowd as it then appeared. Men in high top boots, women mostly in sun bonnets. Everybody greeting everybody. People they seldom saw, only on the fourth of July. One fourth of July night, there was a great storm blowing down trees and houses and barns. It was in 1876. We had just completed a new house. Our old one leaked terrible and the fifth of July we moved into the new house. Brother Edd was attending the Centenial in Philadelphia. He read in the papers an account of the storm and came home at once, not knowing what might have happened to us. We were not in the path of the storm, tho quite near. Was severe about Sandyville tho. Wind moved the barn on the farm we now live on. I first attended Sunday School at the Old Campbellite Church. Uriah Dotson was the leader in singing. He used a tuning fork to get the desired note. Some years after they bot an organ and his daughter Ofelia (she was called Ofely) played the songs. She was always two or three words ahead of the rest singing in a loud voice. I remember Mr. Dotson more in summer, a long linen coat, and when !think of him I think of this jingle, "Ole Grimes is dead, that good old man we ne'r shall see him more, He used to wear an old grey coat all buttoned down before." The preacher I remember best was Homer Higby, who lisped. I remember Elmer talking as Brother Higby talked in this manner, "Brother Dotson, Pleathe thing that good old thong Jethuth lovths me." The lights they had at night were candles and were placed in home made candle holders fastened along the sides of the room, four on each side. The holders were made with small squares of boards nailed to a strip of shingle at one side, shingle nails driven in the center of block of wood to hold the candle in place. The seats were made of black walnut and faced the doors, two of them, rather embarassing when entering to have all eyes staring at you. They sometimes had a church festival and what an uproar there was then. They served oyster soup, peaches, cream and cake. One time Coon Derringer came there drunk. Some men took him home but he jumped thro the window and came back swearing, saying "I'm going to have my supper." They let him eat all he wanted, then he left satisfied. At another celebration at Brown's Lake I saw my first banana. No one knew how to eat them until some man, who I don't know, came up, bot one, stood and peeled it, then walked away eating. Our eyes and mouth were opened wide. It was at Brown's Lake that I saw a steam boat. You paid for rides on the lake. I wanted to ride but that was a new fangled End of Autobiography It's apparent from reading this delightful history that "Josie" was a precocious child who thoroughly enjoyed life. She deeply loved her parents, and greatly admired her father. She was a tomboy and shared many adventures with her brother Elmer, who was just three years her elder. Unfortunately, Grandma wrote no more about her life other than a short journal she kept in the late 1930s; we will look at that later. The earliest photograph we have of Grandma was taken in her late teens, probably in the mid to late 1880s. She was very pretty, with refined features and soft, expressive eyes. Her hair was parted in the middle and laid in soft waves to the side, then pulled back to a tight bun well off the shoulder. Although not evident in the photo, her hair was light brown with reddish tints. She was small of stature and stood about five feet four inches tall. As for her education, I know of nothing more than what was traditionally available at that time- elementary school in a one-room school house, through the eighth grade. She had learned to read and write before she started school, at nearly seven years of age. She finished formal schooling at the age of 14 1/2 years. Her mother died October 12, 1888, when Grandma was almost 21 years old, leaving her to care for her father. Around 1889, Henry Slack (my grandfather) returned to Hartford after attending business school and working in Emporia, Kansas. Although it is obvious that Josie and Henry knew each other during childhood (they were near the same age) and lived in the same community, no mention of courtship appears until a chance meeting at the old fiddlers' tent at the Iowa State Fair.44 Within the next year, they were married. For all the years thereafter, they celebrated this meeting by returning to the old fiddlers' tent when they attended the State Fair. Of her wedding day (March 25, 1891), Grandma writes in her journal of 1938, "March 25, 1938. Our 47th anniversary of our marriage. Nice warm day. Our wedding day was gloomy, muddy roads-snowed that night. No paved roads then - no automobiles thought of- no telephones - no airships." They were twenty-five and twenty-three years old at the time of their marriage. They acquired the small farm just to the northwest of Hartford,46 soon after they were married. My mother, Bea, their only child, was born April 22, 1892 (1 year and about 1 month after their marriage). Grandma was 24 years old at the time. I expect that her delivery was quite difficult because Bea was born with a flattened nose, which had to be surgically corrected several years later. I am sure that these events contributed to their decision to have no more children. The house, by the way, where Bea was born was still standing until 2001, when it was tom down as a result of four-laning Highway 5. Sometime after Bea's birth, Grandpa Guthrie's health began to fail, and eventually he moved in with Granddaddy and Grandma Slack and was living with them at the time of his death on 17 April 1900. All that I know of his condition was that Bea said he went into mental decline. Those must have been very hard years for Grandma Slack, because she dearly loved and admired her father. Around that time, just before Grandpa Guthrie's death, Granddaddy and Grandma purchased the farm across the road. This was a larger farm with more pretentious buildings. Granddaddy Slack was quite successful as a farmer and greatly improved and added to the property. He named the farm "Hill Crest" and placed an arched sign with the name over the driveway. Both the house and barn were still standing in 1996. Sometime around 1905 Granddaddy Slack sold Hill Crest farm and purchased a larger farm on the rich Des Moines River flood plain, about two miles north of Hartford. Although other buildings on the farm were fairly modern, the house on the property was the old Parmelee log cabin, the first house built in Warren County (1843). I can imagine how Grandma must have felt, moving from the very nice large house on Hill Crest farm to a three-room log cabin that was nearly 60 years old. They lived in that house until 1920, when they moved into an 8-plus-room brick mansion that they had built just to the north and west of the old cabin. This was their home until March of 1931. The depression hit Granddaddy Slack, as it did many others, at a time when he was overextended in debt. He had to sell most of the farm (he retained 100 acres on the backside of the farm, next to the Des Moines River) but was able to recoup enough to buy another farm (280 acres) one mile north of Sandyville. This was a hilly farm, with poor improvements. Again, Grandma had to move into a small, run-down house. The house was quickly enlarged and remodeled, but was never a great or even a very good house. Yet, they seemed to live there contentedly for the rest of their years. Grandma's life, as it was for most women of her day, was spent in support of her husband. She kept the house, prepared the meals, did the laundry and ironing, kept the garden, canned the vegetables and fruits, mended clothes, made clothing, cared for the chickens, raised a daughter, loved her husband, and on and on. Much of this sounds very menial by today's standards, but for that time the mother's contributions to the success of a family's enterprise were just as significant as those of the father. Both were totally involved in whatever had to be done to keep the farm productive; the mother in her way, the father in his. Grandma's career, therefore, was to support her husband in any way she could so that he would be a successful farmer. She developed no other career; she didn't teach, do secretarial work, nor was she even active in church work. She was, however, always deeply involved with the well-being of the families of the hired men who helped work the farm. Over the years, this accounted for a lot of extra work on her part. Her efforts were generally well received, and even years after these families had left the employ of Granddaddy, many would come back to visit and renew their friendship. Special memories I have of Grandma: By the time I got to know Grandma, she was in her early to mid sixties. She was a loving grandmother, but not overly affectionate: one kiss and a hug, and never do I remember any baby talk. She always wanted to hear about our activities and would comment with pride about our accomplishments. She expected us to mind, but I don't recall her ever punishing any of us grandchildren. There were always treats, usually store-bought cookies, in the pie safe for us to eat when we came to visit or to hand out when they visited us. On one of my first overnight visits to Grandma's and Granddaddy's, Sid and Hank were along, too. It was probably in mid-May of 1933 or '34. During the night, a spring shower came through but had cleared away by morning, giving us a beautiful, bright, clear day. Grandma woke us early and told us to come quietly to the porch door. Then she pointed to the storage shed near the orchard and whispered, "See the mother groundhog and her little ones?" Sure enough, standing on their haunches, was a mother groundhog and her three kits. They had come out of their burrow under the shed to soak up the early morning sun. As I got older, I would go by myself. Later, Steve would accompany me to spend two or three days with Grandma, just after school was out in the spring. She would always have several chores for us to do during our stay. One that came up quite frequently was painting her wicker porch furniture. She always had them painted the same color - apple green; I remember reading the color on the can. Other chores I recall were picking cherries, scrubbing the porches, and hoeing in the garden. Picking cherries was always an anticipated chore, because it meant climbing in the trees and then the reward of delicious cherry pie the next day. I always loved going to Grandma's and Granddaddy's. There was always a good smell in the kitchen, even when there was no cooking going on. It was a clean, kind of tangy smell, probably from the teapot that Grandma always kept brewing. And then there were the treats in the safe.50 There was no refrigeration, so food was kept either in the pie safe or down in the cave (outside food cellar). As I have already mentioned, store-bought cookies were nearly always present. A favorite that I remember was a chocolate-covered marshmallow on a cookie, often with a cherry inside and/or an English walnut half on top. After the treats, there was the trip to the cave to get a bottle of ginger ale. We would pour it into tin cups and drink it down while it was still fizzing, enjoying the feeling of it as the bubbles went up our noses. How good that spicy, cool, fizzy drink. was on a hot summer day! Grandma was an avid reader; she was always reading some novel or a magazine. Her favorite magazine was The Saturday Evening Post. When she finished with them, she would bring them to us. Grandma was also a soap-opera fan. She listened to several, but the one she liked· best was Ma Perkins. Granddaddy did not want a "speaking" radio in the house, but he let Grandma listen to a crystal radio. It was a very simple device, composed of a coil of wire wrapped around a cardboard cylinder (about 3" in diameter and 6" long), mounted in a wooden box about 7" square. The coil was attached to an antenna outside the house and to a receptacle on top of the box that held a "crystal" (quartz?) about ½" in diameter. A very fine piece of wire, called the "cat whisker," was coiled around a larger wire, which served as a moveable arm. The free end of the wire was bent at a right angle to the arm and the cat whisker was placed on the crystal. The other end of the fine wire was attached to a set of headphones. By carefully scratching the fine wire over the surface of the crystal, a radio signal could be picked up. It was never very clear, and very much influenced by the prevailing weather. None the less, it did work and gave Grandma many hours of enjoyment. Grandma always had many cats. They were never allowed in the house, but Grandma fed them on the back porch. Although most of them were wild and wouldn't let you pet them, there were some that would. One of the detriments of having lots of cats around was that during the mating season the females attracted neighboring tom cats. The resident toms resented the competition, and loud, screeching fights broke out in the middle of the night. This infuriated Granddaddy, who kept his shotgun handy for such episodes. He would jump out of bed, cursing his worst (and his worst was pretty bad), grab the gun, open the door, and blast away into the night. I don't know that he ever killed any cats, but you can be sure that they high-tailed it out of there, at least for that night. Grandma and Granddaddy took several long trips, mostly during the 1910s and '20s. One is outlined in Grandma's journal of 1937-40. After a big sale at the Island Farm (1918), they took a train trip to Kansas City, Vicksburg, and New Orleans. They were gone for over a month and a half. On the way home, they bought a new car in Des Moines. By the time I knew them, their traveling was mostly confined to short, day-trips in southern Iowa and Missouri, but they did go quite frequently. I remember when they purchased a new 1936 Ford. They drove it over to our home (Switzer place) to show us and to bring steaks to celebrate President Roosevelt's election to his second term. I recall how nice the interior smelled (I'd never been in a new car before) and I was impressed with the fact that it had a dome light. Grandma and Granddaddy would stop by our place (Switzer and Pyle place) quite often during their drives. Granddaddy would stop at the driveway, honk his horn and wait for mom and us kids to come out. Granddaddy would generally ask us to recite the "five things we must do to have a successful life." He had taught them to us early on and continued to reinforce them on these short visits. After responding with, "Don't lie, don't cheat, don't steal, don't be afraid to say no, and don't let anybody run over you," Grandma would give each of us a piece of candy, usually candy orange slices. We would then scamper off, leaving them free to visit with Mom. I've thought about these rules now and then over the years and, although they emphasize the negative approach, they present a pretty good philosophy. I personally have found the last two the most difficult to conform to. Grandma and Granddaddy frequently gave Mom money to help buy clothes for us. I recall one time when they themselves took us to Des Moines for that purpose. It was in December, probably 1935, and it was cold. I don't remember who all was along, but I remember getting a sheepskin coat and a pilot's helmet with goggles. This style was a fad for young boys during the mid-depression years. Two other memories of that trip come to mind: visualizing riding along the Old Indianola Road, just over the crest to the north of where Highway 5 now crosses it. The other is of getting home late and being nearly late for the Christmas play at the school. I remember coming up the north stairs with Miss Morris standing at the top and sternly saying, "David Earle, you're late, hurry." I've mentioned Grandma's kitchen before, but let's return there for a better look. By today's standards, it would be considered quite sparse in furnishings. The center of activity was an enameled steel-topped table that stood in the center of the kitchen area. Along the northwest wall was an ivory-colored kerosene cook stove, with attached oven, and on the north wall was the kitchen cabinet, with a pull-out enameled steel working surface. The cabinet contained all the staples for cooking/baking, i.e. flour, sugar, spices, baking powder, etc. As you faced the cabinet, the water bucket, with dipper, was placed to the left of the work area. The pantry opened from the east wall. The safe (pie safe), with the mantel clock setting on its top, was along the southwest wall. There was no refrigerator or icebox; anything to be kept cool was taken outside and down into the cave (root cellar). A hand-washing basin sat on a small table along the south wall. There was no running water in the house. Waste water and food refuse was placed in buckets (slop buckets) and carried to the hog pens twice a day. Sounds a bit primitive, but we didn't think so at the time. Now, what good things do I remember coming from that kitchen? There were many; some of my favorites were beef steak (round steak), baked potatoes with skins that were thick and crisp, beef jerky that was dried in long strips hanging in the pantry doorway, and mincemeat, which was made at Thanksgiving time and placed in a large crock in the bottom of the china cupboard in the dining room. We children would sneak in with a spoon and take samples when we visited (LaVon has the recipe in her collection). But, best of all was Grandma's gingerbread. I've never tasted any better. It was moist, not overly seasoned, and literally melted in your mouth. She always baked it in a ten- inch, round aluminum pan that stood about three inches high. Thinking of Grandma's gingerbread always brings to mind the last vision I have of my brother Sidney. He had been home on leave at Christmastime in 1944. Guy and I were waiting for him in the car, as we were about to leave for the bus depot. Sid opened the door, gave Grandma and Mom a hug and kiss then came down the walk, eating a large wedge of Grandma's gingerbread. This recipe has been lost, unless Georgene has it. Granddaddy died January 21, 1943, at his home in Sandyville. Grandma decided to run the farm with the help of the hired hands. She chose Glen Bolin, who had worked for them for several years, to be the farm director. Right away, things started going badly. Glen convinced Grandma that the hogs were too much work and not profitable, so he sold the whole herd at the auction barn in Pleasantville. I remember the day well. It was cloudy, kind of a raw day in late February or early March. I helped with driving the hogs from the remote timber lots to those at the home place and the Chambers place so they could be loaded onto semi trucks. I don't recall how many hogs there were, but I think it was seven semi loads. My guess would be around 700 head. This included shoats about a month away from market, fall crop of pigs, and sows carrying the spring pig crop. Boars were sold too. I visualize being at the sale in Pleasantville, but little else. I don't know how much they brought, but I am sure that it was nowhere near their value. The next step was even more ludicrous. Glen decided that the soil was in bad shape and needed a rest from the years of continuous corn. This was true, but his approach to the problem was to put everything in oats and clover. Oats were to be sold as a cash crop. Well, oats had little cash value then, and with no hogs to sell in the fall, you can see what a predicament he placed the farm in. The story gets worse. The spring was wet and they had difficulty getting all the fields sown at the most opportune time. They grew well, but they were late. This was war time and new machinery was extremely hard to obtain. Somehow, Glen located and Grandma purchased a new combine from the Case dealer in Indianola. The oats matured late and since the weather had turned hot, didn't fill out the heads well. Combining started in mid-July. The combine broke down repeatedly; the weather turned rainy, and in many areas of the fields the oats went down (lodged). A mower was purchased for the F-14, with a windrower attachment to cut these lodged areas so the combine could pick them up. This didn't work well at all. Guy was called in by Grandma at about this time to help. He straightened out the mess, and the crop was eventually harvested and sold. Grandma decided that it was time for Guy and Bea to move in with her and run the farm. This was accomplished during that fall and winter. The house was remodeled to accommodate our family. The south porch was enclosed and formed a bedroom for Steve and me and a cozy den. An attic, with stairs, was put in for storage and a spare bedroom. The back porch was also enclosed. The Bottom Farm and Pyle place near Hartford were sold, and all resources funneled into restoring and developing the farm at Sandyville. Guy did a good job. He worked with the county agent and followed the recommendations of the Soil Conservation Service. He contoured, rotated crops, strip cropped, and created grassed waterways. He brought hogs back into the enterprise, but not at such overwhelming numbers as before. Our family got along well with Grandma; there didn't seem to be much tension. Of course, Sid and Hank were away at war, and during the school year, except for weekends, I stayed with Grandma and Aunt Rose in Hartford so I could complete high school with my class. In late May of 1944, Hank came home on leave from the Navy. Grandma thoroughly enjoyed his visit and she was especially pleased to be able to attend his marriage to Lilly Lewis on June 1 in Des Moines. Plate. XIX, Figs. 50-51 were taken of Grandma and Hank during his visit. Grandma's health seemed to be pretty good during this time. I remember only one time when she felt bad, it was in the summer of 1944 (I think), when she went to Colfax to take the "mineral treatment." Colfax, at that time, was noted for the "health value" of its drinking water. She stayed for_ about two weeks and returned home, refreshed and feeling better. Maybe her improvement came more from the vacation from our busy family than from that awful­ tasting water. Early in the fall of 1945, Grandma fell and broke her hip. She was hospitalized at Mercy hospital in Des Moines for the rest of her life. Obviously, she was a victim of osteoporosis, and healing of the bones could not be initiated. She got weaker and weaker and eventually died on January 5, 1946. She was buried at Hartford, next to Granddaddy. Grandma's obituary is shown on Plate XIX, Fig. 53.

Photos

Family

Parents

• John L Greathouse 1796–1865
• Catherine Hoover Greathouse 1802–1889

Spouse

• William Slack 1819–1873 FaG

Siblings

• Martha Greathouse Moore 1823–1889
• Rebecca M Greathouse Peer 1827–1892
• Dorcas A. Greathouse Johnston 1833–1895
• Martin Luther Greathouse 1838–1917
• Serepta Greathouse Johnston 1838–1903

Children

• Catherine Margaret "Kate" Slack Ferguson 1844–1936 FaG
• Mary Ann Slack Munyon 1848–1933 FaG
• Josephine "Aunt Jenk" Slack Nunnally 1849–1933 FaG
• Rebecca "Aunt Becky" Slack Harvey 1850–1895 FaG
• John Uriah "Bud" Slack 1851–1939 FaG
• Susan Cornelia "Shug" Slack Switzer 1855–1942 FaG
• William C. "Billy" Slack 1856–1871 FaG
• Eva Mae Slack Brogan 1859–1930 FaG
• Elizabeth "Lizzie" Slack Mason 1862–1921 FaG
• Henry Elsworth Slack 1867–1943 FaG

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