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Father and
mother and
their first-born, Lewis, left the Quam place in Illinois after having
rented
the 80 acre farm there for two years. They stayed a week at
grandfather’s home
pending their journey to Iowa.
The Quam
house was
built of sawed logs in the Norwegian style and was 18 feet square.
There was
just one big room which contained all the necessary household
paraphernalia,
and very simple at that. Plain American bedsteads supplied with the
regulation
bed cord. There were two chairs. The old dining table was taken along
to Iowa.
The cellar was good and had been convenient to keep safely their modest
stores.
The food they had did not differ greatly from what we have now, seeing
that
they had meat and potatoes, bread, also lighter foods such as kringla, fried cake, lefsa,
potato cake, etc.
A man by the
name of
Nils and his wife lived in the same room one winter. He drank and
quarreled
with his wife besides. Mother took such a dislike to him that instead
of naming
her third son Nils, after grandfather, she passed it up and gave him
the name Nehemias.
Knut Ombeland and wife lived a year with father and
mother, but
unlike Nils, they were nice and agreeable to have around. Father knew
them from
Norway. The wife was a daughter of a brother of father’s stepmother.
They left for
the west
with bedding, clothes, table and dishes, and with team and wagon and
$400 in
cash! They forgot Milla, the dog, and
immediately
upon noticing her absence father returned in the wagon to get her, but
was
nearly washed down stream by the current in the river. “Fille Hoen.” ( “Sorry
dog!”)
Grandfather Follinglo lived in a log house of round logs
with the bark
on in the nearby Gov’t. timber, where they
had a
clearing for garden, and kept a few cows and pigs. Grandfather worked
among the
neighbors to support his family of wife and four children, Martha,
Andrew, Hans
and Gurina. They, too, went west together
with our
parents but their team was not to brag of, the horses being somewhat
poor and
skinny. Their load was heavy, a stove being hauled alone, among other
necessary
things; and when they came to hilly stretches of country they had all
they
could do to make headway.
By the way, Slettavigs and the Tunges
(Anbjoden) lived near grandfather in the Gov’t
timber. And let us here mention that Per Hauen
of
Illinois said that Store Per left the Fox River Settlement for Iowa
(1858) with
the finest ox team (svart rosete)
and father with the finest team of horses (1864) that had ever gone out
from
those parts. And father had painted long and painstakingly to wake his
wagon
look attractive. There were eight blue roses painted on suitable parts
of the
wagon box. How the natives did gaze at that gaudy looking vehicle!
Continuing,
father said he had iron clamps made and fastened inside the wagon box
in which
were inserted the schooner hoops of which there had to be quite many
and being
dear at that. Had four widths of good, well-stretched muslin with which
to
cover hoops. Nevertheless, in a heavy rain they were enveloped by a
fine mist
inside, but no drops formed. Some travelers covered the muslin with
oil-cloth
and thus kept out all moisture from without.
It happened
that they
traveled together with a Quaker family for awhile westwards, camped
together,
and they found them to be nice people.
When they
came to Iowa
City, father sort of made out as if he was acquainted, having been
there before
when Logan and he went on the land-questing trip on foot from there to
Hamilton
County in 1859, They found plenty of wood on the way since they made
camp where
there was timber, usually, and had no qualms about appropriating a few
loose
sticks for the camp-fire. No one considered it stealing, since these
sticks
would never be picked up for use by the owners, if any. They were young
and not
much afraid of anything. (While dictating just here father exclaimed: “Oi, naa stak eg haando i lommen aa inche kan faa na or igjen
- han a saa vonde den armen min af saginjo aa loggingo ijaar.”
“Ouch, now
I stuck my hand in my pocket and can’t get it out again - my arm hurts
so from
the sawing and logging yesterday”) Father said the party figured on
traveling
some 40 miles a day, but doubted if so much headway was really made
owing to
twists and turns, sloughs, creeks, and whatnots. It took ten days to
make the
trip. The horses were tethered in the evening. Corn about 20 cents per
bu.
Traveled steadily from sun-up till sun-down with but an hour off for
dinner.
There were no bridges, but father does not remember being stuck in
sloughs or
creeks. Came to one creek that looked for all the world like a big
swollen,
sinuous snake. That crossing seemed impossible, but they got through
somehow.
Terrific risks taken, no doubt. They slept in the wagons. One of the
party had
to act as sentry in the night. This meant that either father or grandpa
went
without sleep on given nights. Probably mother and Margrethe
“besto” helped out occasionally. As far as
he
remembers father thinks they usually sought out such roads or tracks
that led
by scattered prairie inns on the way. Couldn’t stop at those Places
since “blood
money” was extracted there, i.e. the rates were prohibitive for them at
least.
Wherever their route paralleled railroad tracks and towns there were no
prairie
inns met with. They went through La Salle and Peru, Illinois. River
steamers
came that far and even to Ottawa. Route led across country to
Davenport,
passing first through Rock Island. Drove right through both towns
having been
ferried over river on a steam ferry, horses, wagons and all. The
railroad track
over the Mississippi was laid on great big boats anchored in the river.
They
had started the 5th of May from Illinois, and the season being
comparatively
dry the great river made for favorable crossing.
Father did
not
remember the towns between Davenport and Iowa City, yet recalls that it
was far
between each station. Iowa City was the capital of the state on his
first trip.
Opined that it had been moved by the time of subsequent trip, Iowa
City, nicely
situated on the Iowa River, was already quite a town at this time. They
didn’t
stop; they found it less expense to be on the way, and that in a hurry.
No
gawking around. They must needs live frugally and make all possible
speed.
There are considerable risks attendant on such a Journey. Had, for
instance,
one of the horses buckled under - what then? Might possibly have been
able to
find another, but what of the bargaining and expense? They did not have
many
dollars to spare. It was different with travelers who went in large
companies
and could help each other out with horses or provisions in a pinch.
They were
few.
From Iowa
City to
Marshalltown the route was largely forgotten by father. He doesn’t
recall for a
certainty whether they went through Marengo or Cedar Rapids. Arrived at
Marshalltown they bought a bedstead and two chairs. Wonder if bedstead
is in
existence yet. Marshalltown had made good progress in growth since
father’s
first trip. There were four log houses and an unpainted grocery store
then. In
place of the log houses set on a little eminence now stood a court
house. There
were brick houses, too, now, which the newly-built railroad was much to
thank
for. They went from Marshalltown to Marietta, aiming for Nevada. On the
route
to Marietta and thereabouts as they drove along the hillsides they saw
a vast
stretch of bottom land below them wherein they noted many Indian
wigwams near
the river bank. From here the Indians fished or trapped or sought other
game as
the case might be. Later when father hauled lumber from Marshalltown
the young
Indian braves would come running in bunches as if threatening to stop
his team,
and then father, being at a loss regarding their intentions, grew
uneasy. They
could be seen in strings near their huts preparatory to pounce on the
passersby
and head him off. Father thought he was in for dire trouble, but they
were
milder than they looked and didn’t attack him, merely asked for
tobacco. But
there was no tobacco forthcoming, let alone that he had one pound of it
somewhere about him just the same. Conversation between them did not
flow
freely since neither he nor they could speak English very well. They
sought to
intimidate those wayfarers who came from a distance and were not used
to their
ways, while easily overawed by them, and returned bluff for bluff.
Father had gotten
on to the ropes fairly well, did not let on that he was afraid, hence
was not
seriously plagued or molested. Father said these young Indians were as
straight
as saplings, never having over-exerted themselves, and were fleet of
foot as
wild deer.
They decided
to go by
way of Nevada since father had already traversed this stretch and was
somewhat
acquainted. They would have done better to have aimed directly at
Roland by way
of the cross-country prairie road, but being unknowing as to any such
possible advantage
decided on the more familiar route. They came to Nevada about two
months before
the railroad which reached this town the Fourth of July. Work on the
R.R. had
reached as far as Colo when they passed
through. On
way met Ola Andreas Stokkaland a former
resident of
Illinois and a relative of Paulsrud’s
wife’s folks,
who was greatly pleased to hear fresh news from his former home. Letter
writing
was indulged in very sparingly back in those days.
They all came
to
Anders and Helga who lived in the old Hall house about half a mile
south of our
present home, but they could not all be accommodated there. Grandfather
and
family were taken by Madlina to her home.
Father and
mother and Lewis (two years old) stayed where they had come from about
the
middle of May till about harvest time. Both the people and animals had
stood
the trip well, which was usual with nearly all campers on such
journeys. Our
sleeping quarters in the Hall house were snug as you please in a corner
of the
tiny upstairs room, and when Nils and Larsina
came in
July they were assigned to another corner. They could stretch out as
they
slept, and no more, in this cubby hole. It was inconvenient; and they
cooked on
one stove; all were poor, but no one complained. It happened so that
when
father went to get Nils and Larsina’s
household goods
at the station in Nevada the house on the hill half a mile north, our
home, was
being shingled.
Telling the
story in
the order that father related it we now switch to the first road in
Scott
Township, built from our home place to the Story County line to connect
with
timber road further south. Fences had been put up most of the way. A
bridge-culvert was laid to connect ponds some 70 rods south of our
place and
men came to help as far away as Cheesa Plassen working with spades to level up the
ground to the
bridge entrance. Father called it a “fille tre bru”. (“a poor
wooden bridge”). Kittel Knutson, who had
moved
into the Hall
place
after Anders and Helga, stood by smoking as the others worked, which
moved
father to say that if he expected to work out his road-tax he would
have to dig
in. “Vil du kondera
gamle folk?” countered Kittel.
(“Are
you trying to boss old folks around?”) when the road crew came to the
short
stretch west of Francis Wier and the three
big Eglands, powerful specimens they were,
hesitated to remove
the obstructing fences. Store Per, who was in charge, pulled up the
posts with
his own hands and flung these and the rails in every which way most
convenient,
causing the contrary Eglands to scatter in
panic to
be safely away from there.
Father hauled
pine
lumber from Marshalltown immediately on arriving here so that the
building of a
new house might be begun without delay. The bass wood and oak lumber
used was
obtained from saw mills at Boone. The trip to Marshalltown took a day
and a
half. Started from home in early morning and arrived in Marshalltown in
afternoon, and while horses were fed, wagon was loaded up. Drove in
wagon truck
and sat on “houndso” going down. The horses
went on a
trot much of the time. Coming back father would stop late in eve at
Clemons
Grove for the night. He slept on some rags on the ground. Heard plenty
of noisy
frogs and other sounds peculiar to the prairie those early days. Ate
dry
lunches on the way. No restaurants handy and no money for such
extravagance
anyway. Anders helped by hauling two loads. Endere,
too, promised to help haul lumber, but when he came to Marshalltown
Julia’s
desire for some furniture decided him to take that instead of the
lumber.
The house lot
was decided
upon at once, nor was the original plan ever deviated from, even though
Johannes Mathre strongly advised building
nearer the
timber on the highest point facing the road on the 40 about 60 rods
east of the
school-house. This would have cut up the 40 more, nor would the
location have
been as desirable. The prairie road from the N. E. crossed our yard
just east
of the house, but father put up a few panels of fence as soon as he
could, thus
diverting the roadway off our premises, a little to the east.
Besides the
other
lumber father chopped wood on a two-acre tract in the timber, east of
the Uncle
Nils place, where he obtained water elm logs for foundation material.
This
tract went with the purchase of the 40 with the privilege of chopping
all the
trees thereon for a period of ten years. Soft maple and Water Elm grew
well
there, also a few ash, and one solitary Walnut. A little isthmus of
land with
barely an entrance for driving formed by the freaks of the river made
up the
two acres and father stripped it so bare by the time he was through
with it
that Ludvig, the barrel maker, could not
even find
suitable saplings for barrel hoops there. Thore
Olson, who took over the land after father’s option was over, looked
wryly at
the havoc father’s thorough stripping had occasioned. Father had bought
the 40
of Biggs in 1859 and his option on the timber tract expired in 1869.
Not many
years ensued before the two acres were again in timber, but the place
became
less accessible owing to new river channels. While he worked in the
woods he
took his lunch up to Larsina where he had
coffee. Larsina had much on her hands
during the sickness of her
children, two boys and two girls having passed away of her twelve
children. In
pulling the logs home father secured Anders’s log chain which he
fastened about
the log right under the rear axle and then pulled for home, Once when
mother
and Lewis were along father took hind wheel off, rolled the log onto
the truck
and weighed it up with a lever while mother replaced the wheel.
Speaking of
the
Petersons, Nils split rails when sap between bark and stem flowed most
freely
so as to conserve the wood the better. It is said that his main diet
was beans
and that he reported that he ate ravenously. Yet scarcely ever did he
feel
satisfied. He fretted greatly on account of possible floods and chopped
madly
so as to get the rails moved, in event of such a happening to a near
hillside.
his first great task was to build a log-house. Sivert
Knutson helped with foundation logs and more, and so did father, each
doing his
separate piece of work, father the rougher part and Sivert
the finishing touches. Sivert was kind and
likable.
He had a cheery way about him and was an unusually capable worker. And
so was
Lars Henryson, obliging and competent when
he built
our house. He took pains to be exact in his measurements both in the
heavier
material and otherwise and had a horror of wasting any pieces of
lumber, little
or big, unnecessarily. Father helped saw where carpenter Lars had
marked the
material. He ate his dinner with us at a small table that we had to
ourselves
down at Anders’s place. When it came to a final settlement he asked for
some
extra dollars in return for the food he had consumed at home while
building for
us. But this was not according to agreement, nor was the extra 25 cents
over
the $1.50 a day wage agreed upon, that he asked for, justifiable. He
took his
cue from Knut Asche who he heard was
charging $1.75 a
day for similar work. Father said he would pay it even though it was
not
according to agreement, since Lars had been so proficient in his work.
Father
and his little family moved into the new house about the middle of
July, during
harvest, as far as remembered.
They bought a
cow
called “Svart Anders Kuno”
from Anders for about $15. They needed her milk for immediate use.
Bought also
three heifers from Haavar Thompson. One
was a brindle
and became the forerunner of many subsequent brindles. Bulls abounded
on the
prairie. Bought
the heifers in fall and when grass came again they followed the other
cattle
out on prairie to graze and came back to their new home never evincing
any
hankering for their old home by the timber. Once mother was to fetch
home the
cattle from the prairie, but though it grew late she did not return and
father
had to go in search for her. He found her and her charges just north of
the
swampy slough called “Springa paaen”.
Sometimes father fetched home the cattle himself and sometimes he got Sivert Knutson’s boys, Albert or Andrew or the
one that
died, sometimes others, to watch them, or just to fetch them home. Old
man Asche, great grandfather of the Hanson
boys, found “fin skaat” on the cows. A
hole or rupture in the belly had
developed on the cow into which he stuck his finger, thus affecting a
cure.
(Find out from old Norskie what Fin Skaat might be in English.) Got a calf from the
cow and
later from heifers regularly, yearly. They built & stable for the
horses
and the original cow, and stuck the heifers into a lean-to by the
stable. It
was a log stable formed of water elms and maple. Father remembers that
the
price for a keg of nails those days was $10. The roof over the stable
consisted
of a layer of suitable tree-branches overlaid with coarse slough hay
thickly
enough to keep the moisture out. The lean-to was buried in hay, both on
top and
on the sides and remained dry and comfortable wet or cold.
Father earned
the 10th
part of each wagon load for husking corn for Francis Wier
and Haaver Thompson. Clean husking was
expected, so
much so that no husks or corn silk were ever left to cling to the corn
ears.
Father thus gleaned 70 bu. for himself, husking in all 700 bu. Together
with
the wild hay he had put up he got along with this feed through the
winter and
early summer, but had to buy a few bushels more before another
corn-crop had
matured.
Father broke
prairie
for Anders, receiving some feed and the use of an extra horse in
return, and
retaining the right to do some breaking for himself with the full
outfit. He
broke up some 15 acres in the west half of the 40, the eastern rim
thereof
reaching as far as “Store Paaen” (“Big
Pond”). He had
broken a strip immediately west of the house the first year, and would
have
broken more, but drought hindered it. Planted some potatoes there the
next
year, and harvested a rather modest crop. Corn seeds were dropped
between the
rifts in the sods and tamped down. Christen, he now surmised, helped
him with
this work. The corn came up through the seams and grew very well if
wind and
weather were favorable. Sometimes birds and squirrels proved a
pestilence just
after planting. They didn’t cultivate corn planted in this fashion, the
overturned sod remained too obdurate to allow of any stirring if the
corn was
to have a chance to grow. They had five acres of wheat in west end of
40 the
2nd year. Enough was raised to provide for food and seed. He went to
Hughes’
mill 7 mi. S.E. of Story City to have wheat ground. Later Mr. Soper took over, then Mr. Eagleberger
who went bankrupt. Owing to lack of water in the Skunk River they would
sometimes be obliged to go to mill at Iowa Falls. Sometimes they went
to the
Tunnel Mill on the Boone River, but were even there turned away for
lack of
water a time or two. Later father would on occasion do some milling at Hannum’s mill about 2.5 miles north of Ames,
through not
often.
Reverting to
soil
preparation, father said that ground broken in spring (sometimes
carrying some
sod corn) remained fallow after breaking, till fall, when it was plowed
the
same way as before and some deeper lying black soil turned up with it.
It
disintegrated largely through freezing in the winter whereupon it was
seeded
and thoroughly dragged the next spring. Wheat was the main crop then.
Knut had a
McCormick
Reaper and Boen had a Manny Reaper with
which to cut
the grain before we came, but our near neighbor on the north, Osmund Weltha (Helgeland) got a Manny Reaper in time to help us
out. A man
was stationed suitably with fork in hand to rake off the grain,
bundle-size,
from the platform of the moving Reaper. Father had done this work back
in
Illinois and was able to help Boen and Helgeland during harvest. The man raking had a
seat on back
of platform with fixings in front to lean against while working, same
as on Sigurd’s kitticar.
It was hard
work when the grain was thick, and the bundles had to be calculated to
a nicety
for the four men who were to tie them, each on his station about the
field.
There were jolly rivalries between the members of the tying crew to
finish
station quickly so as to rest the longer. There were always gala
lunches during
harvest time. In a neighbor’s field whiskey flowed, and failed to make
a good
head-balance. The bundles, too, were wobbly.
Now as to
cradling,
father said that a good cradler could cradle between 10 and 12 acres a
day. One
good man could bind as much as the cradler cut down. At each stroke or
swing
with cradle a section of the swath was deposited on the ground, while
the
implement would be jerked back for another cut. The tier of the bundles
raked
together the sheaves till he had enough for a tie-together and tilted
rake on
shoulder in readiness for the next raking, and gathering of sheaves.
When
cradling one had the grain on the right and when swing was made the
straws fell
over against cradle-frame and stood almost upright on a miniature
platform when
evenly tipped off, heads outwards and butts inwards. The cradle swaths
were 8
or 10 feet wide, hence the acreage attained daily by a good worker.
Father
couldn’t keep
up at first with his brother Store Per when the latter cradled. Per had
learned
to cut the grain evenly, leaving stubble of uniform height and not too
close to
the ground. Endre Tjernagel
followed in his wake and kept fairly well at his heels during much of
his
cradling. It was no easy task and Endre
must be given
credit for being a capable bundle-maker.
There was a
10 ft.
reaper those days in Illinois that was propelled by two teams of horses
either
side of a long tongue extending backwards at the end of which sat a
helmsman on
very heavy wheels controlling the direction of the machine to a nicety.
Per in illinois sustained lasting injury
in trying to rake off the
grain sufficiently fast as it fell on the machine platform. He thought
he would
be strong enough to do it alone, but got “slet”
in
the effort. There was also a machine that dropped the grain from
platform
sufficient for a bundle. It was left in the form of a swath wide as the
reaper
and was manipulated by the driver’s foot. There was still another
Reaper drawn
by four horses where three men stood separately as bundle binders and
received
each his portion to bind through the deft manipulation of a 4th man who
raked
up each his portion as the grain fell on the platform The man who did
the
raking certainly had his hands full. And the (wolf) “den skrubben”
who did the driving enjoyed seeing the others exert themselves, though
some
drivers did have some mercy. what a load of human freight to pull round
and
round the field! After these machines came the McCormick and Manny
Reapers with
their mechanical platform rakes; the first revolved around as would a
perpendicular wheel, while the latter swung its rake round the platform
vertically. And then came the Marsh Harvester which elevated the grain
from
platform by means of rollers and apron, while two men received the
grain as it
came, each tying his portion alternately and thereupon flinging the
bundle to
the ground. Now the modern grain self-binder has replaced all former
methods of
harvesting.
Father used a
Manny
Reaper to cut hay with but used a grass-sickle instead of the one for
grain. It
was heavy as “all get out”. Father mowed for many of the neighbors
besides his
own mowing. Once I was to carry lunch to him when he mowed east of
“Store Hauen”. I was a very diminutive
person and extremely young
at the time and could scarcely make myself seen above the tall prairie
grass
growing there, but father eyed me in time to stop the mower before I
had ambled
into its path. He had his lunch and I my ride as he hoisted me into the
lofty
Manny Reaper seat and made me believe I managed the outfit by my
holding tight
the loose ends of the lines. The Manny Reaper cut a swath of five feet,
the
first mower four feet, being unwieldy at that.
Father plowed
with a
14 inch stirring plow drawn by our black geldings Charley and Frank. He
at
first used a single shovel plow in the corn and hitched up Charlie to
pull it
for him, and covered about two acres a day. What weeds were missed by
the plow
were pulled up by the roots by hand. Tended also some beans, potatoes,
and
sugar cane. After a year or two a double shovel plow was bought at
Nevada. The
big riding cultivator next in succession was bought within the span of
my own
memory. Father had hauled a gopher cultivator with him from Illinois,
but didn’t
use it here in Iowa, but soon sold it to Haakon Vespestad
who lived east of Chr. Logan near Long Dick Creek. Paid $36.00 for the
gopher
in the first place. The riding cultivator was mostly operated by Lewis,
though
Peter and I also had sessions with it. By the way, a Mr. Keefe hard by
the Vespestads warned father over and over
again not to buy any
wet land. Whatever the reason, one thing was sure: He had land to sell
himself.
As to wagons
father
said that he came to Iowa in a patent skein wagon with screw nut. Other
wagons
largely used were the lynch-pin variety. Endre
Tjernagel had “ler vogno”,
equipped with leather
washers.
While other wagons
made their noises, Endre came padding
along quietly
without rousing anybody’s attention. The improved thimble skein was
used on the
Bain wagon which was supposed to be a very strong and durable vehicle.
The
price was $110.00 with spring seat and 8 in. top box. There was a six
inch top
box on father’s wagon. that took him to Iowa. New Bain was bought later
at
Nevada for, or by, Peter. The Mitchell wagon was an early wagon, too,
and could
be had at Nevada. Speaking of Peter, it may be interpolated here that
father
never bought a self-binder and that it remained for Peter when he
rented the
farm, to buy a Champion Self-binder.
As to other
implements, father said that the first drags were of wood and consisted
of one
section only. Father made a tiny drag that one horse pulled between the
corn
rows. He got through the corn quicker than with a plow and it left the
ground
smoother and cleaner. This was in Illinois and Anfin
Krabbatveit laughed at him, but
the idea
was a good one.
When they got the gopher (plow) it straddled the row and it could be
adjusted
so as not to cover the corn just peeping up, or to work soil nearer the
hills
when it grew taller. The gopher was early and so were single and double
shovel
plows. Father doesn’t remember seeing any cultivators in Illinois
before he
left in 1864.
Early hay
rakes lay
flat on the ground and were comb-like in appearance both front and
rear. They
were controlled by a hand-lever fastened to a frame whereby the
operator could
lower the teeth of the comb into the ground causing it to tip over and,
dumping
the hay, catching hold as a rake again on the other side of windrow.
The
windrows could also be made into proper sized heaps for cocks by this
unique
rake. The machine worked with a minimum of bother and cleaned up the
hay nicely
on level ground, especially if the operator knew how to handle the
lever to a
nicety. With a tractable team and with lines over his shoulder the
hands of the
driver could manipulate both driving and proper leverage without
trouble. Steel
rakes on wheels came next; some had their lifting power installed in
front,
others behind. Wild hay was generally allowed to dry before raked up,
otherwise
there would be dust in the mow. Oftener than not, hay was set up in
cocks
before hauling. Say the cut hay was usually cocked at once, but was
scattered
again till dry enough for the final cocking, and, subsequent hauling.
When hay
was made on the prairie there was great to do in keeping the cattle
from
charging into the cocks to exercise their horns or playing bovine
pranks
generally. Sometimes the animals found themselves spending the night by
preference midst an army of cocks, hence extreme watchfulness by the
haymaker
was required. Derricks of hay forks were used on the meadow in putting
up
stacks, but came later. There were some expert pitchers and loaders,
both as
applied to the stacks and the loading on racks. Nevertheless, some rack
loads
slid off. Peter had some such experience, and came near being seriously
hurt.
Side-delivery rakes came at about the same time as the hay-loader and
slings.
Previous to
the
planting of corn the ground was prepared with plow and drag. Among the
more
forward looking farmers, by the way, were John and Aave
Rosdal, Store Nils, and Per and
Nils
Hansen. They had
come over on the “sloop”, had settled at first in New York and upon
coming to
Illinois were quite progressive and yankeefied.
– The seed-bed being smoothed out to the satisfaction of the owner a
marker with three or four runners worn smooth by the ground was whisked
over
the field first in one direction and then straight crosswise. Then came
boy or
girl droppers with three or four kernels of corn preparatory to each
dropping
at the intersections formed by the marker. In dropping the corn it was
best to
go in the direction of the first marking, not the second. Grown-ups
followed up
the droppers and covered with earth the hill with one pull of the hoe
and
stepped upon it for packing as the next hill in turn was hoed over.
There were
many odd happenings occurring between droppers and hoers, some jolly
ones, some
almost sad, and some quite ludicrous. Some owners dragged the ground
after
planting, others didn’t, since they were fearful the hills might be too
much
disturbed, even to the extent of uncovering the corn kernels. Nor was
the seed
always made to lodge in moist ground, as usually with the later machine
planter; hence the more successful dragging afterwards. Two hand
planters
linked together were sometimes used by one man, but, of course, never
for
replanting where scattered hills might be out. Some rolled the ground
after
planting with great log rollers which was good for the corn, but
invited also
the prompt appearance of weeds. Dust was raised the more readily by
high winds
on rolled ground than otherwise. For some reason or other the old
wooden roller
gradually went out of style. And not a great deal of rolling has been
done
since then by the majority of farmers.
When the
first
Keystone corn planters showed up we borrowed one from Jonas Ponsnes
and Lewis planted biggest part of field east of dwelling in a great
rush of
speed. The planter was to have been returned at a set time, but Lewis
dared
risk Jonas’s displeasure, kept it over the stipulated span and finished
the
job. I can
still see faithful Fly’s head bobbing up and down as she and another
horse
pulled the planter back and forth on “Store Hauen”
and urged to a rapid pace by the driver to make the finish. Peter
handled the
dropping lever and was hard put to it, high speed and all, to hit the
cross
markings.
Father
doesn’t
remember personally having operated a corn planter. This work seems to
have
been turned over to Lewis when we began the use of this implement.
Father
dropped some at first, he thinks, but Peter was quite promptly
installed as the
official manipulator of the dropping lever. Unbelievable as it may
sound, I,
too, was put to this job later. When the check-rower came cross marking
was
dispensed with, and one man was able to plant the corn without
assistance.
Enough stone
was found
on the 40 with which to build our large stone cellar. Old man Lund did
the
blasting to reduce the larger stones to workable proportions. To make
the 10
inch hole required he used bolts of fine steel, and water, and pounded
till the
hole was there. He poured the necessary amount of powder into bottom of
hole,
then took long iron pin sharpened toward point and set it in the
powder,
whereupon he tamped brick dust around it, removed so the Tin, poured
another
dose of powder into the tiny hole, connected the fuse with it, applied
a match
to fuse and then ran some 8 or 10 rods away to safety. One stone that
peeped
ever so innocently out of the ground proved to be of very sizable
proportions
before finally blasted out, the cost of which was $10.00. Whether
mistakenly or
not they named the stone blue granite. The two whitish stones
originally placed
near road south of the house were from the hill in N.W. part of 40.
These
stones are now placed north of the house. There were several stones in
the
meadow and near the big pond (Store Paaen).
There
were also a number of stones on the low land north of the pond on the
original Meltvedt farm later bought by
father. The east part of the
farm as well as the original north 80 contained gravel and smaller
stones in
places, but scarcely any big ones.
Andreas
Knutson Meltvedt paid $1.00 an acre for 80
running lengthwise
adjoining our farm on the north. The land was so low that he hesitated
to build
his dug-out on it and received permission to build it in the N.W.
corner of our
E. 80 where there was a suitable knoll, There were scarcely any boards
used in
the dug-out except on the roof. They had a straw stable for the little
livestock they had. They cultivated the knolls for the limited amount
of feed
they were able to produce. Plenty of prairie hay. Andreas made good use
of his
scythe and later father helped do the mowing with his Manny Reaper
attachment.
There was particularly excellent prairie hay to the north and east of
“Store Paaen”.
We visited a
lot back
and forth. Some of my fondest memories hark back to this period.
Andreas had a
cheery temperament and made everybody happy with his jolly mien and
frequent
guffaws. “What are you good for?” he would shout to us children and
would add
his own homespun saying: “De bare paa vatten aa ve, aa stikker aa straa”. (“They
carry water and
wood, and sticks and straw”.) Katrina, his wife, was an exceptionally
understanding person and knew how to be of loving service to her own as
well as
to others. Like her husband she was always kind and considerate. Like
ourselves
they had eggs, milk, butter, vegetables, flour and meat - what more do
you
want? There were cookies and fried cakes, too. And who said there
wasn’t some
coffee, for the elders, Father has often spoken of those halcyon days
of yore
with Andreas, Sivert, Nils and Anders in
the
background. How much happier are the rich in their commodious houses
than were
we in our primitive abodes, he would say. They had sufficient food so
as to
meet their modest needs, and their beds were good enough to invite to
sound
sleep. Above all, they were thankful to God for what they had.
Andreas
bought the 40
further east by the road some ten years after we came to Iowa, as
father
remembers, and he, father, had also bought the east 80 at some such
time,
presumably somewhat earlier. The price was low, $3.00 an acre, caused
by the
fact that, according to Mr. Sweany, who
seems to have
made the deal, the land had been sold at Sheriff’s sale and might not
attain to
a perfectly secure title for, say, 16 years. No claimants were ever
heard of,
however.
Father
related that
wolves did not abound at first, but swarmed in as the settlement grew,
apace.
however, wolves were heard of more generally a little further south, by
Starvation Hollow, and thereabouts. A wolf eyed Larsina
through the window in their log-cabin quite early. There were plenty of
muskrats; and minks were known to catch chickens by the neck to suck
their
blood and then discard them. Skunks had more sense of economy and
consumed the
whole hen, also eggs. Other animals there were, but they caused no
great
devastations, except it be the field squirrel. There were some
rattlesnakes,
but hardly as many as Endre Tjernagel
would have us believe when at haying time he pitched rattle snakes into
the
load to Julia who was loading for him. This according to Uncle Nils who
might
have stretched it a little, but who certainly had experienced some most
disagreeable encounters with “creepers”. None of us youngsters saw
rattlesnakes
on the prairie, but we saw plenty of bull snakes and the so-called
grass snake.
We dreaded even these. Pete saw a great snake coiled like a ball by “Springa Hauen”, but
dared not go
near to investigate. Oscar Henderson related having seen a mammoth
coiled snake
near the woods by the river.
As to horses,
father
said that he had exchanged Frank for a gray mare owned by Dr. Cochrane
who
lived on the place since taken over by Hans Pederson. The mare was
called
Nellie and was later sold to Nils, and also a colt of hers (grown-up),
for
$230.00. Nils was very prompt in his payments both of interest and the
regular instalments. This same Nellie had
yet produced another colt
for us and was he big: We grieved when father sold him to a horse-buyer
for
something over $100.00. This sum helped pay a considerable part of the
indebtedness on the east 80. Father felt quite sure that our beloved
Fanny that
died on us, was bought as a colt from Knut Phillops.
Raised colts from her and other mares and sold some, one fine boy team
being
among them. It was always heartbreaking for us boys to see them as they
were
led away for good. Fly and Flora, mares of especial intimacy among us
boys,
were bought from Thomas Tunge. The price
was around
$250.00 for the two. Fly left a great legacy of colts, but was sold to
Lars Omundson later. Nellie and Fanny were
outstanding in the
line of her progeny and they, in turn, had numerous descendants. Our
present
Nellie is the granddaughter of Fly.
(I
remember now she had to be shot because of poll evil. The fool
rendering plant
man put five bullets into her devoted head before she fell. What
sorrow!) No
progeny from Flora was left on the farm, if I remember rightly. She was
a shiny
black, with beautiful mane, and lovable disposition, and entirely safe
for
youngsters to ride or handle in whatsoever way. Sweany
was treated by inserting long horse hairs through skin by means of
incisions
and, on moving these in and out, back and forth, festering was started
and finally
life came back to the affected parts. Too much and too heavy pulling
caused
this condition and pressed out the life of the flesh so that it started
to
wither and die.
As to cows of
the near
pedigree order father bought, some 70 years ago, a line cow from a
drove of
cattle being driven from Marshalltown to western points. She was all
Durham
except for 1/16 Devonshire. Price about $45. We received a slight sum
back from
the drove owners on their trading her for three of our cows. Two milk
pails
could stand nicely side by side on her hips and one very comfortably in
front. (Bojedne, paa Norsk.)
She was a large
cow and well built, and gave a fair amount of milk. We called her “Storabaso” (“Big bossy”). Her progeny was
numbered in
dozens. One of the heifers among her descendants turned out to be the
largest
cow I have ever seen. Her udder was enormous and her milk output
unusually
great. Father was bid an exceptionally high price when she was dry, by
the
butchers, and made the mistake of selling her. She would, no doubt,
have
mothered many fine milkers.
Father tells
about the
clothes they used in earlier day, saying that mother sewed by hand the
shirts,
suits and dresses required for the family. Hickory shirts were in
vogue; and
calico and gingham dresses. One dollar and less for a ten yard calico
dress;
even as low as five cents per yard. Sewed by hand one day was spent in
making
it. “Tvill” cloth, blue denim, was bought
and made
into jackets and pants for the boys, and sometimes into dresses for
little girls.
Kentucky jean cloth was bought and made into suits for school or
Sunday-go-to-meeting wear. price about 50¢ per yard. Grown-ups
used the
material, too, and often home-made at that. Shoes of split leather;
both for
men and women, were rather coarse and heavy, but lasted much longer
than shoes
do now. Father had “leist aa sydel aa pinnar
aa greier”
(last and awl and pegs and such fixings) and repaired many a shoe
himself.
Copper toes on boys’ boots were common and made the little fellows
proud. “Yes,
I see you have new boots”, said Wiester as
I sat down
near him with legs crossed and boots well displayed. Hadn’t, however,
intended
to make any display, and felt rather hurt by his remark. A few around
here used
wooden shoes, especially in the winter. They were 50¢ a pair, but
the
price
rose some later. Jacob Charlson Grove made
excellent,
well-formed wooden shoes. Eyvind Riveland
who lived a ways north-east of us on the prairie was an early
shoemaker. Oien, who married Dorthea Lie-Phillops,
was the first shoemaker in Story City. Price of
shoes then was around $1.50 per pair for grown-ups and about $1.00 for
children.
When they
butchered,
father says that while butchering all available boilers were busy on
the stove
heating water so that there would be no delay in having the necessary
barrels
properly filled in which to douse the swine. The temperature had to be
just
right in those barrels, otherwise the bristles would not readily let go
their
hold. And they were to be scraped off with a hoe or scythe and not be
cut off,
leaving roots in skin. A knife was used to clear off stray bristles
defying
removal. The hog, if we have to repeat it, was to be soused up and down
just so
long and no longer than it took the stubborn bristles to yield. If too
long,
they took on a new hold and hung on for good. The butchering for market
was
done in winter, the insides removed, and carcasses hung up and frozen.
No
deliveries otherwise. One year during the Civil War the price went
pretty high,
possibly up to 15¢, if his brother’s memory is not at fault. Five
cents
was
considered a fair price. In 1861, just before the war, the price was as
low as
$2.50 for dressed pork. Once, after the war, father sold pork for
$1.95. They
took good care of the innards those days, for father remembers that a
neighbor
woman came and helped clean guts for the fats. Nils Peterson always
came to
help father butcher for the family, usually a hog and cow, Everything
was done
to a T and up to snuff; and there was much visiting and jovial talk
between the
participants. We children hung around, of course, but never do I
remember
hearing them indulge in improper, thoughtless speech. A few strong
expressions,
that was all. They had both taken to heart the Scriptural injunction to
bring
up the children in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Nils would
usually
swing the ax that felled the cow slaughtered, but once his aim went
wrong
because of a slip on some ice, and the ax went wild and grazed father’s
temple
who stood by steadying the animal. Some tense moments followed wherein
thankfulness to God for standing by was uppermost in their minds.
Note:
That this
story should be mimeographed and distributed was
the idea of Dr. Neelak S. Tjernagel,
son of Rev. Henry Tjernagel and grandson
of Ole
Andreas Larson Tjernagel. Neelak
was in possession of the manuscript in the handwriting of Nehemias Tjernagel.
The cutting
of the stencils and the mimeographing was done
by Rev. Adolph M. Harstad whose wife,
Martha Karina,
is a daughter of Peter Tjernagel and
granddaughter of
Ole Andreas Larson Tjernagel.
September,
1976.
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