|
|
Audubon County |
Home History Main 1915 History |
CHAPTER V.THE FIRST SETTLERS. (Cont'd)From History of Audubon Co., Iowa (1915)
|
SAMUEL M. BALLARD, M. D.Doctor Ballard owned thousands of acres of the best timber and prairie lands in what is now Exira and Oakfield townships, and adjoining, in Cass county. His dwelling, situated in section 25, Oakfield township, was a very common affair. It stood in an open space in the timber on the north side of the old state road leading south from his dwelling place, and was a one-story building, boarded up and down with rough, undressed oak boards, battened, unpainted and unplastered. It would not have been supposed by strangers that it was the abode of the richest man in the county. Everything about the house was of the most common kind, there being neither fine furniture, books or anything to indicate elegance, refinement, luxury or wealth, except the lands. Mrs. Ballard did not come to the country until 1855, and remained here but a short time, when she moved to Council Bluffs, and was maintained there is [in] good style the remainder of her life. The relation which existed between the Doctor and Mrs. Ballard was never understood by outsiders, but probably was not congenial. Hon. William P. Hepburn, who was intimately acquainted with the family at Iowa City, recently told the writer that the Doctor and Mrs. Ballard were members of the Universalist church in Iowa City, and further related that on one occa sion Mrs. Ballard told him that she once believed she was a Universalist, but that she doubted if God would pardon or save so wicked a man as Doctor Ballard. Evidently she was aware of his wrong-doings. In his last sickness Mrs. Ballard came to his residence and cared for him several days until he was moved to her home in Council Bluffs, where he soon died. The house above mentioned was claimed by him as his home and domicile, and he voted in Oakfield township until his death. Many families lived there and kept house for him, among whom were Benjamin M. Hyatt, Samuel Smith, Stephen T. Campbell, Milton Heath and others in early times, and many others afterwards. Large areas of Doctor Ballard's lands in Audubon and Cass counties were in cultivated farms, with the cheapest kind of dwellings and buildings upon them. It was a small principality, partaking the appearance of ancient times, when such estates were tenanted by serfs and peasants, rather than a modern, up-to-date American settlement. His pastures were filled with large herds of fine cattle, and droves of hogs. He received large quantities of corn and grain from his tenants. He erected a saw-mill near his residence about 1855-56, and got out considerable lumber from his own timber and for his neighbors, until after the railroad came to Atlantic, about 1869. While surrounded by such wealth and advantages, he was unpopular with his neighbors. He was not a public-spirited citizen, his ambition being to accumulate lands and property for his own selfish aggrandizement, along the primitive methods indicated. He did nothing for the upbuilding of his neighbors, or of the community in which he dwelt, consequently he had no friends, even among his kindred. He lived hermit-like, not allowing himself a respectable subsistence, considering his wealth; only providing for himself the bare necessities of life, food and raiment. Such methods of existence failed to enlist the favorable opinions of the people among whom he resided. In business affairs he was disagreeable and a hard man to deal with. He constantly differed and quarreled with his tenants, hired help and others who dealt with him. It was said that he was a hard master to his sons. He complained of losing many cattle and hogs by thieves, and to have lost large amounts of wood and timber by trespassers. Once, when riding with him near Oakfield, a man was met with a load of shoats. The Doctor stopped and claimed them. The driver said he was delivering them to a man whom he named. The Doctor said he had not sold any hogs to that man, and directed him to return them to his place, and not take away any more without his order. The depredations became so flagrant that he was obliged to dispose of all the live stock on his estate. He negotiated the sale of all his cattle, and they were turned into the woods pasture south of the Ballard bridge, temporarily, for delivery a few days later. On the day of delivery, fifty head of the cattle had disappeared, and no trace of them could be discovered. It was supposed that some of the Doctor's agents had made away with them. After he became too old and feeble to superintend his business, for several years large amounts of boards from his fences were stolen and carried away. A barn was discovered near his estate built from such lumber, the marks on the boards plainly showing where they had been fastened to fence posts. The owner of the barn was accused of the theft, and admitted that he had bought the boards from an agent of the Doctor; but he reluctantly paid for them, saying that the money he paid was part of that stolen from the Doctor when he was robbed at his residence in 1882-83, as hereafter related. In the fall of 1882 it was discovered where nine of the Doctor's fat hogs had been stolen, killed in the timber and carried away. It was supposed they went into the pork barrels of his neighbors. During the last winter of his life, 1882-83, while sick and confined to his bed at his residence, one night two robbers, Northgrave and Van Winkle, as was afterwards learned, entered the house, broke open his bedroom, and robbed him of about two thousand seven hundred dollars in money, which the Doctor had negligently allowed to accumulate in the house, the proceeds of rents collected, etc., which was contained in a leather valise near his bed. The robber seized the valise containing the money and was about getting away with it when the Doctor sprang from the bed, grasped the retreating robber around the legs, felled him to the floor and shouted for help. The only other persons in the house at the time were the wife of the Doctor's hired man and two boys. The latter fled, but the lady was plucky and came to the rescue, beating the robbers with a club. In the struggle the robber kicked himself loose and the Doctor was seriously injured in the encounter, trying to defend his property; but the robber escaped with the booty. The Doctor at once sent to Exira for his attorney, H. F. Andrews, who promptly responded, although it was a bitter cold night, taking Richard W. Griggs along with him. On arriving at the residence of the Doctor, several of his neighbors, having learned of the outrage, were assembled there. The Doctor privately informed the lawyers that he believed he had a clue to the robbers, who had not then been identified; that in the struggle with the one he had attacked he had torn off his suspenders and a button with a strip of cloth attached, which he still possessed, and proceeded to produce it from under his pillow. The trophy was examined and it was thought it might lead to the identity of the culprits. Next morning the tracks of the robbers and their horses were discovered in the snow. With a team driven by Joseph Doner, the Doctor's hired man, Mr. Andrews and Mr. Griggs followed the trail several miles into Cass county, when a snow storm obliterated the tracks and the trail was lost. Returning to the Doctor's place, the captured suspenders and bit of cloth were again examined. It was thought that the cloth looked familiar and resembled the pants usually worn by the Doctor and which usually hung near his bed. Search was made for them without success and it was concluded that the robber had also stolen the Doctor's pants, and that the Doctor had pulled off the suspenders from his own pants in the struggle with him, which in the end proved true. The stolen valise and the pants were afterward found together not far from the residence, where they had been left by some one other than the robbers. In following the trail of the escaped robbers, the saddle cloth of one of them, which had been lost by them, was fortunately discovered, and it subsequently led to their identity; other facts developed which identified them beyond reasonable doubt. It appeared that others were associated with them and that the money was divided between the gang of villains who participated in the nefarious affair. One man who was killed in the county soon afterwards was said to have received a fine span of horses for taking the rogues from the county. The principal robbers soon left the community, but the money was never recovered. Doctor Ballard soon went to Council Bluffs and died there shortly afterward. Nothing further was done about the crime. Near the time of his death, the Doctor informed the writer that the amount of his losses by thieves, trespassers, robbers, etc., in the past twenty years would aggregate fully twenty thousand dollars. And he also said: "Andrews, I am living among the wolves." Hon. William F. Smith, late of Farrall, Wyoming, a few years since described some scenes in the home life of Doctor Ballard. He said: "In 1854 Dr. S. M. Ballard came from Iowa to Ohio to place his sons, Byron and Osceola, in school, and while my parents were visiting the family of Frederick Ballard they met the Doctor. I should say that one of the objects of the Doctor's visit was to purchase machinery for a saw-mill. My parents were wanting to locate where land was cheap and secure a home. Doctor Ballard gave a very glowing account of Iowa, and of Audubon county in particular, and offered them work at good wages until they could establish a home of their own, which was accepted. So, in the spring of 1854, we started down the Ohio river by way of St. Louis, and then up the Missouri river to Council Bluffs, Iowa. On account of low water, we were a long time making the trip, and then went to Doctor Ballard's place with teams. We had expected to find a fine, large house in good shape; but the house was a small log cabin of one room, eighteen by eighteen feet, and he had a fairly large log barn, where the men slept. When we arrived there, my brothers and myself went to the house and looked in at the door and the sight gave us a fright. The doctor was eating his supper out a pan, and a woman, one of Mr. Hyatt's family, was waiting on him. The Doctor spoke to us in a loud voice and said: "Come in, boys." But when we saw those long white whiskers and the strange surroundings we beat a hasty retreat for the wagons and told what we had seen. Our parents had to tell the Doctor about it. and we had a good laugh over it. We stopped at the Doctor's place. My father worked on the farm and my mother and sisters cooked for hired help. That fall my folks and the Doctor disagreed, and we quit him and moved to "Uncle Johnny" Jenkins's house, and soon afterward to Jimmy Bird's place in Cass county, where we lived that winter. Early the next spring we went back to the Doctor's place. The machinery for the saw-mill had arrived. With the farmhands and our own family and the mill crew, my poor mother and sisters had to work early and late to cook and wash for the outfit, making butter and caring for the milk from several cows, etc. The Doctor had put up several other buildings, so we had more room. Myself and brothers and the hired men slept in the hay-mow above the horses. * * * About this period the wife and family of Doctor Ballard came out from Iowa Gity to the farm in Audubon county. (The sons of Doctor Ballard came to Audubon county in 1852.) Doctor Ballard was first receiver of the United States land office at Kanesville (Council Bluffs), Iowa, in 1853. It is said that he once carried a large amount of public funds in specie from Kanesville to Iowa City in the false bottom of his buggy to conceal it and escape robbery. He was one of the proprietors of the Council Bluffs and Nebraska Ferry Company in 1853-54. He was a Whig, and a prominent man. The Lewis Standard was begun in 1841 at Iowa City, and suspended publication in 1848. It was bought about that time by Doctor Ballard, the name changed to the Iowa City Republican, and he continued its publication as the Whig organ of the party in Iowa. Among those employed on the paper were William P. Hepburn, Tom Ballard, a natural son of the Doctor; Clay Johnson, and others. We are not fully advised as to the history of the paper under the management of Ballard, or when he severed his connection with it. Ballard was one of the founders of the Republican party in Iowa, along with such men as Grimes, Lowe, Kirkwood and others of that period. He was a member of the Republic state central committee in 1856. In 1859 he appears on the ticket for representative. He was of ability to have graced high political offices, but does not appear to have sought such preferment. He was patriotic and a sound Union man during the war, so far as his voice and vote went, but did not contribute financially to the party campaign expenses while residing in Audubon county. He sometimes attended state, district and county conventions as a delegate. During the war at one time he was sent by Governor Kirkwood on some mission to the Iowa soldiers in the army down the Mississippi river. A remarkable instance occurred in the Republican state convention of 1875, when Doctor Ballard was chiefly responsible for the nomination of Hon. Samuel J. Kirkwood for governor for the third term. Probably no man ever went into a convention more confident of success than did Hon. James B. Weaver on that occasion. He had been a brilliant, gallant soldier, was justly popular as a politician, especially with the old soldier element of the party, and richly deserved the office as governor of Iowa. Doctor Ballard was a delegate to the convention. He and some of the old-guard Republicans did not take kindly to the candidacy of General Weaver, or, perhaps, Weaver did not sufficiently court their support. Their importance and influence was probably overlooked, or not properly considered. Some of the old-timers decided to give Kirkwood a complimentary vote for governor. When the nominations came on, and after the name of Weaver had been presented as a candidate, Doctor Ballard arose, a majestic figure, with snowy-white hair, long flowing beard and eagle eye, his giant form towering above the assembly. With his powerful, leonine voice, he announced: "I nominate for governor that old war hoss, Sam J. Kirkwood." The magical effect attracted every eye and ear present. An alert supporter of General Weaver demanded: "By what authority does the gentleman from Audubon present the name of Governor Kirkwood?" Others shouted: "Governor Kirkwood is not a candidate. He won't have the office," etc. The Doctor impressively responded: "By authority of the great Republican party of Iowa." The psychological effect produced was instantaneous. That patriarchical figure and voice in the midst of Iowa's sons assembled won the contest beyond recall, and Kirkwood was promptly nominated, to the disappointment and chagrin of General Weaver and his followers. Never has a parallel to that act, of such momentous importance, occurred in the political history of Iowa. The shock was directed by the extemporaneous act of a single man--Doctor Ballard. It was a powerfully dramatic scene, which arose spontaneously, without preparation, on the spur of the moment. Who can say that but for this act of Doctor Ballard, Hon. James B. Weaver would not have continued an ornament to the Republican party. Many years ago, at the Walker house in Audubon, during court time, Doctor Ballard, Judge Reed, Judge Maxwell, the writer and others were having a pleasant evening together. The Doctor, being in a reminiscent mood, related a thrilling account of the experience of himself and "Uncle" John Jenkins, who were once lost in a snowstorm while out hunting. The story ran substantially in this way: "In December, 1852, the United States surveyors, including myself, were camped at Blue Grass Grove engaged in sudividing township 80, range 35 (now Leroy township). My friend, John S. Jenkins, and his son John came up from Big Grove to our camp for a hunt with me, game being plentiful. We two started off together, westward from camp. During the day a heavy snowstorm came on; we got bewildered, lost all idea of direction and wandered around long into the night, completely lost. At one time we heard a strange noise near us, as of many large animals running through the snow, making the peculiar whistling sound of the elk when startled. We supposed we had run into and startled a band of those animals, but it was too dark to see them. (The writer has heard this sound made by elk. By old hunters it is called 'Bugling,' and is made by the bull elk as a challenge or note of defiance. It is a peculiar sound and somewhat resembles the notes of a bugle.) Continuing our tramp later into the night, we entered a brush patch and stopped to rest, being tired out and hungry. Mr. Jenkins was in worse pHght than myself and complained that his feet were hurting him. I suspected that his feet were frozen, which afterwards proved to be the case. We gathered fuel and started a fire. Mr. Jenkins proposed to remove his boots and examine his feet; but I persuaded him not to do so, as he would have difficutly [sic difficulty] in putting them on again. We made a bed of brush and dried grass and he laid down and slept, while I watched and tended the fire. Towards morning the clouds parted and I got a fair view of the Great Handled Dipper and the North star, and so fixed the direction in my mind. When morning came it was still cloudy and the sun was obscured all day. Jenkins awoke very much discouraged, still complaining of his feet, and expressed doubt that we should ever reach home again. I tried to encourage him and pointed out the direction I thought we should travel. He disputed me and said he thought we should travel in nearly the opposite course. I said, 'There is north,' pointing, as I believed, in that direction. He had no idea that I knew the direction any better than he did, and he replied: 'And who in h___, sir, told you that was north?' I explained to him of my seeing the North star while he had slept, and he cooled down, but apparently not convinced and despondent; said we were lost beyond hope of discovery; that no one would know where to search for us, and that if anyone attempted to find us there was hardly a chance of success, and that he believed we must perish. I urged that we should succeed by following the course I suggested. He admitted that he was in doubt what direction we ought to travel, and finally consented to follow me that day, but did not hope to succeed. We took up the march towards the east, as it afterwards proved. We came out on what must have been the main divide between the waters of the East and West Botna rivers, and there Mr. Jenkins rebelled and became more obstinate than before. He insisted we were traveling the wrong direction, and that we should change our course and proceed northwest along the divide. I was confident we were on the right course, but pleaded with him in vain. We shook hands, parted, and each pursued his chosen course, he to the northwest, along the divide, and I took a southeast course down a ridge, until nearly out of sight of each other, when, turning to take a parting look at him, I saw him wave his hat. I made a similar response and waited for him to return. When he joined me he said he had forgotten his promise to follow during the day, apologized and promised to make his word good. We proceeded again until Mr. Jenkins became more discouraged and complained. I carried his rifle to relieve him and took him by the arm to encourage him to proceed. Late in the afternoon, in crossing a slough, his feet became entangled in the long, wet grass, matted down by the heavy snow, and he fell. I offered to assist him to arise, but he refused; said it was useless; that we were lost beyond help; that his feet were used up; that we were without food or fire and must perish; that he might as well stop where he was to punish himself by attempting to travel farther. I stooped down and struck him a smart blow with the back of my hand on his face. The effect was instantaneous. He sprang to his feet like a steel trap and demanded why I had insulted him. I told him it was to show him that he was not so near dead as he imagined, and that I had proved it. He accepted my explanation and we again proceeded. Upon reaching the top of another ridge I thought the surrounding country and lay of the land looked familiar. I believed we were in the vicinity of our camp and so informed my companion. I then remembered my dog, a favorite white hound, who was at the camp, and told Mr. Jenkins that if I could make 'Zack' hear my voice he would come to us. So I began to shout and halloo, long and loud, and kept it up. Soon I heard the hound bay and called the attention of Mr. Jenkins to it, but he was not convinced. He said we could not be near camp, and that I must have heard a wolf howl. But soon the dog came over the hill in full cry. I saw him, with the black spot on his head, coming towards us, and no mistake, and he soon reached us, plainly expressing his pleasure at seeing us. A little later Uncle Ben Hyatt, our cook, came following on the dog's track. When he got near enough I shouted for him to hurry back to camp and prepare some food for us. Uncle John clasped the dog around the neck and burst into tears, and ever afterwards declared that the dog saved our lives." I had previously heard the Doctor tell the story, and Mr. Jenkins had also told it to me. When the Doctor's narrative was finished and his hear ers had expressed their appreciation. I said to him: "Doctor, I think you told the story to a party of gentlemen at Exira several years ago." "Why do you say so?" said he. "Since I first heard you tell it, I have heard Mr. Jenkins tell it." "And don't he tell it as I do?" "Yes, with one exception." "And what is that?" "He didn't mention that you slapped him in the face." "But I did," said the Doctor. John T. Jenkins, of Brayton, says that he was at the camp at the time mentioned and well remembers the incident. He says that the people at the camp, Ben Hyatt, Byron Ballard, the Doctor's son, and others, were alarmed for the safety of his father and the Doctor, and were anxiously hoping all day for their return; that old "Zack" was uneasy and whined at times, and that all of a sudden he bawled out and broke away from camp on the run over the hills. No one in camp had heard the Doctor's call, but the dog evidently had a keener ear, and dashed away to find his lost master. Neither of the participants knew exactly where their wanderings had taken them. The writer surveyed land in this county for years in earlier times and became well acquainted with the lands in the west part of the county where this adventure took place. There used to be a little clump of hickory saplings in a deep ravine near the line between Douglas and Sharon townships near the west part of the county, which was, perhaps, the spot where Ballard and Jenkins stopped on the night as related. Mr. Jenkins more than once referred to this adventure with gratitude towards Doctor Ballard, and invariably expressed his belief that the Doctor had saved his life on that occasion. He was financially interested with Captain Perry and the Hendersons in contracts for the survey of several townships of government lands in Audubon county and perhaps elsewhere. His son Byron was actually engaged in the work as flagman and chairman. The Doctor was probably overseer of the working party. During the last winter of his life he spoke about his son, "Bolly," as he was familiarly called, and, like King David of old, lamenting over his son Absalom, said that he could be a prince if he would be, intimating that he would be pleased for him to have the home place, but feared that if he should give it to him he would squander it. He suggested that there might be some of his descendants some time who might make good use of his property, if he only knew to whom to leave it. The terms of his will indicate that it was perhaps framed with such ideas in view. He left a handsome estate. Besides his lands and property here, he had large possessions in other places. At his death he gave his son Osceola a life estate in four hundred acres of land in Cass county, which he soon lost. To his daughter, Mrs. Robinson, he gave a life estate in nearly two thousand acres of land near Marne, Iowa, with remainder to her children after her death. The residue of his fortune went to his wife. The home place here has passed entirely out of possession of his descendants. Doctor Ballard was unfortunate in his family. Byron was killed by the falling of a tree; Eugene was drowned, and two daughters died young. He was the first senior warden of Iowa City Lodge No. 4. Ancient Free and Accepted Masons, which was chartered on January 8. 1844. Old settlers will recall the heroic figure of the old Doctor, with his black plug hat, mounted on his favorite saddle horse, "Old Tige," as he,in former times, rode about the county. He died at Council Bluffs in 1883. Mrs. Ballard survived him, but has been dead many years. Their children were: Byron, unmarried; Virginia, who married George Robinson and is dead; Osceola is dead; Oletippe and another daughter are both dead. |
