Esther Hainsworth Hardy: Fremont County Folklorist
by Harry Wilkins
Looking back on Esther Hainsworth Hardy’s life it seems evident that she was a determined woman and one of varied interests and talents. Described as industrious by those who knew her, she enjoyed music, art, literature, and was always well informed on current politics, locally and nationally. But most of all, she loved studying culture and history, and thanks to her hard work during the 1930s, we know a great deal about folkways, customs and beliefs of the earliest settlers in southwest Iowa.
Born in 1885 in Omaha, Nebraska, Esther Hainsworth moved with her family to Tabor as a teenager. She settled in quickly, enrolling in Tabor College’s preparatory academy, married Charles Hardy, a local boy, and began a family that would eventually include two daughters and three sons. Like her father, Esther worked for several years as a clerk in the express office of the Tabor & Northern Railroad where she was remembered as a ‘willing, ready, and dependable’ employee by customers and rail passengers.
Although busy as a wife and mother, Esther was an active member of both the Iowa and Nebraska historical societies writing articles and conducting research projects, including a study of rural schools in Fremont County. Another project she worked on was collecting stories, superstitions, and folklore from around southwest Iowa, many from aged residents whose memory stretched back to some of the earliest days of settlement.
Since agriculture formed the basis of the regional economy, it’s not surprising that Esther heard many tales tied to farming. For example, she was told that root crops were best planted in the dark of the moon while fruit trees and shrubs were to be pruned in the light of the moon, to insure luxuriant growth. Animals also featured in early beliefs: cattle galloping about a field, as if in play, signified an imminent storm and the appearance of many toads in the spring foretold of hot weather and many thunderstorms.
In the area of folk medicine, Esther learned that oil rendered from the fat of a skunk was considered beneficial when used as an ointment for croup and sore throat; a poultice of bruised peach leaves was a remedy for infected wounds; and red clover blossom tea could be used for “internal cancer.” Making good use of livestock, fresh cow manure mixed with rolled oats was employed to draw out poison while brewed tea made from slippery elm bark became a laxative. One of the more mystical cures concerned the removal of warts. According to Esther’s source, the sufferer obtained a grain of wheat and took it to a conjurer of sorts, who wrote a few secret words on a slip of paper, wrapped the paper around the wheat seed and instructed the sufferer to throw the paper away at the nearest four-cornered road . . . the cure would supposedly follow.
Other traditions chronicled by Esther included the idea that a child born with a “caul” or veil over its face was considered very fortunate and thought to possess occult power; placing a coin in the hand of an infant indicated thriftiness as an adult if the child closed its hand around the coin; and young girls were advised to put a bit of wedding cake beneath their pillows so they would dream of their future husbands.
Some superstitions Esther recorded sound familiar to modern ears, while others don’t: Black cats, long a symbol of bad luck, were seen as good luck if the animal came unbidden to a home. Friday was thought to be an unlucky day to begin any task with the saying “Friday begun, never done.” And the number 13 featured prominently in regional beliefs—Esther was told that thirteen persons at a table would mean death to one of the group.
Fremont County also boasted of local legends: One source told the tale of a headless Indian riding a horse which could be seen at night near Bartlett—children were afraid to pass the place which was known as “Indian Tree.” At one time it was thought the tree contained a wooden coffin containing the body of an Indian chief, fixed high in the branches.
When the Works Progress Administration (WPA) established the Federal Writer’s Project in 1935, a government program instituted to help writers earn a living during the Great Depression, Esther’s reputation as an historian and researcher brought her into the fold and she helped compile part of the Iowa edition of the American Guide Series. The series was described as part travel guide and part almanac and included sections on Iowa history, culture, travel, and geography, among other things. Esther was a member of the team assigned to the fourteen counties of the fifth Iowa WPA District and her focus was the history of Fremont County and its towns. She threw herself into the task by combing through regional libraries, county archives, and old newspapers to retrieve historical information and timelines.
Esther documented many firsts in county history: the first birth in a settler family occurred in 1839, the first school was held in a log cabin in 1843, and in 1849 the first county seat was located in a settlement called Austin, about seven miles south of Sidney. Vital statistics were also documented: there were 713 miles of county roads and the population was 15,533 residents, of which 9,191 were rural. The Southwestern Iowa Guide Book was published in 1936 with 324 pages of information organized by county. The volume is exceptionally rare but a copy can be found at Iowa’s Historical Library and Archive in Des Moines. Esther’s contribution was so thorough that neighboring counties later asked for her help in completing work left undone by their researchers.
Esther never lost her love of learning, and in her 40s she studied French at Tabor College as a part-time student. After husband Charles’ death in 1939, she went to live with her daughter Margaret Hamann in Madison, Wisconsin, where in 1948 she succumbed to a heart condition. She was returned to Tabor for burial with her family.
A fitting epitaph for Esther’s life is found in her Tabor College yearbook of 1906. When asked for a self-estimate, she replied “I have a mission.” And without doubt, we can confirm that her mission was accomplished.
