West Branch Times, West Branch, Iowa, Thursday, August 14, 1901
Transcribed, as written, by Sharon Elijah, September 7, 2018
FIFTY YEARS OF HISTORY
HISTORICAL SKETCH OF GOWER TOWNSHIP, CEDAR COUNTY, IOWA
By A. W. Jackson
Chapter IV
It might be inferred from a former article that the first school taught in the township was at Honey Grove. In the winter of ’54 and ’55 a school was held in a room in Eli Strahl’s house, where Mrs. McKarahan now lives. It was presided over by Miss Mary Collins, now Mrs. Isaac Hemingway. There were a great many big boys and several big girls in attendance who made things exceedingly interesting for the little school ma’am. However, there was too much racket to suit Mrs. Strahl and the school was moved to Jos. Humphry’s cabin near where Plato now is. Miss Collins hung on to her job, however, finished the term and taught another. In the summer of ’54 a select school was held on the farm where Mrs. Krouth now lives, presided over by Miss Alice Ann Stanley. Lawson Hollingsworth lived there at the time and the school was held in one room of his dwelling. This was undoubtedly the first school in the township. Miss Stanley boarded with her uncle, Jos. Hawley, two miles away. Miss Collins lived with her brother Thomas on the Frank Yetter farm, also two miles from her scholastic labors.
In addition to those already mentioned, during the early 50’s, Joseph Humphrey operated a blacksmith shop near where the old Plato creamery now stands. Uncle “Billy” Collins had a wagon shop where A. G. Hoffman now lives. It was covered with a thatched roof made of prairie grass. Joseph Reeder also operated a woodworking shop in the northwestern part of the township, near where W. W. Wren now resides.
The early pioneers did not always dwell together in unity. Human nature changes but slightly as the years go by. The dockets of the early day justices disclose considerable legal business—largely of a trivial nature. Here is an instance:
During the ‘50’s and for some time afterward Eli Strahl was the owner of the farm on which Mrs. McKarahan now lives. On this farm there was a nice grove of natural timber—the especial pride of all early settlers. In this grove there were a number of large trees. One day, Josiah Keisler, a near neighbor, discovered a “bee tree” in Stahl’s grove, cut it down and carried away the honey. Eli had him arrested for malicious trespassing and the case was duly tried before Wm. Thompson, justice of the peace. After some legal sparring, Mr. Keisler pleaded guilty to cutting the tree, but demurred to the charge that he had done so maliciously. After due deliberation the court rendered a decision that in his judgment it was lawful to cut a “bee tree” wherever found at ay season of the year, and that the discoverer was entitled to the honey and also the bees if he could catch them. He modified his decision by saying that the tree must be cut down in a good workmanlike manner, reference being had as to its availability for post and rail cuts, and that the tree must be left intact, except in instances where it was found on land belonging to a “speculator,” in which case the discoverer might take away the whole bakery—tree, honey and bees—if he so elected. The case was not appealed and “Uncle Billy’s” decision yet stands as the law of the neighborhood.
At another time a young fellow whom I shall call Smith got lonesome one bright Sunday afternoon. Shouldering his rifle he went down to the creek to meditate. While thus engaged a fine deer came to the brook for a drink. The young man could not resist the temptation and sent a bullet through the deer’s heart. When he looked about to get his bearings he found that he was trespassing on the premises of a staunch Presbyterian elder of the old school named. Jones. The boy was a pious fellow—a member of Elder Jones’ flock. He was truly sorry he had broken the Sabbath and more so because he had done so on Elder Jones’ land. Leaving the deer as he lay he trudged homeward and laid his case before his father, who was also a pious man, but just at that time there was no meat in the house. Father Smith told his son that he had done very wrong to go hunting on the day set apart for divine worship. He was doubly sorry because he had committed his sin on Elder Jones’ land. However, he assisted in getting the venison under cover. In a few days he met Elder Jones and told him the circumstance.
“Too bad,” said the elder, “to bad! the young man should be taught not to go hunting on the Lord’s day.”
“I thought, perhaps, you might like a haunch of the venison, Elder,” said Mr. Smith.
“Well—h’m—let me see; what time of the day did the boy shoot the deer?” asked the Elder.
“After 6 o’clock, “replied Mr. Smith.
“Oh well, then it isn’t so bad as I thought,” said Elder Jones, brightening up. “Shall I send over for it, or will you bring it?”
I am unable to trace the first burial place for the dead, although it is very probable that the first plot of ground regularly dedicated for that purpose was the old Friends’ cemetery on the corner of L. R. Hoffman’s farm, which was donated in 1855 or 56 by John Heacock and is still used for that purpose. There is a very old cemetery near the schoolhouse in district No. 1 in the Howard neighborhood. It is now under the control of the township trustees and is occasionally made use of. There is a well-kept cemetery at the Catholic church near Cedar Valley and another at the old United Brethren church, five miles north and one mile east of West Branch. In the early 60’s a cemetery was started by this denomination a mile west of its present location on the corner of the “forty” now owned by Thos. Cihler(Brick). A few children were buried there, and upon the erection of the church they were transferred to the new cemetery. Thus the township has four cities of the dead, where rest many illustrious and honored patriarchs.
In this connection I may here give a pioneer incident as related to me by a silver-haired grandmother. Very early in the 50’s she and her young husband settled in the township, poor in purse but strong and hopeful. They built a little one-roomed cabin and within a year they welcomed a little stranger—their first born. The little one lived but a short time. From over the hills two or three miles away came a kind neighbor, and with such tools and lumber as he could command, fashioned a rude coffin. Therein he placed the little body, and under a giant oak on the sloping hillside he laid the baby down in its last sleep. Almost fifty years have passed and it slumbers on, still guarded by the monarch of the forest, a monument more enduring than bronzed metal or marble shaft.
In the ante-bellum days and even afterward a prominent educational feature was the “geography schools.” Here the young people would assemble and study geography by means of large maps accompanied by text-books arranged in rhyme and set to music. All the instruction was given by singing, some old familiar tune being generally adopted, for this was long before the days of rag time. There were no organs or pianos to give the boys and girls the key, but some sweet-faced and silver-voiced lass usually led the band and the teacher would use his pointer on the map to indicate the place at which the singers had arrived. As in the day schools, the great desideratum was to maintain order. Upon a certain occasion Simon Dickson (afterward Captain Dickson) was endeavoring to organize one of these schools at Yankee Corners. A meeting of the proposed patrons had been called to decide about it. One man asked if Simon could keep order. One of his friends stated that he had known Mr. Dickson in Indiana; that he had successfully conducted a school there where the people were only half civilized and had kept good order. Another took the floor and stated that he had known Mr. Dickson in Ohio, where the people were all civilized; that he had maintained a school there in which there was exceptional order. Dickson was engaged.
One of the men most prominent in these geography schools was W. W. Gruwell, ex-editor of THE TIMES. As a young man he invested $40 of hard-earned ducats in a collection of maps and books and set up in business as green as any of his pupils. He was regularly engaged in the work for four years. During the first year of the civil war he was holding schools in and around Mechanicsville. One cold winter night he was returning to town, riding a horse and carrying a large map. Becoming chilled he dismounted and walked. When near town he met a team and sled and turned out of the beaten road to let it pass. As the sled came opposite to him an occupant thereof threw a dirk knife over his horse’s back, striking him just above the left ear and penetrating downward. He was picked up some time afterward by a passer-by, unconscious, weltering in his blood and almost frozen stiff. He was taken to the hotel of the town and physicians called. For two weeks he hovered between life and death, his relatives not knowing anything of his accident. Wm. P. Wolf was then teaching school in Tipton. By mere chance he heard of Mr. Gruwell’s misfortune and hastened to his bedside. Although only a cousin by marriage, he insisted on removing the injured man to his own home in Tipton, which he did later, where he took a relapse and remained a month. This incident serves to demonstrate the warm and generous nature of “Billy” Wolf.
Mr. Gruwell recovered, but was unable to give any reason for the murderous assault. Mr. Wolf was a lawyer at the time and of his own volition spent considerable time and money in personally endeavoring to get a clue to the perpetrator of the dastardly deed, without success. It remains a mystery to this day, and as a result thereof Mr. Gruwell has been totally deaf in that ear ever since. He was stopping at a private house at the time where the Knights of the Golden Circle held their meetings. There were many “copperheads” about Mechanicsville then and he has always had the opinion that they concluded he was a Union man and a spy and decided to thus rid themselves of his society. An old settler says it is probable that the people were incensed at him for attempting to run a singing school when he always was and is at this time unable to sing a note.
