Pg 446

         In the early days of Tipton, there were a number of men—Wells Spicer, Charles Swetland, William Fraseur, Eli and Levi Durbin, John Culbertson, “Bob” Long, Christian Holderman, John P. Cook, Frank Smith and others—who were as full of “old Nick,” as an “egg is of meat.” They were up to all sorts of tricks, and it didn’t matter much to them who their victims were, so they had a joke and a laugh. They were nearly all boarders at the Fleming House, and when they were all together they carried things with a high hand.

         At the time of which we write, there was a “school marm” boarding at the Hotel de Fleming, who was just about as full of mischief as the male guests of the house, and was always ready to aid them in any of their pranky undertakings. Culbertson had been County Clerk, and by virtue of law, entitled to issue marriage licenses, and, as a consequence, knew the “form like a book.” “Bob” Long was a Justice of the Peace, and consequently clothed with authority to solemnize marriages.

         One day, there came to Tipton a man named Cross, a widower, from Round Grove. He stopped at the Fleming House, and it was not many days, if indeed it were many hours, before he let the “boys” know that he was very anxious to find a wife. They comprehended the situation once—saw the chance for . . .

Pg 449

. . . a joke, and, taking the school marm into their confidence, they laid a plan to “have some fun” at the old widower’s expense. They told their intended victim that there was a school marm boarding in the house, who wanted to marry just as bad as he did, and, if desired, they would take pleasure in bringing about an introduction, when, if he liked her appearance, he could introduce the subject of marriage—in other words, that he could “pop the question,” and they felt assured there would be no difficulty in fixing up a match. The “bait” took. The school marm, of course, was “posted,” and was prepared for the introduction. Shy and coy at first, her reserve finally gave way, and it was not long until, with her head upon the victim’s shoulder, she softly murmured, “I’ll be thine.” “Enough said; but when?” “Now, this very night.”

         The preliminaries thus arranged, the old man at once went out to find the “boys” and get the license. A blank page of an old magazine served the purpose, and, with a lead pencil, ex-Clerk Culbertson wrote out the document, duly signed it, and turned it over to be “served” by Justice “Bob” Long. All things being in readiness, the parties were called up, and, in the presence of the entire company, ‘Squire Long proceeded to “tie the knot,” little thinking that what he and the others intended as a joke was, in fact, a legal marriage. But the words were said, the parties were “pronounced man and wife,” the bride was saluted, and congratulations offered. But the end was not yet.

         After the marriage, the “joke” was to be further carried out by Wells Spicer, who was to retire to the bridal chamber, throw off his male habiliments, secrete them within handy reach, and then don the long, flowing night dress of the school marm, which she had agreed to lend for the occasion. When bed time came, this part of the programme was carried out to tiniest frill, and it is said that Spicer made a pretty good looking bride. Spicer retired to the bridal bed, and in due time the groom was shown to the room where the bride was “in expectation waiting.” With maidenly modesty, the bride of the occasion covered his head as soon as the groom of an hour came into the room, in which condition he remained until the happy groom had disrobed and “snuffed out the candle.” Gently the bed clothes were turned down, and gently did the old man lay himself down by the side of his supposed “rib.” Spicer was shy and coy as any modest bride need be, and quietly lay with his face turned unto the wall. Quietly, easily, in words softly spoken, the old man sought to win the confidence and trust of his (supposed) bride. “Come, rest upon this bosom,” he earnestly whispered, and essayed to reach one arm under Spicer’s neck, while at the same time he threw the other over his “heaving” bosom. Spicer could stand no more, and, with the agility of a cat, he threw himself upon his other side, and bracing his back and shoulders against the wall, his feet against the groom’s stomach, and, with all the strength he could command, kicked the old man out of the bed and to the other side of the room, where he fell, stunned and almost senseless.

         Before the poor old victim could gather himself up, Spicer sprang from the bed, gathered his skirts around his nicely turned ankles, and fled from the room with the swiftness of an affrighted fawn. Down stairs he went, and quietly assumed his own attire. Soon the old man came down, hunting his wife. The “boys” were all there, in the parlor, but the bride—the school marm—was non est She had been spirited away as soon as convenient after the conclusion of the ceremony; and while she was non est, the boys all wore honest faces, of course. To his inquiry, “Where is my wife?” they replied that when she came down stairs she said she was going over to Rev. Mr. Ray’s—Mr. Ray being a Presbyterian minister. The night . . .

Pg 450

. . . was dark, and the boys, sympathizing (?) with the old man, found and lighted a lantern and directed him the way to Mr. Ray’s. The old man started, and the “boys” followed closely after. The hour was late, but it mattered not to the old man, for he was hunting a wife. He called the preacher up, and demanded his wife. Mr. Ray assured him there was no wife there but his own, and assured his nocturnal visitor that he wouldn’t give her up for the world, nor had there been any woman there that night—neither a single woman nor the wife of any “other man.” The Cross old man could not believe the preacher, and insisted upon going in and searching the house. His wife was there, and he knew it, for the ‘Squire who had married them an hour before, and the folks at the tavern, told him that she was there. The preacher, of course, knew nothing of the joke, and believing he was in the presence of a lunatic, ordered him from his premises, and began to “back out”—or rather to back in—to his house, and “leave here, you lunatic,” came from his clenched teeth, as he slammed to the door and locked it in the wife-hunters face.

         Back to the Fleming House he came, full of agony and suspense. Married but a few brief hours, and his wife gone! What could it mean? The “boys” were there, but they didn’t know. He insisted on searching the house, and search it he did; but a courier went before, and the school marm was spirited from room to room, and left him to search in vain. The night passed away, and daylight came; but the bride came not, neither could she be found. She was kept secreted in the house until an opportunity presented, when she was sent to the country, where it was found necessary to keep her secreted for several weeks, for the old man was frantic and furious.

         The “boys” had their “fun” at the old man’s expense; but by and by their faces grew longer, and they neither laughed so loud nor so long at the success of their scheme. The “joke leaked out,” and, at the advice of a friend, John Finch, the disappointed and betrayed bridegroom consulted an attorney at Clinton. The facts in the case were all presented, and the marriage was, in the opinion of the attorney, legal, valid and binding. The ceremony had been rendered by an officer clothed by law with that authority, and suit was commenced against them before Justice Edgar, who tried the case in the Court House. By some legal technicality, probably because, as suggested by Judge Tuthill, who appeared for the defense, there had been no consummation of the marriage, the defendants managed to escape legal punishment, and, at the advice of some of the more influential citizens, the old man turned his back upon the town a part of whose people would volunteer to help a man find a wife, see them married, and then steal her away from him, and has never since been seen in Tipton. After his departure from the scene of his troubles, the school marm ventured to return to Tipton. From Tipton she subsequently went to Davenport, where she died a few years later.

         The old license remained in the Fleming House, just as it was written on the fly-leaf of an old magazine, until a very few years ago, when, with other papers and magazines, it was either lost or burned.