Pike Township Family Stories
GIDEON-McGOWAN FAMILIES
Nichols, Iowa Centennial Book 1884-1984, pages 313-316
By Sarah McGowanWho, Me? I’m Sarah Jane Gideon McGowan. I grew up on this farm and so did my dad. My great grandfather, William Idle, bought this farm from Freeman Dawd and Harriet Dawd 3 September 1867. At his death, he willed it to his daughter, Mary Jane Idle (my grandmother) on 6 May 1892. She later married my grandfather, Joseph W. Gideon, and they lived here and raised their family of three sons and a daughter: William Gideon, Isaiah Gideon, Julia Gideon and Thomas Elmer Gideon (my dad).
At Grandmother’s death, she left the farm to my grandfather, 12 July 1898. My father, Thomas E. Gideon, purchased it from Grandad in 1906.
When my father died, he left no will, and the farm passed on to my mother. Through a quit-claim deed of the seven children who were living in 1946, she gave it to the oldest son, Davison Gideon. Dave sold the farm to us, my husband, Ellsworth McGowan, and Me.
My parents’ families lived neighbors when they were children. My dad’s folks lived here and my mother’s folks lived about a half mile on east. They both attended Brockway school, which was directly south of the house on the other road.
They married 13 October 1895 and lived with the grandparents until Grandma died. After Dad bought the place in 1906, Grandad lived on with us. He died in 1917.
Our family consisted of six boys and two girls: Davison Gideon, Addie Gideon, J. T. Gideon, Charles Gideon, Sarah Gideon (me), Forest Gideon, Clyde Gideon and Edward Franklin (we call him Frank) Gideon.
Davison (Dave) Gideon is 87 at this time [1984] and is in failing health. He lives in Colonial Manor Care center in Columbus Junction. He never married.
After the folks both passed away (my dad in 1945 and my mother in 1951), we moved out here from Muscatine. Dave lived with us from that time on until he had a stroke and got so he couldn’t walk nor take care of himself. But we see him at least two or three times a week and he seems fairly well satisfied.
Addie Gideon married Everett Ritter. They had a son and a daughter, Kenneth Ritter and Addie Frances Ritter. Kenneth Ritter had several years in active service in World War II. He and his wife lived in California after he came home. He died of cancer. Addie Frances Ritter married Leo Duncan and lived on a farm near Pleasant Plain, Iowa. They have eight children: Robert Duncan, Virginia Duncan, Mary Duncan, Gary Duncan, Roger Duncan, Michael Duncan, Dale Duncan and Judith Duncan. All married and have families and responsibilities of their own. They purchased a farm near Oxford, Wisconsin, where they raised their family. Addie lives in Fon du Lac, Wisconsin, at this time.
My sister Addie Ritter remarried when Kenneth Ritter and A. Frances Ritter were small, to Lloyd VanDeMaat. Tow other sons and a daughter were born to them: Henry Thomas VanDeMaat, now living in Wisconsin; Betty Jane VanDeMaat, who died in 1937 of spinal meningitis; and Daryl VanDeMaat, who lives in Muscatine. Daryl has two sons, Vaughn VanDeMaat and Brent VanDeMaat.
J. T. Gideon worked away from home a lot when he was younger. He married Oma Rice and they lived in Mt. Carmel, Illinois. They had three sons and a daughter, Judy Gideon, Tommy Gideon, Gary Gideon and David Gideon. They divorced, and I don’t know where the family are. My brother died of cancer 9 June 1968. He had remarried by that time and was living in Grundy Center, Iowa.
Charles Gideon broke a leg when he was small. The older kids were sliding down the straw pile after the threshing was done. If you’ve ever played on a straw stack, then you know then is when it’s the softest, the fluffiest and the slickest and easiest to slide on, and the most darn fun of anywhere else you could play. Ours is a sand farm, to a certain extent, and the straw might (?) have a few sandburs mixed in here and there – but what the heck, as long as they didn’t get where you had to sit on ‘em to slide – they didn’t hurt too bad! I don’t remember how old he was at that time, but he’s five years older than I am, and I can just barely remember him lying in bed, right here in the front room.
You remember, way back then, folks didn’t mind too much having a bed in the front room. With big families, it was really a mighty handy item to have so handy. Kids could flop down for their afternoon naps and Mom could catch a few minutes relaxation, and all in all it was just kinda nice to have. Our bed wasn’t in the front room all the time, but come sickness or new babies and such, the old standby came down to grace the front room.
Charley was a lover of custard, so not too many mornings did he miss having a hot custard for his breakfast. My mom saw to that. Our doctor in Nichols at that time was Doc Carl. Somehow when he set the broken leg, he didn’t find the hip out of place, and his leg was always shorter than the other and caused a bad limp.
Charley finished school at Willow Grove and went a couple of years to Nichols. Then he left and went to Portland, Oregon, where an aunt lives. He married out there and raised a family of four, two sons and two daughters: Frank Gideon, Avis Gideon, Roger Gideon and Ruth Gideon. Then he moved to North Bend, Oregon, where he did some flying for the government taking pictures of disaster areas and such. He learned to love the ocean and did a lot of deep sea fishing. His wife died early last spring. Their family are all married now, and he is living with his oldest son [1984].
Now, me – Sarah Gideon – I grew up skinny and long legged. I finished school at Willow Grove and stayed home, learning things necessary to living on a farm. My secret desire was that someday I would marry a farmer. Just never could feature myself living in town. My feet, somehow, didn’t ever seem to fit the pattern of concrete sidewalks, and my eyes have never really appreciated the jumble and tangle of houses and buildings all pitched together in a pile. I like the wide open spaces where the wind blows free and “the deer and the antelope play.”
We always raised a lot of chickens and geese. My mother picked the geese every year and every bed had a feather bed, except Grandad’s and his was just through the door from the heating stove. And pillows! Pillows to give away! That always made a nice gift to a young couple just starting housekeeping, and they were always graciously received.
We fed the young chickens under a long coop covered with chicken wire that my dad made. It was raised from the ground on legs high enough to let the small chickens creep under, and it kept the old hens and roosters from stealing their feed. As the chicks grew, we could put a brick under each leg and raise the coop a little more. When they got too big to go under – then boy, it was every devil for himself.
One day a rooster kept stealing their feed and pecking the young ones. I was throwing sticks and whatever I could get my hands on, trying to drive him away. I said to my mother who was standing there, “I’d like to knock his block off.” She said, “Go ahead. We’ll have chicken pie.” So I reached for a good sized rock and whaled away. By golly, it smacked him along the side of his head and he keeled over. He kicked a couple of times and he was all mine! We had chicken pie.
I helped my dad set out trees for the orchard. Well, when I say I helped, it was definitely on a minor scale, but I have never before or since carried so much water in my life. I had to run clear back to the door yard to the pump. My buckets were two half-gallon syrup buckets. I was about six or seven, younger than when I knocked that rooster over. That trip got farther and farther every time I went back and forth. I don’t remember, but I doubt if I lasted getting all the trees set out. It was a big orchard. But I’ll bet I slept good that night!
We had a hedgerow from the corner of the garden up over the hill, and it followed the fence row north to the partition fence to the property line of the next door neighbor. My dad always kept the hedge trees along this north and south row trimmed and cleaned out. He cut these for his fence posts – so hard you could hardly drive a staple in to hold the wire. The row of hedge from behind the garden on up over the hill was kept trimmed down to a little over waist high, and it grew bushy and full of thorns. But oh, was it ever a bird heaven! So many birds’ nests were tucked away in those brambles! I believe the brown thrush held dominance over all the others. They have a song that rivals the song of the mocking bird for sweetness and clear vibrant notes and tones. Every morning just at dawn and in the tippity top branch of the highest tree, Mr. Thrasher was on duty giving thanks to his Maker and announcing to the world that he was master of this domain.
I took music from Marie Ryan. She drove an old Model T Ford and she came here to the house for a long time. I teased my folks to get me a piano. I was practicing on the pump organ. A piano was over our budget. Marie married Ray Borgstadt and a while after that she gave up giving lessons. I didn’t have any idea why she was quitting. I was about 10, I suppose, but I bawled and bawled! Marie was someone special to me and oh my gosh, it hurt! Finally my mother explained to me that she was expecting a new baby and said that probably there were times Marie wasn’t feeling too well and she suspected it would be better this way. So I got my head on straight and accepted it.
Mrs. Charles Gay in Conesville gave lessons for a while, but they soon left town and we didn’t find anyone else. I just picked it up for myself. Do some by ear – or by guess and by God, I guess the saying is, and use notes if and when I want something enough to put forth the effort.
Us kids usually had to go after the cows each night, up in the pasture. And just over the fence at the other end of the pasture was the old vacant house my mother’s folks lived in when she and my dad went to school. Sometimes we would crawl through the fence and prowl around through the house. No windows, no doors, everything standing stark and staring – old broken things strewn around, hardly any floors. Kind of spooky! It always felt better when we got back on our own side of the fence again. Especially if there was any water in the little frog pond right along our side of the fence. It was delicious fun wading the muddy water and catching flogs. But we always turned them loose again or there wouldn’t be any to catch next time. The cows like to stand in it on hot days and stomp flies.
All of us kids attended Willow Grove school, from Dave on down to Addie’s Kenneth Ritter and A. Frances Ritter. It was a one room country school, but some happy emeories linger. We had good teachers, but in spite of all that, there were snowballs, spit balls, base ball, anti-over, red rover, even snake hunts along the ditch bank that flowed along just outside the school yard. We made a raft from old thrown-away fence posts and had a hilarious time with that!
Teacher used to excuse us during school hours if some dreamy-eyed kid happened to be casually gawking out the window and saw a ground squirrel running through the yard and duck into a hole. Just raise your hand and tell the teacher and out we would dash. A couple of the big boys would grab the water bucket as they made for the door and hunt the hole. Someone else worked the pump handle and kept more water available and a steady stream of water went down the hole. Pretty quick, out Mr. Ground Squirrel would pop, looking for air. They were destructive in a freshly planted field of corn.
Clyde Gideon was thin and sickly for several years. Dr. Klein thought he might have had a touch of tuberculosis. He missed a lot of school because he was too tired and all-in to walk the mile and a half to school. Doctor said, “Don’t force him. Let him go when he feels up to it.” He took cod liver oil (yerk!). It came in a big brown bottle and was so thick it could hardly run out. And when Mother took off that cap – WOW! It was terrible stuff! A big tablespoonful every day. He would sit and look at it and wait like he wished it would go away. My mom always had a half stick of gum or a piece of candy laying there. Frank and I used to say we wanted gum or candy, too, but Mom always said, “Nope. Clyde has to take the medicine and you don’t.” And boy, that was it! He finally outgrew it and his body filled out and he picked up and was as healthy as any of the rest of us, except for his cheeks, and they were always thin.
Clyde married Shirley Hodges from Ottumwa. He worked down there at my uncle’s sash and door shop where he learned woodworking and could do beautiful things with wood. He spent time in the Seabees during World War II. Clyde and Shirley had two sons, Larry Gideon and Donald Gideon. After he came home from service, Danny Gideon came along.
Clyde always enjoyed music and making it. He played good guitar and had his own band for quite a while. He must have passed it on, because Danny is an accomplished musician on the electric organ and has one that has enough different gadgets to be almost a complete orchestra by itself. Clyde died of a massive heart attack while he was at work. He still had his ruler in his hand when they picked him up.
Edward Franklin Gideon (or Frank, as we always called him) liked guitar, too, and played a lot. He used to bring his guitar to our house and go to church with us and we sang together. He made several records with the guitar and harmonica.
Frank spent several years in service in World War II, also, and was active in the Pacific war area. He was a sergeant and drove a tank. He didn’t want to talk about what he had to do or had seen.
My husband, Ellsworth McGowan, and I were married in Bloomfield, Iowa, on 23 June 1928 at the court house. We needed two witnesses. My Aunt Emma Wilbanks went with us to get married, but we needed another signature, so the minister asked the sheriff to stand in for us. We took a lot of kidding all these years, but it must have worked out, because so far it’s a marriage that hasn’t come unglued after 55 years.
We have a son, David Allen McGowan, and two children that died in infancy: Curtis Gene McGowan, born 2 April 1937 and died three weeks later, and Carolyn Joyce McGowan, born 10 August 1939. Both are buried in Greenwood cemetery in Muscatine.
We bought three large lots on west hill, Nyenhuis street, in Muscatine. We put a shack on it and lived in it the first summer. Ellsworth dug the cellar and made enough concrete blocks for a one story, four room house, and we had a cozy, livable harbor to come home to. In the basement was a coal bin near an outside window (for the coal chute), a good sized room for shelves of canned fruit with a vegetable bin underneath, and a washroom. There was a small heater coupled into the water line to heat water for the shower stall and the washing machine, with a sanitary stool and septic tank buried out back.
David took music lessons from Mrs. Ida Apple Springborn until she quit. He always liked school and scooted through, seemingly, easily and satisfactorily. He didn’t take much to sports, so the coach, Mr. Scott, asked David if he would be interested in radio, suggesting that he could get him on station KWPC to broadcast the school programs, and it seemed to be just what he needed. He worked at the station several hours after school, and after he graduated, he studied for his first class license, got it and became chief engineer at KWPC for several years. He’s at Monsanto Chemical at the present and likes it fine.
David McGowan married Dorothy Foster and lived in the house we had on Nyenhuis. We came out here to the farm after my parents passed away. My dad died in 1946 and my mother in 1951.
David and Dorothy had two sons, Allen Wayne McGowan and Bruce Owen McGowan. They separated when the boys were small, and the court awarded us custody of both of them. We had them for five years, and when David remarried Violet Preston, they took the boys back home. Allen was in second grade and Bruce in kindergarten. The Nichols school was about a half year behind the Muscatine, and it made for a lot of frustration for the boys, besides going into a strange school and among strange people. They faltered…it took time. Their dad got with them and helped them get things together again and back on track, and all went pretty well in general.
Allen McGowan worked at HON and married Luchia Strohm at Muscatine Christian church. They divorced, and Allen traveled through several of the southwestern states, then returned.
He married, second, Marjorie Petty. She had three children by a previous marriage: Lori, Richard and April. The two older ones are in Muscatine [1984]. Lori is married to Ron Lawrence, and Richard is going to school and works several hours afterwards. April attends the Nichols school and is still at home.
Allen and Marjorie have two little ones: Tracy Lynn McGowan and Scott Allen McGowan. Allen has worked at Grain Processing in Muscatine for several years and has an engineering position promotion coming up. He is an avid outdoorsman, fishing and hunting, and doesn’t come home empty handed very often. His freezer is well stocked. He accepted the Lord as his personal Savior and was baptized in the Fruitland Baptist church.
Bruce McGowan was married to Elaine Ermie from Durant. They have a daughter, Candy Marie McGowan. She attends Garfield school in Muscatine. They live in Kammerer’s Trailer court. Bruce is another outdoor enthusiast and loves to hunt and fish. He works at Grain Processing, and Elaine is employed at Heinz.
Darren McGowan is David and Violet’s adopted son. He attends high school. He plays trombone with the school band and was selected to participate in the America’s Youth in Concert 1983 tour of Europe. They had a performance at New York City’s Carnegie hall prior to leaving for Europe. They gave concerts in London, Paris, Geneva, Monaco, Venice, Florence and Rome. He also plays the electric organ.
Now I think that about covers the details concerning the family, so I will add a few more little tidbits.
In October 1959, Ellsworth was going to work in Muscatine about 6:15 a.m. and met a car on the Cedar river bridge. They met head on. The other car veered over into his lane, and there was quite a wreck. They pried Ellsworth out of his car and took him to Muscatine General hospital, unconscious. The driver of the other car was killed outright, and the driver’s friend, who was sleeping in the back seat, sustained serious head injuries. Both cars were totaled. Ellsworth’s injuries amounted to both legs broken, some ribs broken, collar bone broken and a concussion. He was in the hospital for two months and at home for six more weeks.
We are both members of Nichols Christian church, transferring by letter from Church of the Brethren in Muscatine. Ellsworth has been an elder and chairman of the board. He likes to fish, has a nice boat and trailer (even though we don’t get to use it often). He belongs to the West Liberty Gun club and likes to shoot and “pet” guns.
Ellsworth’s grandparents on his mother’s side came from New Jersey. His grandfather, Moses G. Swain, was born 3 December 1842, died 11 November 1907. His grandmother, Sarah L. Jacobus, was born 25 December 1843, died 11 June 1921.
The grandparents on his father’s side came from Pennsylvania, near Pittsburg. They were Samuel McGowan, born 1833, died 23 January 1913, and Hannah Rebecca Asburn, born 15 September 1841, died 24 January 1914.
His parents were Elmer E. McGowan, born in Goshen township 31 Juloy 1864, died 23 September 1927, and Grace E. Swain, born in Fairport, Iowa, 29 October 1876, died 8 February 1962.
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