The Harris Centennial
Harris --The past 100 Years
A Few of the Real Pioneers
Page 20-22
"I Knew A Few of the Real Pioneers
..." Gibson
I knew a few of the real pioneers in this community. There were several families we were very friendly with who had filed on their farmland and remained to reap some of the fruits of ownership. There were many others who came later who were just as truly pioneers. Some of the readers of these pages may remember, with much pleasure, contacts they had had with these builders of an empire long, long ago. Here are a few names: Hamilton, Mowthorpe, Webster, Palmer, Petersen, Bradrick, Morrow, Jackson, Deitz, Wentler, Johnson, Joe Lee, Hass, Anderson, Winterfield, Snyder, Forbes, Grant, Barnes, Umland, King, Lynde, Kief, Ziehr, Hunt, Burley, Greggs, Wernstrums, Wiemer, Hintz, Thomas, Burrows, Rehborg, Robertson, Albright, Smalley, Kiefer, McFarland, Hagerty, Albee, Heppler, Craun, Taft, Grady, Bergman, Harris, Wilson, Burk, Blend, Beeler, Zwank, Maher, Ihnen, Royce, Crichton, Woelfle, Watters and Schaffer. In addition, in Allison Township there were: Benson, Logan, Calhoun, Stahly, Wilmarth, Miller, Forbes, Harms, Donnenwerth, Smith, Recher, Worrick, Schroder and Hunter. Lack of time and space is the reason your name is not given here. We know you are just as worthy as those given. These are the heads of families. In many instances children and grandchildren still are here doing their share better than we could do it. Other families seem to have just disappeared from the community. Some of these families gave outstanding service, limited only by their intelligence, time and charity. Theirs was a full life, tho’ too often bathed in tears caused by disappointments in crop failures, pestilence and insect destruction. The grasshopper was the most deadly here.
Collective education, spiritual needs and cultural refinement; the uniting of families by marriage vows in many of those mentioned above, was conducive for united effort to insure self preservation of the community and individuals. Pioneer life produced a rugged character, independent and deep religious convictions; they knew their own strength was not enough when the road was rough and the spirit low; they were God’s kind of folks. With the rich red blood of their ancestors running through their rugged veins, they measured their strength and fortitude against everything that nature hurled at them. They studied their scriptures and were not ashamed to talk about their souls’ future, or worship in family prayer. “With their eyes raised to the souls’ far hills, just above the timber line, they found strength and love divine.” They knew their God as a personal character with whom they could talk and find relief from the troubled world.
“Well you paid for every blessing,
Bought with grief each day of cheer;
Nature’s arms around you pressing,
Nature’s lips your brow caressing.
Sleep, old pioneer.”
There were many compensations in the life of the pioneer not in recorded history: the smell of the newly-turned soil that had laid there for thousands of years storing up the richness of decaying vegetation to be garnered through life-living grain and livestock. Enjoying the companionship of friends and loved ones in daily work and recreation around these beautiful tree bordered lakes and streams, unspoiled by man’s progressive ideas of development. Fish and game in unlimited numbers; it had been so recently the home of the Indian, buffalo and the prairie chicken. To watch the wedge-shaped flocks of migrating geese and ducks through the red glow of the setting sun was a sight never to be forgotten; they reached from the Southland to the frozen north in unnumbered millions. We may never see such a sight again. The call of the prairie hen and the answering drumming of the cock at sunrise was a musical sound that made happy the heart of the lover of God’s great outdoors. It was as refreshing as the song of the happy farmer bathed in the morning sunshine, driving his oxen or steeds to the long beamed breaking plow, watching the green grass turned under and the virgin soil getting its first view of the sun, open range, and men’s way of living.
A wonderful heritage; God’s great gift to men. How well is the trust being kept? The ringing sound of steel striking steel as the plowman pounded out his plow share to better cut the tough roots that fed the grasses from God’s great storehouse down in Mother Earth. The good earth!
May I beg your indulgence in a few words? I can write from experience about the homesteader and pioneer, because my father moved from near Ida Grove, Iowa, to a homestead in the Dakotas in 1883, in a covered wagon, the second wagon was open. A few family supplies, breaking plows and a meager supply of household goods. It was in late April, and a distance of less than 200 miles took fourteen days. There were no roads, just tracks made by wagon wheels, a horse hoofs, rain and swamps. I spent sixteen years with the folks before returning to Iowa. In June of 1900, I left a business college in Des Moines on a secondhand wheel and in a few days rode into Harris. The stay has been enjoyable and fruitful; no other spot on earth could have given so much. When I leave, it will be with the help of friends, in dignity and grace in another covered wagon, to rest near the evergreens we helped plant.
Yes, there was sunshine and clouds in the old pioneers’ lives; more sunshine than darkness, more love than hate, and rich in friendships. To close this with a note of sadness gives me no pleasure; but in doing so, we pay a tribute to two wonderful pioneers, who left no heirs. They are symbolic of many others, expressing their frustration, disappointment and hope, expressed in her own words.
“When this you see, remember me, Elizabeth Mowthorpe, residing in this house this centennial year, the grasshoppers destroyed our crops and are still here. Dear Friend, whoever you may be, when you find this, many of us shall sleep beneath the sod. So let us watch and be ready, for we know not the day when the Son of man cometh and may we apply our hearts unto wisdom. Fit us, O Lord, for all the changing scenes of this life and finally accept us through Christ our Redeemer.”
The above quote was found in a part of the homestead house hidden in a fruit jar. It is the property of Mr. and Mrs. Perry Pearson, and was quite widely published in local papers at the time of its recovery by them. A picture of this accompanies this article.
“Toil had never cause to doubt you –
Progress’ path you helped to clear,
But today forgets about you,
And the world rides on without you –
Sleep, old pioneer.” Will Carlson
If we had no other reason, looking through
the list of names above, we would think most of them came from
English, Irish and German descent, and we would not be far from
the truth. Remember that list was taken from near the turn
of the century. If a representative list were compiled now,
it would show a strong and vigorous Holland population, with
their thrift and energy, inherent from the land of dikes and
windmills. Our ancestors were immigrants, yours and mine,
they came bringing with them the legends, traditions, history and
the folklore of their native land, a living and vital part of
their souls, to blend with the heartbeat of this, their adopted
land. >From all parts of the earth they have melted into
the lifestream of wonderful America. Long may she
live! We must not sleep!
-C. H. Gibson