Bob Piper's Corner - September 14, 1986

September 14, 1986

George Dunshee, Charles Prior and myself took off at 2 p.m. Sunday. We went northeast in George’s car and I rode in the back and those two in the front. This way I have everything my way in the back seat. We checked the work on the new road by Bethel Cemetery. It is coming along fine. Prefab culverts are a great new thing. They have elbows up, down or sideways. We spent quite a little time at Zion Cemetery checking on some of Charles’ relations and just a general survey of names. Our flower find of the day was scarious blazing star. It is beautiful and very seldom found. George spied it out by Stoneking Cemetery. I have seen it only four or five times in fifty-six years. We arrived back at 6:07 p.m. 

I was born and raised two blocks from the Mallory Estate. It was a big part of my early life. The stories of the Estate are endless. I intend to write several articles about this fabulous place and all are based on what I know to be factual. There was always a mystery about the place. Signs were everywhere saying “NO TRESPASSING.” There were two Mallory ponds. The big one was in the valley west of the Christian Church. It is now all filled in. This pond was one and a half blocks long and one-half to three-fourths block wide and was known as Big Mallory. It ran north and south. Little Mallory pond ran east and west and was up where the tennis court is now and some east of there. Ilion Avenue stopped at Twelfth Street and didn’t start again until Sixteenth Street. This was the Mallory private lane, hence no street. For many years the no trespassing sign around the big Mallory pond was not enforced. Then again the owners would fix the fence and try to keep people out. It never worked real well, but one didn’t want to get much farther back into the land beyond the pond. 

Winter time seemed different as to trespassing rules. Great sliding parties were held, especially at night. Four or five-person bobsleds seemed to be the big thing. We were too small to have a bobsled of our own, but we hooked lots of rides. 

The Mallory land was comprised of 999 acres. Mr. Mallory made his money by building the railroad from Chariton to Indianola. Most all horse-drawn equipment was used. The steam engine used was around until WWI, when it was used for scrap metal. It was unique in that the boiler rested on a wooden frame of heavy timbers. It was too bad, but one had to be patriotic. 

In later years the Mallorys were gone and people who worked there lived in part of the big house. Having children our age, it was only natural for them to have playmates. That is how we learned about the castle inside and out. You had to be invited to come. Luck was on our side, as we went often and of course they came to our house as we had the bakery nearby. There was always a reverence about the house. No running around or playing in the rooms. The people who lived there had much respect for the castle. More later on this. 

A week or two ago I pulled up one of those sprawling plants, taproot and all, from a crack in the sidewalk. I took it inside and put it in distilled water. A day or two later I looked at it under a microscope and saw literally thousands of tiny flowers about one-fourth the size of a common sewing-pin head. Beautiful perfect flowers. This is the forerunner of the moss rose or portulaca. It is too late now, but try it next year. 

A few weeks ago I bought an old-time meat cutting block from some people out in the country. It was in their barn when they bought the farm forty years ago. It is three-legged, 18 inches thick, 36 inches across and is one big slice of a hickory tree. Most blocks are made of many 3 x 12 inch oak blocks standing on end to keep from splintering and held together by stay bolts through the block. Most all old cutting blocks have a legend on the bottom giving the man’s name who put it in service, his age and weight. This round block was put into service by Harry Rubadeaux, age twenty-nine, weight 400 pounds, height 5' 8”. I learned that he was the father of Sue Roten, wife of our first baker. I also have another round block put into service by William Lane Beck, age twenty-seven, 5’5”, weight 259 pounds. It is also one slice of a hickory tree. It was originally a bright green trimmed in red. 

A word about carriage trade. All stores had this and it was a good business. Usually the wife would drive up in her carriage, or a little later in her car. The merchandise she asked about was carried out to the vehicle. As a rule this was in the early part of the day. It took extra help. Sometimes nothing was sold and the customer moved on. Sometimes she would come back and all was done over. All in all, the average of a sale made was pretty good.

Bob Piper's Corner - September 21, 1986

September 21, 1986

George, Charles and myself took off at 2 p.m. and arrived back at 5:56 p.m. George clocked the time. We went southwest to find McMann’s School and did. It is in the southwest corner of Lucas County. Victor Anderson attended the school. Will have more about this later. We crossed back and forth on all old roads between Woodburn, Derby and Humeston looking for a wildflower named gay feather or blazing star. We located one of that family, scarious, but we wanted the plume type. No luck.

More about the Mallory Castle and the immediate grounds. As I said before, there was always a mystery about the place and also a great deal of sincere reverence. I never saw Mr. Mallory, as he died early, but Mrs. Mallory was there in my early years. She was very nice and ruled with a firm hand. There was a huge cave and much produce was raised to store there. I never picked apples, but saw plenty of them stored in the cave. The job I remember was catching birds and putting them in her huge screened area. This screened huge cage was west of the castle. It was large enough for trees to grow there. They were well-fed and watered.

The castle stood right where Dr. Fisher built his home. It is on the main drive and east of John

Baldridge’s home. As near as I can tell, the big fountain was about where our Presbyterian manse stands now. It was not on all the time, but only during big affairs and often late afternoons and early evenings. It was fed from water from the wooden tower. This was pumped there from the big Mallory pond. It was only for stock and garden. The household earlier had a water supply of its own, and later was on the city lines. The few times I was up in the tower and walked on the catwalk around the top was years after Mrs. Mallory’s death. We always had supervision by the people living there as tenants.

In later years it was not safe as the steps up to the top had not been kept in good repair. The tower gave an excellent view of the city. On hot evenings people went up there to get the breeze. Alma Clay building also had a deck up on top for such a purpose.

The main gate at Twelfth and Ilion was only for the family carriage and company. All business of any kind came in at the Curtis Avenue entrance on the west and down the avenue of pines to the Castle. Pine trees outlined the Mallory Castle grounds. On the driveway from the west and on the north side were six little houses for people who worked there. It was quite an honor to work there and there are grandchildren of those people living in Chariton now and other places yet today.

Since the County Home is in the news as to its possible closing, a little-known fact was recalled to my mind. There is a little cemetery on that property. You go west by the County Home to the first road running north. Just before you cross the tracks, it is on the right. There are only four stones there. Whether there are more buried there with no stones I do not know. This cemetery was for the railroad to bury people who were killed by trains and no relatives could be located. Later a place in our Chariton Cemetery was set aside. Two of the names are Lucy Matthews and John Burns. The stones are dated from 1915 to 1920. Mrs. Will Snyder, who with her husband operated the home for years, remembers one burial there while they were there. Also one grave in later years had flowers on it on Memorial Day.

The old bell from the Belinda Christian Church has come to rest in a new home. The Belinda Church disbanded and the bell was purchased and given to the local Christian Church. After a time, a small tower-like structure was built to house it. If you listen at 10:30 Sunday mornings, we can hear it being rung. Has a nice sound. The tower was designed by a local man, Lyle Nickelson, a member of the church. I think it is very fitting for an old bell to have a good home.

Every year I give my grapes away as I do not use them. The arbor is sixteen feet long and ten feet wide. I always say, “Leave some for the birds.” The nice lady came and found no grapes as the frost had nipped the buds last spring. This I didn’t realize as the foliage was so dense it wasn’t evident. I told her we would try again next year. We both thought it a cruel joke.

We have run a test again on what happens to the newsletter once it is received and read. Out of eight contacted, we heard from six and it really is heartening to hear how many hands they go through. It makes it all worthwhile. We will make another test soon and report again.

Bob Piper's Corner - September 28, 1986

September 28, 1986

Left here at 2:10 without Charles as he had other plans. We were in George’s new blue Pontiac. We headed in the general direction of Red Rock to catch a glimpse of the hundreds of pelicans there. We went to the beautiful museum at the south end of the dam. The young lady there informed us the rangers said there were around 125 in White Breast Creek where it empties into the lake. We had no way to go there. At Roberts Creek we saw hundreds of terns on the beach. We couldn’t get close enough to identify them, but the girl at the museum said they were Caspian terns. Beautiful birds. Every time we visit the museum we see something else. That is the test of a good museum. Shortly before we got there it rained a half inch in a very short time. The rain and the wind played havoc with the beautiful goldenrod and the showy Spanish needles. Visit this museum sometime as it is large and well-done and very interesting. We got back at 6 p.m. The topic of conversation on the ride was thunderheads. Everyone seems to have a different idea just what composes a thunderhead. 

More about the Mallory Estate, known as Ilion. Why it was called Ilion is not clear, as Ilion was the Greek name of the city of Troy. Mr. and Mrs. Henry Stroud worked there for years. I never knew Henry too well, but his widow lived years after his death and I was well acquainted with her and recall many a conversation with her. In early years Henry was sometimes driver, and often coachman, at the rear of their beautiful glassed-in carriage. In later years, when the Mallory era came to an end, Henry was overseer of the land for the new owners. The carriage always came out the front gate and up to Ashland, then east. This was to keep from going by the Palmer Estate. There was great rivalry between the two ladies as to whose carriage, etc., was the fanciest. Mr. Palmer and Mr. Mallory were friends, as I will tell about in a later story. This route to town brought the carriage by our house. As Mrs. Mallory and my mother were friends, quite often the carriage would stop and they would chat. 

Mrs. Mallory had two favorite trees, pine and catalpa. Mrs. Stroud told me she and Henry planted an acre of catalpas farther back in the land. I have seen this when I was a youngster. They were close together and trimmed up to a height of fifteen feet or so. Being so close together they grew straight and tall. That is unusual for catalpa trees. She wanted some good catalpa lumber. 

Mrs. Stroud told me that Mrs. Mallory drove a light rig around the estate as a road had been laid out. The path or road led down from the castle to the dam. A bridge was over the over-flow, allowing a complete circle of the estate to be made. Her trip always included a stop at the Red House. This house was back on the land and a tenant always lived there. This was a mysterious place and the subject of many stories. As I have said before, this house was later moved to town and later moved again where it still stands and is occupied. It’s still a good house. 

John Frazier of the Chariton Manor and 104 years of age, told me years ago that he made a boat out of catalpa for Mr. Mallory. Years later the boat was the property of Robert Larimer of this city. It lasted fifty some years. Each fall Mr. Frazier would sink the boat under water and get it up in the spring, clean it off, paint it and it was ready to go. This boat had two pairs of oars and one pair was sold to me and I used them for several years until they were stolen. More about this later. 

Dick Anderson, son of Victor and Mildred Anderson of our church, was here over Labor Day weekend. They did some riding around. They went down to the McMain’s rural school in southwest Lucas County where Victor attended school. They got permission from the Richmond’s, who own the land, to enter the old building. Inside they found part of the old blackboard. They made a deal with the Richmond’s for the blackboard. It was brought to Chariton and Dean McNeish trimmed off the broken edges and cut the board into two pieces that Dick can use for his children to write on. Isn’t that a bit of thrilling history? 

While out there they sat under the tree that Victor’s father slept under the first night he came to that area from Chicago. His father came over from Sweden in the hold of a boat with one hundred other people. People died, babies were born, and life went on day by day. They landed in New York and were then shipped to Chicago. Victor’s father came to this country, landing in 1882 and his mother came over in 1885. Then he came to this area where he spent the first night under a tree. 

While out there finding the school, the three of us saw a red-tailed hawk pick up a viper snake. Our car frightened the hawk and it dropped the snake and flew a short distance away. The snake was definitely injured and could hardly crawl. We drove on as you must not interfere with nature, or should not. The hawk would be back for sure.

Bob Piper's Corner - October 5, 1986

October 5, 1986

George and myself took off at 2 p.m. minus Prior, as he went to Des Moines to see a show. My turn to use my car. We went southeast to the Chariton River bottom. Great blue herons were reported being seen there. We didn’t see them, but did see a white egret and a kingfisher. Saw a vulture right in front of us. A huge bird, it seemed to have trouble getting airborne. Probably overloaded with food. As much as we have traveled that area we found some new roads. Coming back, we came by where we had seen the egret. We saw it again in a backwater area arched over by trees. The bird had to come right up to us to get room to really spread its wings. Beautiful bird and beautiful view. Got back at 6 p.m.

Some people have questioned my source on the history of Ilion. This is good. All I have related I had first-hand knowledge, or got it in personal talks with Mrs. Henry Stroud who spent her life there with her husband. In the years I remember best she lived alone in the Dutch Palace. This was a rather modest brick house built by Mr. Mallory to entertain his gentlemen friends. Mrs. Mallory allowed no drinking at the castle. These were just social affairs. This house stood about 300 feet in front of where the Ken Crist home is now. The pond dam ran east and west. The house stood up the hill west of the dam some 300 feet, facing east. The carriage path led down from the castle past the Dutch Palace across the dam and then north. In my day there was never a bridge across the overflow, but you could see the remains of timbers that were part of the bridge. According to Mrs. Stroud, Mrs. Mallory drove a light rig on the trips back into the estate.

When I was thirteen or fourteen I would take an order out to Mrs. Stroud about once a week. I either took a Model T Ford truck or a team of mules, depending on the weather and roads. It took quite a bit of time, as there was no real road to her place. First, permission had to be obtained to go. One had to go through several cattle feeding lots. Gates had to be opened, cattle shooed away, and then over the pasture to her place. For some reason the house was about three feet off the ground. There was no basement, only a root cellar. The back porch was high as a loading dock. We could drive up and unload. Also the veranda on the front was high off the ground and open underneath.

The time finally came when Mrs. Stroud was too old to stay out there by herself. She was moved to a house on North 14th. The last year at the Dutch Palace she became a little fanciful. She told me and other delivery men not to get down on the ground as wolves lived under the house. Because of them she said she wasn’t afraid at night because they were pets and would protect her. I told my father about this and he said, “Did you get down?” I told him no and neither did the men who delivered there for us when I wasn’t around. Father never commented on the situation, but probably had some thoughts of his own.

One thing that spoiled the beauty of the area near the Dutch Palace was, after the Mallory family was gone, the new owners allowed the city to place one of the four sewer settling basins in Chariton almost out in front of the Dutch Palace. This deal, along with Mrs. Stroud’s age, brought about her departure from there. The house stayed empty and was torn down before the castle was. More about the Mallory Estate in later years next time. I never knew of a place that almost had great things happen to it, but all evaporated into thin air. More later on Ilion Acres.

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Some little-known things - 

The Rexall Drug Store building was the first building on the square to be properly located. It was built there by Dr. Gibbon, who also was a surveyor. He had come back from the Civil War and located here. The buildings on the east side of the square sat forward and back of this proper line he had established. As time went on, all came to this line, even before the buildings were brick. The Palmer Department Store that stood right where the hotel is now, used the same surveyed lines set out by Dr. Gibbon. I talked to Mrs. Joe Copeland many times about this. She was Dr. Gibbon’s daughter.

In one of my earlier letter I mentioned a hogshead. People have asked me what this was. It was a large loosely constructed barrel and would hold nearly one hundred twenty gallons. It was not watertight. Staves were held together by hickory hoops. One thing I remember being shipped in a hogshead was Calumet baking power. The cans were loose in there, packed in ground cork or sawdust. Everyone of these hogsheads of Calumet contained a prize. Some I remember were either an axe, a hammer, a spade, a set of aluminum store scoops, an iron kettle, a set of dishes, an oil lamp or a spice cabinet. Some of these things are still around here. The most important thing that ever came in
one of these hogsheads of Calumet was a calendar clock. This was in 1907, the year I was born. Of course I don’t remember this, but Father told me about it. It has hung in our store since that year and works fine if I would get up and wind it. I also have a sled that came as a prize.

Speaking of sleds, in the year 1915 there had been no snow and it was the nineteenth of December and none was forecast. Father happened to notice on the back of an invoice where it said if there was no snow you could return the sleds. The company didn’t want to, as it was sort of a joke. Father insisted and they took them back. Two days later we had a real deep snow.

Charlene Harrington called me about the little cemetery on the County Home ground. She has a book of all cemeteries in Lucas County. It lists some thirty people buried there, but only four stones are there. She says that near the turn of the century she had an uncle who was not mentally sound, and times being as they were, money was scarce so he was buried there. He lived at the County Home before his death. The names of all who are buried there are listed in the book. I will take another good look at the place later on. The names on the stones there are listed in the book she has. George and myself visited this cemetery again and found only the four stones as I mentioned before. We know from the record that others are buried there. It’s a coincidence that the three stones belonging to men are all listed with the name of John.

In 1917 my brother Joe and I were walking to town. We came across John Lyons laying a brick walk on the east of where the Christian parsonage stands now. We wanted to help. First, we hauled bricks from the Eikenberry elevator that had burned. That was where the Stone Motors is now. This was done by wheelbarrow. We placed the bricks and covered the cracks with sand. This settled in between the bricks. They stayed there sixty-five years until torn out. We got a dollar between us. People complained to Father about the low pay. He answered that when we were busy there we were not into something else.

Bob Piper's Corner - October 12, 1986

October 12, 1986

As I have said before, Mrs. Mallory and Mrs. Palmer were not real close friends. However, Palmer’s son Charles and Mr. Mallory were quite close. They had many of the same interests. The Palmer family had come from England. They built the beautiful home at the corner of Twelfth and Park. A new house has been built out in front of it. Many of the fancy frills have been removed from the old house. They, too, had a beautiful carriage as I have mentioned before. The Palmers built a country lodge about two blocks northeast of where the water tower at First and Armory now stands. It was a lovely brick structure. The upper floor was all a game room. Long after both families were gone the building stood there as evidence of grander days. It could be called a hunting lodge as this interest drew Palmer and Mallory together.

Remember in those days the railroad and the mines had not yet come into this area and the area in far east Chariton was one of rolling hills and beautiful estates. This area was never the same after the railroad went through. Of course, by then the families with estates had passed on and another era took over.

Back to the Mallory story. As I mentioned before, the Mallory Estate had two close brushes with fame, so to speak. After, or rather during WWI, several veterans’ hospitals were to be built in the Midwest. Chariton was very much in the running for one of these. The Mallory Estate was plenty large enough. The railroad had agreed to run a spur into the place. Remember the Mallory’s were gone and there were new owners. People worked hard on it, but there was a feeling among people that the inmates posed a problem if they strayed away. My father worked hard on this. People couldn’t see the potential of the whole thing. In the end, the government seemed to get wind of where they felt more welcome.

It was not long until the National Order of Moose wanted to locate a children’s home in the Midwest. We had everything they wanted as to land and a railroad spur to the land. The former Mallory Estate was OK, but lacked one acre. They wanted 1000 acres and there were 999 acres. The extra acre was secured. People realized by now what they had missed by not getting the veteran’s home here and really worked hard. We were in the finals and were one of three places. It finally went to Mooseheart, Illinois.

Several times, later, several organizations talked of making the castle a historical site or a home of some type. It was too large, such high ceilings and big rooms. Later the whole estate was bought by Otto Brown. The castle was taken down as the expense was too great to do it over. Two nice homes in town were built with the dimension lumber from the castle. The Mallory family is buried in Florida. The only one buried in the Chariton Cemetery is their son-in-law, Ed Thayer. I often think it has been a fitting end for the castle grounds to have the many beautiful homes built there.

Charles Prior and myself left at 2 p.m. for a ride into the country. Went to the Chariton River bottoms to see if any great blue herons were there. We saw five at quite close range. Would like to know how many were hiding in the tall grass. If they don’t move, it’s hard to see them as they blend into the landscape. It was a great day for hawks. Mostly red-tails. Went to Brown’s Slough. Water was high and roads down to it were muddy. We didn’t get too close. George will be along next week, but he was in Colorado this week. Got back at 6 p.m. The word battle for this ride was over the use of these three words: acclimate, orientate and familiarize.

The old Salem School is gone, torn down. Repairs too costly and its need had passed. It was located on the old Bluegrass Road toward Russell. Now the Salem Church and School are both gone. In later years the building was used as the Benton Township community building. I always get a kick out of someone sticking up for their rural school and the good time had there. The comradery was at its best. One lady who had attended Salem School told me she would rather see an old school torn down than become a hog house. I agree with her.

Up west of Liberty Center a pond was lost. The rains washed out the overflow and left about an acre of mud and water about a foot deep. Nothing could be done in the rain and many fish went out the overflow as well as right over the dam. People came and pitched the fish up on the banks. Next day all were gone. Coons, coyotes, skunks, herons of several types, fox and many other creatures had worked all night and had eaten or carried away all of the fish. Several turtles were still around. I understand that many pond dams had damage and lost lots of water, but weathered the high water. Later I was told a dead coyote was found along the bank of the washed-out dam. Had a gash over its eye. They reasoned a blue heron struck it with its beak. They are powerful and can split a wooden oar.

Bill Snyder, son of Bill Snyder, who ran the County Home for years, told me some more about the little cemetery on the grounds. He said his father told him that four or five Indians were buried there. They were working on the railroad and became ill. He brought to mind another old-time fact. When the Snyder’s were at the farm, it was self-supporting.

Bob Piper's Corner - October 19, 1986

October 19, 1986

George Dunshee and myself took off at 2 p.m. in my car to go to Derby on the Cinder Path. Charles Prior was not along as he took a group of his own. Different day for George. Last Sunday he was in Colorado and they had five inches of snow. We didn’t see as many cars on the path as usual. Perhaps they were earlier. The only birds we saw were grebes, lots of red-tailed hawks and killdeer. I never travel the path without imagining I can see Thomas McAloon, my favorite steam locomotive engineer, leaning out the cab window, making a run for the hill into the Chariton yards. Went towards Colyn area across country on old roads. Had to turn around twice because of mud holes. Saw nothing at Colyn although the water and weeds were just right for great blue herons. Came back at 5 p.m. because of dinner at the church. On the trip we discussed the use of the word vicarious.

More about our early bakery days - 

In the depression we roasted turkeys for people at Christmas and Thanksgiving. It was a three-ring circus. Usually about forty turkeys to be roasted. That brought forty hungry people to the bakery to pick up their birds. All came early, hoping the turkey or goose would be done a little early. My brother Dayton was in charge of all this. We made money on the whole deal, but it was something to try the patience of a saint. The turkeys were in our pans and covered with rye dough, each labeled with the owner’s name. Invariably the people who were anxious to get them early learned theirs was back a ways from the fire box and took a little longer. At the end the turkey had to be brought forward, rye cover knocked off so the turkey would brown.

My brother was a baker and cook for the officers’ mess at Great Lakes Training Station. This rye dough trick he picked up from a Turkish baker who was visiting the station. We used to carry those rye dough shells down to Mallory’s pond and float them. They would last in the water for weeks. Some lay behind the bakery until the next spring and then had to be hauled away. I remember one big mix-up on the turkeys. Dayton gave a lady another’s turkey, as she was there and the other lady was not. All went well until the last lady cut into her turkey and discovered it had corn dressing. She knew it wasn’t hers. Dayton laid the whole story before her and as people who knew him would bet, he came out fine. This was one of his great qualities.

About this time we had built a heavy pan about six feet long, six inches deep, and two feet wide with six handles for six to carry. This was used to roast whole pigs for people. This also had a rye dough covering, which was removed at the end so the pig could brown. These bigger rye dough shells almost made a boat on the Mallory pond. A small flag was stuck in the top of the pig’s head and a red apple in the mouth. It was covered with a clean cloth and delivered by four men in a T Model Ford truck. It was carved right in the pan. Jake Yengel, my brother Dayton, Frank Munch, George Steinbach or Scott of Lucas were carvers at different times. I forgot to mention there was a rock in the bottom of the pan to keep the pig up out of the grease. A delicious dressing was made and cooked in the pig. Dewey Layton was not a baker, but he worked for us and always helped on these pig roasts.

Dewey Layton, Jr. is owner of the Layton Pipe Organ Company. He not only plays the organ, but designs and builds them. Some of the largest in California are of his design. He has also tuned the organ in the Mormon Tabernacle. A huge one was installed recently in a Methodist Church in Denver.

Bob Piper's Corner - October 26, 1986

October 26, 1986

Left here at 2 p.m. on our Sunday ride. Charles Prior, George Dunshee and myself. We have covered the roads of Lucas County so well we have to go beyond or visit interesting places seasonally. We went south on Highway 14 to the county line, then east to Rathbun country. We visited Sugar Creek and Buck Creek bordering Rathbun. Huge camping and picnicking facilities are there. We saw five deer while driving through Buck Creek. Saw lots of red-tailed hawks and sparrow hawks. Not much corn or beans out as yet. The two words we discussed today were circumvent and circumspect. Sun shone quite a little and roads were not dusty. Got back at 6 p.m. sharp. George read in today’s paper that someone advanced the idea that hummingbirds hitchhike rides south in the down of large geese flying south. I never heard of this but will check it out. People living out at West Lake have enjoyed the blue herons there this fall. The upper end being shallow lends itself to the needs of wading birds.

Years ago the city furnished the Christmas trees around the square. One for each store. The holder was a square of cement with a pipe in the middle and worked really well. A string of lights went from tree to tree. As I remember there was a slight charge to the merchant. The trees were always hauled to the dump.

This particular year Ray Eckerman asked if they could be hauled to his pasture that was right were the Van Allen School is now. Ray had a herd of milk goats and wanted the trees for the goats to climb in. There was an old dead tree in the pasture. A rope was strung over one of the top limbs and the trees were piled up in a huge pyramid. The goats loved the trees and climb it they did. The whole idea was to keep the goats contented. This way they would stay home. Sometimes ten or twelve goats could be seen clear up in the top.

An unforeseen thing happened and this is what this story is all about. The goats ate the needles giving the milk a pine taste. This for a time put a stop to the sale of goat’s milk. People who don’t care for goat’s milk, or fancy they wouldn’t like it if they tasted it, certainly would have a point here. Eckerman was philosophical about the whole thing. He was a schoolteacher and this happening would certainly give him something to talk about. It was necessary to burn the trees as the goats were eating the bark. Nothing was left for the goats to climb on but an old worn-out hand-operated washing machine. The drain hole was plugged with a piece of broomstick that stuck up about three inches. All day long the goats fussed with each other about which one was going to stand on the stick.

About this time we had an experience with goats. Father had gone with a carload of cattle to Chicago. While waiting for his pay, he was told there was no money to pay with and they were broke. While he was gathering his wits, an old friend came up to Father and told him there were 350 head of goats in the pen not sold. Father went to the proper officials and took the goats as partial payment. They were shipped to Oakley and driven to the Piper farm southwest of Oakley. The goats figured at twenty-five cents per head. Nothing more was ever collected from the commission house in Chicago. The goats were left in this 200 acre, brush timber patch for three months. After this time the 200 acres looked like a city park. Grass was short and all the brush was eaten down. Tree limbs were eaten up as far as the goats could reach on their hind legs. Now something had to be done as they were eating the bark from the trees. No one out that way wanted to buy them or even rent them.

Father sold them for twenty-five cents a head to the Keckner and Ream farm on the old Bluegrass Road southeast of town. Here they met their Waterloo. One cold night they got out and lined up on the rails for blocks. A train came and just mowed them down. So many were killed it was too much for the section hands. The railroad sent a steam shovel to dig a long trench to bury them. The court ruled against the railroad and they paid for the goats. Later, the remaining goats were shipped to Sioux Falls, butchered, and sent to an Indian Reservation in New Mexico. End of the goat tale.

Bob Piper's Corner - November 2, 1986

November 2, 1986

Left here at 2 p.m. George, Richard and myself in my car. One thing we never go without is hard candy. We headed northwest going through Liberty, Jamison and Osceola. Drove around Osceola quite a little and found it to be a nice town. Lots of new homes. Saw lots of pheasant hunters and some farm work going on. We had to stay on the better roads.

The words discussed were clutter, and can something become uncluttered. Not in good grammar. The other word was carapace, the shell of a turtle. We arrived back at 5:10 p.m.

Do you remember, or did you ever hear of the older ladies’ Sunday school class in the Presbyterian Church of Chariton known lovingly as the “Olive” class? The members were Olive Oden, Olive Brewer and Olive Harrington. Mrs. Lon Mickle was the teacher for years. When she passed away Olive Oden taught the class for years. This story is unique in that Olive, although a pretty name, is not very commonly used. Here were three in one class.

Speaking of Sunday schools, I taught the old men’s class some thirty-five years ago. I really wasn’t qualified, but it was easy for this reason. The class was made up of mostly men who knew the Bible. All I had to do was put forth a question and we never had time enough. I remember well of one man, although not a member of our church, who came regularly and was quite well-versed on the Bible. He would now and then get so worked up in his discussion, he would take out his upper plate and hold it in his hands as he gestured to emphasize his point. Feeling he had made his point the would snap it back in his mouth as if to say, “Take that!” He was a nice fellow and usually made his point, much to everyone’s amusement because of his tactics.

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Back to the old bakery again.

The power of cookies. Many a quarrel, fuss, disagreement, frightening experience, has all been ended with cookies from the bakery. Broken ones at that. This cookie barrel was almost sacred. Being sons of the owner, we two boys had privileges. We could get into the barrel whenever the need arose. I really don’t know if Father ever knew anything about this, but Mother did. Occasionally cookies were made from these broken pieces. They were called moss cookies and were one of my favorites. One of our jobs was to coat them with a glaze as they came out of the oven. They were soft and chewy.

About eight blocks south of the bakery lived Lightning Johnson, a black man. I know now that it was because we were kids that he could frighten us. We could keep him on our side with a few cookies. One day he came over to the bakery quite drunk. Father happened to be there. He settled things right now and no more visits from him. Of course, we chimed in and mentioned that Lightning had been bothering us. Father settled this, too, for all time. No more problems with this man.

However, up the street three blocks lived twins. Two big girls that enjoyed beating up younger kids. Cookies didn’t work with girls. Ivan Savacool lived across the street, and one day happened to see our problem. For cookies he agreed to take care of the girls. This he did and we had no more problem there.

Sometime later, the White City gang came over to our end of town. This was bad as they all were a little older and much stronger, having worked in the mines. Cookies for a time took care of things, but the more we used, the more they wanted. Mother got in on this and called Father’s attention. Father called the father of the ringleader and they stayed home after that.

We had a deal with the city to mow the grass at North Park on Green Avenue. We got a dollar for this. Cookies came in handy here as we could get lots of help to push the mower.

Do you know the average tire population on an Iowa farm is sixty-five? Sometimes one hundred to one hundred and fifty. Believe it? Go count them. I read this in a farm journal.

Years ago about this time, the J. C. Penney store came to town. A merchant hired a popular young man about town to work for him. He didn’t stay long. Father asked the merchant what the trouble was. The man said the boy purchased a pair of pants at Penney’s and somehow got the idea that the pockets were the cash register. Several heard the question asked and all got the point I am sure.

This was our first detective work. Brother Howard and myself had gone to the slaughter house early one winter morning to butcher a hog. This was before school time. The afternoon before we were to butcher two hogs. It got dark and having no light we got only one done. It was cold and we left it hang there. Upon entering the slaughter house, we discovered the dressed hog was gone. There had been a light snow and we followed wagon tracks back to town and to a certain house. We told Father and the police went to the house. The people were cutting up the hog. I don’t remember how it was settled, but we got out of butchering that day as we had to go to school by this time.

How to identify a crow in flight. First, they are never up very high, generally speaking from tree tops to the ground. If the bird soars, it isn’t a crow. They fly to the ground or to their perch, but do not soar. It’s continual flapping of the wings. They like to bother owls, especially big horned ones. The owl can always fly away if it wants to. This scene we observed taking place the other day. The crows stay above the owl and fly down, pecking at it. One crow made the mistake of getting below the owl. The owl dropped like a shot and grasped the crow in its steel-like talons. The owl had crow for supper.

If you want to ask questions about flowers or birds, call me or call Emma Thomas, one of my pupils and about the best authority I know of.

The Palmer Department Store was located where the Charitone Hotel stands now. It was magnificent for those days. Nothing like it. All plate glass show windows. Gargoyles adorned the down spouts. It had four departments: groceries, hardware, dry goods and house furnishings, millinery and lamps. Mr. Palmer was always in evidence, wearing his Lincoln stovepipe hat. His son-in-law, Riley West, was his assistant. There was a son Charles Palmer who didn’t have much to do with the business. He was an outdoor man and sportsman. This building burned one night in 1913. I remember going over close and the bricks in the sidewalk were hot and they burned my bare feet. It was never rebuilt. Riley West started a store in what is now the west half of Hawkeye Bank, later sold to Edwin Jarl. He sold out and went to California and Woolworth then came in.

Bob Piper's Corner - November 9, 1986

November 9, 1986

George, Charles and myself left here at 2 p.m. and drove northeast into Monroe and Marion Counties, over into the old strip mining area that will not be restored under law. The newer strip mines must restore the area by law and in many areas this had been done. Most of this restoration is in terraces, and crops growing there look fine. We drove to Maryville, Attica, Pershing, Bussey, Tracey, Williamson and Weller. Saw lots of hunters. Many fields are still untouched and make great hiding places for game. Charles made the statement of the day when he remarked that many farmers not only picked their beans, but plowed the fields for next spring. Word we discussed today was euphemism. The day was wonderful. We arrived back at 5:30 p.m.

A number of years ago when my daughter Sue and her husband Bob Johnson lived here, Ruth and I were invited over to their house for Thanksgiving dinner. Bob’s folks were there, as well as some other guests. About a dozen in all. Sue, knowing I didn’t care for fowl, asked me to bring something I liked, or tell her what I would like and she would fix it. I said I would fix something. I used a large rectangular aluminum baking pan. I put in a mixture of butter, brown sugar and vinegar and heated it until it was blended well. Then I added a layer of Kraut, then a layer of franks sliced thinly lengthwise, alternate layers to the top. I baked this and then froze it hard as a rock. Early the day of the dinner I put it in the oven to thaw and heat. There was a wicker basket to put the pan in. I carried it into the house while all had fun asking, “What is it that I smell?” At the table the pan was in front of me. Everyone said, “Help yourself first.” A little later on, I said to Sue to pass the kraut and franks again. There was none left. In the center of the table was a big platter with pheasant ringed with quail, looking as if it had hardly been touched. The moral to this story is to take what you are going to eat the first time around. The whole episode was a lot of fun.

Several years ago I was taking a box of apples up to the high school. Several boys were standing inside the door. I knocked on the door, but no one paid attention. I set the load down, opened the door, and had to ask them to move over. While I was there, I decided to ask the office if they could recommend a boy for some work I needed done. They said they would send me one. You guessed it. The boy who came was one of the group inside the door at school. He was crestfallen. I said, “I am going to give you the job because I have faith in you.” He did the work and I never had a better boy to work for me. I could have said no and maybe destroyed his faith in himself. I felt he needed someone to show they had faith in him. This is after the case and I feel this was true with this young man.

I was looking at the Charitone Hotel the other day and my mind flitted back to the year 1923 when the excavation for the hotel was dug. Working in dirt could be considered rather a common-place occupation. Maybe so today, with all the modern machinery and computers. This was not so back in the early years when excavators took pride in their work, just as those who worked in wood or steel. William Baxter was the dirt boss. He ruled his workers with an iron hand as to perfection in their labor. The wagons were backed down into the excavation from the street. Baxter stood on the street and guided the wagons down, just as a man at the airport guides the plane to the ground with his hand signals. The drivers had to pay attention or he would whistle them out.

The dirt was spaded into the wagons. It took a strong team of horses to pull the load to the street. Where did the dirt go? Most of it went to fill in the area where the Double Dip stands and south to the alley. That area was eight or nine feet below the 8th Street level. A great deal of the dirt was taken to what is now known as Yocom Park. Earlier this park had been a lake and used by the municipal light plant. When this lake was drained the area was used as a dump. Later the dump was ruled out and the dirt from the Charitone Hotel was used to cover up the trash and make the terraces there. Most of the larger pieces of trash had been hauled away, but there was litter to be covered.

In 1934 my brother Joe Howard and wife lived at the corner of Lucas and 8th in one of the houses of Piperville. Ladies Aid was meeting at their house one afternoon. Sometime before they had made a batch of root beer. This was sealed in half-gallon earthenware jugs. It was corked, but they didn’t know to put sealing wax over the corks. Reverend Nichol came to visit the meeting and about then the corks started popping from the jugs. Ruth was beside herself as to what to say. Reverend Nichol took charge and said with a laugh, “Let’s see what this popping is all about.” This broke the ice and Ruth went downstairs and brought up a jug of brew. It turned out to be a fun day for all.

Along this same line, my Ruth had a similar experience. Her club was meeting at our house. Birthday money was on each table, as was the custom at their monthly meetings. There was a knock at the door and Reverend Landgraf had stopped by for a call. He was a great man and was amused at the red faces. It was explained to him and he put everyone at ease. This story made the rounds for a long time, causing many laughs.

Bob Piper's Corner - November 16, 1986

November 16, 1986

More about the old bakery –

Several days ago I saw a man who used to deliver for us years ago. Seeing him brought to my mind a very interesting and entertaining event that took place at the same time every year. It was just a plain good-natured egg fight between those at the bakery and the delivery men. No one ever knew just when it would happen or what would start it. They would generally speaking throw about sixty-dozen eggs at one another. It was all outside the building. Father didn’t care as eggs were cheap and they got the urge to battle out of their systems. It all had to be cleaned up, the trucks washed, the front of the bakery washed, and the yard washed with a hose. Clothes had to be changed as well. Quite a few people heard the noise and were spectators. Sometimes they not only gave one another an egg shampoo, they gave some to the spectators. Remember, it was all in fun.

I remember one year the delivery men came back to the store telling the workers there all about the egg fight. All of a sudden another good-natured fight broke out between the inside workers at the store and the outside workers, who had just come from the egg fight. This time they both used peanut butter. We handled this in a sixty-gallon drum and sold it in the bulk. The men got into this drum and rubbed peanut butter in each other’s ears, in their hair and down their necks. This lasted about fifteen minutes much to the spectators’ delight. Father was at the barber shop and someone told him. He came at once and put a stop to the whole thing. Eight men were involved. Remember it was all in fun and seemed to take the vinegar out of their systems. Father didn’t fire anyone, but did put a quick stop it.

Bob Piper's Corner - November 23, 1986

November 23, 1986

Some humorous stories about the church way back when -

The Ladies Aid was making mincemeat in the church kitchen. I remember Mrs. Preston Oden, Mrs. Elizabeth Brownlee and Mrs. Charles Dunshee were there, and many others. They ran out of one ingredient and called the store to see if I could run down with it. I did, and here is what happened. I said to Mrs. Oden, “Where is the mouse?” She said, “What mouse?” I said I had read an old-time recipe where a string was tied to a mouse’s tail and it was put in the pot. After awhile it was pulled out by the string and hung up for another time. Mrs. Oden grabbed a pan and chased me up the stairs to the street. It was all a joke, but I do believe she would have whacked me had she caught me. She always seemed to have trouble getting around with ease, but not that day.

Tony Landgraf was our minister when this mouse story took place. He was preaching about Satan and that he might appear in many forms. Just then there was a disturbance in the choir. A mouse was running along the top of the choir rail. It would run a little, then sit up. In this fashion it moved across the rail and was gone. Reverend Landgraf turned back to his sermon, and pointed to the fact that Satan could appear in many forms and perhaps this was one of them. What could be a more fitting end to a sermon?

Dr. L. H. Oatman was a Chariton resident years ago. He was a watchmaker and optician. He told me one time that he preferred to be called an eye doctor. His home stood east of the Presbyterian Church were the new apartment house stands now. His life dream was to build a pipe organ. When he was seven or eight years of age, he had made up his mind. As he practiced on the old reed organ in his home, his dreams began to take shape. He needed an education and money. He left home at the age of sixteen to go to Dubuque to study watch making. He financed his studies by restoring reed organs. This work gave him a better understanding of the principles on which the pipe organ is built. In the great historic city of Dubuque he had many opportunities to hear the beautiful music of many pipe organs, and each time he was fired with renewed zeal.

He moved to this home in Chariton in 1923 with his wife and two daughters. The construction of his organ started at once. The blueprints had been finished for some time. No one thought he could do it, but he was determined even if his wife and daughters had doubts. As a young man I delivered his groceries to his home and each time I got to witness the progress. For a long time, it looked like the box of a farm wagon. I remember two keyboards were in evidence after a long period. These were from the old family reed organ and from another he had purchased.

As a boy, when I was in his home, and in later years when Ruth and myself were invited there, he always mentioned the fact that no one thought he could do it. Then he would swell up with pride and point to his love. He spent many of his leisure hours studying the pipe organ at the old Episcopal Church at the corner of Court and 8th Streets.

In the year 1928, Dr. Oatman experienced his greatest thrill. His daughters stepped to the organ and soft mellow tones came forth. It was not complete, but it demonstrated that he had succeeded in his work. With a special hook-up with the telephone company, Christmas anthems were broadcast, thus stilling the criticisms of all the doubters. I have no idea what happened to the organ in later years. I have heard several stories, but was never able to pin one down as the truth.

Sometime between 1929 and 1936, this partly humorous and partly serious event took place. Dr. Harliss was our synod executive. He was a fine man and very firm. Reverend Nichol and Dr. Harliss were friends of a sort, but always in disagreement. This particular Sunday Dr. Harliss was here to speak to us after Reverend Nichol would give a short sermon. Reverend Nichol spoke on and on and on until the town clock struck twelve. Reverend Nichol introduced Dr. Harliss, and not to be outdone, Dr. Harliss pronounced the benediction, ending the service. Mrs. Harliss was along, and she and Mrs. Nichol were the best of friends. Earlier the Harliss’ had been invited to the manse for dinner. During the meal, Dr. Harliss took sick and was put to bed. He could not be moved for three weeks. Stomach ulcers seemed to be the problem. I don’t remember whether the friendship was better after this story or not.

Years ago, a Presbyterian merchant had a pet bulldog. Every morning he put a nickel in the dog’s mouth and sent him to the butcher shop. The butcher would take the nickel and give the dog a chunk of bologna for his breakfast. One morning the dog wouldn’t eat the bologna, and a note was pinned to the dog’s collar explaining what had happened. That night after the merchant had gone to bed, he was pondering over the dog’s behavior when the good fairy appeared and explained it all. It seemed the bologna was made from one of the bulldog’s old girl friends! This article was not taken from one of the great literary magazines of the day, but was one of the great stories told in butcher shops.

George and myself left at 2 p.m. Sunday. Charles went to Des Moines to see another movie. Therefore, he was not along. We went southeast on a zigzag route to Lake Rathbun. We saw several deer, hawks and geese. Hundreds of geese flying low over picked fields. They were undoubtedly disturbed by the shots of hunters shooting other game. The countryside is a study of browns. Lakes are full, as well as streams. We went through Confidence, Melrose and Russell. Went on a tour of the Melrose Cemetery. You don’t see much from the road, but upon driving to the hilltop you’ll find a large well-kept cemetery. We saw a big stone with the name Erickson on it. We wondered what a good Swede was doing in that Irish community.

Bob Piper's Corner - November 30, 1986

November 30, 1986

Our ride -

George and myself left at 2 p.m. and went northwest. Charles had a cold and stayed home. We went north and west of Norwood to Otter Creek Park. It is a nice place and is being developed more each year. We came back through Liberty Center and east to Southeast Warren School, then south and east to Lacona. Hawks were in abundance everywhere, but other life was not in evidence. On winding roads, you can get turned around as to direction, especially with no sun. At one point, I thought we were going north and we were heading west. The words cohesive and adhesive were the ones we discussed. Arrived back at 5 p.m. and it was dark.

This is a humorous true story. It took place around 1910 in Lucas County. The lady didn’t want her name used, nor the other names of the ones in the story. Therefore, we shall call the man John, and the lady involved Tillie, and the Justice of the Peace, Bart. John and Bart were both very hard of hearing and were friends of a sort, and often did some shrewd trading of a horse or a cow. This could happen before church, after church, or on the main street at any time. Because of their loud talk, gestures, and seeming anger with each other, it always drew a crowd. The lady who told me this story said very little was ever traded and the two men seemed to enjoy every minute of it.

John was a bachelor and Tillie was a maiden gal. Both in their fifties, they lived in the country about eighty rods from each other. According to my source, they were sparking each other, and had been for some time. It seems Tillie had been talking about marriage to John. He was lukewarm about the whole thing and avoided talking about it. The time was spring and crop planting time. It seems since it was too wet in the field, Tillie got the idea they would go over to Bart’s and have him marry them. John didn’t get all the conversation, but did hear the word Bart and that they were going over there. He sensed a trade, and took a can of money along in the buggy. When John drove up to pick up Tillie, she thought of a little chore she wanted him to do. While he was busy, she went back in to the house for a moment. While both were gone, the hound dog ate the picnic lunch Tillie had prepared. Another lunch was prepared, and they took off.

Bart lived about three miles away. They were stuck in the mud three times, and John wanted to go back. He still did not get the real point of the trip, and could not see why Tillie was so set on going. They finally arrived, and Bart came out to greet them. Of course, Bart did not know of Tillie’s idea either. He spotted the can of money and sensed a trade of livestock.

An old nag was tied to a tree in the yard. John went to look at the horse, and while he was gone, Tillie got across to Bart why they had come. When John came back to the buggy, he spied Bart holding the Bible. John was beside himself to think Bart would want either of them to use the Bible to swear upon.

John was so angry that he got back into the buggy ready to go home. Tillie wrote the word marriage on a piece of paper. John thought Bart was going to be married and said he wouldn’t be there. Tillie shook her head and pointed to herself and to John. He said, “You want us to be married?” She nodded and he said, “Why didn’t you say so?” He wouldn’t get out of the buggy so the marriage took place right there. Bart charged them nothing, and gave them the old nag as a wedding present.

Story had it that they lived in Lucas County another thirty years, then moved to Kentucky where they seem to have gotten lost in the hills as nothing was heard from them. I had two things to ask my source. What did they do about a witness, and where did she get this “story” It seems Bart’s sister was there visiting and Tillie in later years told the whole thing to her.

For several years, I have been jotting down words and phrases that I have always heard, but never fully knew what they meant. For instance, a game called hot butter and blue beans. It involved a paddle and a safe circle marked on the ground. All hid from sight and one person hid the paddle. When the paddle was found, the person who hid the paddle had to get to the safe circle or he got paddled.

Another phrase was sorghum pork. I had heard it used years ago. It seems that people used to home butcher and occasionally they would get a hog that wasn’t just right for butchering. It would have a piggy taste, due to the sow being too close to farrowing time. In this case, a small amount of sorghum gave it a more palatable taste. I have never tasted such pork, with or without the sorghum cure. The trouble could not be detected until it was cooked.

Another true mouse story -

Last fall I saw a mouse track in my kitchen. I have never been bothered but realized that with some foundation work going on the mouse had slipped in. I set two traps and went upstairs to bed. I had just gotten there when I heard the trap go off. I decided to leave it until morning. However, I kept hearing a noise from downstairs. I came down and discovered the trap had caught the mouse by the end of the tail. I noticed at once that it was a field mouse, and not a common house mouse. The length of the tail and the big ears told me this at once. I put on leather gloves and picked up trap and mouse. Immediately I noticed it was a female about to have little ones. I took it over to the neighbors’ wood pile where I had seen field mice before. I suppose this story could be called a “tail.”

Bob Piper's Corner - December 7, 1986

December 7, 1986

Back in the 1920’s, Lucas County had a gala pageant staged at the West Lake. It was on the east side of the lake where the Gun Club grounds were located. The Gun Club was an active group before the country club was organized. The Gun Club leased the lake and surrounding area in 1912 from the C.B. & Q. Railroad. The lake was built that year as a water supply for the engines. Before that, the water came from the Chariton River. In the summer time, while watching a ball game at Chandler Park, one could hear the gas engine pumping the water to town. Chandler Ball Park was across the road west of the old city dump. Chandler Brothers, Fred and Howard, allowed this land to be used for a ball park.

The pageant was to re-enact the fifty years before. The dress of the century before was in evidence everywhere. There was a dance at the pavilion. Much livestock was in evidence. The big event was a Conestoga-type wagon that came from the field east of the grounds into the center of action. The wagon was driven by Charles Stoneking, and his wife rode beside him. Children, in proper dress, were in the back. The wagon was one my father used as a huckster wagon in and around Oakley in the 1890’s. The wagon had not been used for awhile. The top hoops were still there and William Schreiber Carriage Manufacturing Company stretched new canvas over the hoops. It was very authentic. A water barrel was on the side, and two milk cows and an extra horse were tied behind.

The big money prize was given to the winner of the hog-calling contest. Some who had never called hogs entered to try for the prize. They asked Father to call, but he said he felt merchants should not try. He was asked if he had a call and he said no, that he just said piggy, piggy, piggy. No sooner had he uttered those words when hogs in the neighboring fields crashed through the gates and ran in among the crowd. Father was a little embarrassed, and yet pleased at all the commotion that he had caused. I remember that he didn’t take the prize money, but insisted that it go to another caller. A pageant was to be held every ten years, but somehow another never happened.

The County Home is dark for the first time since 1904. People going by can hardly believe it. It is the change of times. For years the Home was operated so as to pay its way. For some time, people living there had been relocated to other towns or in homes here. The supervisors were quite sure everyone was pleased with his/her new home. The exception was Jimmy Stone. He didn’t want to leave Lucas County. He walked away from a place or two, so they brought him to the Lucas County Jail just to stay until a place could be found that he liked. Jimmy is a true lover of Lucas County.

Left here at 2 p.m. and headed south without Prior as he still has a cold. George drove his car and the farther south we went, the less fog. We toured the towns of Corydon, Humeston and Derby. Saw many hawks and deer hunters. Went to Red Haw Park as we often see deer there, but saw none.

Bob Piper's Corner - December 14, 1986

December 14, 1986

A little Mexico in Chariton -

In 1917, when so many of our men were gone into the service during World War I, the C.B. & Q. Railroad brought in a group of Mexican men to work on the tracks. They were housed in the old bunk cars in the railroad yards. The railroad fed them in an old horse car that had been fitted for an eating car. They were all middle-aged people, with a few older boys. The leader was a man named Jesus McCarthy. This name for a 100 percent Mexican man always puzzled me. They seemed to be good people, for the most part, and caused very little trouble. Liquor didn’t seem to be a problem, and for the most part they kept to themselves when off work. Piper’s sold the railroad the food and they used top quality merchandise. The railroad also saw to it that the food was well prepared. They knew that well-fed men work better and are more apt to stay out of trouble.

Two doctors of Chariton took an interest in this group and took care of their needs. They were Dr. D. Q. Storie and Dr. Tom Throckmorton. Most of these workers mowed weeds a good deal of the time. Using hand scythes, they often had cracked and sore, blistered hands. Both doctors furnished a homemade hand cream. There wasn’t a big charge for this, and it was a help.

Mr. Alonzo Mickle of the old United Presbyterian Church at the corner of Grand and Auburn, was head of the express agency at the passenger station. He was instrumental in getting a few of these Mexican men to come to church. We also had two black people who came quite often. Made a cosmopolitan group and the church accepted them real well.

I don’t remember much about the services, but I do remember two Christmas parties at the church where the Mexican men helped with one of their customs. A piñata was made from paper-mache. This was a good-sized bag filled with toys and food treats. It was suspended from the ceiling and children, while blindfolded, beat on the bag with sticks, freeing the contents. This was a finale to the program and this ritual is still practiced in Mexico. I must add that only toys were in the piñata, as United Presbyterian’s rules allowed no food in the church, except for the elements. I also remember a plaque hanging in the church honoring them for their efforts with the Mexican people.

On the days the Mexicans didn’t work for the railroad, my father hired them to work on the farm. I don’t remember much about that, only that they didn’t like to work with horses. We had mules and that pleased them. Pedro was one of the younger Mexicans and a very likable fellow. He came to our house to help in the yard several times. I remember that he ate at our house a few times. He was especially fond of hearth-baked bread. It seemed to me that a great many people ate at our table. As I look back, they must have had sort of an open house. There were nine of us and the table seated fifteen.

A great deal of the time we two younger boys had to eat in the kitchen. We didn’t mind as Mother saw to it that we got the best of everything. It seems to me, as I look back, that Mother seldom sat down. She had plenty of help, but I can still see her moving about the table with a loaf of bread under her arm, slicing as she went along.

Father didn’t care for foolishness at the table, but fun was OK. He always felt that eating should be enjoyed, and not to take too long as work was always waiting. He always said that work never runs away.

I remember a Christmas a long time back when Pedro was still here in town. It snowed early and the Mexican group was kept to shovel snow. There was a boy living at our house at this time because his folks didn’t want him. He was there about a year or so until someone else took him into their home. I saw this man a good sixty years later and recognized him and told him his name. I asked him why he was there and got the same story; his folks didn’t want him. His mother died and his father remarried. The new mother didn’t want him. Later she died and the father married again. This new mother took the boy back. Pedro and this boy were a little older than Joe Howard and myself. Naturally we were good friends.

Mother wanted to decorate a huge asparagus fern for Christmas. Father said he thought we should have a real tree from the farm since Pedro and his friend were there. Of course there were no lights, and strings of cranberries and popped corn were the decorations. I remember Pedro asked if he could make a string of tiny hot red peppers. They seemed to have lots of these in their living quarters. It was pretty and something we had never had before or since, for that matter.

I too remember these boys helping to carry fruit cakes up from our basement at home to our delivery truck, which took them to the store. These fruit cakes had been made the year before and kept in earthen jars, wrapped in brandy-soaked cloths. This was a German custom and made a truly delightful cake. This idea came from the two German bakers we had at this time.

George, Charles and myself left here at 2 p.m. and went northwest, first to the “Bike” (George Byron) Sheldon farm, better known as the Vic Peterson farm, to see how the work was coming on building a huge pond. Just trees cleared so far. Then went northeast to check a new road by the Bethel Church. While out in this area, we saw signs along the road saying “Tame Coyote.” We saw the coyote in a field near Clyde Davis’s home. Got back at 5 p.m. and toured the town to see the Christmas lights.

Bob Piper's Corner - December 28, 1986

December 28, 1986

If you are tired of turkey, here is some baloney for a change, a little bit more about old-time businesses in Chariton. I remember well the Steinbach Meat Market on the north side of the square, where Chariton Auto is now. I remember Albert, George and Joe Steinbach. Frank Munch was there, too. Quarters of beef and half-hogs hanging right in full view in the shop and also in the front windows. There was no heat in the shop. Everyone working was dressed for the cold in caps, jackets and boots. Iron pedestal seats were at the counters for customers. Herman, father of the boys, was there but stayed in the background as he never really mastered the English language. He and my father were good friends and had neighboring farms for years. I also remember at Thanksgiving and Christmas time live ducks and geese were in the front windows. One could pick out their own fowl and have it dressed.

Piper’s in those years specialized in smoked and pickled fish, salted herring and five kinds of bulk pickles, all in sixty-gallon barrels. There were dills (regular, hot and spicy) and whole sweet pickles as well as mixed pickles containing onions and cauliflower. Dutch kraut was excellent and had been cured longer, thus making it smoother than common kraut. The fish stocked were several and appealed mainly to the Swedish people. In those days we had three Swedish clerks and one Danish to handle these people. We had four kinds of herring in brine with the heads on and rather an expensive delicacy. Spotted mackerel was less expensive, about ten cents per fish. Still was in demand, but not like the other fish. It was about the size of a half dollar and eight inches long. It was in a coil and once out of the brine it became soft as mush. It was sardine-like as the insides were still there. It was eaten raw and was used as a first course. It was fishy to the nth degree. The dinner plates were then taken away and the persons were furnished a towel and water as the fish was a finger food.

The big selling fish was salted lake herring, commonly known as salt fish. This fish is handled in quantities today. In the days before refrigeration, it was a way to get meat on the table. These fish would keep in their brine in moderate weather when fresh meat would not.

We must not forget stock fish, known today as lutefisk. Stock fish were dried fish about three feet long and about two inches in diameter. They were hard as wood, indestructible and had to be sawed off in chunks. These chunks were put in a pickled vinegar. Once they became soft they were known as lutefisk. Lutefisk can be bought packaged today. We carried the stock fish and piled it out in front of the store. The old story was that even the dogs would not bother it because of the smell. Keeping the stock fish company outside were squirrels and rabbits hanging from hooks waiting to be purchased.

I remember two other stores in town where dry rye creations could be purchased. Some were in wafer or cracker form. To these were added various spices such as cardamom seed, anise, cumin and caraway seed. The popular creation was a disc of rye about the size and thickness of a phonograph record. It was about that sturdy, too. After any of these foods were soaked in coffee or milk they turned into delicious food. Cheese with character was handled too. Not the cheese we know today, but a more robust type. I have an old cheese case that still has a sign inside saying “Cheese, 19 cents per pound.”

Some years ago a lady was pushed into the store in a wheel chair carrying a broomstick. It seems she had purchased a new broom around 1900 to start housekeeping up in Norwood. She said it was in the fall of the year, crops were in and hands were not in much need. Someone came along and said, “Let’s go to Kentucky where it is warmer and work is plentiful.” She had never been back. This broom and merchandise were purchased from my father’s huckster wagon. I offered her a new broom in exchange for the handle, but she said no. She was really a lady hillbilly. Smoked a clay pipe and chewed Granger Twist tobacco. The Granger Twist was only exceeded in strength by Mickey Twist. Jokingly it was said that these two tobaccos were cured in carbide and gasoline.

The only woman here in town to chew Granger Twist was Mrs. George Newman, wife of a black man. George ran a dray service in town for years. He was a very nice man with lots of snow-white hair and a nice mustache. They were a nice couple and lived over in east Chariton for years and years. They were not blessed with children.

Bob Piper's Corner - January 4, 1987

January 4, 1987

Mother was living at the old Yocom Hospital and several humorous things happened while she was there. I went down almost every noon and evening. Ruth went mostly in the afternoons. Mrs. Yocom called me one day and said Mother was swearing something awful and could I come down. I never heard Mother swear in my life, but when I got there I couldn’t believe my ears. Really bad stuff. I said, “Jessie Mildred, do you know what you are saying?” She said, “Yes, and I know more words I haven’t used yet.” After checking a little, I found her mind had gone back to a day years before when carpenters were working on our house. Ladies Aid was meeting there that day and Mother had to go out and tell the men to stop the strong language. Somehow in her mind she had gone back to those days and was repeating what she had heard. We didn’t hear any more bad language.

About this time Mrs. Yocom told me Mother had taken to biting the nurses. This seemed a joke as she had no teeth. I checked into why she was doing this. Finally the scrubwoman solved the mystery. It was summertime and as the nurses went by her bed they would tickle her feet. As Mother could not use her arms or legs, biting was the only way to retaliate.

One summer day I went down and found the nurses tickled over something. I looked in on Mother and a nurse was holding a glass of cracked ice and Mother was drinking from a straw. I asked what was in the glass and the nurse said crème de menthe. Probably about a teaspoonful in the glass. I never knew Mother to taste anything alcoholic in my life, but she certainly was enjoying this. It was a hot day, and it probably tasted great. It gave everyone a good laugh.

About this time Mother tried to tell the nurses about something she wanted to eat. We all worked on it and finally discovered it was salt fish. Dr. Yocom was gone for two days and Dr. Gutch said to fix her some. She ate about as much as a half dollar, but she was satisfied. The same thing happened with a dill pickle.

On nice warm days they would take Mother out in a wheel chair that sort of lay down. Someone had been visiting her and left their baseball cap. Mother liked the cap and wouldn’t go out unless she could wear this long-billed cap.

Sometime earlier, when Mother was more sharp, I told her that I had seen Faye Widener Allen on the street that day. Mother said, “How could you, when I stayed at the Widener home during her funeral?” She just couldn’t believe it. We lived a short distance up the alley from Wideners and Mother, wanting to be neighborly, called to stay at the house during a funeral. This all came out a good thirty years later. Faye’s maiden name was Tacker and her folks had a bakery in competition to the Piper Baker. Mrs. Allen is out at the manor, and I have told her this story many times. Mother never would believe this mix-up on her part. It’s hard to understand that no one knew of this mix-up until it came up there at the hospital.

One day Mrs. Yocom called me to see if they could put a woman in Mother’s room for a couple of hours. I said fine with me as I had confidence in them. I asked what was wrong with the woman. She had had a bad cold, but it was past the point where she could pass it along. Mother asked me what was wrong with the lady. I jokingly said she was going to have a baby. Mother said nonsense, that she had a bad cold and if they had rubbed her chest with lard and turpentine, she would have been all right. The nurses laughed, but Dr. Yocom said she probably was right. His other comment was that old-timers were pretty sharp from experience. First they would lose one, and then save one, gaining knowledge all the while.

Dr. Yocom was a great lover of good horses, as was Mother. Mother thought the Budweiser Beer commercial with the beautiful horses was about the best. Dr. Yocom told me one of the things he always remembered about Mother was when she would go to Campbell’s Blacksmith Shop when they were shoeing a huge team of grey mules we owned. The men couldn’t do a thing with the mules unless Mother was there to steady them. Dr. Yocom saw this one time when he was having his riding horse shod. After Bud Campbell retired from horse shoeing he often stopped in the store to visit. Most every time, Mother’s role in helping with the mules would come up in our conversation.

George Dunshee, Charles Prior and myself left at 2 p.m. in my car, staying mostly north of Derby and south of Woodburn. Checked several cemeteries and went by Last Chance Church. Last Sunday we saw few cars, while the Sunday before we saw cars and hunters galore. Red-tailed hawks were plentiful. We are beginning to see more cattle. Many herds of blooded cattle in excellent shape. Got back at 5:15 p.m.

Bob Piper's Corner - January 11, 1987

January 11, 1987

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread. This was true of my brother Howard and myself. We were both attending the University of Iowa in Iowa City and had been playing football there. In those days, school started late in September and football season always ran until Thanksgiving. We were home for Thanksgiving vacation and we heard some schools were paying twenty dollars to game officials instead of the usual ten dollars. This was due to the intense feeling between certain towns. This was true of Leon and Humeston. We got an OK from someone to officiate this game. The rumor of impending trouble didn’t bother us one bit. The twenty dollars looked good to us.

The field was a sea of mud. The same ball was used the whole game. It could be wiped off with a towel, but nothing else. Leon had not been defeated. All went well until the last few seconds of the first half. Leon kicked a drop kick. It was true and would have cleared the bar easily, but the ball deflated and hit the cross bar and fell back onto the playing field. Leon thought it should have counted three points. There was no way it could, as the rules say it must go over the bar. This started Leon on a bad-humor binge.

The second half went well until the very end. The game ended six to six, but Leon had a conversion point attempt coming. The Leon kicker booted the soggy old damp ball up in the air and it came down on the crossbar, then wobbled sideways, lodging against the upright. True, it leaned a little to the far side. Leon insisted it be counted and they would remain undefeated. There was no way it could be allowed. We were out in the middle of the field surrounded by angry people. Just then a fight broke out between the people from Leon and Humeston.

At that moment, Ralph McGinnis of Leon drove out to the field in his T Model Ford roadster, picked us up and whisked us away. There were not many cars in those days and we had a good start into the country. I don’t know just where we were, but we drove up to the engine of the passenger train coming to Chariton. We were told to get up in the tender on the coal.

There we hid until the train reached Chariton. We entertained ourselves by kicking coal down to the fireman. Every time the train stopped, Leon people went through searching for us. Some Leon people were at the station when we arrived, but so were many Chariton people. Consequently, nothing was tried. We never did get our clothes.

Ralph McGinnis was a square shooter. He was a brother of John McGinnis who lived here for years. His wife was Elva McGinnis and daughter, Wanda Carrico. This should have ended the football episode, but it didn’t. Howard somehow met a girl from Leon and went there to date her. Someone recognized him as one of the game officials. You guessed it, he came back with two beautiful shiners, better known as black eyes. Howard always thought this was an inside deal to get him down there. This was the end.

More about football -

In 1923, Chariton’s second team was to play Corydon’s second team. The feeling between the towns was high, and the schools decided to play the game at Millerton with no advertising. It was early in the season and college football hadn’t started yet. On the Corydon second team were three players from Drake University. Needless to say, we didn’t win. It seemed one of the men lived in Corydon and invited the other two down as sort of a lark. In those days in high school, if you were twenty-one or older, you couldn’t play on the first team, but could on the second. We had five on our team that fell in that category.

Here is another humorous thing that happened in football. Iowa was playing Yale. We were doing quite well and won six to zero. Their coach was a combination of Bo Schembechler and Woody Hayes rolled into one. He baited the officials the whole game. It was the worst I have ever seen. Toward the last, Yale committed a foul that called for a fifteen yard penalty. The referees marked five yards. Herman Hickman, the Yale coach, ran out on the field and told the official that he couldn’t even read. Hickman said, “The rule book calls for fifteen yards and you marked off only five yards.” The referee said, “Herman, the kind of ball you play, that is all it was worth.” That ended that confrontation. You may have read or heard of this because it was in Hickman’s autobiography.

George, Charles and myself left here at 2 p.m. in George’s car. We headed north to Knoxville and over to Lake Red Rock. We went into some back country looking for deer, but saw none. Saw few hawks, but lots of terns in the open water at Red Rock. We toured Runnells, Swan, Pleasantville, Melcher, Knoxville, Monroe and Williamson. Word discussion was interesting. The word patina started it off. That is the verdigris that collects on copper. Then verdant and verdure came up. We discussed how long a league is and no one was sure. I looked it up and found it is around three miles. How could Jules Verne imagine his story-book submarine going down that far in the ocean (20,000 leagues)? What a change in the countryside from last Sunday until this Sunday, a change from somber colors to beautiful snow. We got back at 5:15 p.m.

Bob Piper's Corner - January 18, 1987

January 18, 1987
Eating places in Chariton years ago -

The word café hadn’t really come into use as yet. Restaurant was the most common name used. My mind turns at once to Lizzie Cripps. This grand old lady first had a hotel and restaurant up on the levee by the C.B. & Q. depot. Later she moved up town next door north of where Lyman & DeVore is now. Later she was where Brown Shoe Fit was. Her last spot was where Laing & Kingsbury are now. The hotel hadn’t been built as yet and the city gas office was in the building just east of where Dr. Boyce was. I never knew Lizzie to work. She sat in a large wicker rocker up front noon and evening. She was always knitting and visiting with people. The food was good and the place was always under control.

She owned a Graham Paige car, which was chauffeured by several different young men. My brother Bill seemed to be a favorite chauffeur. If needed, he could be called from the store on a moment’s notice. There was more to this deal than met the eye. Bill got to drive the car and Piper’s got the restaurant business.

Mrs. Cripps had a great sense of humor. Bill told her one day that if a gal with a million dollars came to eat, just to call him and he would be there to eat with her. Sometime later Bill got the call. Bill dashed down and there she was, a gorgeous black gal. She was from Des Moines and a friend of Lizzie’s. The girl was in on the joke and Bill was game. They both had a delightful time. Sometime later it happened again. You may wonder why a black could eat in a Chariton restaurant back in those days. I’ll tell you why. Because Lizzie said she could. Lizzie was law and order. When she had her restaurant up on the levee, the several restaurants up there had trouble, but not Mrs. Cripps.

Left Chariton at 2 p.m., Charles, George and myself in my car. Went west and south ending up at Grand River. If you think Lucas County is rough, you should see the hilly country north of Grand River. It is well-farmed country and lots of nice homes. Lots more stock on feed in the last two months. Cattle look good as we have had no hard winter as yet. We had an educational discussion going on most of the time. We talked politics, Bible, meaning of certain words, and no gossip. This little item was not educational, but fun. A dog barked at us. Charles said to George, “You understand dog language. What did the dog say?” George said he understood it, but couldn’t repeat it.

Bob Piper's Corner - January 25, 1987

January 25, 1987

Two other ladies here in town had rather famous and well-known restaurants: Laura Maloney and Agnes McKinney. Sometimes they were in business together, but more often separate. They both started at the Mallory home as girls learning a trade. Later, they worked at the depot hotel restaurant over coal-fired ranges. Laura told me the stones the ranges sat on got so hot your feet just about cooked.

Agnes first had a restaurant just south of the Steinbach Lockers. Later she went across the street to a small building that Robert Larimer built for her. The beauty parlor moved there after Agnes died. Lots of humorous things happened while Agnes was there. Buck Johnson, a well-known man in town, came in a little late for breakfast one morning. She wouldn’t serve him. George Steinbach was at the counter so he went around behind and baked the pancakes and bacon for Buck. Agnes fumed and stomped out to her cottage which was out back. George was game and ran the place until Agnes came back.

Agnes got religion in later life. Reverend Orange of our church told me this story. Quite frequently he would stop in for a cup of coffee. Often the conversation was about church. One Monday a.m. he stopped in for coffee and asked Agnes if she had gone to church. She said she had. He asked her what the sermon was about and she answered, “Jonah and the whale.” He said, “That was quite a story,” whereupon she said, “Don’t you believe that happened?” His answer was that it was a parable, a story to illustrate a point. She asked, “Don’t you believe in the Bible?” He answered, “Definitely!” She said, “You have to eat it word for word.” He said to her, “Agnes, when He said, ‘I am the door,’ do you believe He was the door?” “If He said He was, that was it,” she answered. She then told him not to come in anymore. He left and came back the next morning and all was just as if nothing had happened.

In early life Agnes was Agnes Wardlow. Later she married Frank McKinney who ran a taxi service here. One afternoon I was waiting my turn in Ben Cunningham’s barber shop for a haircut. The barber shop was under the old National Bank. This stood where First Central stands now. Frank McKinney came in wearing a long yellow raincoat. They asked him to have a chair, but he declined and continued to lean against the wall. He was using a crutch as his right leg was off at the knee. Just then Mr. Cunningham finished shaving his customer and sat him upright. I observed the man was Verne Baughman, and so did McKinney. At this moment McKinney whipped out a shotgun and fired point blank at Baughman. Somehow the gun malfunctioned and no shot came out. He was quickly subdued and I took off for the store and the safety of my father. He couldn’t believe my story, but soon it was being told by others. Nothing was ever done to McKinney as it was all settled between the parties. Baughman sold cars for Miley Brothers and it all had to do with a car deal.

Before we leave restaurant owners, we must mention the dean of all men restaurant owners. This man was Grover Bud Fluke, grandfather of Mikki Allen. He was in several places, but the most famous was where Swanson’s Plumbing is now. He was a good cook, fine personality, and jolly all the time. He and his wife Nettie worked together, and their following was unbelievable. It was a short-order place and all the cooking was done where one could watch from your seat at the counter. I remember when tables were added. The sign in the window said “Tables for Ladies.”

One of the features of the place was called a delight. It was hamburger flattened out on the grill to about the size of a small place. This was cooked to about seventy-five percent done. To this was added a bowl of fried chopped potatoes and onions that had a raw egg stirred into it. The meat was then folded over, making a large turnover. A little more frying and it was ready. Buttered kraut was often the favorite side dish. The air was blue, but smelled wonderful.

I have told this before, but it will bear repeating. One of the persons at a table called for service. Bud called to Nettie, asking where Hazel was. Nettie replied that she had fired her. “Why?” he asked. She said, “Because she was eating the pickles from the plate as she took sandwiches to the tables.”

Before closing this restaurant story, I must mention Dick Kelley’s place. It stood where The Sampler stands now. Dick was a jovial black man and his drawing card was a five cent hamburger, or fifty cents a dozen. His wife did the cooking as Dick did odd jobs about town.

Chariton’s greatest explosion -

This took place in an old tile and brick building that stood where D.L. Smith Hardware Store stood in later years. This old building was acquired by the Handler Brothers, Sam and Aaron. The business consisted of several ventures. Hide buying was a big item with them and added a beautiful aroma to the area, especially in the summertime. They also bought and sold junk. Baled hay was the mainstay of the business. Baled was rather a new thing and was rapidly becoming more popular in that form. We had a slaughter house and Father sold his hides to this partnership. Father could get along with most everyone, and found Sam and Aaron to be honest and fair.

One cold winter evening the partners closed the place at 5:30 p.m. At 6 p.m. there was a terrific blast that blew out the front, demolished the roof, and fire gutted the building. The windows in our building across the street west were knocked out by flying tile pieces and bricks. Two teams of jenny and jack mules were outside the store. They got quite a few cuts, but didn’t run off. Knowing mules, they felt it was easier to be hit than use the energy to run off.

The State Fire Marshall finding was that the blast came from the stove as it was blown to bits. It wasn’t unusual for people to hear little popping noises coming from their stoves. This was due to a residue of blasting powder that had been used in mining the coal. How such a large quantity got in the stove was a mystery. The ruling was that it was possible for dynamite to be in the coal and the fire set it off.

The hotel had not been built. Neither had the cement block building just north. A livery barn was in back of the blast site, but as the blast blew forward, not much damage was done there. Old Betsy, the fire department’s pumper, put out the fire. Jim Baker was the fire chief.

A short time later, John and Harriet Risser of this church bought this ruined building and built a new one on this site. They had secured the Baby Overland Car agency. This car was to be compared with the Model T. Ford. Later, Rissers built a new building where the Pontiac Garage was for years. Mrs. Risser was our choir director for years. Ray Shepherd, also of our church, and husband of Gladys Shepherd, was with the Rissers and was elected Sheriff of Lucas County while working there.