Hardware Stores, Funeral Parlors, and Barber Shops

The two hardware stores were operated by Lennarson and Johnson, and Martindale and Tedford. The former was also the primary funeral business in Gowrie. Neither Lennarson or Johnson was a licensed mortician (hearsay had it that Lennarson could not pass the state licensing test) and I guess Johnson wasn’t interested in trying. So they had to hire a licensed mortician — early in my youth this was a man Ed King, who for some reason decided to switch positions with another mortician in a neighboring town.

The replacement mortician was Ted Palmer who eventually took over both the hardware store and the funeral business. He later phased out the hardware store but kept operating the funeral end of it. He acquired the old Nils Lindquist house and after expanding it used it both as a residence and a funeral home. His son, Max inherited the business and I think still runs it. One of the few times, perhaps the only time, I was actually in the ex-residence of Nils Lindquist was at the time of my mother’s funeral.

Lennarson also sold some furniture and at Christmas time had a fairly extensive toy and gift assortment. Every year they would trot out a Lionel train layout and have it in their front window. There I could see it run and enviously eye it. The closest I ever got to having an electric train was looking at the brochures that the Lionel and American Flyer companies would send out gratis to an advertisement in the American Boy magazine. This magazine was one of the two principal boy’s magazines of my youth — the other being Boys’ Life. It was I think a merger or a continuation of the Youth’s Companion of my mother’s early days on the Peterson farm. I suppose the subscription I had was a victim of the Depression as I don’t recall having it after the move to the farm. There was a substitute for me in the subscription that the Woodard boys had for Boys’ Life, but more about that later.

The firm of Martindale and Tedford was a less impressive business. Tedford I think more or less ran the store and Martindale was the man who took care of the plumbing end of the business, doing the field work and was seldom in the store. One of my most vivid memories of Tedford was with respect to the principal barber shop in Gowrie. One Saturday evening (this was before the move to the farm) I accompanied my father when he drove to town to work on the Johnson bookkeeping, for the purpose of getting a haircut. The barber shop, like all of the businesses on a Saturday evening was a busy place. Tedford had chosen this time for a leisurely shave and haircut. The assembled potential customers moved slowly in order through the three operating barber chairs and I recall how impatient I was at the slow progress of things. Tedford of course occupied a disproportionately long time which is probably why I remember him particularly. Perhaps this experience is the cause of my ingrained aversion to waiting in a barber shop for a haircut.

The Gowrie barber had four chairs but one was seldom if ever used. The chair nearest the door to the shop was serviced by Bert Gardner who was probably the slowest barber I have ever encountered. Next came the empty chair and then the two chairs where Walt and Ross Plotner were the barbers.

The barber also had a bathtub facility in a back room and I recall seeing old Ed Plotner come in on a Saturday evening for his weekend bath. One of his brothers would take time off from his haircutting to draw the bath for Ed, provide him with some bath towels and then Ed would plod into the bathroom and disappear from view. Ed was a bachelor — I don’t know where he lived but presumably he did not have access to a bathtub. Ed was the maintenance at the Gowrie cemetery and I suppose that he dug all the graves. A short stooped man of uncertain age, I don’t recall ever hearing him speak a word. Even when he came in for his Saturday evening bath any communication with his brothers seemed to be by empathy, not a word was spoken.

I wonder in retrospect if the bathroom facility at the barber shop was a carryover from Gowrie’s early days when more homes did not have bathrooms and it was more widely used by the citizenry. Although the Plotner shop was the principal barber shop in Gowrie (haircuts for adults were 40 cents — I believe the price went down to 25 cents during the Depression) there was for a time a shop in one of the two old buildings that were at onetime hotels. That building was located half a block from the M and St. L tracks — kitty corner from the town water tower to the southwest. Along the front of the building was a long open porch and the barber shop was in the northeast corner on the ground floor, just off the porch. Here however haircuts were 15 cents and I had a haircut there once or twice.

The other old hotel in Gowrie was just across the street from the Leader store and was known as the Munday hotel. It was less impressive structurally than the other hotel but appeared to have more use — not any more from transients but rather from longer term residents.

Here I must make a correction — there was a third barber shop, Asperson’s. Where the Plotners tended to be Methodists (Bert Gardner was a Congregationalist but the church had ceased functioning by the time I was old enough to be aware of it) Asperson was nominally a Lutheran. My uncle Carl, thinking to encourage anyone who was a Lutheran, tried out the Asperson shop but put it on his blacklist when Asperson told an off-color story to him during the course of a haircut.

The two hotels were certainly forlorn relics of the days of passenger trains through Gowrie and the need for some sort of accommodations for passengers staying overnight or changing railroads.

Although I, and I suppose my brothers, had intermittent contact with the local barber shops I, and we, also had haircuts at the hands of my mother. Doubtless this was one of the economies to better utilize the financial resources of the family. My mother was not particularly adept with the hand clippers she used, and on occasion was not pleased with the outcome of her efforts. I did not like the occasional tugs at my hair when the clippers were used less than expertly by my mother. I suppose that Clarice and Vivian had haircuts using only scissors.

Another vivid memory I have relative to my hair was the periodic fine-tooth combing to remove dandruff. This painful abrasion preceded having one’s hair washed — which occurred less frequently than the weekly Saturday evening bath.

Carl Johnson and Family

The IGA store was operated by Carl F. Johnson and his wife — they were parents of Everette Johnson, who was in my class at school and at church and with whom I played on occasion. Everette was an only child and one of the upstairs rooms of their home was filled with a collection of toys which I am sure raised envy in my youthful mind.



Everette Johnson, high school graduation, 1938

The IGA store was first located on the north side of the main street in Gowrie in a rather ramshackle building but it later moved across the street to a more substantial brick building. After our move to the farm and the decline in the fortunes of the Leader store, most of the family grocery shopping was done at the IGA store. On Saturdays it was a bustling hive of activity and this pace continued on through the evening until close to midnight. Mrs. Johnson served as a clerk in the store, and despite the late hour in the store on Saturday nights invariably showed up on Sunday morning to sing in the church choir. Her husband seldom if ever made an appearance at the Sunday morning service. I don’t recall seeing Everette ever working in the store but I suppose he may have.

Earlier on before we left for the farm the store employed a Leonard Anderson who was a good friend of the Duane Anderson of the Leader store. One year after the Leader store acquired their little Model A delivery truck, the two young men used it on a trip out west — I suppose to Yellowstone, etc. and I suppose they slept in the vehicle.

One of my remembrances of Carl F. was on a winter morning when I was waiting in the store perhaps having finished the Saturday morning Confirmation class instruction. For some reason he needed to go outside the store for a brief errand but he wouldn’t go without getting his hat and putting it on his head. He made some remark that at his age he wasn’t about to go out in the cold without a hat even briefly. I recall thinking at the time that such an attitude was silly, but now being older and wiser consider that he was quite right.

As far as grades were concerned Everette was my closest competition in school. I can recall my mother mentioning that Mrs. Johnson had remarked to her rather plaintively that despite Everette’s efforts he didn’t match my record gradewise.

I have all my report cards from high school days — when I looked at them I noted my record was rather spotty, particularly in the earlier grades. Arithmetic and spelling I excelled in, but not some of the other subjects. It wasn’t really until high school that a more consistent level of achievement was reached and even there the situation improved in later years. This pattern of achievement continued into junior college, but at the University of Iowa the performance sequence of high school was repeated, with improved performance in my second year there.

The Luther Anderson Family and the Leader Grocery Store

The commercial business establishments in Gowrie included several grocery stores, two hardware stores, one movie theater, several gas stations, four car dealers (one in conjunction with a farm implement dealership), two farm implement dealers, one lumber yard (although the Farmers’ Coop also marketed building material on a small scale), one jewelry store, a bakery (off and on, it seemed to lapse periodically and them revive), a couple of meat markets, the post office of course, two doctors, one dentist, two banks (one of which failed during the Depression), two drug stores, and an assortment of smaller miscellaneous shops and businesses.

Early on the two main grocery stores were the Leader store, which my parents patronized for the most part and the IGA store (Independent Grocers Alliance). The present day single grocery store in Gowrie grew out of the Carr grocery store which started up probably sometime in the 1930s. The Leader store was located near the west end of the business district, sort of off by itself and this disadvantageous location may have contributed to its demise in the Depression. A more likely factor in my opinion was the lower level of business of the proprietor. In addition to the grocery part of the store, it had initially also a dry goods section and this was still operating in the later 1920s. This part of the store was the first part to dwindle and die.

The store was owned by Luther Anderson, but most of the actual work in the store was done by three of his children, all unmarried at the time. Marion and Pearl served as clerks and Duane was the delivery person (using a small Model A Ford panel truck). Home delivery was a feature of the Leader store and this feature may have been the deciding one in my mother choosing to use it. She would simply call up the store for what she wanted and within a couple of hours the order would be delivered at the back door step.

For my parents, feeding a growing family was a very significant cost, the figure sticking in my mind is $40/month which was about one-third of my father’s monthly pay of $125/month. Service at the Leader store as at the IGA store was not self-service. One approached the counter, the clerk would take the order, assemble etc. The grocery bill was carried on credit, at least in the case of my parents and was paid once a month I suppose.

The Andersons were active in the Lutheran church with both Marion and Pearl singing in the choir. Duane was the only son and the youngest of the children. I can recall once when we had moved to the farm that my mother instructed me to go to the Leader store for some item at the meat counter. Duane was in the store and when I asked him for the item he replied rather despondently that they were out of it. I’m sure at the time the store was in the last stages of operation and it wasn’t too long before it went out of business.

I mentioned that the Leader store did at one time have a dry goods section. I can recall when the closeout sale was held and my mother bought several items that she would use in her sewing for the household. Although my mother did sewing she did not like to do it but felt that the family economy dictated that she needed to do so. I believe I forgot to mention when I was describing the businesses in Gowrie that there was one clothing store which also sold shoes. And there were two barbershops, one with four chairs on the main street and the other with a single chair in one of the old hotel buildings in the town. When I was young they were not inhabited by travelers but by permanent residents.

Local Businesses

Along with the elevators as a basis for the marketing of farm products and thus a mainstay of Gowrie’s economy were such enterprises as Armour’s which bought and processed chickens and purchased eggs, Blomgren’s produce (again the Blomgres from whom my parents bought the little brown house) which also bought poultry and eggs, the Gowrie Creamery which bought cream from the farmers in the vicinity and Lizer’s sales pavilion which conducted auction disposal of farm livestock.

During Gowrie’s early history and continuing into the 1930s, the farmers in the area typically maintained chicken and cows for eggs, milk and meat (hogs also) and the excess production of these items served to augment the grain and livestock sales as the farm family income. My parents, along with a substantial fraction of the Gowrie residents also kept chickens and a cow or two for their own household use primarily. Those who did not secured milk from the Forsmark dairy — I think there was a second dairy but my memory is hazy about this.

The Armour plant was located alongside the M and St. L tracks, probably to facilitate shipment of the processed chickens and the eggs to outside markets — it was just opposite the city water tower and about a block north of the principal business street in Gowrie. I can recall going to Armour’s to purchase a dozen of cull eggs for 10 cents/dozen during the darker days of the Depression while the family was still living in Gowrie.

The Gowrie Creamery was located sort of at the east end of the business district and in its heyday made both butter and ice cream. In earlier times I think the farmers actually brought their cream to the creamy themselves, later on two or three individuals had creamery routes in the countryside collecting the cans of cream. I can recall lugging the five-gallon can of cream out to the roadside to be collected. Mostly the cream was sour by the time it reached the creamery — those were the days before widespread refrigeration and government regulation on production facilities.

I have a vivid memory of going into the cool moist interior of the Gowrie Creamery and being enveloped in the sweet smell of cream, ice cream and butter being churned. The ice cream was marketed by the creamery in two- or three-gallon containers which were packed in an ice/salt mixture which in turn was held in a green wooden barrel-like container. This was pretty heavy by that time and had two large metal handles for carrying and transport.

I can well remember these containers at such events as the Fourth of July celebration or the annual Sunday School picnic of the Lutheran church. Mostly the creamery made vanilla ice cream but on occasion they did make strawberry and I think chocolate. Although we did produce enough cream, later on when we were on the farm, to sell cream to the creamery, there was a period when we made butter ourselves from the cream we produced. I cam remember sitting on the screen porch at the back of the farmhouse turning the little butter churn. When we sold cream, a portion was taken back in payment as butter.

Rural Electrification

Another similar hamlet was the town of Crooks (also known by the more elegant name of Palm Grove). This place was located adjacent the interurban tracks, about 5 or 6 miles east and north of the Peterson farm. I think the elevator there is still in use, perhaps as part of one of the larger cooperatives that have been formed in recent years by the merger of several smaller firms or coops.

The interurban is an electrified railroad and I suppose it carried freight as well as passengers. Like the M and St. L it was still offering passenger service as late as the early 1940s. Once or twice when I came back home from school at Iowa City I used the interurban between Des Moines and Harcourt (where my father or some other member of the family picked me up). Between Iowa City and Des Moines I had to use a bus line.

The electric service provided by the interurban line was the source of the electricity at the Peterson farm. At least initially, later the power came from Gowrie. A group of farmers in the area of the Peterson farm had joined together, I suppose in the 1910s and formed a cooperative to supply themselves with electricity. They put up the lines, connected up with the interurban, and ran the system themselves. Later on they hooked up with the municipal plant in Gowrie.

Grandfather Strand’s farm did not have electric service until in the 1930s when the rural electrification system of the Roosevelt years made it possible. Anton Holmer was a guiding light in achieving this as he was renting grandfather Strand’s farm at the time.

I can remember family visits to the Holmer household in which a kerosene lantern or a more modern adaptation (such as a Coleman lantern) were brought and used towards dusk. I can also remember uncle Reuben’s house which had been wired for electricity at the time it was built (probably in the 1910s) and did not get electricity until the 1930s.

Uncle Reuben with his usual lack of business acumen built expensive buildings (house, barn, corn crib, maybe other buildings) as he started farming. This financial impediment doubtless dogged him during most of his farming career, along with his typically poor continuing financial misadventures and lack of foresight and control. I think his decision to build the expensive buildings was the result of the boom in farm income occasioned by WWI. What he did not foresee was the diminished income of the 1920s when a more normal farm economy resumed.

My father and uncle Reuben had together bought the nucleus of the Reuben Strand farm before uncle Reuben had married and started farming. My father about that time gave title to the land to his brother, assuming the indebtedness taken on by his brother. He should never have done this but either split the property or insisted on joint tenancy. That way my father would have had the income all those years when uncle Reuben was simply benefiting from the arrangement.

Grain Elevators and the Local Economy

While the little brown house was relatively close to my grandfather’s residence, my grandmother’s house was two-thirds to three-quarters of the way across the longer dimension of the town of Gowrie. Gowrie stretched for just a mile or so (in our early days in the little brown house) along an east-west orientation. Its width north and south was considerably less and varied from a block or s block and a half at the east and west extremities to perhaps four blocks at its widest point (or I suppose for half a mile or so at most). The widest point was at the M and St. L tracks as they passed north and south through the town. The CNW ran east and west more or less along or slightly south of the town proper.

The town economy had as one of its mainstays the marketing of farm products and secondly of providing food and manufactured items to the residents and to the farming families in the vicinity. The main farm product was grain (corn and oats). Soybeans came in during the 1930s and has displaced oats as a grain crop. What grain wasn’t used on the farms for livestock food was sold to one of the several grain elevators in Gowrie (or depending on the location of the farm in one of the nearby communities).

During my childhood days in Gowrie there were four elevators though operation of two of them was not continuous. The two principal elevators were those belonging to the Farmers’ Cooperative and to a private entrepreneur by the name of Bruntlett. Actually the latter business had been inherited by Bruntlett’s wife from her father by name of Bomberger. In the early 1930a Bruntlett was operating the elevator though Bomberger may still have owned it. The inheritance by Bruntlett’s wife may have come later on. Bomberger during this period was one of the county supervisors and I think it was through his intervention that my father got his work in the county treasurer’s office.

My scanty recollection of Bomberger was of a short, rather overweight elderly man with a rather gruff or brusque manner. Again my vague recollection is that his wife was reputed to be a very congenial person. Bruntlett was the sort of individual with more bluster than ability. He was one of the American Legion coterie.

Both the Farmers’ Coop and Bruntlett’s were located near the intersection of the CNW and Mt and St. L railroads. The two other elevators with less impressive facilities were adjacent to the Mt and St. L tracks, one of them being right off the main street in Gowrie, the other about a block north.

The latter was later acquired by the Johnson lumber company (for whom my father worked for part-time for years and which he ended up working full-time in his later working years) probably sometime in the later 1930s. When they acquired it they asked my father if he wanted to manage it, perhaps recalling that at one time he had worked at the Farmers’ Coop (this was before he went to work at the bank). As I recall he considered it for a while but decided against it, perhaps because deciding that he didn’t really have the experience of the temperament for the buying and selling of grain. How long the Johnson firm operated the elevator I don’t know.

The last elevator was the least impressive of them all and though I think it operated during my childhood it had ceased operation early on. Eventually I think the structure was acquired by the Johnson lumber company also whose property abutted it, but it was only used for storage, etc.

I think on of the two latter elevators had been operated and owned by one Pirie. Competing with the Gowrie elevators were the elevators in the adjacent communities. Some of these communities were very small — perhaps not more than half a dozen families (maybe even that number was on the high side). One of these was the little hamlet of Lena which was located on the M and St. L tracks about a mile south of the main part of my grandfather Strand’s farm. I think my uncle Reuben’s farm extended close to it. It had an elevator and because of the convenience I’m sure my grandfather and my uncle Reuben used it to market their farm products.

The elevator has been inoperative for years now but the associated buildings are used for a fertilizer supply business. During my visits to Iowa I have sketched the old elevator and I have made one watercolor of it. Now (2004) it is gone, burned down as an exercise for the Gowrie fire department. Sad. During WWI there was a grocery operating in Lena run by one “old man” Klippel. Sugar was scarce during the war and my mother was able to get a 100 lb. sack from Mr. Klippel to augment her supply. Whether this was a favor, an oversight or simply negligent behavior on Klippel’s part I don’t know.

As I wrote the old elevator in Lena was a picturesque object for sketching. Vincent’s wife Jean has said that their son Joel and his friends used to get inside and climb to the top of the abandoned structure — I guess to Jean’s consternation.

Transients

While I am on the subject of the city park, I should not forget to mention that occasionally there would be a group of gypsies who would camp in the park for varying lengths of time. Whether they needed to get permission from the town authorities I don’t know. As children we were cautioned to steer clear of any contact with them.

The transient population of Gowrie included not only the gypsies, such people as those tenting in the vacant lots to the east of the little brown house in the Depression years, but also hobos or tramps. The latter were doubtless brought into town by the rail traffic through Gowrie, and I’d guess that at the present time there are few if any around. During their stay in Gowrie they tended to inhabit a sort of informal camp pr hobo jungle which was located behind the Armour chicken, egg and cream plant which in turn was located just across from the M and St. L tracks from the city water tower.

I have a vague recollection of having viewed the hobo encampment but I’m sure we had been instructed, or it was tacitly understood, to stay clear of the area. Whether the place was on railroad property or on city property that included an adjacent golf course I don’t know.

It was a fairly common occurrence for one of these tramps to knock on the back door of town residences asking for a free meal. I’m sure this occurred both for us at the little brown house and at my grandmother’s house. From what I’ve heard the request for food might be accompanied by the offer of some labor in return but this was never accepted by my mother or grandmother. Rumor had it that the hobo fraternity had an informal way of designating places where a free handout was possible or likely. I don’t know as to the validity of this.

The closest contact I ever had with a transient came not with one of the tramps staying or passing through Gowrie, but rather a fellow student at Fort Dodge Junior College. If I can believe what he told me, he had “ridden the rails” out to the West Coast and as I recall related some of his experiences. He was the kind of brash, adventuresome character that would have been attracted to this kind of activity. In the Depression years with the associated idleness of young men, thia activity might have been a likely possibility. I didn’t know this individual well and I can’t know recall his name. I think he came from the Fort Dodge area.

Junior Drum and Bugle Corps

As I mentioned the American Legion marching band participated in the parades on Memorial Day and on the Fourth. The legion also had a junior drum and bugle corps. When it started I believe that participation was restricted to children of the veterans (male, that is in the prevailing chauvinistic milieu). However, sometime along there weren’t enough recruits thus available so it was opened up to all the boys of the community.

When it was started there was more competition for playing the drums than the bugles but when I joined there were drummer slots open and that is what I got. I suppose that I was in the band for three or four years. When I stopped I don’t really remember but I think I was out of it by the 7th grade. There was a weekly practice I suppose mostly during the summer months. But I recall indoor practices also which would indicate spring or fall. The summer practices would be on the city golf course and would precede the practice by the adult group.

The adult band was a quite disciplined and competent band and I believe they ranked high in the annual state competition. The junior corps was mostly a “fun” thing. It would go on what was called “booster” trips touting the Fourth of July celebration (which was wholly or in part sponsored by the local American Legion unit as a fund-raising activity). We would drive around to the communities surrounding Gowrie, parade up and down the main streets performing musically, drumming up interest in the celebration on the Fourth. Along with the adult band we would play and march on Memorial Day and on the Fourth of July. I recall once also an excursion to Fort Dodge for some kind of event.

The adult band had fancy, tailored uniforms, the junior group used white shirts and pants, white sailor caps and a red sash around the waist. I think I have a snapshot somewhere of me and Robert Blomgren in our uniforms, I with my drum and he with his bugle. Robert was one of the two children (he, the elder) of the Blomgrens from whom my parents bought the little brown house. The instruments we used were provided by the local American Legion unit and consisted in part of hand-me-downs from the adult band. I don’t think I was ever assigned one of the more elegant drums.



[Note: The handwritten caption underneath identifies the two boys as Carl and Harris, thus indicating that the second boy is Harris Magnuson, not Robert Blomgren.]

The junior corps was under the tutelage of one “Shawn” Peterson, a rather pump and amiable person. His occupation was to run the switch tower where the CNW and M and St. L railroads intersected south of Gowrie proper. I guess that it is a commentary on the relative significance of rail traffic in Gowrie even as late as the mid-1930s. That is, the need for continual supervision at the intersection point. One of my recollections from the booster trips was one time we were riding between towns with the M and St. L station agent. He had a Model A Ford and he managed to get up to 60 mph — it was the fastest I had ever gone in my young life up to that point. How safe it was on the gravel roads of the time is another question.

Gowrie City Park and Band Concerts

The Gowrie city park comprised one whole city block and as I’ve indicated was located about half a block from the little brown house. When we lived there it had a goodly number of graceful elms, which I understand have now fallen victim to the Dutch elm disease and are now gone. There were also quite a few elms in the eastern part of the town. I suppose that now, maples and oaks provide most of the trees in the park.

The park is traversed by two paths, more or less crossing from corner to the opposite corner. In the center of the park was the band shell and in from of it the seats for the summer band concerts. The band shell faced south, there was a small extending apron. The exterior was stucco. The building had two (four?) pillar-like appendages at the side of the front and these had sockets for light bulbs which were never used in them. The interior had a couple of stepped-up areas from front to rear on which the band would sit while performing. The walls and ceiling were a robin’s egg blue. By the middle 1990s the structure had deteriorated and the old shell was either town down (or possibly it was burned) and a replacement was built.

I think there was a town band initially but I don’t know how it was organized or supported. Later on, after a band program was started in the Gowrie school, I think the school band was the nucleus for the band performing in the park. Occasionally I think the Karl King band from Fort Dodge would perform.

I don’t recall how long the concert season was, but I suppose it was just the summer months. Before we moved to the Peterson farm, we children would usually attend the band concerts, oftentimes with a nickel for a sack of popcorn. The popcorn was produced by two small portable machines with their little kerosene-fired poppers. I can’t recall either of my parents attending the weekly concerts, perhaps it was an activity which they felt they could not spare the time for. My father would have enjoyed them — they were typically mostly march selections which he liked.

The band shell was also the focus of programs and observances on Memorial Day and the Fourth of July. The Memorial Day program would include a procession in which the American Legion marching band would lead the way to the cemetery west of town. There would be a closing ceremony there with a ritual volley of rifle fire at the end. Then people would place flowers on the graves, both of the servicemen but also of relatives.

The Fourth of July program was more extensive and in addition to a parade would include a band concert and a talk by some state or county political figure. The park was also the site of a carnival on the Fourth, the rides and sideshows arriving about a week before the Fourth and leaving directly after. The rides usually included a merry-go-round, a ferris wheel, and some other whirling device. I was much taken by watching them put up and I guess I was allowed to watch this, with proper cautions. The Fourth celebrations were well attended by people from neighboring towns and the countryside and the poor park grass was trampled and littered afterward. I recall collecting as many different kinds of pop-bottle top caps as I could find in the aftermath of the celebration.

Mel Rosene

Across the street from Nellie’s house to the east resided Mel Rosene and his wife. They were childless. Mel made a living as an insurance agent or representative — but as in the case of Mollie and Albert I wonder if there was some sort of financial asset that wasn’t evident, such as might have come from a family estate. I think I have heard that the older Rosenes had been farmers so there could have been some property somewhere.

Mel, like Albert was a man of substantial stature, with an imposing facade at waist level — they weren’t fat, just imposing. Two vivid memories I have of the period when Mel and his wife lived across from Nellie. The property had a small barn and it burned down with considerable smoke, flames and neighborhood excitement. I can’t recall the time of day but I think it was early morning. Mel used the barn for his goats which supplied them with milk. It seems to be from this transitory brush with goat husbandry that I became aware that goats are milked from behind rather than from the side as in the case of a cow. Whether I ever saw Mel milking his goats I don’t recall but it would have been an interesting picture. This large, imposing rather austere individual stooped down behind a goat milking it.

The other vivid memory was of the time Mel arranged to have two large cottonwood trees cut down. Perhaps he thought they were a hazard in being subject to being blown down on his house. The trees were to the west of Mel’s house along the road so they were quite visible from the little brown house. The cutting down was done on a day which turned out to be increasingly windy and stormy as it progressed. I think one of the trees was felled and the workmen were in the last stages of cutting down the second tree late in the afternoon. They intended it to fall in a certain way and had ropes pulling it in that direction, but the developing wind was too strong and it fell in another direction. I guess it missed the house but the situation was rather scary for a while. Later on Mel sold the house and it was purchased and fixed up as a funeral home. But it was never a very prosperous business.

Still later Mel bought the vacant lot between us and Nellie’s and had a home and a garage built on it (although he never had a car). They were residing there I believe when we moved to the Peterson farm. My mother worried a little at having them for such close neighbors — they (Mel and his wife) were “finicky” people about their house, lot and belongings and I suppose she wondered if we children would be an annoyance to them in our play. But there was never any trouble.

While I am on the subject of the Rosenes I must not forget that two of the sisters of the family lived just across the park from Albert and Mollie. One was married to Carl Magnusson, a longtime clerk at the clothing store in Gowrie; they two like Mel and his wife were childless. The other sister was married to Frank Lindquist, who was president of the bank where my father worked until the Depression. They had one son, Maurice. To my knowledge, Mel, Albert, Mollie, and the other two sisters produced one descendant in the next generation.

Mollie and Albert Rosene

Beyond Nellie Scott’s house, across the street to the south lived Mollie and Albert Rosene — unmarried brother and sister. Their house at the time lacked indoor plumbing of the toilet variety and their outhouse was one of the targets of Halloween escapades. I dimly recall seeing it in a tipped-over state on the morning-after one year. The house I believe had been the home of their parents and on their death the two of them just continued living in the house that they grew up in.

Albert had at one time worked for the railroad on the track maintenance crew, but when I was aware of him he no longer worked at that trade. He had a large yard and garden and that serve to keep him occupied. He also spent time caring for the city park which was just across the street from the Rosene house. Care of the park consisted primarily of mowing the grass during the summer months. But Albert spent considerable time grubbing out quite a few tree stumps left over from the activities of his predecessor on the job, one Griffee. I seem to recall Albert telling me that Griffee merely cut down the trees for firewood. Albert never, or hardly ever appeared in anything other than his everyday clothes of overalls and chambray shirt — I think I saw him once at some church function where he was wearing a hat dating back to the 1920s or even earlier.

Mollie was less of a homebody and often participated in a vocal duet at the church we attended with Anna Blomgren (the Blomgrens had the lot which formed part of the path between the little brown house and grandfather Strand’s house). Mollie was the alto in the duet, Anna was the soprano. Mollie was relatively tall and thin, Ann was short and fat.

I can remember being in the Rosene house. Once I was there at some sort of women’s church function (I think it was) and we were in the front room or parlor. There was a player piano in the parlor and in the course of the afternoon Mollie operated it. I was entranced.

Mollie and Albert subscribed to the Sunday paper (the Des Moines Register and Tribune) which we did not. When they finished with the paper they would give it to us children and I at least was enthralled by the colored comic section. I can recall going in the kitchen of the Rosene home and Mollie getting the paper to give it to me. Whether I was the only one of us to actually get the paper from them I don’t know. I also have an extremely dim recollection that we as a family were invited once to a meal at the Rosenes’.

Buildings, Farm and Town

To the east of the little brown house (across the street) were several undeveloped lots. These were areas in which I can recall playing as a child. There were trees, long grass, remains of tall weeds. One of these lots was behind the residence of on Anton Byers. His house was of interest because it was the house (according to my brother Vincent) that uncle Carl used as sort of a model for my grandmother’s house in town. It was built in the middle of the 1910s.

One of the impressions I have received from my mother was that my grandfather Peterson sort of retired from any active work, upkeep, development of the farm and the buildings in the last decade of his life. As I may have mentioned already his daily exercise was to pump water at the lower well for the livestock.

During this period those of his sons who were at home did the farm work and my impression is that they may have been involved in the actual construction of some of the farm buildings and in the tiling of the farm. It is certain that they participated in the design in some cases. For example the corn crib had an inside elevator that uncle Carl designed and constructed himself. Most of the arm in the vicinity had the usual outside elevator.

As the other sons left the farm uncle Carl took over the management and in this role he played an important part in the design of the house in town. The main difference I see between my grandfather Peterson and any of his sons was that in economic planning he had more foresight and better judgment. I suspect this may have been due to the much broader geographical and social contact that my grandfather had in the years before his marriage. Uncle Carl’s outlook was limited in range and limited in vision and the capacity for assessment. The experiences that my grandfather had broadened his horizon which was restricted in his children, at least the older ones.

A few of the buildings on the farm such as the hog house and the sales pavilion (which uncle Carl had converted into a tool shed) were the evidences of my uncle Serenus’ ill-considered attempt to enter the pure-bred hog business.

I wrote that the lots to the east of the little brown house were undeveloped at the time we lived in Gowrie before the move to the farm. That does not mean that they were uninhabited during that time. At some time, I suppose it was in the early 1930s in the days of the Depression there was a family that camped in the area. I don’t recall how long they were there but I’m sure it was for several months — certainly long enough to impress the occurrence on my recollection. I speculate that it was only during the late spring, summer and early fall months; I can’t picture a family residing in a tent in Gowrie during the winter. There were one or two children in the family and we had some superficial contact with the family.

Abouts Cows and Bulls

Back to the subject of cows. Periodically my father would need to take our cow to be bred and on at least one occasion I recall wondering what was going on. I suppose he led the cow out to a farm near the west end of the town where the farmer kept a bull. I do not remember ever discussing sexual matters with either of my parents. On the occasion of my father taking the cow to be bred I seem to recall asking about the event but only an evasive answer was forthcoming. I suspect that since both of my parents grew up on a farm they learned about the subject by witnessing what happened to farm animals. Without realizing that their children did not have this background they simply sidestepped the issue by indirection.

When I became aware of the difference between the sexes I’m not sure but it was after my fourth grade in school. What I learned was from other children at school in a haphazard and clandestine way. I recall a few incidents that I did not understand the import of at the time which over a period of time fell into a consistent pattern. By the time I was in the eighth grade I was aware of all the essential information.

When we were on the farm we had to note when the cows were in “heat” and then we were instructed where the cow should be taking for breeding. A cow in heat tries to act as a bull with the other cows trying to mount them. Farmers kept a bull only when they had enough cows to warrant the expense and the three farmsteads of which we were one (we, the Lines and the Woodard places) didn’t have enough cows. The nearest bull was at Vic Telleen’s farm about a quarter of a mile to the east of the Peterson farm. But I remember excursions to either Ernest Anderson’s or Ralph Carlon’s which were twice as far away or more.

When there were several cows it is easy to detect when a cow is in hear from its actions relative to the other cows — I still don’t know how to tell if there is only the single animal as was the case at the little brown house.

A bull can be a dangerous animal. Ernest Anderson died as a result of an encounter with the bull he kept.

Paper Dolls

Writing about paper dolls reminds that this was a childhood play activity in the Strand household. Clarice, Vivian and I participated actively — I don’t really remember if my three younger brothers did. The source of the paper dolls was not magazines such as Nellie Scott subscribed to but rather outdated editions of mail order catalogs — Sears, Montgomery Ward, and Bellas Hess. We would cut out not only the appropriate dolls in various dress, but also appurtenances such as furniture, toys etc. What we did in playing with them I really don’t remember, but the cutting out, laying them out and picking them up I surely do.



page from Sears catalog, about 1920



page from Bellas Hess catalog, 1926

My mother was a steady customer of all three mail-order firms but mostly Sears and secondarily Montgomery Ward. The arrival of her order was always an event to be looked forward to, as was also the coming of a new batch of catalogs.

Nellie Scott

I have some rather vivid recollections of being in Nellie Scott’s home. She was not as neat a housekeeper as my mother and the little table in her kitchen was always littered with traces of the last meal — crumbs etc. — with the ubiquitous salt and pepper shakers always in evidence. These were always put away in the cupboard after the meal was over at home.

Nellie had the kind of stereopticon device for viewing pictures that gives the illusion of depth perception and she let us look at these.



Stereopticon viewer

She subscribed to a women’s magazine called the Delineator http://www.magazineart.org/magazines/d/delineator.html as I seem to remember and this magazine contained a page (I guess in each issue) of cut-out paper dolls. She let us have these after she had read the reverse of the page. The reverse never contained any advertising material.



Cover of Delineator magazine, December 1931

Nellie was a small, stooped lady, I suppose that she suffered from osteoporosis although at that time I don’t think it was recognized for what it was. Her relatives sort of “sponged” on her particularly in times of economic stress as during the Depression years. I don’t know what she lived on. Eventually she lost her home (sometime after our family moved to the Peterson farm). She lived out her days in a sort of ramshackle house at the west end of town. She apparently died in her sleep maybe from hypothermia. Anyway somebody noticed she wasn’t being seen and investigated. This I have secondhand as I had left Iowa by then.

Early Memories

I find that I have very few recollections that I can attach to the time in my life before I was six years old and starting school. In a way I attribute this to the rather routine tenor of my parents’ home and marriage — largely centered on the same work pattern, home and church activities, and contact with relatives from one week to the next throughout the year. Our nearest neighbor was Nellie Scott, a spinster of uncertain age, who lived on the other side of a vacant lot to the south of us. Clarice and I were allowed to visit Nellie in her home and it was from her that Clarice and I first picked up English and later supplanted our rudimentary Swedish with the English language.

I think that my parents must have used Swedish a lot in their home conversation early in their marriage and it was doubtless the first language that Clarice and I were exposed to. Clarice, being 18 months older than I, had a longer exposure to the Swedish language than I did at this early age, and consequently could understand it better later on. I was too young and retained only a very little understanding of the language.

Usually my mother would speak in Swedish with her mother, all during my grandmother’s life. My grandmother could of course speak English, and wrote a little, but she was more “at home” in the Swedish language. When Swedish was spoken I could sort of sense the tenor of the conversation and certain phrases such as “thank you” and “you are welcome” are still well known to me.

I have one recollection which was certainly from a pre-school age. It involved Vincent who is four years younger than I. He was sitting in a high chair — this also seems to be connected with the kitchen before the sunroom was added which would be inconsistent with my impression as to when the sunroom was built or simply incorrect. It must have been in the spring of the year as there were baby chicks in the back yard (whether nursery chicks or from a setting hen I don’t remember) and the rest of the family including my mother and father were outside inspecting them. I had been instructed to stay with Vincent to see that he was all right but intrigued by what was going on outside I went to see the new chicks also. Well the upshot was that Vincent fell out of the high chair. I don’t recall to what extent I was reprimanded or punished. Apparently Vincent was not injured.

About Cows and Milking

The little brown house was located on a fairly good-sized lot, I suppose it was at least 100 feet by 100 feet, perhaps larger. Later on after a cow was acquired, the lot to the north was purchased, fenced in and this served as a summer pasture for the cow and also a yard for the chickens. Still later, probably in the 1940s, a band of lots to the west of the house lot, pasture and the neighbors to the south was purchased at a tax sale (i.e., the county taxes had not been paid and the lots were sold by the county to recover the taxes). One reason for this I believe was that the lot directly behind the house lot was infested with “quack” grass which kept invading my father’s garden.

These lots were lower in elevation and suffered from a drainage problem. On one occasion my uncle Carl either took it upon himself or perhaps my mother sort of asked him to ascertain the trouble with the drainage tile. At any rate my father on finding out what was going on invited him to leave. There was always sort of a simmering antipathy between the two men which had been exacerbated by my dad working for uncle Carl in the first years on the farm. Somehow or other I happened on the scene, perhaps I was back on vacation as I’m sure the incident happened after my parents moved back to the little brown house.

After this move to Gowrie my folks no longer had a cow. The pasture and the low-lying lots were planted in field corn — by then Vincent was farming and I think he did the plowing and planting though my dad went through the fields and did the weed control.

While I am on the subject of cows, I should mention that to the north of the property that my parents had, and extending in a large L-shaped area (the western side of the L extending south along the road at the west end of Gowrie) was what was known as the “Lindquist’s pasture.” This was used during the spring, summer and fall months as pasturage for the cows belonging to various Gowrie residents, who like my folks kept a cow for one reason or another. My dad used this pasture on occasion, perhaps before he had his own pasture.

The cows in the pasture varied in temperament, the most unlikable being one with homes belonging to a certain Moberg. This cow was involved in a confrontation with an elderly man, who as I recall was either seriously injured or died from the attack. When the cow that my dad had was “fresh” — i.e. had just had a calk so that her milk output was high, there was more milk than the family could use. The extra milk was sold to nearby neighbors, and I can recall carrying the milk in gallon tin pails (molasses and corn syrup cam originally in these pails) to the Sellestroms, the Braggs (?), and one other family whose name I cannot now recall. I can still see Mrs. Sellestrom carefully emptying the tin pail into her own containers, being particular to get the last drop of milk. The tin pail had a lip at the top so she had to shake the pail to get the last drops out.

Milk was also supplied to my grandfather Strand and aunt Hulda, who was keeping house for him. When we took the milk over to his house we followed a rout north to the Albert Blomgren residence, across their lot to the back of my grandfather’s chicken yard and thence to his house, being careful to close all the gates. The Albert Blomgrens were the people from whom my parents bought the little brown house — why they sold it and moved to an older home (which may not have had indoor plumbing of the toilet variety) I ha

The route to my grandfather’s could have taken a route south along the west side of the city park and thence north along the main street through the town. This route was proscribed by my mother however — I think she had an overly protective and restrictive desire to control the activities of her offspring at least at an early age. While there was a plenitude of milk when the cow was fresh, there was a dearth when the next calving was imminent. Then my parents bought milk from the local dairy and I can recall the array of glass quart bottles that were delivered morning and evening.

While we lived in Gowrie before the move to the farm, all the milking of the cow was done by my father. In the morning he would dress for his work at the bank, but put on a set of coveralls while he did the milking and other chores. He didn’t wear a suit to the bank, rather instead of a suit coat he would wear a dark blue sweater (button type) of a close-knitted navy blue fabric. It wasn’t until we were on the farm that my, and my brothers’ milking career began.

Prior to the move to the farm, I can recall only two instances when I was exposed to milking a cow. Once was when my father had one of his worst “sick headaches” and I tried my hand at milking our cow — not too successfully as I recall. The other was once when we visited the Anton Holmer family when Anton was farming my grandfather’s farm. This was on a Sunday and characteristically the visit extended from the noon meal through the afternoon and a lighter early supper. When our family left I stayed behind (to be brought into town later in the evening for some church function) and Arthur (my age) and I participated in the evening milking chores — again not too successfully on my part.

It was during one of out visits with the Holmers that I had my one and only horseback ride of my life. Arthur got out two his father’s work horses and we rode south along the road, about as far as my uncle Reuben’s farm and back. It was not a particularly enjoyable experience for me — it was certainly bareback and I suppose there was a bridle and reins but I have no remembrance of that.

A Windstorm

While my father’s principal employment was at the bank, he was also the part-time bookkeeper for the Johnson Lumber Company. Typically he worked at the bank from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m., with an hour off for lunch. He always walked home for this. Then we would spend about two hours at the lumber company before coming home at about 6 p.m. I have the vague impression that he followed this schedule more rigorously in the winter than in the summer. In the summer months he would more frequently use these late afternoon hours in yard work etc. about the house. A substantial part of the remuneration from this second job was used to pay for the modifications to the house, and also in construction of a small barn, a chicken house, and a playhouse for us children.

The barn was the first of these to be made and contained initially a stall area for the cow we always had, an area for chickens and a garage. Upstairs was a haymow for feed for the cow in the winter. After the chicken house was constructed, the area in the barn that had been used for chickens was converted into a utility area for tools etc. (actually now that I think of it there had been previously a small room for garden tools etc. but this had been expanded to take in the chicken area as well).

The playhouse was quite good-sized, perhaps 12 or 15 feet square, with the top half of the walls being latticework. It ended its existence by being moved out to the Peterson farm after the family moved there and was converted into sort of a secondary chicken house for young chickens.

During a windstorm in my junior year in high school it was picked up and blown against the large hay door of the barn, damaging it (it landed upside down in front of the barn) and the hay door. It occurred during the evening of the annual junior/senior banquet at the high school. This even had the mothers of the junior class preparing and serving the meal so both my mother and I (as I was in the junior class that year) were not at home that evening.

As we were driving home after the banquet, I suppose at about 10 p.m. or so, we passed a farmstead about a mile west of the Peterson farm and slightly to the south. There had been a new barn under construction at the time and the work had progressed to the stage where the rafters had been erected but not as yet firmly tied together. We noticed that the rafters were all blown down, and I think this was the first real indication we had of the storm (at the school house we were more or less insulated from the noise of the wind etc.). When we arrived at home we of course learned of the storm damage. The story was freakish in a way — the playhouse had been lifted up and carried over some electric lines between it and the barn before it had been blown at a lower elevation than the wires against the barn door.

This was also the storm with the barn on the Strand farm was damaged — the path of the storm seemed to be in sort of a northeast direction. The Strand barn was repaired since at that time a barn was still an important farm building. Sometime in the 1980s, after Vincent owned that part of the Strand farm, the barn was again damaged in a windstorm and this time it was simply demolished as the need for it had mostly disappeared.

There seems to have been a “storm track” that tended to funnel storms near the Strand farmstead. I can recall either my father or my grandfather relating the conditions of a tornado in the early 1900s or late 1800s. The family had retreated to the storm cellar, which was entered through an external entrance on the south side of the house. Some member of the family stood in the entrance watching the storm about a mile south of the house and seeing a neighboring farmhouse blown up into the air. I’d guess this had been my grandfather.

Homes

When my parents set up housekeeping after they were married in 1917 they rented a small house about four or five lots west of the home of my grandparents Strand. I’m not sure that I could point it out with certainty but the house that I think it was is a rather unimpressive one-story structure. Rectangular in floor plan, at least that is the impression when it is viewed from the street, it had (has) a porch along the front and perhaps some extension of the porch at the rear.



Naomi and Clarence’s first home

Amongst the old photographs I have is one of my sister Clarice seated on the porch step, and I think this is of the step from the front porch of this house. Several of her little friends are seated along with her.



Clarice and friends

Both Clarice and I were born in this house. The only one of my siblings to be born other than at home was my youngest brother Marold. Sometime in the early 1920s and I’d surmise before my sister Vivian was born, my parents purchased the little brown house — although I seem to recall some comment that it wasn’t brown when they bought it.

Most of the houses in Gowrie at that time were painted white — the only two exceptions were the little brown house and the residence of Art Lindquist, who was half owner of the bank where my father was employed as bookkeeper, which was sort of a brownish tan shade. It was one of the more imposing residences in the town.

Early pictures of the little brown house show it as brown so if it was white originally it was painted shortly after my parents acquired it. I judge the picture to be shortly after the purchase as there is no shrubbery or trees around it. The picture does show the sunroom, an early addition.



The little brown house

The little brown house was modified by my parents, the first change being the addition of the “sun” room on the south side of the house, sort of an extension of the kitchen. I have a vague early impression of the kitchen with a blank wall where the entrance to the sunroom was later placed; whether this impression is real or imagined I’m not at all sure. The sunroom was used as an eating area and had room also for a good-sized closet, a place where my father had his roll-top desk, my mother’s sewing machine and a built-in cupboard.

The room was always light and airy — it had windows on three sides and all along the south side. It was along these windows that my mother had her indoor potted plants on a ledge at the bottom of the windows. The sunroom did not have a basement under it, but there was a crawl space, which was entered via an exterior opening, either a window or a small door. I recall once when Clarice and I were outside playing as quite young children that we went into this crawl space, though doubtless that he had been told not to. Clarice hurt her hand superficially on a nail sticking up through a board that was stored there. I would suppose that these were boards used in the construction of the sunroom and retained by my father for projects he had in mind.

The second change in the house was made when the increase in the size of the family required that more bedroom space be made available. The house had contained an attic and this was converted into two bedrooms, a part of the renovation including making two dormers to provide added height as well as to provide light and ventilation. Similarly to the sunroom a considerable number of windows were put in so the rooms were light and airy. The added rooms were indeed better lighted than the original kitchen, or the living and dining rooms which tended to be darker by contrast. The conversion of the attic was made when I was old enough to recall what was going on and I distinctly remember the confusion and disorder of the construction.



Floor plans of the little brown house

Gowrie in Its Heyday

In its heyday Gowrie was a rather bustling community. As late as the middle 1930s there was an Armour plan dealing in poultry and eggs. Actually the plant killed and processed chickens. The father of one of my high school classmates was at one time the manager of the operation. At that time there were also at least three auto dealerships, two farm implement dealers, three grain elevators, two hardware stores and an assortment of groceries, dry goods stores, etc.

At one time the John Deere company considered Gowrie as the site for a manufacturing facility that was I understand later located farther east at Waterloo, Iowa. That town has now a population of perhaps 100,000, Gowrie has remained at about 1,000 population. Legend has it that the Gowrie city fathers were opposed to the plant. Whether that was the reason for Deere settling elsewhere is conjectural. When I left the community in 1942, Gowrie was still a substantial trading center. Now it is mostly a commuting and retirement community.

Recently (March 1991) I became aware of a sort of history of Gowrie written about 1970 by Richard Carlon and members of the Patton family who were connected with the editing and publishing of the Gowrie News at the time. Howard Nelson had an extra copy which he sent to me and this gives considerable information and the flavor of the community over the years. Most of what is in it was gleaned from old issues of the News which it had in its files. Howard complained that the published history sort of neglected happenings in the surrounding rural areas — it would be an interesting project to spend the time to go through the files and develop a picture of the rural areas. I suppose such a project could be widened to include a similar look at the files of the Fort Dodge Messenger.

I suppose that much of what I wrote about my recollections of Gowrie could be gleaned more accurately from the history mentioned above or from a review of old issues of the Gowrie News.

Traveling by Train

When I started composing this personalized history, or it may have been after I began, I made an outline of the things in my life I wanted to write about. So far I have yet to start following this outline. At this point I feel the need for a more systematic approach and I shall attempt to follow one. Actually I have touched on some of the themes already so there may be some repetition of what I have already set down.

In considering the events of my life, one dominating pattern seems to have been forming or influencing my life, and that is that I seem to have drifted for the most part along the path of least resistance. An avenue would open up and without much evaluation I would move in that direction. This kind of pattern of philosophy does not produce a high level of achievement in any field, tends to dissipate one’s efforts and activities in rather numerous and random directions with no high degree of proficiency in any one of them and makes one reflexive and reflective rather than initiative and leading. But rationalizing what my life has been, I don’t think that I would have wanted to it be any different from what it turned out to be. Even for those parts or occurrences which may have seemed somewhat traumatic at the time.

To summarize, I evaluate my life as having been relatively interesting and varied, with no real “highs” or “lows,” no great achievements but no real catastrophes either. One ideal feature has been a relatively long period of retirement that has provided ample time for reflection and review of my life, the world past and present and the accumulated thinking of thoughtful individuals before me. While I shall doubtless continue the process as I live on the main features of my appraisal are I think largely set at this time and changes will be minor — just smoothing off the rough edges of thought here and there.

I was born on August 6, 1920, in the small town of Gowrie, in the southern part of Webster County, which in turn is located some 80 miles northwest of Des Moines, the state capital of the state of Iowa. The area around Gowrie, indeed most of Webster County, is rich farmland, perhaps not quite the best land in the United States and the whole world, but quite close to being so. It is perhaps somewhat less productive than farmland farther east, as in Illinois, but this is the result of rainfall patterns. Iowa has progressively less precipitation from east to west.

Gowrie was then, and still is a small town of about 1000 inhabitants. Legend has it that a Scot by the name of Gowrie had title to this tract of low-lying west area and in order to make use of it decided to establish a town. More probably the town grew up because of the intersection at the site of the Chicago Northwestern and the Minneapolis and St. Louis railroads. During the early part of the 1900s there were a considerable number of passenger trains, in addition to the freight service, on both of these railroads. The passenger service dwindled over the years, being discontinued first on the CNW. On the M and St. L there was still service at least once a day each way between Minneapolis and Des Moines. I rode on the M and St. L as late as my college days at the University of Iowa while coming from (or going to) Iowa City at such times as Christmas break. By that time the train was a diesel-powered unit of a couple of cars, but I can recall rather dimly the steam locomotive-powered trains of the 1920s. It was such a train that brought the vice-presidential candidate (the Republican Curtis) through Gowrie in the year 1928. Again I can recall seeing the event and the candidate speaking from the rear of the train.

The CNW line through Gowrie was a branch line; the main tracks went through Boone, east and south of Gowrie. When I went to California in 1942 to being my working career with the Shell company, my father bought my ticket from the CNW agent in Gowrie whom he knew. Passenger service on the CNW to Boone had been abandoned by that time; I needed to go to Boone to get the train to California.

At the present the only part of the CNW track still in service is owned by the Grain Co-op which uses it for the hauling of grain. The M and St. L track was refurbished 10 or 20 years ago and is in good shape. The M and St. L tracks run south from Gowrie alongside the old Joe Johnson farm which we purchased in 1960. Actually near the northwest corner of the farm there is a raised area along the track which was to have been a siding at the site originally planned for the town of Gowrie. Perhaps the site was moved to be closer to the CNW line.

The Benefits of Religion

Although I have concluded that all religion is man-made and contains no ascertainable divine influence, religion does have utility in the life of humanity, even though it contains serious errors and inconsistencies and is incorrect in its concept of a deity-ordered and –created universe. Many persons, because of traditional thinking and indoctrination, require a system of thought that involves a deity who provides the illusion of order and significance in their existence and which to them justifies their particular mode and philosophy of life. If such a religiously oriented outlook enables these individuals to meet the problems and vicissitudes of life in a more equable state of mind, then it certainly has a functional utility. It is of course regrettable that oftentimes this stance denigrates the thinking of others — the picture is one a self-exaltation at the expense of the view of others of differing persuasion.

Further, there is the part of religion which deals with person-to-person relations and has many elements of compassion and care for others that religion presents a factor of beneficence and utility in the lives of its adherents, and in the populace in general. In this aspect, religions tend to adopt similar stances of consideration and compassion often differing sharply from their divergences in theological belief. These same beneficial interpersonal relationships are of course not unique to religion, they occur outside of any religious orientation as well. It is irksome at times to see how religions adopt these evidences of compassion and good-heartedness to justify their theological tenets, all in the face of a rational picture of the situation. But then there are many irksome things in life and these must be kept in proper perspective.

I believe I have indicated previously that I suspect that all of my siblings retain a much higher regard and identification with their childhood training and a lifelong association with organized and traditional religious thought than I do. They probably vary somewhat in this regard and I surmise that my sister Vivian changed the most. In part I think this was because of the extent and variety of her reading. Exposure to a variety of ideas is always an eroding factor in changing a viewpoint or a previously held position. I would not consider discussing my religious outlook with my siblings, it would serve no useful purpose and would likely only upset the tenor of their lives. And perhaps evoke in me an unsettling response.

The Illogic of Sacrifice as Atonement for Sin

There is one line of thought that connects Christianity with older Jewish custom and practice, but it is hardly a complimentary one. This is the continuation of the idea of sacrifice as being an atonement for sin.

The older Jewish practice was one of animal sacrifice and this primitive rite can only be considered a disgusting and inane procedure at best. Further it suffers from the lack of a convincing cause/effect relationship — there is no logical reason why a sacrifice would carry with it a remission of sin. This concept of sacrifice was carried over in explaining Jesus’ death but what is never mentioned, nor realized, is that it carries with it all the grossness and logical impediment of the previous Jewish concept. Truly the entire sacrifice/remission of sin concept carries with it the imprint of a man-made rite — no deity of wisdom and all-encompassing power would ever stoop to such an outlandish practice of concept. Obviously an all-powerful deity would not need such a practice of concept and could simply by fiat grant remission of sin. The whole carryover of the idea into Christianity may well have been Paul’s contribution to Christian doctrine, inasmuch as he was apparently well grounded in the older Jewish tradition — a rationalization of the meaning of Jesus’ death but nothing more.

On Religious Thought, Part 3

The third reason for concluding that all religious thought is manmade is that the creation as presented in Christianity, as well as in all other religions was left with no definitive avenue of communication between the deity and the creation. The communication process, ultimately and as described in Christianity, is one of revelation, the indispensable link being some individual man. Various men had offered various revelations as to the character and intentions of the deity — these have differed both in detail and in concept. The indefiniteness of the communication between man and the deity lies in the condition that there is no way of choosing between the alternative revelations offered. Typically each one claims to be, if not the correct one, then the best one. The choice in the end reduces to a trust in the particular individual making the revelation. It is the height of absurdity to claim that one in particular is true because it is deity-inspired, because the choice of a relation to believe depends not on this but on trust in the revealing individual. Even if one revelation were truly deity-inspired there is no basis for selecting it rather than any other. Logically either all revelations are true communications from the deity or none of them are.

There are other characteristics of the revelation process which make it man-inspired rather than deity-inspired. For example, for the process to be good and just, and thus to reflect the qualities of the deity it must be equally appealing and convincing to all men. Since men differ in understanding and situation the revelation must vary in its attributes so as to be equally appealing and convincing in all cases. It is not adequate for the revelation to appeal to only one or a few humans or many humans but not all. For the claim to be made that one particular revelation is correct even though it is rejected by one or more individuals means that it is inherently human-inspired and created. For a revelation to be correct, every many would have to be an identical clone of every other man and in the same situation and with the same history; thus every person would be equally appealed to and convinced. Obviously this is not the case in the history of the human race and therefore revelation is totally a man-created idea.

Another weakness in the revelations produced so far in the history of mankind is that they do not correspond to the characteristics of the world as it is observed. The most telling of these discrepancies is that revelations are typically static either in whole or in part. The revelation is presented on a “take it or leave it but do not change it” basis. If there is one thing evident from the world around us it is that it changes. The picture of creation as being functionally finished and complete after man’s creation denies the occurrence of real changes not only in the physical and biological world but also in man’s perception of it. This and other discrepancies are so basic and flagrant that they could only occur in an imperfect man-created revelation.

More specifically in the case of Christianity itself there are several basic illogicalities that destroy its connection with traditional Jewish writings. Two of these relate to the prophecies from the Old Testament which are considered the basis for making Jesus the promised savior. One of these indicates that the savior would be of the “House of David.” This lineage in the case of Jesus is through Joseph. Because of the doctrine of the virgin birth, this basis is effectively removed. The argument could perhaps be raised that Jesus was in the household of Joseph but this is a specious justification at best because of the careful blood-line relationship from David to Joseph outlined in the Bible. The doctrine of the virgin birth was probably incorporated in Christian belief to buttress the belief in the divinity of Christ; it is paradoxical that in the end it would do more to destroy it than to enhance it.

The second prophecy used as a basis for Jesus being the savior is that of the promised Messiah. The Messiah was supposed to deliver the Jewish people from their sins and from political domination by others. It cannot be that Jesus was the Messiah since he did not achieve this. Merely coming in the guise of the Messiah is not sufficient — the proof of being the Messiah rests not in the promise but in the actuality. That Jesus was a “Messiah” to the non-Jewish community is not enough. In a way the Jewish people are the only hope for Jesus ever being the promised Messiah of the Old Testament. It is only be a consensus acceptance by the Jewish community of Jesus as the Messiah that would validate him as such. Subconsciously this realization may be the reason for the ages-long prejudice that Christians have regarding the Jews — deep down there may be the hidden feeling in them that there is nothing to Christianity until and unless it is accepted by the Jews. Christianity carries on its record as being the cause of the Nazi policy of exterminating the Jewish people. Not a very high recommendation of it as a way of life.

It surely strikes me as evidence that Christianity is a man-made product when it contains such incontrovertible items of illogical premises as I have outlined about.

On Religious Thought, Part 2

The second reason for concluding that all religion is the product of man’s thinking is the incompatibility of the characteristics ascribed to the deity. Specifically the incompatibility in question is that between the deity being “all powerful” and the deity being “good and just.” Consider the situation. The deity has created in according to Christianity, the scheme of things in which man finds himself. This the deity can do because he is by definition all-powerful. But in doing so the deity has also:

1) Placed man willy-nilly in a situation not of his choice or doing. The consequences of man’s being in this situation are entirely within the control of the deity, the deity being all-powerful. Man’s position is that of a monumental charade, in which everything that transpires is at the whim of the deity. The deity thus is in the position of being not good since the deity condones not only man’s being placed in an untenable position but also the arbitrary results of man’s being place in that position. This all when, being all-powerful, the deity could at any time rectify the situation.

2) Instituted a system of consequences for any actions that man might take relative to the deity, even though these actions result only from the specific actions of the deity. Thus the deity is unjust totally and completely. The injustice is further deepened in extent: 1) Men differ in understanding, capability, and circumstance — thus their reactions to the deity will differ and to impose a common simple dictum of acceptance or denial of the deity as being the condition for reward of punishment means that men are not treated alike, and therefore unequally and unjustly. 2) The reward and punishment being eternal in nature are not commensurate with the actions of men which are comparatively trivial and temporal — this highly disparate system can only be regarded as being unjust in a most extreme degree. 3) The assigning of eternal life as an undefined condition of bliss as a reward for a certain attitude toward the deity is in and of itself an act of injustice. From what man knows, this eternal reward could well be as onerous as eternal damnation — to require a choice with no knowledge of the results or potentialities of the choice is extreme injustice.

For the deity to have ascribed to it such discordant characteristics as indicated means that the concept could only have been developed by the thinking of uninformed and biased men. No deity of ultimate wisdom, goodness and justice would ever have developed the religious theology and practices that have evolved in man’s history.

On Religious Thought, Part 1

Although the gradual change in my religious thinking was hastened by my introduction to philosophy etc. it was then delayed by the early years of my marriage. I’ve mentioned earlier that this was probably the result of the church compromise that Jean and I made as part of our family life, to provide a kind of church background for our three daughters. Another factor doubtless was that these were busy days of work at Shell and family responsibilities. The time and opportunity for reflection on religion and philosophical matters was quite limited.

This situation changed after the retirement to Ashland with the increase time available for such activity. And of course, Laurel was living with us for only her last three years in high school. I had often thought, and perhaps remarked, that a further delving into philosophy would be a part of retirement, but this has turned out to be quite limited. I think this is in part due to my gradually reaching the conclusion that most philosophical thought up until the time of Darwin suffered from an inadequate informational base and consequently much of the thinking could only be speculative. Thus, though it is of interest historically, a good part of it is no longer germane. A few years ago (about 1988 I believe) I audited a course at the college on the philosophy of religion. This experience plus my own thinking prior to and after the course has more or less systematized my thinking on religion. While the conclusions I have reached may still be modified, I do not expect them to change significantly in the years (or time) ahead of me.

My primary conclusion with regard to religion and specifically Christianity is that it is completely a man-made area of thought and that there is no indication whatsoever that it was transmitted to humankind by some deity. My first reason for reaching this conclusion involves the cause/effect relationship. The fundamentals of this relationship have been neglected in religious thought, as they very often are in many of man’s activities.

With respect to religion, specifically Christianity though applying in a general way to all religions, my thinking starts with the observation that religion typically pictures a creation process in which some pre-existing deity forms the universe, and make the solar system, the earth and the various forms of life on earth. In Christianity, man is the final step in creation and occupies a special place and has the special attribute of free will. The latter is the capacity to either accept or deny the aspects of religion as presented and to have as a result certain consequences applied either as salvation or damnation. This capacity is supposed to separate the deity from the results of man’s choice with regard to religion and to make man’s future independent of what the deity would choose or be responsible for.

This conclusion cannot be farther from the actual situation than possible. Inasmuch as the pre-existing deity created the world and everything in it, the basic elements of the cause/effect/responsibility relationship make the originating deity completely, totally, inescapably responsible for everything that transpires. Since the deity is the sole originating element, everything that occurs is the result directly or indirectly of the deity’s actions. The introduction of free will in the case of mankind does nothing to eliminate the deity’s responsibility for everything that transpires as the result of free will and its exercise by man. The deity is just as responsible for the excess of Hitler as it is for the Toccata and Fugue in D minor of Johann Sebastian Bach. What amazes me if that mankind has placed such a determining effect on free will in separating the deity from the consequences of the deity’s actions when such separation is so obviously invalid. It is indeed a sad commentary on the army of theologians that they have not realized this, nor significantly considered the implications of the total cause/effect/responsibility relationship.

If free will does actually exist, it does provide a basis for ascertaining what is “good” or “evil” in the relationships between individual humans. The characteristic of humans as being derivative rather than originating beings makes their status fundamentally different from that of the deity. The deity has the responsibility for everything. Humans have responsibility only relative to humans. In a way the appreciation of this limited responsibility, and the mistaken transfer of this responsibility toward the deity is the ultimate reason that all religion is the product of man’s fallible reasoning. No deity worthy of the attribute of wisdom applied to it would ever countenance such foolishness as the thesis that free will separates the deity from the total responsibility it has for everything that has occurred or will occur.

Eating Out in San Francisco

Writing about Jim Cosgrave reminded me of a social activity that we participated in during the time I was working in San Francisco. At the time I was transferred from southern California in 1946, two other Shell engineers were transferred at the same time. We were together in the training program that the engineering department put all new engineers through on their arrival. Jim Cosgrave was working also in San Francisco, only a few blocks from the Shell building where we were, at the local office of McGraw-Hill. Somehow or other the four of us adopted the practice of getting together on Friday evenings after work, selecting one of the noted San Francisco restaurants as a place for dinner together and then taking in a movie afterward if one appealed to us.

I suppose the year or two that this went on that we sampled all the well-known restaurants of the period. I cam remember only a few names now — the Blue Fox, the Shadows (Nob Hill), Cairo’s — but there were many more. Once we visited Lupo’s Pizzeria, whose specialty was of course pizza (but it was at a time when pizza was just a name on an Italian menu, not a name in every town or city in the country). At one of the restaurants we had banana fritters for dessert; it was the first time I had had them. Later after I was married to Jean I found out that she grew up with them — her mother often served them for breakfast. All during our married life Jean has them for breakfast occasionally (when she has a supply of over-ripe bananas on hand; she says that over-ripe fruit are needed).

As to the theaters we visited I only recall the Fox theater in San Francisco, a magnificent and grand structure that was regrettably torn down as decade or more ago. Its ornate interior was as far a cry from present-day theaters as the Taj Mahal is form the Webster County courthouse.

While I am on the subject of San Francisco restaurants I must not fail to mention Adolph Wilke’s Business Men’s Lunch. This establishment was located just across Bush Street from the Shell building, in the same block. The service was cafeteria style and the single line of patrons often stretched well out onto the sidewalk during the busy noontime period. This was no deterrent to a potential experienced eater however, who was well aware that the line was the fastest moving line ever in existence, bar none. A person at the tag end of the long line outside the restaurant could well anticipate that he would in five minutes be through the cafeteria line and paying his check to Adolph Wilke, the proprietor in person. Wilke was the fastest cashier I have ever seen, though “messy.” The floor around the cash register was always littered with small coins that his flying hands had let go of. Stacked next to the register were appropriate collections of bills for making change for the 5, 10, or 20 dollar checks that the patrons tendered Mr. Wilke. He was open only for lunch (perhaps breakfast, I don’t know) but I never at there then.

The Business Men’s Lunch is no more. Not long after my work at Shell took me to Emeryville. The building in which the restaurant was located was torn down for a more imposing and modern edifice. A colorless replacement for a notable institution. I think Wilke called it a day and went out of business.

James Frank Cosgrave

I have mentioned that an important factor in the change in my thinking and conclusions with regard to religion was my introduction to philosophy and Biblical criticism (in the sense of inspection and analysis for sources, original meanings, glosses, etc. [the definition here being, according to thefreedictionary.com, “a brief explanatory note or translation of a difficult or technical expression usually inserted in the margin or between lines of a text or manuscript” or “an extensive commentary, often accompanying a text or publication] by one of my Shell colleagues whom I met during my early days at Wilmington. His name was James Frank Cosgrave and he went variably by the names of Jim and Frank. I recall using either name at time.

He had been a chemistry major at Fresno State and because of a physical disability (he was a low-level spastic) was not wanted by the military. He had been hired by Shell to work in the lab. For some reason he and I “hit” it off and our relationship continued after he left Shell, move to San Francisco when the war was over and went to work as a reporter for McGraw-Hill. He worked for their publication Chemical Engineering. His parents were strong Presbyterians but he had departed from their beliefs, doubtless because of his introduction to philosophy and analysis of the Bible, subjects that he had encountered in college. He did however remain on congenial terms with his parents though I am sure they were aware of his thinking on religion. Later on he became a lawyer but I never know in what capacity he worked in that field. Somewhere along the line I lost contact with him — partly because he didn’t seem to respond to Christmas cards and eventually one was I recall returned with the note “no person of this name at this address.”

Several years ago (probably 1998 or so) Jean and I were visiting Muriel in Sacramento and the subject of Jim Cosgrave came up. I had wondered previously if I could locate him through him being a lawyer in California. Typically for me I had not followed up on this idea. No so my daughter Muriel. She immediately telephoned some pertinent telephone number in this regard (an action that had occurred to me but in my usual way of procrastination had not pursued). She found out that he had died a short time previously. So my vague intention of locating him and resuming contact came to naught. I still wonder what happened to his life after I lost contact with him.

On Church Attendance and Participation

At this point, I shall digress a bit and summarize my current thinking along the line of religion. Perhaps because of my childhood background the importance of religion has been over-emphasized in my life and a considerable passage of time has been required to arrive at a more or less satisfactory evaluation. I suspect that a person with a less indoctrinated childhood would have spent considerably less time in reaching an evaluation, and would regard the subject in a more cursory way.

A further decline in my involvement occurred after my transfer to the San Francisco Bay Area — for a time I had my church membership transferred back to the congregation in Gowrie but eventually I transferred it to the Lutheran church in Berkeley. I think it still functions on University Avenue below what was then Grove Street. Here I attended and continued contributing but my attendance was irregular. During this time I didn’t think too much about church teaching and Christian theology though subconsciously there was a growing disenchantment.

A more serious deepening of the rift between me and religion was probably delayed by my contact with the Knock and Udden families. Rev. Knock and his wife were delightful people personally and though I didn’t share their unquestioning faith, it was easy to compromise my outward appearance of acquiescence in keeping up the social contact with them. The Uddens were similarly congenial people (Mrs. Udden was a sister of Rev. Knock) and I had the same relationship with them.

A rift was also delayed by the visit my parents made to California in the winter and spring of 1952–53 when my attendance at least improved during their visit. It was during this time that my relationship with my future wife Jean Ribley developed and because of the difference in religious training and background we went through a period of serious disagreement and estrangement. This disagreement resulted eventually in a further decline in my attachment to Christian doctrine but superficially the decline was softened and delayed by the compromise we made to attend the Methodist church in north Berkeley. I transferred my membership to that church, but Jean dropped her membership in the Christian Science church (both locally and nationally).

A further factor was the rearing of our three daughters. By experience both Jean and I were accustomed to attendance at Sunday school in our childhood and was wanted this for out offspring. The attendance of out daughters in the Sunday school served to involve us in various of the activities of the church and in attendance. Further I have always found some congenial contacts in church members and this has always and indeed currently prevented a more obvious break with any organized church function.

In recent years my attitude toward Christian theology has further declined. I think this has been partly the result of the deaths of both of my parents. Since I no longer feel the need to present at least a semblance of adherence to their position on theological matters, my feeling about church values has declined. Generally I have not discussed my attitude with my brothers or with my sisters when they were still living. Clarice died in the middle 1970s before her 60th birthday. Vivian died in 2003, having passed her 80th birthday.

I have retained my membership in the Methodist church, transferring it first from Epworth in Berkeley to Memorial Drive Methodist in Houston when we moved there and then to the church here in Ashland when we moved here from Houston. Jean continued to attend along with me though she has never joined the Methodist church as a member. I am sure that at present if I were faced with the decision to join a church I would undoubtedly decide against such a move. Habit kept me involved to the extent of fairly regular attendance, financial contribution and I acted as an usher one Sunday a month until I had a relatively mild stroke. Now all I do is send a contribution once a month.

Beyond ushering I have declined to participate as a church functionary. During our early years in Ashland I did attend the monthly meetings of the Methodist Men’s Group; the potluck dinners were tasty and I enjoyed the table conversation. However the programs were usually uninteresting and after being inveigled into being a “caller” to line up reservations for the dinner meetings, I concluded that the easiest way to avoid being asked to perform any duties was simply to stop attending the meetings, which I did. For a while various members continued to ask me to attend but gradually these overtures have ceased, as I didn’t respond.