HISTORY OF LAND AND A HOUSE

BY GRAYDON E. TRIBLE

The farm that the Octagon House at Raymond is built on has an interesting history.  William Stewart purchased the Land Grant in 1854 for the southern eighty acres and sold the property in 1856. The northern tract laying north of this eighty and south of the Illinois Railroad right of way (the tract that the house is built on) was a Land Grant purchased in 1854 by Edmund Miller and sold in 1866.  Since that time, three families have owned the Octagon house.  

William Waterfield was born in New Jersey on May 4, 1828.  In the spring of 1856, he moved to Iowa and settled on the farm the same year.  He was married in 1850 to Miss Mercy Van Sycle from New Jersey.  They had two children, both dead.  His wife, Mercy, died in 1859.  He was married again in September 1860 to Miss Nancy Hughs from North Carolina; they have two children – George C. born July 12, 1862 and Mary E. born April 26, 1865.  He held the offices of Justice of the Peace for two years, Township Trustee for three years, and assessor for one year.  Mr. Waterfield was also a member of the Republican Party.  Mr. Waterfield would often fill appointments as a preacher for M.E. Church.  His wife, Nancy, died April 30, 1880.  The 1895 Iowa Census shows his wife as Celia, age fifty-six, and a daughter, Maude, age ten.  The 1910 Census shows William, his wife Celia, his daughter Maude, and Maude’s husband Ray E. Lewis.  William was 82 years old and living in Texas.  Mr. Lewis was a realtor and at that time there was a great deal of land speculation going on in that part of Texas.  Was this the reason William sold the farm February 8, 1910?  William returned to Hamilton County, Iowa by 1920 and died August 4, 1921 at age 92.

William and all three wives are buried in the Poyner Township Cemetery near Raymond.  My grandfather, Elmer Trible, had shown me a small mound of dirt on the west property line with a flat limestone laying on it as the grave of daughter of the Waterfield’s who had died from smallpox.

On June 19, 1903, one of the earliest railroad disasters took place on the Illinois Central Railroad line that went by this property.  A passenger train that had left Omaha at 7:50 PM collided head on with a west bound freight train on the curve just west of Raymond at 3:40 in the morning.  Both engineers, the firemen and six other people were killed.

My grandparents, Josephine and Elmer Trible purchased the farm and house on February 8, 1910.  They were both raised in Waterloo, Iowa.  Elmer’s father was a Civil war veteran and moved to Waterloo with his wife in 1877.  Josephine’s father was a detective for the Illinois Central Railroad.  Josephine and Elmer were married March 13, 1895.  Their two sons, Harold, born March 20, 1898 and Kenneth, born November 11, 1903, moved with them to the farm.

This tract of land was the answer to a pioneer family needs.  The tract of land was bordered by the railroad, there was a flowing spring and a flowing stream.  Most of all, the tract had flat limestone that was easy to quarry and to use for building.

You could walk across the railroad to Raymond.  There by the railroad was “Smut” the blacksmith.  He kept the machinery of the farms in the area running.  His specialty was sharpening the worn plowshares.  He would place the plowshares in the coal-fired forge until white-hot and with tongs would hold plowshares at the anvil and hammer them into shape.

Across the street from “Smut” was the Pool Hall.  The Pool Hall was handy, so you could have game of pool while in town after leaving your work for “Smut.”  My dad always liked to tell the story about the Pool Hall catching on fire.  Four men picked up the slate pool table and carried it out of the Pool Hall, but, it took eight men to carry the pool table back in.  There was a little store located to the east of the Pool Hall and the Railroad Depot was east of “Smut.”

Elmer had built tanks for the cold spring water to run through.  Cans of cream from Elmer’s cattle and cream brought by other farmers was placed in this cold water until it was time to be shipped on the nearby railroad to Chicago.

I loved to go out in the orchard and pick fruit.  One of my favorite fruits was the Whitney Crabapple.  It was a small apple that ripened early in July and was real sweet.  We would also go to the blackberry patch and pick enough berries so Grandpa could bake a pie.  Grandma was not much on cooking, as she seemed to enjoy poor health.

One day, while in the orchard I smelled smoke.  It smelled like smoke from apple tree wood.  Grandpa said, “I want to show you something.”  He took me over to a large wooden barrel.  Smoke was coming out under the lid.  When he removed the lid, smoke billowed out.  Hanging on a rod extended across the top of the barrel were two big hams.  Grandpa  explained, “This is a very simple, inexpensive smoker that works well.”

There was a shallow trench dug from the fire pit to the barrel and the trench was covered with a piece of metal.  Greenwood was burned in order to produce a lot of smoke.  The amount of heat could be controlled by how he kept the fire pit covered and the kind of wood he burned.

To prepare a ham, a mixture of brown sugar, salt and honey was rubbed into the ham.  When smoked, the ham did not need refrigeration to preserve the meat.  The ham would keep for quite some time in a cool basement.  When my grandparents wanted ham they would bring a ham up to the kitchen.  The ham was always covered with mold.  It would be washed with salt water and fried in a cast iron skillet.  No wonder people lived a long time; the meat had no preservatives!

Grandpa and I enjoyed walking around his farm.  On one walk, we came upon a huge granite boulder as big, as a room in their house.  Grandpa started laughing.   He then told about trying to get rid of the boulder .  He decided he was going to blow the boulder into small pieces so it could be carried away.  He and a neighbor purchased some sticks of dynamite.  They decided to use a mudpack.  The dynamite, with fuses would be placed on the boulder and mud would be packed over it.  The idea was that this would direct the force of the explosion into the boulder, which would break it into small pieces.

All was set to go.  The fuse was lit.

In those days, every farm had chickens and with every flock there was always at least one rooster.  Well, this particular old roster was curious about that sparkling worm inching across the ground.  As the fuse burned, it got closer and closer to the dynamite.  The rooster kept following this sparkling worm.  That poor old rooster could not figure out where the worm had gone as the fuse disappeared under the mudpack.

He stood with his head cocked one way and the other.

Suddenly, KWOOM!!!

The boulder was still in one piece, but that poor old rooster gathered himself and headed to the chicken coop.  Since he had lost most of his feathers, he could not possibly fly up on the roost.  He was forced to huddle in a corner, quite embarrassed to be naked.  He finally got hungry and came out to eat, as well, as to grow a new set of feathers.

It was 1939 or 1940 and there was a lot of talk about war.  It was exciting for a young boy to hear the tales of the army.  It was never mentioned about all of the chaos and killing that happened.  I remember asking, “What is War?”  The answer was “You do not need to know.  It is terrible.”

One morning my Grandpa came and got me to go to his farm.  We spent some time working around the yard.  In the middle of the afternoon, Grandpa said, “Let’s go out and sit on the front veranda.”

After a little while, I heard the clopping of horse hooves.  Then, I saw them coming.  It was a huge Calvary unit on the move.  This was why Grandpa had come to get me.  He wanted me to see a Calvary unit on the move.

There were wagons carrying supplies and equipment.  Each trooper had two horses, one he rode, and the other carried his personal supplies.  This horse would be ridden if something were wrong with the other horse.  It was really something for a young boy to watch.

The unit stretched out for miles.  Grandpa then explained to me that the unit was going to spend the night camped in his pasture.  We had permission to visit the camp.  After the last trooper went by we walked the one-half mile down to the pasture.

What a thrill!  We were greeted by the commanding officer.  He told us that the unit was on a cross-country move from Wisconsin to Fort Riley, Kansas.  They would average about thirty miles a day.  He said, “This is the last big Calvary movement planned.”

It was interesting to watch them set up camp.  Every man knew what to do.  The cooks took the food and cooking utensils from a wagon.  A clear creek flowed through the pasture.  They had long watering troughs made from canvas that were rolled out and supported with limbs cut from small trees.  There was a hand operated pump that troopers took turns pumping water into the troughs for the horses.

As we walked around, it looked to me like a group of young men camped out having a good time.  They were joking and having fun.  There was a limestone quarry in this pasture.  Some of the men were up on the top edge, some in the bottom and they were throwing a baseball back and forth.  Some were working with their guns.  When the commander walked by, they jumped to attention and saluted.

For a young boy, it was exciting to see how they all seemed to enjoy what they were doing.  The next day they had moved out, on their way to Ft. Riley, Kansas.

One of the historical items found in the house after the grandparents moved in was a large wall map of Black Hawk County.  The map was dated the year 1869.  The map showed every tract of land, its use and owner.  The map also shows many of the fine homes of that era.  When Josephine moved from the house in 1946, Kenneth was going to burn the map.  Harold secured the map and took it to his farm.  Later, when Harold decided to build a new home, and in order to preserve the map for future generations to study and enjoy, he donated the map to the Grout Museum in Waterloo.  They restored the map.  The map is not on exhibit for the public, it is in a conference room and you must ask to view it.  This was not the desire of Harold; he wanted the map to be on exhibit for all to see.  The museum policy will not permit the recognition of the donors.

Kenneth, who had never married and was the youngest, had managed to secure the title for the farm from his mother.  Kenneth spent his later years living in a run down hotel.  A daughter and son of his brother, Harold, saw to his burial in a vacant cemetery plot that had been purchased by Harold at the time of his wife’s death.  Kenneth sold the property to one of the other pioneer families of the area.

The Schmitz family has done a wonderful job of maintaining the house.  They had a layer of Stucco applied to protect it from the weather.  It is amazing that in one hundred fifty years just three families have owned this property.

Credits:
Black Hawk County Iowa Auditor and Recorder
Relative of William Waterfield
Rita Schmitz
Mary Trible Ahrens