Life Is Simple For Green Hollow Folk's
by Virginia Marguerite Benedict
Newspaper article: Summer 1933
Bartlett, Iowa

Barely touched by the hecktic life of civilization that has grown up around them. There are thirteen families living in pioneer simplicity among the cliffs and deep ravines in "Green Hollow", three miles east of Bartlett, Iowa.

Here a visitor, will find log cabins dizzily perched on the edge of cliffs of clay, rough cabins reminiscent of the dwellings of the "Hill Whites" in Tennessee. A road through the center of the "Hollow" winds treacherously around straight walls of the deep ravines. Automobile wheels on this road spin dizzely in the loose earth at the edge of the ravine. Fifty feet or more and straight down. So rugged is this "Green Hollow" a place of deep ravines and deep gully's slashed by erosion. A place of bare cliffs and sparse grass . Here you will see scrawney cattle and hound dogs, and you will see a horse or two which is shy and race in their restricted fields at the approach of a car.

"Green Hollow" has sheltered and provided a liveihood for a rugged people for many years. Grandpa Pierce known as "Uncle Joe" the oldest resident of the Hollow tells the tale of the coming of the Pierce's to the Bluffs. He was born on the bottom lands just west of the entrance to "Green Hollow". His father and mother were pioneer's from "Ohio" These "Ohio" people settled on the river flats where grass grew knee high to a man on horse back. The family had half a section of land. Grandpa Pierce says, "It was good land", and they lived on it and thrived through one Indian scare after another. They moved to the hills and became "Hill people". Here they built homes and barn's.

RIVER EATS THEIR LAND
The Indian scare's died out with the advance of pioneer's into Iowa. The Pierce family then realized another scare, a more serious one, dangerous not to the hardy men and women of the flats, but to their land and all they owned. The Missouri River tore great chunks of farm land from it's banks and swallowed it, acres disappeared. The Pierces and their "Ohio" familys fought this menace with log's and willow tree mats, but their efforts were feeble. the river ate their logs and their mats and reached into their cornfields, for more. Finally it had us says Grandpa Joe Pierce. Father moved us to the hills. Myself and others. We have been compared to the "Hill Dwellers" in Tennessee says Grandpa Joe. But as far as I know none of our forebear's ever saw Tennessee Country. In their log cabins or houses of unpainted boards, the Green Hollow dwellers hidden back in the hills and deep raviness away from the world outside. Visitors who wish to find the place will be told, when making inquiries, not a half mile away, ask just how do you get in there? But Glen Pierce can tell you just stop at his place he was born there.

ENTRANCE IS OBSCURE
Glen is a farmer on the bottom road south of Pacific Junction. Glen gives you the directions, but says, bat a car going too fast in the Hollow can end up at the bottom of a ravine and if your driving too fast you will simply pass up the entrance to the Hollow. People hunt and trap in the hills and woods. Sometimes they range far a field at nite with their baying coon and possum hound's and the farmers living closer to the hard pavements and civilization pass the word. "The Green Hollow Folk are hunting tonight." We have few needs, Grandpa Joe says nobody in the "Hollow" ask for charity. We get skins from winter hunting and we make most of our cloth's and sell the skins. The younger folk's tinker with old cars and radio's, for the most part we live a simple life and keep to our selves and let the world outside worry about depression and things. Far out on the bottom lands the Missouri river twinkled and shone with false beauty borrowed from the sun. Grandpa Pierce looked in that direction, his eyes narrowed he turned back to the "Hollow' as he said we are happy and contented and safe. Here in the "Hollow" Grandpa Pierce has never been forgotten. Copied from the "World Herald Omaha", Nebraska

The following story is a follow up from the one above. October 1, 199?

It has been over 60 years ago since the first story was written about the "Hill people" who live in a place known as "Green Hollow" just east of Bartlett,Iowa. The folks who lived in the "Hollow" were as one big family neighbor's helped each other. We were always fed and clothed perhaps not as well as people living outside of the "Hollow". The children were happy and satisfied with what they had. Sunday's were a busy day in the afternoon the children would play ball and those who didn't play ball would shoot marbles. The old folks played "pitch" a card game that could be really enteresting, or there would be a horse shoe game.

Several years later my oldest brother was the champion horse shoe pitcher of Iowa. My youngest came in second. They are Lyle and Amil Hillhouse. It's true were not aware of what the world was like outside of the Hollow. We were not concerned. Some folks raised chicken's and hogs and had a couple milk cows. Dear Aunt Mame Keran who lived by "Kings Church" would make butter and folks would buy from her. In the fall the men would butcher hogs and sometimes a beef this meat would be cure and stored for winter. The young ones would learn how to hunt and sell the pelt's, there was rabbit and squirrels; also coon meat, supplied for food. Sunday evening was a time for all to gather in at "Kings Church" our folks loved to sing the Old Hymm's and hear the sermon. The little country church is where we all learned about Jesus and his saving grace. The land for the little church was donated by the King Family with a stipulation the building would be used only for school, and church services. The church was known by its name, Kings Church. To my knowledge the little church was used only for school and church services. After folks moved away and there was not enough people to keep it open for services the church was sold and used for a machine shed. Sadly in the early "1990's" the land mark church burned downed. So many memory's we all have of that little church.

The children attended Bible school two weeks every summer. Some classes were held out under the trees as the church would have to many classes. I remember a lady Mrs. Fields would drive her horse and buggy from Tabor to teach and help out with our Bible school. We were taught about how God gave his only son, to die on the cross to save us all from sin. Those teachings were installed in our hearts. There has been ministers, teachers, and busisness men come from out of the Hollow children.

The Hollow children rode on a bus to attend Bartlett school. The bus driven by Mrs. Shade, would turn around at Uncle Joe's place, due to the narrow road. The children would board the bus at this stopping place. The bus would be filled to capacity. I cannot remember any real trouble among us. Our parents settled our troubles. If there was any disagreements we were kept apart with no visiting or playing together for one or two weeks. Lamps and Lanterns was the way of life.

Our church had refector lamps, until it was supplied with gas laterns. Washing on a scrub board once a week was a chore and cloths had to be ironed. Some of our folk could play music. We had guitar, fiddle, piano and organ player. No one ever had a lesson. Sometimes on Saturday nights someone would set the furniture outside and there would be a house dance. The young, and the old folks would square dance. Green Hollow folks made their own entertainment. One summer Omer Pierce made sorghum which was something to see. It was sold to the people around the neighborhood. As the years went by little did we realize how quickly the time would pass. The Pearl Harbor incident came along and the "Hill Folk' made their contribution.

Every family was affected by this. My two brothers, Lyle an Amil, along with cousins and friends. There were Studys, Kerans, Pierces and Hatcher boys all young men called to serve their country, including Kephart sons. Some of these young men never came back home to Iowa. Those at home prayed day and night for these young men. Prayers were answered for some, but for some a sad reality. People began leaving the Hollow. There were a few who lived there life out in their beloved Green Hollow. It was hard to adjust to a different life, but some-how they did and they never went back to the Hollow. The years have taken it's toll. The winding road has slid into the deep ravines. The laughter and hollering of all the children are gone. It's hard to believe that such a place existed, but it did and I am happy to say that I was a part of this place known as GREEN Hollow.

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Green Hollow Stories
submitted and transcribed by Stephanie Pierce:
Few Families Live Today in Green Hollow Section
By John Faris (Nonpareil Staff Writer)

BARTLETT---Remember Green Hollow and all the tall stories you used to hear about the Place? Well, the section isn't what it used to be. Green Hollow is between Bartlett and Tabor, in a hilly section. You drive along a county road until you come to an old school house, turn east. Drive a short distance through a gap and you're in some of the wildest country you've ever seen in Iowa. All the hell-rasin, which made Green Hollow famous, is a thing of the past. In fact not many live there anymore. Remember how the kids back in the hollow used to make face at you and give the good of razberry?

Youngsters Are Scarce
You can drive though there now and chances are you won't see any youngsters. Residents of the section say there are only three children left. Adults number only eight making a total of 11 There was a time when the place was lousy with urchins. When I was back there last week, there wasn't a soul stirring. There had been stories of how they'd run and hide when a stranger entered the section, but it was hard to see how they could disappear so completely and suddenly. I asked some of the neighbors. Not much of anyone living there any more, they said some of the men work in the rock quarry: some of them are helping harvest cowpeas. And the women well, there just aren't many women who live there now.

Works in Quarry
Down at the rock quarry was Harold Haynie who works for Fred Wenke. The latter is doing the quarrying. "I'm new back in Green Hollow", Harold said. Settled in there May 5,1914, right after I came back from service. I worked for Bill King nine years before that, over on the bottoms. Haynie already has developed a fierce loyalty for his neighbors. Several of the old-timers have died, He said. Pretty good guys too, and you'd better be careful what you put in the paper. Those that are left don't like some of the stories the papers have been printing. Haynie suggested an interview with Raymond Pierce, who was operating a wagon drill on the crest of a nearby hill. The wagon-drill is a jack-hammer on wheels. It can be rolled from place to place. When Pierce was asked what he thought about the stories which had appeared in the press regarding Green Hollow he snorted and started swearing.

Didn't Like Reporters.
I run some of em off, he said referring to newspaper reporters. And I'll run em off again, if they come back. Pierce went on to tell how times had changed back in the hollow. People have been dying off and moving out, he said. Then he spoke of a disaster which struck the community more than a year ago. Tornado came down through there June 1, 1949 and tore out two of the houses, he said. One of em was mine. But we have a new one now. I've lived in the hollow ever since I was a baby. Broken trees and twisted buildings still stand as mute testimony of the store. Hayne and Pierce both are known as good workers. They have been employed for quite awhile now at the quarry. As long as times are good, there won't be many people living in Green Hollow, observed one of their employes. But let times get rough and they'll drift back in there.

According to the Southwestern Iowa Guide book, published in the 1930's by the Works Progress administration, the Inhabitants of Green Hollow are descendants of the earlisest white settlers, who were driven to the hill county by the severe flood of 1881.

Living Was Poor
Those who were too poor to start over again on the bottom remained in this secluded place, eking out a bare living in the clay hill and living in dug-outs or rude cabins. Today many of the homes are still partly dug into the hill with a room or two built on. The older generation is unlettered much like the mountaineer of the south but the children have gone to the excellent schools of the neighborhood and are leaving for more civilized habitations.

Well, most of them are gone now. The newer houses are no longer dug into the banks. These are the residents listed by those living in the hollow.. Harold Haynie, Raymond Pierce, Mr. and Mrs. Burl Pierce, Tom Pierce, Mr. and Mrs. Ira Clapper and Bud Study (pronounced Stoodie). Study has two children who go to Dutch Hollow school about two miles away and the Burl Pierces have one child.

Back in a ravine, one little shack looked disconsolate in the bright afternoon sun. A cat startled at the sight of a human being, scampered into the rustling weeds near an old shed. Overhead wheeled a hawk, its keen eyes searching the ground for prey. On the doorstep of the empty house was a doll cradle, tipped crazily on one side, a weather beaten rag doll spilled on the ground. The silence was unbroken Green Hollow was dead.