ANDREWS, Martin William 1867-1901

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ANDREWS, Martin William 1867-1901

ANDREWS, COONRADT

Posted By: Diane M Scott (email)
Date: 7/3/2011 at 09:56:45

Martin William Andrews 1867-1901
(his tombstone has Martin W Andrews )
MARTIN ANDREWS
William Martin Andrews, whose death was caused by lightning on the afternoon of July 24, 1901, was born on the old homestead of his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Almon Andrews, in Lincoln township, on November 13, 1867.
He has always lived in the township of his birth and at his death resided on hiw own farm just across the road from the old homestead.
He was married to Miss Lillie A. Coonradt on February 26, 1890, and leaves a wife and little boy, and a large number of other relatives to mourn his sad and sudden death.
The funeral services were held last Friday morning at the Stillwater Congregational Church and conducted by Rev. S. L. Taylor, pastor of the Universalist Church at Osage. The church would not begin to hold all who gathered to pay their last respects to their friend and neighbor.
The circumstances of his death were given by THE JOURNAL last week. He was assisting his brother Lynzy stack barley and had just stepped from the stack to the rack when he was instantly killed by lightning. His brother, who was only about three feet from him, was not hurt.
There are few men who live the good, straightforward life and are more universally respected than was Martin Andrews. For thirty five years he has lived in the same neighborhood, and we do not believe he had an enemy in the world. He was a good man of the strictest integrity, a good manager, and by hard and honest work had built a nice little home on a fine 80 acre farm. He also carried a thousand dollars, life insurance in the New York Life, and leaves his wife and little boy in comfortable circumstances.
As children and school boys together, Martin Andrews and the writer were almost constantly together. We slept in the same bed most of the time, sat in the same seat in the old blue school house and studies from the same books. We pulled weeds and dropped corn side by side, and together in blue overalls and striped shirts have we waded and fished in the Little Cedar for miles up and down the river.
Circumstances carried the writer west and for nearly twenty years we were separated. We drifted into the printing business; he remained on the farm. Last Friday morning as we slowly wended our way with his remains over the old road from the old homestead, across the bridge and out past the old blue school house, we closed our eyes for an instant and a panorama of boyhood days passed before us.
How many memories, almost forgotten, though cherished and loved, came before our vision as plainly and distinctly as if ‘twere but yesterday we traveled, barefooted, with books and slate, over the old road together. Faces on the old school ground, long forgotten, were as real as life, and later we recognized some of them in the church across the river. We saw under the trees near the old school house the very place where we had many times stabled our stick horses, ad the same old path that went to the swimmin’ hole was still there.
Martin was always a favorite, and from boyhood to manhood, he held his place among companions and neighbors. His death is mourned by all, and those near and dear have the deepest sympathy of the entire community.

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Obituary: Martin William Andrews 1867-1901 (his tombstone has Martin W Andrews ) MARTIN ANDREWS William Martin Andrews, whose death was caused by lightning on the afternoon of July 24, 1901, was born on the old homestead of his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Almon Andrews, in Lincoln township, on November 13, 1867. He has always lived in the township of his birth and at his death resided on hiw own farm just across the road from the old homestead. He was married to Miss Lillie A. Coonradt on February 26, 1890, and leaves a wife and little boy, and a large number of other relatives to mourn his sad and sudden death. The funeral services were held last Friday morning at the Stillwater Congregational Church and conducted by Rev. S. L. Taylor, pastor of the Universalist Church at Osage. The church would not begin to hold all who gathered to pay their last respects to their friend and neighbor. The circumstances of his death were given by THE JOURNAL last week. He was assisting his brother Lynzy stack barley and had just stepped from the stack to the rack when he was instantly killed by lightning. His brother, who was only about three feet from him, was not hurt. There are few men who live the good, straightforward life and are more universally respected than was Martin Andrews. For thirty five years he has lived in the same neighborhood, and we do not believe he had an enemy in the world. He was a good man of the strictest integrity, a good manager, and by hard and honest work had built a nice little home on a fine 80 acre farm. He also carried a thousand dollars, life insurance in the New York Life, and leaves his wife and little boy in comfortable circumstances. As children and school boys together, Martin Andrews and the writer were almost constantly together. We slept in the same bed most of the time, sat in the same seat in the old blue school house and studies from the same books. We pulled weeds and dropped corn side by side, and together in blue overalls and striped shirts have we waded and fished in the Little Cedar for miles up and down the river. Circumstances carried the writer west and for nearly twenty years we were separated. We drifted into the printing business; he remained on the farm. Last Friday morning as we slowly wended our way with his remains over the old road from the old homestead, across the bridge and out past the old blue school house, we closed our eyes for an instant and a panorama of boyhood days passed before us. How many memories, almost forgotten, though cherished and loved, came before our vision as plainly and distinctly as if ‘twere but yesterday we traveled, barefooted, with books and slate, over the old road together. Faces on the old school ground, long forgotten, were as real as life, and later we recognized some of them in the church across the river. We saw under the trees near the old school house the very place where we had many times stabled our stick horses, ad the same old path that went to the swimmin’ hole was still there. Martin was always a favorite, and from boyhood to manhood, he held his place among companions and neighbors. His death is mourned by all, and those near and dear have the deepest sympathy of the entire community.
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