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Shelby County |
Home 1915 History Index |
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Shelby County |
Home 1915 History Index |
CHAPTER VIII - REMINISCENCES OF THE PIONEERS (CONT'D)
[Professor Chatburn is a son of the famous pioneer miller of Shelby and Harrison counties, J. W. Chatburn, who, as mayor of Harlan and in many other ways, contributed largely to the upbuilding of Shelby county. Professor Chatburn grew up on Shelby county, taught country schools here and was one of the first of the generation of pioneer sons of the county fortunate enough to receive a college education, taking his degree at the Iowa State College of Agriculture and Mechanic Arts at Ames in 1884, in the department of civil engineering.]
One incident connected with my early life in Harlan, which I have generally kept dark, may be of interest. I at one time came very near burning up the embryo town of Harlan. The old brick school house stood on what is now Market street east of where the Green Bay lumber yard is located. By the way, that old school house was my first home in Harlan; my father’s family lived in that house for several weeks during the summer of 1867 while the home near the mill was being built. In those days prairie extended right up to the school house and as the town grew new houses were built upon this prairie. The Methodist church was erected on the north side of Market street a little farther east than the school house. While this was being built and lumber and shingles were piled about in the rank prairie grass, Greeley Wood, son of Thomas Wood, an early merchant of Harlan, and I one noon recess went down to the bottom land east of town and set fire to the grass. I never saw prairie fire spread so. Long before we could get back to the school the town had been aroused and the whole populace were fighting to save the Methodist church, school house, Powell’s blacksmith shop and all the residences and business houses north of the square. Nathan Smith, the teacher, licked us good and plenty; I got another one when I got home. Nothing very eventful connected with my country school experience occurred. While teaching in Jackson township I boarded and roomed with George McQueen. One day my father saw George in Harlan and asked, “George, how is my boy getting along?” “Oh, I guess he’s getting along fairly well with the school,” drawled George, “but he’s awful hard to get up in the morning.” My father tapped him on the shoulder and whispered in his ear, “George, that’s a family failing.” Perhaps if we had had more get-up to us, I should be able to give a much more interesting letter than this. My second and third terms of school were taught in the center district of Fairview township. I had a large school there during the winter, many of the boys bigger and stronger than I. I remember that one recess they caught me out on the grounds and washed my face with snow. After calling to order I told them that on the play grounds they might beat me, but inside I intended to be boss, and I ostentatiously picked up the big iron poker and laid it on my desk. We all took the matter as a joke, the boys gave me no trouble and the school board re-elected me for another term. During the winter of 1884-85 three schools in the Bowman’s Grove neighborhood got together one afternoon. I think the inspiration came from A. P. Leach, who taught the Miles school. After having readings, spell down, etc., Mr. Leach suggested that we have a contest of extemporaneous speaking. Each of the three teachers present was to put up a dollar to the one who could speak on a subject assigned for fifteen minutes. Leach quietly informed us that it would be absolutely impossible and therefore our money was safe. So we started them out with the subject, “Little By Little.” Everything was going along smoothly, pupil after pupil giving up after two, three, or four minutes speaking. Finally a little wiry rat from over beyond John Fritz’s got up and began: ‘Little by little a house is built, you put one brick on another, then another on that, then another on that, then another on that, * * *” and so on indefinitely. We seeing our dollars fading, told him to change his statements a little, to tell us something new; he did: “The ocean is made up of little by little. One little drop of water and beside that another little drop of water, and beside that another little drop of water * * *.” After several efforts of a similar character, the boys eyes growing brighter as he watched the silver dollars and heard the minutes counted off by the time keeper, the final “fifteen minutes” came. The boy reached over, grabbed the three dollars and started for his seat saying, “Little by little I have won your money.” I hardly think these experiences worth anything, but if you think otherwise you are welcome to them. I trust you may be successful in getting up a good history of Shelby county, which to me, will always be the great county.
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