J. E. IRVIN CAME WEST
IN SPRING OF 1852
Sailed into the Frontier on a Flat Boat—Shipwrecked—Narrowly Escaped Massacre
(By Merze Marvin)
When James E. Irvin, in response to oft repeated entreaties, stepped into the Sentinel-Post office one day last week, laid his hat on the table and sat down in the easy chair to tell the story of his experience, we expected a tale that would be a top-notcher among our collection of out-of-the-ordinary life histories. Our anticipations were more than realized and we concede to Mr. Irvin a liberal niche in Page county's hall of fame.
James Eaton Irvin is his full name. He was born in Union county, east Tennessee, June 14, 1845. Families in those days were large and there were many brothers and sisters to greet the advent of little James in the already crowded household. "What to do for the children" was a question of as vital importance then as in the present season of frenzied scrambling after cash. The parents of James, pondering the matter, thought of the west, whence came stories of wonderful prospects and broad, fertile fields to be had for a song. They discussed it with the neighbors, who, similarly situated, longed to found a home for future years. They planned to go in the spring of '49 and at once began the preparations.The first thing that James Irvin can remember is the building of the big flat boat which was to carry the seven families of homeseekers on their western way. It was a big, clumsy boat, whose facilities for navigation were extremely limited, afterwards proved by sad experience. The journey was begun in March. The homeseekers floated down the Tennessee river and turned their ungainly craft into the Ohio. Just below Paducah, Ky, the unstable boat sprang a leak and sank with all the household goods and provisions of the party. The passengers were rescued by a passing steamship and carried farther into the west.
The Irvin family landed at Weston, Piatt county, Mo. The father, looking in his pockets, sorrowfully remarked that there were just twenty-five cents left with which to build the new home. But being of sturdy pioneer stock, he wasted no time in ruminating on his hard luck—he set out at once to hunt work and to seek a temporary home for his wife and brood of children. They lived at Weston that fall, moved to Nodaway county in 1850 and in 1852 came to Tarkio
township, which has been James Irvin's home ever since.
They built a crude log cabin and set to work clearing their farm. It was necessary for the children to contribute their share towards the support of the family. James, when only a boy for four successive summers was hired to drive the prairie teams at $5 a month. He went alone, barefooted, over many, many miles of unbroken prairie. One summer he worked for Uncle Jack Gillihan for $3 a month. He worked for Uncle Alex Montgomery and for several other pioneers' now gone and his wages never exceeded $5 a month.
The schooling of the Irvin boys was limited to a few winter weeks in the old Tarkio school. James' teacher was [M]ary Johnson, who died here two weeks ago. The school was fitted with rough benches ten to fifteen feet long. The benches had four holes in which pegs were driven for legs. They were so high that the smaller boys sat and swang their feet as they studied, being unable to touch the floor.
Living expenses were reduced to a minimum. Mother Irvin made the garments for the entire family. She raised the flax, carded, spun and wove the material and then manufactured the garments. James Irvin never wore a garment that was not all home made until he went to the war. His first pair of shoes were acquired when he was eight years of age. During the winter of '56 the family had not a bite of bread save what was made from their own grist. There was but one team of oxen in the neighborhood and it was impossible to use them because of the drifted condition of the roads. Lige Miller, who was
county superintendent for sixteen
years, walked all the way from Miller
Station to Maryville for $1 worth of
coffee.
Before the coming of the railroads, corn sold for five cents a bushel. After Shenadnoah was founded the price climbed to fifteen cents.
Indians were plentiful. They were of the Pottawattamie tribe, and, though frequent visitors, were always peaceable. Once in the winter of '52, when Father and Mother Irvin had gone to an uncle's cabin one-quarter mile away, the Indians, attracted by the blazing fire the children had built, crowded into the cabin until it was filled to overflowing. The children, frightened, huddled up in one corner of the room and shivered until their parents, who from afar had seen the coming of the Indians, returned. Father Irvin gruffly told the Indians to "puckachee", which means "move out", and silently they departed. There were 500 savages in that band and they camped for two weeks
on the Tarkio river not many rods from the Irvin .cabin. The last band of Indians passed through this country in 1867.
When the war clouds gathered, in 1861-62, James Irvin was working for George Miller, father of John N. Miller of the Page County bank, Clarinda, at what was called Millers' Station. He received $8 a month, which he considered the height of affluence. After the declaration of war, he enlisted Aug. 11, 1862, in Company F, Twenty-third Iowa infantry. His three brothers enlisted in the same company. The three were killed, and that James did not suffer a terrible fate is due to his own sympathetic nature and a marvelous combination of circumstances. Tarkio township was the banner township of the state, having enlisted more soldiers in proportion to the population, than any other township in the state. Of the thirty-eight boys who enlisted from Lincoln and Tarkio townships, eighteen never returned. James' last brother, William Irvin, was killed at Duvall's Bluff, Ark., Dec. 29, 1864, and they brought the body home for burial, though it cost $500 to do so. They came by station from Sidney to Millers' Station.
Irvin's company joined Grant at St. Louis and with him fought their way to New Orleans. They participated in the siege of Vicksburg with terrible loss of life, and then in the battle of Black Water Ridge, where their colonel was killed.
James Irvin had been promised a furlough after this battle. The ranks were so depleted that it was possible to spare only one man at a time from each company. Irvin was to be the man from Company F. Altogether a party of twenty-seven men starting north that day to visit their homes. When Irvin was preparing to start he met a comrade in arms, Wm. Barnum, of Clarinda, a mere lad, married before the war began. Barnum broke down and sobbed bitterly because he was unable to accompany the northbound party. "Oh, if only I could go home and see my wife once more, and the little one, I could die content," he moaned. Irvin's heart was touched. He said to Barnum, "Quit your sniffling, you can have my place." Evading Barnum's expressions of gratitude, Irvin sat down behind a tree to fight the awful feelings of homesickness that came over him when he had given up his chance for the journey home. Yet by so narrow a margin did he escape the terrible fate of the homeward bound party.
In the party were four Page county [---]Thomas Goodman of Hawleyville [---] Mobley, Cass Rose and [-----]um of Clarinda. Ed[----] ot Taylor county, was [------]r of the ill-fated band. [----]rmed, being homeward [----]h happy in the anticipa[-] [-----]return to their homes, they [----- -]as and somewhat alarmed [----] of guerillas along the rail[- ] [-----] allay, their fears they sang of home-coming and thought of their loved ones at home whom they expected soon to see. When their train reached Mexico, Mo., the warning was repeated and the conductor was told that it was unsafe to take his train farther without a guard. He rashly decided to make the attempt and the train rushed madly on to destruction at Centralia, Mo. Col. William T. Anderson, the rabid guerilla chieftain, was waiting there with his band and fired upon the defenceless soldiers when the train was brought to a stop. The soldiers were compelled to surrender. Anderson asked if there were any officers among the company. Sergeant Goodman of Hawleyville, was the only one to step forward. If there were others, they feared to admit their rank. Anderson waved Goodman aside and then the guerilla band fell upon the soldiers and slaughtered in cold blood the entire party excepting Goodman. The massacre at Centralia was one of the most terrible scenes of brutality in modern history. Goodman was car[--] [---]ed a prisoner by the guerillas for [--]n days before he finally escaped and nade his way to the union lines. It is said that he was the only man ever spa[--] by Anderson, the guerilla thief. Goodman has written a small book telling in graphic words the terrible story of the massacre and his subsequent experiences as a prisoner of the guerillas.
After the war, James Irvin came home to Tarkio township and set to work improving the farm and performing a liberal share in the development of the new country. The Irvins built a frame house, the first in Tarkio township. It was built entirely of native lumber grown in their own community. Since then his life history has been coincident with the growth and upbuilding of Page county, a simple, sturdy, honest, thrifty life, of the kind that makes for good citizenship in a prosperous and progressive county such as Page.
April 19, 1866, he married Jane Chesshire. They have a family of four children, C. C. Irvin, who lives in Chicago; Mrs. Nettie Francis, Tarkio; L. J. Irvin of Ogdon, Neb., and Mrs Belle Bowers of Chicago. All are doing well.