G. H. WHITCOMB

G. H. WHITCOMB. Autobiography; Northwood, Iowa, in November, 1917.

George Herschel Whitcomb, the son of Harvey and Mahala Whitcomb, was born September 11, 1837, in the township of Potton, province of Quebec, Canada, and was the oldest of eleven children.

Both my parents were born in Vermont and resided there until about the time of their marriage. My mother's maiden name was Mahala Sisco. My childhood was spent principally in Canada and the adjoining townships of Troy, Westfield and Jay, Vermont. Our home was very near what we called the Canada line and I well remember of seeing the engineers who run that line between the States and Canada with their crew of men cutting a space of about four rods wide through the forests to designate the division line between the States and Canada, and at nearly every public highway an iron post was set in the ground, one side indicating the Dominion of Canada and the other the United States. The first fireworks that I ever saw were sent up by these companies of engineers and their workmen at different points along the survey to let each other know of about their destination at various times.

During these years my father became subject to what was called "cramp convulsion fits," which usually attacked him after retiring for the night and having been asleep for some time. So terrible were his convulsions that we were terrified, expecting him to pass away at any time during these spasms, so I had to go for help to the nearest neighbors, a distance of about one mile, and a part of this way was through a thickly wooded ravine which we called the swamp, and I was mortally afraid of being attacked by a bear or a wildcat, which were reported to have been seen in these Canadian woods. Realizing that there could be no retreat, I would summon all my resolution and plunge through this swamp at a speed which I imagine would have puzzled Old Bruin to have overtaken me, if he had given chase. However, I never saw a bear or wildcat during these trips except in imagination.

I was deprived of school in the summer time at about the age of nine years, being kept at home to help work on the farm and also to assist my mother, who had to spin the wool into yarn and weave this yarn into clothing by hand for her growing family of children. I attended the district school in our neighborhood during winters until I was about fourteen or fifteen years old, when I was usually placed in the family of some of our relatives or acquaintances, where I did chores at nights and mornings and worked Saturdays, for my board; my work being to get up in the morning at from five to six o'clock, feed the stock, milk the cows, clean stables, etc., before breakfast. After breakfast, bring in wood and water for use in the house during the day, before starting for school. After school the stock was stabled and fed, the cows milked and various other chores attended to, making all as snug and comfortable as possible for the night. These were days before winter underwear, overcoats and overshoes were known by boys in rural school districts. I recall having to get into scant homemade wearing apparel, pull on frozen cowhide boots, and go out to face the inclement weather in Canada and northern Vermont during these years, and wonder that I survived them all with reasonably good health. My trips of forty and fifty miles to and from the town of Hyde Park, Vermont, where I found these temporary winter homes, were made by me on foot and alone, as I had no money to pay stage fare.

I usually found the people with whom I resided kindly disposed toward their "chore boy" and I retain very pleasant recollections of many of these oldtime friends. I recall not having a suit of ready-made clothes until I was nearly of age, when I cut cord wood at fifty cents per cord to pay for them (a cheap tweed suit). I also cut down and cut up into twelve or fourteen foot lengths the trees on an acre of land for my first overcoat, at seven dollars per acre. These timber lands were thickly covered with bird's-eye maple, birch and other valuable hardwood timber, which was hauled into piles and burned to ashes in order to clear the land for the crop. In some instances the ashes were converted to pearl-ash, a crude form of soda, one of the means of obtaining a little cash, which was very scarce in those days. Thousands of acres of valuable hardwood timber were thus annually sacrificed in order to convert the soil into farm lands. Many of these farms have been abandoned in later years and it seems a pity that so much valuable timber was thus ruthlessly destroyed.

When of age, my first work was in a lumberyard in Littleton, New Hampshire, during the summer season, and the second year in a sawmill situated on a small river at the foot of the White Mountains. The next season I was employed to work in a brickyard in St. Johnsbury, Vermont, during the summer season of 1860, and the work was very trying to a boy of my slight build and endurance, as I was required to strike and carry off and place on the yard six thousand bricks per day, for which I was to receive one dollar a day, or, in case I fell short of this number, was to be paid proportionately less, and found the work was such that my clothing was wet from morning until night, and having to go barefoot for the reason that boots or shoes on the sanded yard left tracks which would be imprinted on the bricks. This work in wet clothing, changing the same at night, morning and noon, was very unpleasant, especially of mornings in early May when a white frost covered the ground, and no doubt was injurious to health, as my rheumatism of later years attests. It was in the fall of this year that I cast my first vote for President Lincoln. I read with much interest his joint debates with Senator Stephen A. Douglas and his campaign speeches, until they made a deep and lasting impression on my mind, and I attribute this influence to the fact that I have ever since remained a stanch republican.

During these years I attended school in winters and managed to attend an academy a few terms during fall and spring, thereby obtaining sufficient education to admit me to teach, and I taught my first term of school in my home district in Canada during the winter of 1860 and 1861, receiving a salary of eleven dollars per month for my services, teaching six days in the week, also holding one evening review session each week, thrown in for good measure. I continued to work summers and teach winters until March 27, 1862, when I was married to Lucene A. Stebbins, a daughter of Morton and Maria Stebbins of Westfield, Vermont. Her mother's maiden name was Maria Sherman. The same year we bought and settled on a farm in Jay, Vermont, where we resided for about three years. Here our two oldest sons were born. Dana L. Whitcomb was born January 26, 1863. Our second son, Morton S Whitcomb, was born May 20, 1864. I also bought a sugar lot containing some fine sugar maples, from which I made sugar in the spring of the year. We usually tapped the trees about the 20th of March, depending, however, upon weather conditions. I recollect of having made as high as one thousand pounds one spring. This was very hard work, as the snow was usually about four feet deep in the timber at the commencement, gradually melting as the season advanced, so we were compelled to wear snow-shoes while gathering and transporting the sap to the sugar camp. Frequently the flow of sap would be so good as to necessitate boiling day and night, in order to save it from running to waste. During the night our fire would attract the timber owls, which would gather in the treetops, and from their hooting we judged they were quite numerous. Their weird concerts were not unwelcome to the lonely camper and helped to while away the time. Our residence in Jay was during the Civil war, and prices were high, so that the returns from our farm enabled us to save a little besides our living, but the farm was stony and sterile, and I felt that I could not afford to wear myself out with such prospects. So during the year of 1865 we sold our farm in Jay and moved onto a rented farm in Westfield. Our third son, Leslie S. Whitcomb, was born in Westfield, March 20, 1866. Here we resided, I farming summers and teaching school or writing life insurance winters, until the spring of 1868.

During these later years my wife and self had tried to decide upon our future course, realizing that farming in northern Vermont was not giving us much more than a good living with hard work and strict economy. We consequently were not satisfied with the outlook. For some time previous we had been reading Horace Greeley's paper and had imbibed to some extent his idea of "Going out West and growing up with the country," so when our family had increased to three healthy boys, we thought the time ripe to heed his admonition, and although it seemed that we could never bring our resolutions to a sticking point of bidding adieu to all of our dear friends and native land in the east, still as we had decided there was no turning back because of heartaches, we on June 25, 1868, started, our objective point being Stoughton, Wisconsin, where we had relatives. After a very enjoyable trip by boat around the chain of lakes and up the Welland Canal locks, we arrived July 5th at our destination.

After considerable prospecting, I found land in this section of Wisconsin so high in price that I felt compelled to look further before attempting to purchase with my small means, and made a trip to Osage, Mitchell county, Iowa, in the fall of the same year and, being favorably impressed with the country, decided to push on to this point the following spring, intending to locate in the vicinity of Osage. The family remained in Wisconsin while I chartered a prairie schooner and with a few of my household goods made the trip overland in the good old-fashioned way. On reaching Charles City in Floyd county, I left my load and started on a prospecting trip, traveling over considerable of Floyd and Mitchell counties, thence west through Cerro Gordo county and as far west as Forest City in Winnebago county. The spring being a very wet one, I was thoroughly disgusted with my search for cheap land and decided to return to Osage and look further, so started back by the way of Lake Mills and Bristol, and succeeded in reaching Northwood, Iowa, late in the evening on the 29th day of May, 1869, and put up at the Weed Hotel, which was on the corner where the post office and the Evens-Johnson clothing store now stand. On the next morning the sun shone again and I started on my way for Osage, but when out to what is now the Kjerland farm, I began to be more favorably impressed with the country, and from there on to the Frank Parker farm examined the land with more interest and, finally, put up with Mr. Parker and looked at land in this vicinity the following day, being favorably impressed with the land, which I finally bought. However, as was my intention, I returned to Osage and spent more time looking at farms in that vicinity, and would have bought had it not been that I considered prices too high for my limited means. After a few days spent in Mitchell county, I returned to Worth and looked further and finally selected the south one-half of southeast quarter of section 1, in township 98, range 20, a part of the farm now owned by Barney Smith, for which I paid ten dollars per acre. I made contract for this land June 4th and returned at once to Charles City for my goods, making all the haste possible, as the season for breaking for the next year's crop was slipping by rapidly. Rain and bad roads delayed my movements so that it was June 7th by the time I had returned to Mr. Parker's, where board was engaged. Mr. Parker was also engaged as my carpenter, who assisted in building my little house. On the following day I started for Austin, Minnesota, a distance of forty miles, this being the nearest railroad point where lumber could be obtained for building purposes at the time, which took from three to four days for each trip. After two of these never-to-be-forgotten trips, on which we had to unload and carry our loads out of the many sloughs we had to cross, I succeeded in getting two small loads of lumber on the ground, sufficient to enclose a building sixteen by twenty-two feet, one and one-half stories high, the outside of which was covered by one layer of tarred paper tacked onto the studding and sided onto this, as I could not afford sheeting. It was on these trips that I made the acquaintance of quite a number of Worth county pioneers who were hauling their wheat to the Austin market, returning with loads of lumber and supplies for home use, and many of them had the same experience of getting "sloughed down," as I first learned to know the term, so there sprang up a sort of common brotherhood among us which is characteristic of pioneer life. Some of the older pioneers living here related, to us some thrilling experiences of earlier days when they had to make trips to McGregor, Iowa, with ox teams to market their wheat and buy supplies for home use, which in comparison with our trials made them seem light indeed. On the 30th day of June we had our frail structure up and enclosed. My family had arrived and we moved into the house, notwithstanding the windows were not in, no chamber floor laid and with but one outside door hung. In this way we first set up housekeeping in Worth county, Iowa. The carpenter kept on with the work, however, until we had the windows and doors in place and all was done that could be built out of two small loads of lumber.

It was while our house was in this frail condition that a violent thunder storm occurred, the wind blowing a perfect gale, driving the water through the walls until the floor was nearly submerged, and the building seemed to tremble in sympathy with its occupants, who would have left the house if it had been possible to have reached any other shelter. Will add that no serious damage occurred, but it served to admonish us to strengthen the building and take courage in future. It was in this primitive dwelling that our fourth son, George Eugene Whitcomb was born, September11, 1869. This event occurring on my thirty-second birthday, I considered it a royal birthday present.

Later I hauled more lumber and we had the house built over our heads, moving out a few days for the masons to do the plastering late in November, and we took possession again about Thanksgiving day of that year, thankful that we had all been spared to each other and had passed through the trials and privations of the past season with a reasonable amount of good health. Our experience in Iowa thus far, though beset with hardships, tended to strengthen my firm determination to win a better home and surroundings in the near future. With this end in view we put forth our best efforts, adding little by little to our improvements and buying more land as we saw a way to pay for it during the succeeding years.

In the fall of 1872 the weather conditions were so unfavorable that considerable grain remained in the stack unthreshed and farmers generally were delayed in their preparations for winter. January came in with considerable snow and severe cold weather, which continued up to the 7th. On that day it seemed more mild and farmers who were in need of fuel and supplies for their families started out for these necessaries and many were caught in the terrible blizzard of January 7, 1873, which struck this section of country at about three o'clock in the afternoon, and which the oldest settlers then living in the state conceded to have been the most terrible and disastrous of any within their recollections. At the time I was teaching school in our district and started for home with all the scholars living near me, and had gone but a short distance when one of my pupils fell, being almost suffocated by the terrible violence of the wind filling the air with snow so that one could hardly breathe. Hesitating for a few minutes until she had recovered somewhat, we then all joined hands and proceeded more slowly on our perilous journey. Fortunately for us, the wind was blowing in the direction we had to go, so I succeeded in piloting my little band to their homes in safety. The hero of our school was a young man by the name of Richard Kelley, who was attending school at the time and making his home with William Hildreth's family, a distance of eighty rods north from the school house. This young man conducted three of Mr. Hildreth's children home in the face of this terrible storm by taking the little six-year-old girl (now Mrs. Melvin Jewett of Northwood) in his arms, while her brothers, Carl and Clarence, held onto the skirts of his coat, and in this way reached their home safely. He had no other landmarks as a guide than a row of willow twigs from two to four feet in height. This storm raged with unabating fury for three days and three nights, becoming more intensely cold to the end of the third day. On the third day in the afternoon the wind subsided to some extent and the sun showed through the clouds just before setting.

During these three days the storm was so terrific that many unsuccessful attempts were made by the menfolks to reach their stables to care for their stock, and some who ventured too far lost their bearings in the blinding storm and were unable to find their way back to their homes and finally perished within a few rods of home, unseen and unheard by their families. Many heart-rending scenes were brought to light during the search for missing ones. In some instances teachers and their pupils were imprisoned in school houses without food, being compelled to burn the benches and furniture to keep from freezing.

Along with the fatalities were some remarkable hair-breadth escapes from perishing. West from our home about five or six miles a peddler from Plymouth, Cerro Gordo county, by the name of Goldthorp, who was selling woolen goods, was found in an almost unconscious condition, wrapped up in his goods. He had turned his horses loose after having given up reaching shelter, crawled into his covered rig among his woolen goods, wrapped himself up as well as possible, surviving three days and nights without food or drink. He had scratched off his brief will on the inside of his carryall and consigned his soul to the keeping of Almighty God, giving up hope of ever seeing his family again, and lay down to what seemed to be his last sleep. It is impossible for anyone to imagine the agony this man must have endured during these terrible hours. A much more extended account of this fearful event could be given if time and space would permit.

September 13, 1874, our oldest daughter, Lucene Maria Whitcomb, came to gladden our home and was greeted with joy by her parents and brothers who had preceded her. During the fall of this year I was elected county superintendent of schools for Worth county and held the office for eight successive years.

Eighteen seventy-six, the year of the Centennial at Philadelphia, brought an event we had looked forward to with fond anticipation, planning and economizing in every way possible to the end that we might visit the exhibition. We finally thought we saw our way clear to go by leaving our two oldest boys at home with the hired help and taking the other three children as far as Union City, Michigan, leaving them with my parents, who resided there. My wife and I then went on, enjoying one of the greatest treats of our lives. We went by way of Washington, D. C., visiting for the first time the capitol of the United States and other points of interest there; made a trip down the Potomac to Mount Vernon, visiting George Washington's old home and his tomb, which were all in a good state of preservation at that time. From here we went on to Philadelphia, arriving there October 10, 1876. The exhibition at this first world's fair that we had ever attended at the time was beyond our expectation in extent and grandeur. This was before electricity came into general use, so there was no electrical display as in world's fairs of later date, but every department of the States and United States buildings was very complete, which is beyond my power of description. However, will say that the rare display of Oriental countries, with their attendants dressed in their oriental costumes, particularly attracted our attention. A group of South Sea Islanders was another unique curiosity of a strange and primitive people. Specimens of rubies, topaz, onyx, malachite and other precious stones which we read of in the Bible as having been wrought into the tabernacle of the Lord by Moses, were there on exhibition. We returned home feeling well paid for the time and expense the trip had cost us, having acquired something that would remain with us, as it has, lightening trials and beguiling many weary hours.

Grace Lenore Whitcomb, our second daughter, was born March 17, 1878, in Lincoln township, being the sixth and last child born to us. During the following years up to and including 1882, we lived on our old homestead in Lincoln township, meantime buying and improving a three hundred and twenty acre farm adjoining the village of Northwood, Iowa. Moved onto this farm January 1, 1883. It was here during the year 1886 that a great bereavement came to us, when our oldest daughter, Lucene Maria, passed to the Beyond, October 27, 1886.

January 1, 1891, we removed from this farm to Northwood, having purchased of B. K. Walker, a former old resident of Worth county, his real estate, abstract and loan business. Later my son, George Eugene, joined me, forming the partnership of G. H. Whitcomb & Son, which firm still exists.

In 1903 I joined Northern Light Masonic Lodge, No. 266, A. F. & A. M., of Northwood, Iowa, taking my first degree January 16th; passed to the degree of a fellow craft January 28th, and was raised to the sublime degree of a Master Mason February 14th of the same year. Have since held all the offices in the gift of the Blue Lodge except secretary and treasurer.

During 1905 we spent the winter in California, enjoying the wonderful winter climate and beauties of the state to the fullest extent.

March 27, 1912, occurred the fiftieth anniversary of the marriage of George H. Whitcomb and Lucene A. Stebbins, an event which we feel justly entitled to prize. Having reached this golden milestone under such favorable conditions gives us a sense of gratitude, since so few are permitted to celebrate this event.

March 26, 1912, our oldest son, Dana L. Whitcomb, passed away, casting another shadow over our home.

September 11, 1917, I reached my eightieth birthday, and while I am aware of the infirmities of age, I have abundant reason for being thankful for having reached this advanced age in fairly good health. I claim the distinction of being the oldest man in Northwood at this time owning and operating his own automobile, and it seems to me that, because a man is eighty years old is no reason why he should not learn to drive an automobile. I am no speed fiend but enjoy the purr of the motor at about fifteen to twenty miles an hour, while out on the Jefferson highway.

In closing this sketch, I wish to say for the benefit of the young men who may read it that I attribute my length of years and .reasonably good health to the fact of temperate habits, never having used intoxicants as a beverage nor tobacco in any form.

SOURCE: HISTORY OF MITCHELL AND WORTH COUNTIES, IOWA, 1918, VOL. II; Pages 148-157

Transcribed by Gordon Felland, 9/12/2006

GEORGE H. WHITCOMB AND FAMILY