John A. Barber, 1836-1918

BARBER, TEACHOUT, LUIKART, KOEHLER

Posted By: Emmet County IAGenWeb Coordinator (email)
Date: 6/24/2009 at 07:03:23

JOHN A. BARBER PASSES AWAY

ONE OF THE OLD AND RESPECTED RESIDENTS OF THIS COUNTY GONE TO HIS REWARD

WAS EIGHTY-TWO YEARS OLD

Life and Work and Obituary of Father Barber Written by His Son Dr. Frank Barber

"What does the Lord require of thee, 0 man, but to do justly, to love mercy, and towalk humbly before thy God ?"

Did you ever, in childhood, return from a visit to some near neighbors and find your house empty? Everything in its place, dusted, neat and tidy, but all the folks gone?

The stillness is so intense that you can hear the very silence. A fly is buzzing upon the kitchen window. A wren chirps merrily in the vine over the front porch. A breeze floats in through the screen and brings the cackle of the geese in the farmyard, which awakens you to a sense of lonliness and you call, "papa! mamma!" at the top of your voice, but your call brings no answer. You run over the entire place calling as you go until by chance you miss the driving team and the best buggy, and you know they have driven somewhere and left you and the place alone. In despair you run down by the gate and weep your heart out in very lonliness, and, there father finds you, when he returns a little later, but he is alone,—mother is not with him,—and as you rush into his arms crying, "Where is mother?" he pats your head gently saying, "There, there, child, don't cry, and we will go to her In the morning. She has gone to help one of the neighbors." You dry your tears and help father put away the team and buggy, and then you both go into the empty house where father gets some supper for himself and you, but you do not care to eat,-mother's place is vacant, and, while father does well, he cannot do things for you as mother does.

And then you retire and dream. You dream that morning has come and father has brought mother home. She goes about her duties as usual, singing the old sweet songs you love so well. Father comes from his work and you see him smile, and things are just as they used to be, the sunshine has the color that childhood paints and dream goes you are happy. Your dream goes back to the years long ago to the days that father has told you about, the days when he was a child, to his boyhood and youth, when he lived with his father and mother in Rhode Island, to his fishing excursions, clambakes, and haymaking on the Island of Newport, to the old tower of Longfellow's verse.

The dream goes on, and you follow him on his Journey west to Wisconsin, by train as far as Buffalo, N. Y., and by lake steamer to Milwaukee. You dream of the days in Wisconsin that he has told you about, of the hunting and fishing and the camp life in the pine woods, of the journey west to Emmet with and a covered wagon and an ox team. How he and mother told you of their life in the old house near Emmet bridge (which still is there), of the old saw-mill down by the spring which comes within your own memory. The dream goes on,—of the landing in Emmet in the fall of 1862, just after the massacre at Belmont, and how father and Uncle Robert Ridley (Uncle Bob we used to call him), helped bury the dead, and brought away a few relics among them a pioneer's Broad Axe which is still in the family possession.

And the dream goes on,—of how father pre-empted the North East quarter of Section 27, Township 100 and Range 34 and lost It to the Railroad Company, and of how he bought from Irwin Hall the right to the South East Quarter of Section 26 and held it under the Homestead Act.

And then came the struggle to make a home, building a log house and barn (long since passed away). The long, cold winters, the lack of clothing, the trackless prairies, and the blizzards that sometimes lasted three or four days, when hulled corn and farm molasses was the bill of fare and hot water, or prairie tea would freeze on the stove hearth.

The dream goes on,—the Civil War ended and there was promise of better things. Then came the grasshoppers of 1873 and everything was lost to them. Again In '74 they took everything and then it was necessary to mortgage the farm to purchase cattle.

The grasshoppers stayed through 1875-76-77 and when the curse was at last lifted, nearly all the people were gone, they had left the country to try their fortunes elsewhere.

The dream goes on,—to the time that father took you to the field to teach you how to do your part, and how he went ahead, and then of the time that you took your place beside him, and how you bound grain beside him on the harvester, and sister drove the team, and how you were the stronger and took the lead in all the work, and how everyone was cheerful and, happy and did his part, making life easier for all, and the sunlight of life is still the color that childhood paints and better times are ahead; the ponds reflect-the stars at night in unfathomable depths and the moonlight is soft and mellow while the gentle breezes bring the spring flowers.

You awake—the dream is past—morning has come for father and he has gone to bring mother, not back to you, but to meet you by and by. The sunlight is not the painted color of childhood now and the starlit waters have a new depth; the moonlight has changed to a silvery opal that whispers of things heretofore unknown, and the breezes while perfumed bear only the overtones of a harmony unknown to human senses which seem to whisper over and over, "Weep not! He did the best he knew in his own way, walking humbly before God, he tried ever to be just and merciful to all."

John A. Barber was born at Griswold, Conn., March 18th, 1836. At the age of 15 years, he moved with his father's family to Wisconsin.

On August 3lst, 1858, he was married to Miss Martha Teachout of Troy, WIs., and In the following summer he, with his wife, were baptized Into the First Methodist church of Delavan, Wis., from which church he never withdrew his membership.

He leaves to mourn his loss, five children—three daughters, Miss Libbie Barber, who lived with him until the end came, Mrs. Will Luikart, and Mrs. O. H. Koehler both of Estherville, and two sons, Dr. F. A. Barber of Estherville, and Harry Barber of Emmet, also three brothers and one sister, Mrs. Amy Rewey, C. S. Barber, George J. Barber and Albert Barber, all of Estherville. Also eight grandchildren and three great grandchildren.

He died early Friday a.m., June7, and funeral services were conducted at 2:00 p. m. Sunday from the home. The mixed quartet was composed of Mesdames Letchford and Elden and Messrs. Doolittle and Myhre. The services were in charge of Rev. J Frederic Catlin of the Union Baptist church. There was a large attendance of old neighbors and friends who will greatly miss this pioneer of Emmet for 56 years. The body was laid to rest in Oak Hill cemetery beside that of his wife who died four years ago last winter.

Source: Estherville Enterprise, Estherville, Emmet County, Iowa; June 12, 1918.